The Summit

This story is by Rock Martin and won the Grand Prize in our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Rock Martin is a geologist from Indiana, Pennsylvania who explores the human spirit through his writing. A Penn State graduate, he depicts life’s challenges where the main struggle lies within. Rock enjoys fitness, camping, and hiking with his wife and young son, finding inspiration in nature and resilience.

Another day in my tomb.  The dark corner of this musty cave shielding me from the outside world.  I spend my days surrounded by trash and stale food, basking in the constant stream of nothingness emanating from the television, dying one day at a time.

I hate my life.

A loud knock echoed through the muffled quiet, jolting me off the couch.

The harsh rap came again, and I weaved through the piles of dirty laundry, reached the door, and turned the knob.  My face wrinkled as sunlight poured through the crack and a familiar silhouette greeted me.

“Hey John, how’s everything? Can I come in?” It was Steve.

“I guess,” I replied.

The door creaked as it opened, and Steve stepped past me.  His eyes scanned the room, taking in the trash bags, laundry, and old pizza boxes littering the floor.  My forgotten life coated every surface.

“I heard about Amanda. I’m sorry man.  I know divorce is tough.”

“Yeah.”

“Any luck on the job search?”

“No.”

“Do you want some help cleaning up?”

“No, I’ll get to it later.”

“Later, huh?”  Steve’s eyebrows fell.  “Come on!  Aren’t you sick and tired of living like this?  If you can even call it that.”

Heat crept up my neck.

Steve continued.  “Look, I planned our annual backpacking trip for the year.  The Grand Tetons.  But maybe you’re not up for that this time.”

He turned to the door, and I could feel the weight of my life pressing down, itching to pull me under.

“Yes.” I blurted.

He paused and twisted his head to meet my gaze.

“I’m going.”

For a moment there was nothing, then he nodded. “I’ll bring my extra gear and see you in the morning.”

The door closed softly behind him, leaving me alone again in my wasteland. Every corner a reminder of my failures.

Seventeen years earlier Steve and I graduated high school together; how had our lives diverged so much since then?  How was I still here, surrounded by trash and hopelessness?

I didn’t have time to sulk; I needed to get ready.

Steve arrived early the next morning, and we were on the road in no time.

The five-hour car ride passed quickly, and the jagged peaks of the Tetons rose up suddenly, announcing our arrival. At the trailhead, I stepped out of the car and took in the unique piney, citrusy scent, cool to the nose, and the sounds of the singing birds and drumming grouse.

“Ready?”  Steve asked.

I nodded and together we entered the trail.

The parking area immediately yielded to gravelly bedrock, which cut a sinuous path through a sea of sagebrush along the base of a cirque, dotted with pockets of conifers. The slope gradually increased up to the base of a large granite outcrop.

A few hours in and the straps of my backpack began cutting into my shoulders.

The rugged trail transitioned to uneven blocks of coarse pink granite, mottled with gray. I lurched from side to side as we scaled the switchbacks, leaving sweat marks on the boulders bordering the trail.  My feet ached, the pain shooting up to my knees with each step.

“Can we stop?”  I labored to catch my breath.

“Slope’s gonna break.”  Steve huffed.  “Camp is right around the corner, just a little further.”

“Steve, wait.”  I leaned back against the rock on wobbly knees, my eyes burning with sweat.

The light pitter patter of rain interrupted my respite.  My eyes closed and I sunk back into the boulder as the rain grew harder.

The mountainous world drifted away for a moment, and I was that eighteen-year-old boy again fresh out of high school.  I had my whole life ahead of me. How did things go so wrong?  How did I get here?

The sharp crack of thunder snatched me back to reality and I lunged from the boulder and back onto the trail.

Steve was ahead, setting up camp.

“There you are,” he joked. “The tent is almost set up. Get your stuff inside to keep it dry.”

Steve prepared some food, and after eating, I immediately retired.

