Last Day Blew

Bam; it came and it went. The last day blew.

Describe an incident where you did something for the first time.

I looked at the structure but I could not see any rocks.

“The rock-wall is the ultimate test of strength, endurance and perseverance. This is not a task for the faint of heart. You will need not only power, but also unyielding spirit to conquer this mammoth undertaking,” said Andy, my team’s instructor.

I had never scaled such a great height in my life. I had gone for camps previously. However, because of a mixture of hilarious circumstances and glib tongue, having to climb the wall had alluded me. In my Primary Five camp, my track pants, which are a pre-requisite to rock-climbing, had split at its seams. During the Secondary Three camp, I was able to talk my way out of rock-climbing. At another adventure camp, I volunteered to complete mundane chores nobody else bothered to do.

I was a coward.

At that adventure camp, at the fall of my Secondary Three life, I was determined to change myself. I had been running away for far too long. When I embarked on this camp, at the Outward Bounds School of Singapore, I had made a promise; taken an oath to put in my best no matter what I was asked to do. Thus, for the first time in my life, I was going to climb a rock-wall.

“Be honest with me. Who is afraid of heights?” Andy directed the question to the team. I thought it was a safety procedure. I saw a glimmer of hope that if I admitted my cowardice, I could escape the vertical ascent, and the ever present possibility of a vertical fall.

It turned out to be a mistake. I raised my hand meekly. Andy broke into the biggest of grins. My hand shot down, but it was too late.

“We have a winner! Raymond, you will go first!”

My team burst into laughter. The boys guffawed and the girls were reduced to giggles. I could only smile like I meant it. Inside, my heart was pounding. My palms perspired. What if the sweat prevents me from getting a firm grip of the “rocks”?

Andy put the harness on me. I made him do it twice. I was extremely nervous. All that anchored my life were cloth wrapped around my legs, a long flimsy-looking rope and a helmet. Two of my team-mates, along with Andy, managed my rope; acting as a safety in the event I fell from the wall. This failed to put me at ease. My team-mates, thought they looked relaxed, had little experience and Andy was only human. What if they made a mistake?

A slip of the hand could take my life.

I gripped the highest “rock” I could reach. From the bottom, looking up at the vertical face of the wall, it looked unbeatable. We are made to go along the horizontal plane after all, not the vertical. I said my apologies to Newton; I was defying gravity. My heart was in my throat and with my ears, I could hear it beading rapidly with gusto. From a distance, my friends cheered me on.

“The first time is always difficult but once you get it over and done with, you will become a man,” encouraged Andy. It did not make me feel any better; the innuendos were too obvious.

I swallowed. I finally summoned the courage to lift my feet of the solid ground. Without terra firma beneath my feet, I felt fragile. It was only centimeters of rubber material which kept me up.

Little by little, I made my ascent. It was grueling. My palms were sweating, so much so that getting a firm grip was difficult. At times, there were pieces which were almost impossible to reach. I found myself straining my muscles and joints, wishing for them to somehow become longer. I even amazed myself when, in desperation, I actually jumped up to reach a landing, letting all my limbs off the wall. From below, Andy shouted and warned. It fell on deaf ears. The adrenaline blocked out all unnecessary distractions.

Reaching the top was of utmost importance.

My body ached and threatened to fail me, three-quarters up the rock-face. It was relatively simple at first, but as I went out, my muscles protested in pain, threatening to give in. The number of rocks grew less and I struggled to stay up. After having such a clear goal; to reach the top no matter what, I looked like I was at my limits.

I looked at the ground below. I was, by then, already at least five storey up. If I fell, I would not get up again. I gulped. My breathing was ragged and hurried; they were gasps, desperate ones for oxygen. My fear swept me in full force. Vertigo had set in.

“I give up!”

Those words erupted from my being like a white flag sprouting out of my back. My team did not listen. They cheered on. They were unrelenting; though we were strangers not too long ago from different parts of the country, we had formed a strong, cast-iron bond.

“When you reach the top, there’s a pot of gold waiting for you!” Andy yelled over the cheers.

They had not given up on me and I could not give up on myself. With the last of my strength, I reached up farther. When my last reserves were empty, I conjured more power. I took in my friends’ encouragement and support and used it to propel myself up. They pushed me when I could push myself no longer.

At last I reached the top. I looked around for the pot of gold and smiled. It was a momentous achievement, for me, doing it the first time. I had used my strength and willpower. Still, it was not a solo performance; I could not have done it without my team. They were the ones who reached out to me when I thought I had fallen.

As I was propelled down, Renfred, the person who was to climb next asked, “Is there really a pot of gold up there?”

“You will have to find that out yourself,” I quipped.

It was a metaphor; the pot of gold. I left it to him to discover what his was.

I am very satisfied with this essay. Under an hour, and it's shorter than the one I wrote in prelims, at slightly more than a thousand words. And it got an 'A' too. Yay, me.

I think I've established my own style in essays now. I've thrown the concept of writing a story with accordance to the paragraphs out of the window. You know, like, first paragraph is intro, next is building to climax and then the climax. At this level, I think we should be able to safely forgo it. Just seperate it into ideas, not sections. Oh, and one line can be written as a paragraph, if you want that line to be delivered with impact. And short sentences, after a string of long ones has phwoar too. Just look at my essay. Screw similes from the book, because you can make up your own.

Oh, Idioms; Can't go on without them.

Suffice to say, this is one of my essays I actually liked ALOT. And it's partially true, too.

Truths:
-Primary 5 incident
-Going to OBS
-Rock-climbing at OBS
-My friend Renfred

Everything else is a lie.