Eviskar Island

by Warren Dalzell

  "Yeah, but be careful, Jocelyn," quipped Spencer. He pointed to his ball cap, "You're outnumbud heah."

  "OK, guys, lunch is over." Debbie said, brimming with enthusiasm. "Jack, grab the climbing gear. All of you follow me."

  "So, what do you think? Safe enough?" Debbie wanted Jack's opinion of the anchoring setup she'd constructed for their cliff descent.

  Her climbing partner nodded in approval as he walked around the two large boulders Debbie had selected. Straps of webbing were wrapped around each and they led to loops through which carabiners could be used to attach a rope or harness. The rope itself was 10 mm in diameter, professional grade and had to be at least 70 meters long. "Nice rope," was all Jack could think to say. "Must have set you back a bit, three hundred bucks at least."

  "Almost," she replied. "As a certified instructor I get a substantial discount, but, yeah, it's a good one."

  Jack began to step into one of the harnesses. Spencer and Jocelyn stood by, watching silently. Marcy was fascinated. She regarded his harness with a mixture of curiosity and awe. Dangling from loops situated around the waist band were dozens of pieces of hardware that clanked and jingled while he fiddled with the adjustment straps. "I recognize the carabiners," she observed, "but what are those?" She pointed to pairs of carabiners linked by short lengths of webbing.

  "Those are called 'quick draws.' They're used as guides. One beener attaches to an anchor point, a piton or a cam for example, and you feed the climbing rope through the other. If you're free climbing you should set as many anchors as you can. If you fall you're going to drop twice the distance to the last one you’ve set before the rope goes taut. Trust me, it can really get your attention if you free fall more than about thirty feet, especially if you're using an old rope that’s lost its elasticity."

  "Cool! And what are those funny looking things with springs and jaws?"

  Jack looked approvingly at the items in question. "It looks like Debbie's invested in some pretty nice protection devices. Most of my climbing experience has involved top roping." He shrugged. "She must do a lot of sport climbing."

  "What do you mean by protection devices? You mean like condoms?" The descriptions of the equipment had attracted the attention of Jocelyn and Spencer. It was Jocelyn who posed the risqué question.

  "Now, Joselyn, do those look like condoms to you?" Debbie laughed. "They're for fall protection, gizmos that wedge into cracks in the rock to serve as anchors. I'm going to set a few for our climb back out later today.

  "Okay, so here's the general plan for our trip down and up this cliff." Debbie made sure she had everyone's undivided attention before she continued. "For the climb down the cliff, Jack will belay us. There will be some slack in the rope, but in case of a fall it will go taut immediately. Jack will feed it out as needed. In climbing parlance it's called 'top roping with belay from above.’ Once we've gone down safely, Jack will rappel down. I'm going to practice free climbing on my way out, hence the need for me to set protection. Once I'm back on top, I'll anchor myself there and belay the rest of you when you climb up." She sat on a rock and stepped through the leg loops of her harness. As she cinched it around her waist and legs she explained in detail what she was doing. "Spencer, there's one important point that I want to emphasize because you're male. The leg bands should be cinched tight against the inside of each thigh, not so tight that they impede circulation, but tight without much slack. In the event of a fall you don't want the family jewels getting caught underneath them. That might be a tad painful."

  Jack added more advice. "And, Spence, make sure your pants are loose between the loops. Otherwise, if you fall, the leg loops will pull the fabric tight. I had that happen once; I walked bowlegged for a week."

  Debbie untied a small pair of shoes from her harness and, with considerable effort, pulled them on. She then stood and walked in tight circles, wiggling her toes until the shoes conformed to the shape of her feet like a pair of custom made gloves. "Why the ballet slippehs?" asked Spencer.

  "These are climbing shoes," said Debbie. "I don't really need them for what we're about to do, but they can really make a difference. On a difficult climb they help your toes and feet actually grip the rock. It's almost like having an extra set of hands." She then inspected Jack's harness, noting that he had anchored it well and had set up his ATC belay device properly. She then tied the end of the rope to her own harness, describing each step in great detail. "Once I climb down safely I'll step out of the harness and Jack will pull both the rope and harness back up to where he's standing. He will assist each of you as you put the harness on. Jack, make certain you check the tension of both the figure-eight knot and the safety knot before each person begins to climb. Any questions?" She surveyed her group with a critical eye. No one looked bewildered or lost. All seemed eager to get started. She turned to Jack and said, "On belay."

