Page 35 of Valley Girls
“Is it always this busy?” she asked Petra, interrupting their arguing to point down the dike.
“I was surprised we didn’t have to wait when we got here. It’s usually busier,” Petra said.
“It’s been cold this spring,” Adeena said, standing and brushing off her pants. “And the cables on the back for hikers aren’t up. I think that cuts down on traffic.”
“You did good today,” Petra said to Rilla. “Did we get you hooked?”
“Yes,” Rilla said confidently. She could see why people did this. The taste of the wind and the edge of fear. The feeling of pride and accomplishment that she had just done something not many people could or would ever do. That she’d done something she herself was afraid of. She didn’t know how she would ever do it again, but she wanted to.
“You’re going to become the next Lynn Hill now, right?” Petra teased.
“Who?” Rilla asked.
“The patron saint of women climbers.”
“In Yosemite, at least,” Adeena added.
Rilla laughed. She laughed—not because she thought Petra was absurd, though she did—but because her entire body felt lighter and stronger and sharper, and she could hardly believe she sat here, laughing.
“You have a chance hardly any other climber in the world has,” Petra said. “You live insideYosemite Valley. In a house. With a bed. And a kitchen?” Petra squinted at her.
Rilla nodded.
“A kitchen! And this is your backyard.” She flung her arms wide. “This is your fucking backyard.”
“Well, yeah ... I guess.” Rilla’s heart beat faster—whether from fear or exhilaration, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want the privilege of living in Yosemite to be wasted on her. She looked around, at the mountains surrounding her. Maybe there was a home here.
“We’re going to turn you into a climber,” Adeena said.
Rilla clutched the plastic wrapper in her fist. She understood the words, but didn’t believe them. The wind whipped her hair into tangled wisps about her face. In silence, they watched the climbers below them struggle slowly upward on the dike, before standing, hoisting their packs, and heading up the steep slab toward the summit.
After another forty minutes, Rilla took back all the good things she felt—certain death was imminent. Her calves burned, and the cold wind scraped her lungs. Snow fell into her shoes no matter how carefully she stepped. Somewhere near the top, she paused to catch her breath, and a sudden wave of head-spinning nausea slapped her in the face, making her gag. “I’m going to be sick,” she gasped. “I need a minute.” She sank onto a rock and closed her eyes.
“Altitude sickness,” Adeena said. “Be careful. It slows your head. It’ll get better once we start going down. We can stop again if you need it.”
Rilla waited until she caught her breath and stood—following on, silent and nauseated. Her eyelids drooped, heavy and weirdly swollen. They crossed the barren moon landscape of the top of the dome in a thin line, one after another, with Petra leading.
She wason topof Half Dome. She should be running around, high kicking and Instagramming all over the place—but all she wanted to do was get off.
They wound past impossibly balanced cairns—rocks stacked one on top of the other to stand taller than Rilla’s head. She slipped in the snow as she tried to stay in Adeena’s and Petra’s footsteps.
Adeena grabbed her wrist. “Hold up.”
Rilla slid to a stop, lifting her head and realizing they’d crossed the top and now stood overlooking the back side of the dome. Even the altitude sickness didn’t dull the thrill of seeing what lay beyond the dome she’d gotten so used to seeing every time she looked east. They stood on a gentle edge before the plummet. As far as she could see, there was nothing but white and gray jagged peaks, charcoal valleys, blunt domes, and the scrubby dark sage of evergreens. Oblivion spread before her. Oblivion, with no way down.
“How do we get off?” Her heart was already racing, thumping in her stomach and throat. It didn’t feel like it could go any faster. The edge of panic rippled against her.
“We’ll go down the cables route,” Petra said. “As soon as the people ahead clear out.”
“I thought you said the cables were down.”
“They are. But they just drop them down on the rock. The boards are left,” Petra said. “It’s not suitable for most hikers, really. But it works.”
“Why don’t you sit,” Adeena said. “Drink something.”
Rilla sank onto a rock, shivering in the icy wind.
“See if this will fit.” Adeena handed her a ball of quilted nylon. “It will be warmer.”
