The Time I Fell Off a Mountain
I am hiking in the cool fresh morning air of Switzerland, high in the mountains. Twenty or so other exchange students and local kids surround me as we work our way toward the “Bella Grossa,” the beautiful fat lady. There is a mixture of snow on the ground, red algae that live on the snow, green grass, small pretty flowers, and black volcanic rocks. The Sun is up, but we can’t see it yet because it is hidden behind the mountain.
I’m not nervous because I’m hiking, or because I’m in a group. I’m nervous because she is there. Like me, she is 18 but unlike me, she is absolutely gorgeous. She has that something, that spark, that energy. Like the sun, I can’t look directly at her, and I can’t look away.
I don’t really pay much attention to what anyone is saying around me. I’m sure they are chatting about the pointless stuff all teenagers talk about. But my mind is racing. How can I get her to notice me?
Of course, I’m 18. So thoughts of walking up and talking to her, getting to know her are absolutely not an option. They come into my head and die just as quickly as they arrive. That’s not going to work, I tell myself. No, I need her to notice me, and only me. Of course, I have no idea what will happen after that, but the high testosterone in my brain won’t let me think beyond that.
That leaves me only one option. The option that seems obvious to every fit 18-year-old boy. Feats of strength. I’m going to have to win her attention by demonstrating my skill, my prowess, my raw ability. But how am I going to do that on a hike?
The opportunity soon presented itself.
Now, just to be clear, when I say “fit”, in my case I am more than healthy. I am in the best shape of my life. You see, I am doing my exchange student program in the summer between my junior and senior year in high school - right in the middle of football camp. Before I left coach told me to my face, “There won’t be a spot for you on the starting roster when you get back.”. He was pissed. He thought I was taking a vacation.
The fear of losing my starting position was so strong, I got up every morning at the crack of down, and rode a janky old 10 speed bike into town to lift weights in the local gym. But not only was I lifting weights, I was too lazy to do the metric conversion. By the end of the summer, I thought I was pressing 200 pounds - only to discover that the plates were 25 kilos, not 25 pounds. I was bench pressing 265 pounds and squatting almost 400.
Then, after those grueling workouts, when I was completely spent, I would get on my bike, and ride home, ten miles home, climbing up hill the entire way.
I wasn’t just fit. I was training at altitude against an invisible foe who had taken my spot on the starting roster! I was more than motivated. I was terrified this trip would might ruin my senior season playing football.
So on this beautiful august morning, standing in the Swiss alps, I’m dressed in the kind of outfit only a low self awareness 18-year-old athlete could don with confidence. I looked like a cross between a homeless kid and someone who had stolen a hat from Duran-Duran. It is the mid-1980s. I am wearing a tank top, short-shorts - the kind Isaah Thomas wore when the Pistons were world champs. You could count the change in my pocket that’s how tight they were. And of course knee-length socks. To top it off I had a Harrison High Hawks painters cap on, the pinnacle of clueless fashion.
But I’m 18, and buff. I didn’t know it at the time, but I could have worn a garbage bag and made it look chic.
While everyone is walking, and talking, and I am lost in my thoughts. I am trying to play it cool, hanging back. I’m not really listening, but nodding and pretending like I’m part of the conversation. Grunts will get you pretty far when you’re 18. Then I saw the perfect chance to demonstrate my strength and agility.
The leader of our group stopped in front of a vertical rock formation. I was a pillar of black basalt, reaching up into the bright blue sky. And with the wisdom of someone barely turned 19, he scrambles straight up the side. He doesn’t say anything to anyone. He just starts climbing. guy behind him follows. I need no invitation. This is my chance. I grab ahold of the cooled lava and start my ascent. Come hell or high water I am going to show her how awesome I am. She will have no choice but to notice me!
That she had been paying just as much attention to me during the hike is beside the point. Apparently fate gifted me with a strong intellect at the expense of a functioning social radar.
I’m agile and strong and I ascend quickly. And to my delight, my strategy worked perfectly. She starts climbing too, right next to me! But there’s no room for her!
So, to make space, I quickly swing myself toward the outside of the rock face, making a path for her to sit on the top. A chorus of voices call out, “Be careful!”
I fire back with complete confidence, “Shut up, I know what I’m doing!” I am so cool.
And it is the precise moment the rock I grab to steady myself comes off in my hands. It turns out the perfectly shaped lump was not attached to the pillar, but was just resting there, like plates on a shelf. The moment I pulled on them, instead of pulling me closer to the pillar, they slid toward me, and I fell backward out into space.
The ground is twenty… feet… down…
As I tumble time stops, or at least it stretches out - three things race through my mind in rapid succession.
First, I wondered if I was going to die. The answer came back so fierce, and so strong, I accepted it without question:
“No!”
Then I wondered if I would be crippled. Again the response like thunder rang through my head:
“No!”
Then… I lost my gum.
I had been chewing Wrigley’s wintergreen gum, a flavor I brought from the States. Good gum can be hard to find in Switzerland. And that precise moment I hit the ground on my back and shoulder. Now when I say I was in the best shape of my life, I’m not kidding. My arms and shoulders were huge. I weight 185 without an ounce of fat. When I hit that ground I bent in half like a jack knife, then bounced back into the air. But the force of the blow knocked the gum out of my mouth. And I will recall for the rest of my life the sight of that green gum on the black rocks as I flew away from the ground. I reached for it mouthing the words, “My gum!”
I do a weird somersault, and land as if I am reclining in a lounge chair, feet crossed, arms at my sides on makeshift arm rests..
The next thing I became aware of is the collective gasp of everyone around me. Then a this strange silence, followed by boots scrabbling over rock and snow. Everyone is rushing over to me.
Incredibly, I am “fine.” I think the adrenaline masked most of the soreness, I can walk.
Months later that I would learn I broke my back in that fall. To this day, I carry around a small souvenir from the hike. When I hit the ground and lost my gum, the severe bend chipped one of my vertebrae. After I had some back pain later in the fall, an X-ray revealed the injury. The doctor looked at, puzzled, said something like, “Well I’ll be damned.”. He did some more tests, asked me if I felt numbness or discomfort anywhere. “Nope,” I said. Then he told me not to worry about it. He believed they would do more harm to me trying to remove it than letting it be.
The only real problem is that every time someone X-rays my back I have to warn them about what they will find, or they FREAK out. Apparently having bone chips in your spine is normally a cause for concern.
But you’re probably wondering what happened with the girl? Well, I definitely got her attention. She’s the one who helped walk me back to the youth hostel that night. And, since the drinking age in Switzerland is only 18, we enjoyed a perfectly legal bottle of wine together, and a rather frustrating night in a crowded bunk house with our trip chaperones.
Was it worth breaking my back? It’s hard to say. I never saw her, or that mountain again, but in that moment will stay with me forever. And all kidding aside, I don’t know where those answers came from when I was suspended in time between heaven and earth, but I do know, someone is looking out for me.
I will also admit, after that experience, learning to talk to women is a better strategy than feats of strength.