At nineteen I was climbing Mt. Logan with a couple of buddies. I was carrying a camera to take photos from the top for my wife who couldn't climb mountains because of her knee. The marriage was ending. She would go out without me. We barely talked. She went to a shrink with me once- declared that she had been very hurt by me, and wouldn't discuss why and that was it- no more therapy to work anything out. The other two guys on the mountain with me were experienced mountain climbers and this was a day lark for them. I was very tired and at one point was entirely willing to lie down and act out that scene from "Women In Love:" where the guy goes to sleep in the snow- to freeze to death. They came back and got me and got me to go the rest of the way. We were just below the summit it seems. Coming down was a lot easier. I didn't take one picture. Told her I was too exhausted to get it out. (Is that a metaphor or what?) Anyway, was talking the other night and realized that I did know what that feeling was like: lying down to die. It's a whole lot easier to feel that way when you are young. There is no love like the first one for unleashed passion and agony.
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