  He responded, "Belay on."

  Debbie sat at the edge of the cliff, swung both legs into the void and began her descent.

  Within minutes she was on the ground and had untethered herself from the rope. Jack dutifully hauled it up and began to help Marcie put on the harness.

  Marcie had insisted upon being the next to climb. This was the type of activity she craved, and to have Jack standing so close, giving her his complete attention, was a wonderful bonus. When she was prepped, she took a deep breath, grabbed a solid rock outcrop with both hands and lowered her left foot onto a well-positioned basalt nub.

  She continued to descend while concentrating on the climbing tips Debbie had given to them earlier: "Always try to support yourself at three points, using two hands and a foot for example. Only then should you reach forward with the fourth appendage. Use your legs as much as possible for support; if you must transfer your weight to your arms, do it with elbows straight—hang from your shoulders—otherwise your biceps will tire and cramp. Finally, keep your center of gravity as close to the cliff as possible, don’t stick your butt out away from the rock." Marcie contemplated the advice as she reached out with her left hand and hooked her fingers into a small crack. Pressing her belly against the rock she slid her right foot over to the diagonal fissure that ran down through the wall. The large crack afforded a myriad of good climbing holds and within a minute she was standing on level ground, beaming from ear to ear,

  Debbie gave her a high five. “Nice climb, Marcie. You looked great up there. For someone who’s never done this before you exhibited phenomenal technique. You’re a natural, my dear; if you enjoy this, and if you practice, you can become really good.”

  Marcie didn’t need much in the way of encouragement. She was hooked. Visions of her and Jack climbing together as a couple, with the occasional romantic interlude taking place between climbs, occupied her mind as Jocelyn prepared to descend.

  The older girl looked awkward as she picked her way down. Several times while she was still in the higher, more difficult part of the route, she leaned back to rest, letting Jack support her with the rope. Marcie had never allowed that to happen; she had negotiated the climb by herself; the rope had been slack the entire time. When Jocelyn was standing beside her, Debbie gave her the obligatory thumbs-up and complemented her on a job well done. In effect, she’d done very well for a neophyte. Debbie was pleased but made the mistake of referring to the extraordinary skill level demonstrated by Marcie. “When we climb out, watch what Marcie and I do. I want you to take note of how we control our bodies, press our hips against the rock and use our legs to climb. It makes all the difference in the world.”

  Jocelyn bristled at what she considered to be criticism rather than helpful advice. “Yeah? Well don’t forget, Debbie, some of us have more developed hips than others. That makes it harder for us to get the hang of things.”

  Debbie knew the comment was meant as an insult to Marcie, an uncalled for reference to her youth and lack of physical maturity. Hurtful as it was, there wasn’t much she could say in reply without making matters worse. In addition, Jocelyn’s st
atement did have an element of truth to it. “Let’s get you out of that harness,” she said sharply, “it’s Spencer’s turn.”

  Spencer was nervous as he began his trip down the cliff side. Initially he watched Jack and listened to his more experienced comrade as he meted out advice about where to place his feet, where the next hand hold was, etc. Once Jack was out of sight, however, Spencer’s apprehension level spiked, and he soon made an unfortunate mistake: he looked down. Panic set in. He grasped the rope tightly with both hands, and instead of searching for foot holds, he began kicking at the rock trying to find purchase with his boots as though he were trying to run back up.

  “Leggo’ of the rope, Spence,” Jack instructed him, “it’s just there for safety. Don’t worry, I’ve got you; you’re not going to fall. Put your hands and feet on the rock and climb down.”