Steve crawled into the tent after cleaning up. “It’s 9 miles to the summit tomorrow.  Then all downhill.  We’ll camp near the summit tomorrow night, then again about halfway down the other side.”

Steve’s excitement was palpable.  He seemed to enjoy the hardships, the challenges.

He always did.

We’d faced many of the same obstacles in our lives, but he always persevered where I walked away.

He had a grit, a determination.  Something inside him that I hadn’t yet found in me.

The rain and thunder continued throughout the night.  We both eventually fell asleep.  Morning would come too soon.

Once we were back on the trail, the aches returned immediately.

The trail narrowed as it bisected a large boulder field, weaving back and forth between protruding rocks, some still slippery from the rain.  Passage required climbing up short rocky slopes.

The grainy rocks grinded into my fingers, my fingernails cracking and scraping against the rugged surface.  The craggy edges opened bloody gashes on my knees.

I eventually emerged from the boulder field into a pocket of conifers where Steve was waiting.

“Tough section, huh?”  Steve sipped his water and looked over the map.

I fell back onto a large rock, catching my breath.

“Steve.  I might have to turn back.”

“What?  You’re halfway.  Look at what you’ve accomplished!  One step at a time.”

I couldn’t fight. Steve helped me to my feet, and we continued.

Ahead was another boulder field, the trail through it punctuated with loose scree slopes.  I emerged from it wearing more scrapes and bruises, only to find the well-beaten path descending into a stream valley and disappearing under raging water.

The rain had turned the mountain brook into a torrent as rushing whitewater churned against the rounded boulders of the stream bed. Steve was already climbing the opposite bank when my first foot touched the water.

“Take your time and find your footing.”

The icy mountain water reached my trembling knees after my first step. Chills surged through my body.

“I don’t know Steve.”

“You got this!”

Each foot slid along the stream bed, inches at a time; the frigid water now reached my thighs.  The toe of my lead foot stopped against a rounded chunk of granite. I tried to maneuver around it, but the reach was too far.  My foot continued to slide, forcing me to my knee.

The freezing water rushed through my shirt, splashing against my face, and stealing my breath.

“Steve! Help!” My voice gurgled as water splashed into my mouth.

“John. You can make it.  This is your time.”

The bank behind me was so close, only a few feet away.  The safety of retreat.  It was right there.

I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t go back to the hole I’d been living in.

I’d quit everything in my life; jobs, college, sports teams, friendships, even my marriage.  I always folded in the crucible.

Now there was nothing to go back to. No more fresh starts, next times, or tomorrows. I’d used them up. After having what seemed infinite possible choices in my life, I’d whittled them down to just two.  Move forward.  Or die.

I forced myself back to my feet, flailing my arms for balance.  “Steve, I can do this!”  I began sliding my feet again across the loose, gravelly streambed. Inch by inch, I pushed through the water, shooting a resolute stare toward Steve.  I reached him and he helped me out of the water, both of us collapsing on the bank.

“I can’t believe I just did that!”  My voice crackled in disbelief.

Steve wrapped his arm around me. “That was incredible!”

Through tired muscles, a long-forgotten feeling welled up inside me, igniting a wide smile.

The summit was now in sight, and we pressed onward.

I matched Steve’s strides through the remaining boulder fields and the last switchbacks. The untrodden path bringing us to the foot of the summit.

I clawed my way up the last steep section, digging my toes into each crease and crack in the ancient bedrock, finishing the climb on my hands and knees. We emerged together atop the mountain and raised our arms in victory.

Looking over the edge, I traced the trail we’d taken.  Each twist, each jagged turn a reflection of every hardship, every moment of doubt I’d faced.  They were now just distant scars.

On the other side, the trail descended, winding its way into a new horizon.  Clean.  Untouched.  It stretched before me, open and full of promise.  Everything I wanted, everything I could still have. A second chance.

I glanced at Steve, who stood beside me, his steady presence a reminder of the things worth holding on to.  He smiled, and I knew what I had to do.

There was no going back.  Not this time.

It was time to start living.