  Spencer wasn’t listening. His eyes were tightly shut and his brain was on autopilot, focused on the terror of the moment, unable to function analytically. Debbie had seen this sort of behavior many times during the years she’d been a climbing instructor. She knew that, in some people, the fear of heights is so strong they panic the first time they experience exposure and the concomitant sense of falling. The majority of them come around with experience; their apprehension fades with each climb as they gain trust in the equipment and protocol that go with the sport. A few individuals, however, never get used to it. Climbing just isn’t for them. In such cases, their fear is absolutely insurmountable.

  Debbie had also, on rare occasions, come across people who are at the opposite end of the fear spectrum. These individuals are so addicted to adrenaline that they can’t climb with a safety rope. Without the thrill associated with the danger of falling, they don’t climb well at all; it takes away their buzz. Sadly, the vast majority of these ‘thrill climbers’ rarely live past their late twenties or early thirties. Each climb compels them to attempt something even more difficult until, ultimately, the probability of survival drops to zero.

  Even if Spencer suffers from mild acrophobia, he should be able to manage this simple climb, Debbie thought. She knew of his heritage, that his grandfather was one of the famous Mohawk high-rise iron workers who played such a pivotal role in creating the New York skyline. The kid certainly had a good genetic lineage for climbing.

  “Spencer,” she yelled, “Jack is going to lower you about fifteen feet. When he’s done you’ll be able to stand in a cleft in the rock. Once there, you’ll find plenty of hand and foot holds around you. It should be easy to climb down the rest of the way—sort of like climbing down a ladder. There will be nothing to it.” She nodded to Jack and he carefully played rope through his belay device until he was ordered to stop. He could see Debbie, who at the moment was standing out away from the escarpment, but Spencer was beneath him, lost from view. He was also beginning to tire. His harness was firmly anchored through webbing to the rocks behind him, and the climbing rope was well fitted through the ATC and carabiner attached to the harness—Spencer was quite safe; he wouldn’t fall. The problem was that Jack was standing, and his legs were supporting much of Spencer’s weight. His quads were fatigued because the young man was just hanging in mid-air, petrified, making no effort to climb.

  “Debbie,” Jack shouted, “can you get Spence to at least stand somewhere for a minute or two? He’s getting heavy.”

  “Hold on a moment, Jack. I’m coming to help.”

  Spencer’s feet were fewer than twenty feet above where she stood. She knew it was too high for her to safely boulder to where he was. ‘Bouldering’ is rock climbing parlance for practicing one’s skills on a cliff or a wall while staying close enough to the ground such that a safety rope isn’t needed. But in this instance, with a deep fissure to provide support and fall protection, and with her climbing shoes on, Debbie figured her chances of falling were almost non-existent.

  Marcie and Jocelyn watched with a mixture of awe and apprehension as Debbie quickly and effortlessly scrambled to a point immediately below Spencer’s right foot. “Okay, Spence, let’s climb down together.” She took his left foot in one hand. “Relax and let me guide your foot to a stable hold.” Spencer complied, and soon he supported most of his weight on the rock. “Excellent,” Debbie remarked, “Now, let’s do the same thing with your other leg.” She grasped his other foot and pulled it down towards a nice wide shelf within the large fissure. That action, however, caused Spencer to turn his body and lose his balance. He reacted by kicking down with the foot, crushing Debbie’s fingers against the rock. Instinctively she pulled her hand free, but in doing so her weight shifted away from the cliff.

  Debbie Holloway let out a brief cry as she fell nearly twenty feet to the ledge where Marcie and Joselyn looked on in horror.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Jocelyn shrieked as Debbie, hands flailing wildly, plummeted towards the ground. She hit with a thud accompanied by a loud crack, and lay where she fell, crumpled and motionless.

  For a split second no one moved. Jack’s vantage point didn’t permit him a view of events, but Jocelyn’s screams left no doubt that something horrific had transpired. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “Debbie’s hurt,” Marcie yelled in reply.

  Jack was overcome by the urge to help, but he had the presence of mind to remain calm and tend to Spencer who, once again, had become little more than dead weight. “Spencer,” he said with authority, “get the hell off the rope. Climb down…NOW.”

  At the sight of Debbie lying motionless below, Spencer’s fear disappeared. Adrenaline took control and he nimbly maneuvered down to the ledge. After struggling out of his harness, he moved well off to one side, far away from where Debbie lay, and began to cry. An overwhelming feeling of culpability welled up within him; he was frightened, embarrassed and ashamed because of the predicament he felt he had caused.

  When Jack arrived he beheld a sobering scene. Debbie lay where she’d fallen, barely conscious and moaning softly. Marcie knelt beside her, intent in the study of the older woman’s injuries. Jocelyn had disappeared, but at the sight of Jack, she stumbled over to where he stood. Her face was ashen. She looked to be in shock, and at the moment was wiping flecks of vomit from around her mouth—part of the lunch she’d lost after having caught sight of Debbie’s injuries. Jack patted her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance before walking over to check on Debbie. Marcie saw him coming and stood, motioning him to a place where they could talk and not be overheard by Debbie.

  “Is she hurt badly?”

  “Yes and no,” Marcie replied. The young girl was shaking and scared, but she was fighting to maintain control of her emotions and succeeding admirably well. “When I asked her to move her fingers and toes she did so easily. Her pupils are responsive and both are dilated to the same degree, that’s the good news—it appears she isn’t suffering from acute brain or spinal injury.”

  “But?”

  “But I can’t be sure. She’s in an awful lot of pain, Jack. Normally, in a case like this we’d just call the paramedics and be done with it. They would sedate her and splint her for transport to a hospital.”

  Marcie bit her lip in concentration. As far as she was concerned, Jocelyn and Spencer were out of it. They’d be of little help. She and Jack had to assume the responsibility for Debbie’s care. “Her lower right leg is badly broken just above the ankle. The fracture isn’t compound, but the ends of the bones are severely displaced.” She motioned for him to follow and the two of them returned to Debbie’s side.

  “Debbie?” Marcie asked. The injured woman looked up at her. The initial trauma of the fall was wearing off; she was in agony, but was lucid, comprehending. “Debbie, we have to get you out of here. Can you move at all?”

  “It hurts too much. There’s no way I can climb. My leg…” She raised her head slightly and regarded her injured appendage. It was swollen; her foot was canted inward at an unnatural angle, and the end of the tibia pushed outward above the break producing a prominent bulge. She settled b
ack down and murmured, “Oh, God; I’m so stupid. Why did I do that? It was too high…Just get Morgan here. Please. The emergency communicator—it’s in my pack. All you have to do is turn it on, push the red button and hit ‘send.’ Morgan will receive a pre-recorded text stating that we have an emergency situation and it will display our exact GPS coordinates.”

  Jack nodded, “I’m on it.” He began to make his way towards the rope.

  “Wait,” said Marcie. “Before you go can you help us move Debbie to that level place over there?” Enlisting the others to help, they prepared a “bed” near the base of the cliff where she’d be out of the wind. They cleared a spot by brushing away small rocks and pebbles. They then extracted wind-blown sand out of rock crevasses, spreading it around to act as cushioning for their patient. When all was ready they placed jackets under Debbie’s torso and legs to act as litters. Then, with two people on either side grasping the coats firmly, they awkwardly, but successfully, transferred Debbie, teeth gritted against the pain, to her new bed. As they set her down, Jocelyn’s knee accidentally bumped Debbie’s right shoulder. The woman uttered a sharp cry of pain.

  Jocelyn recoiled defensively, “What did I do? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear!”

  Debbie’s reaction puzzled Marcie. Earlier she’d done a thorough accounting of Debbie’s injuries. The woman had a laceration of the scalp which had bled profusely but didn’t appear to be too serious; as far as she could tell it wasn’t associated with a concussion. She also had either sprained or broken her left wrist and had several bruised ribs. But by far the main concern was her lower right leg. The latter was potentially life threatening if she didn’t get proper care soon.

  Now, however, there appeared to be something she’d missed, an injury to the right arm. Marcie carefully poked and prodded Debbie’s arm starting at the wrist and moving upward. All was fine until she reached the shoulder, at which point Debbie winced in agony. Carefully pulling Debbie’s shirt sleeve aside, Marcie saw the end of the clavicle jutting out.