Page 110 of Free Fall

He’s sitting with his head tilted back, his hand over his eyes to block the sharp rays of the morning sun and obstructing any hope of reading his expression as well. I give him the OK sign with my hand and then a thumbs-up. He gives me one back, and my heart thumps. It’s not the most enthusiastic thumbs-up I’ve ever seen, but he’s not frantically waving me down either. So that’s a win.

I turn back to the rock. At this point, it’s a little harder, but nothing I can’t handle. It’s just up the main pillar, past thehorizontals, making note of, but not touching, the equipment left in the rock for those coming up on ropes, and then I’m at the crux to the top. It feels like magic. My fingers lock on the grips, my toes find their holds easily, and I’m climbing like I do this route every day. I’m sweating, but only barely, and when I come out on top, hands on hips, and the sun shining in my eyes, I let out a sigh of satisfaction.

It’s quiet up here.

Birds, wind, and the sound of my own breath.

“Whoo!” drifts up from the ground, and I see folks in the parking lot watching as they climb out of their cars and vans, applauding for me. I turn to where Sejin is waiting and he’s standing up clapping too. No whoops coming from his lips, but he’s smiling. I can see the glint of the sun on his teeth, and when he waves at me this time, it’s full of excitement…and probably relief.

I take the view in, savoring the clouds, the blue, pink, and yellow sky.

After deciding to head on down, I chalk up my hands and give Sejin another thumbs-up before directing him to go on down to the parking lot area where I’ll descend like we planned. This direction is an easier downclimb, but what I didn’t tell Sejin is that downclimbs are always the most dangerous part of any free solo. A lot can go wrong when gravity’s tugging you down faster than you want to go.

But I’ve done this one before, and it’s easy enough, and when my feet touch the floor, I’m grinning.

There.

Done.

Just as I told Sejin, it was easy peasy, lemon squeezy, and I’m not even tired. I’ve got plenty of energy for the drive home.

“You’re amazing,” Sejin says, as I step into his arms. He holds me tight. “Terrifying, but amazing.”

“You should see me climb something hard.”

Sejin squeezes me even closer, nuzzles my cheek, and says nothing. I hold him tight too, and all the gawkers disperse at the sight of two guys being all couple-y. Except for one family with some little kids. They stay, and I brace myself for some kind of confrontation from the very bro-dude-looking dad when we finally break apart and start back toward our van.

Instead, one of the kids runs up to me with a paper and pen, saying, “Mister! Excuse me! Can I get your autograph, please?”

He can’t be more than nine or ten and Sejin bites his lip, looking to me for my answer, and my heart thumps at his adorable attempt not to smile.

Squatting down, I accept the paper and pen, and scrawl my name on it along with a crude drawing of the sun, and a smiling mouth. The kid shifts from foot to foot as I do it, and his mom—a redheaded lady with freckles on her nose—approaches, leaving the father behind with the other two kids. She says, “Laken here wants to be a pro climber one day too. Any tips?”

“Yeah,” Sejin says. “Tip number one—let someone pay you to do it.”

I feel Sejin’s hand slip into my hair and tousle it. “This one’s a purist. He does all that crazy stuff for free, believe it or not.”

The woman laughs. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” I agree, and the kid asks, “What’s it say?” as I hand him the paper.

“My name. Dan McBride.”

“Never heard of you.”

“Yeah, well…”

I don’t know what to say to that, and his mother scolds him lightly.

“That’s by design,” Sejin offers. “He’s private.”

But his mother’s disapproval doesn’t keep the kid from saying, “It’s alright. I’ll keep this until youarefamous. Then I’ll sell it on eBay.”

“Mercenary,” Sejin says with a chuckle. “I like it.”

I stand up, wiping my palm on my pants before shaking hands with Laken’s mother who then guides her son away with a firm grip on his shoulder. Laken keeps looking back and waving. I stand with my hands in my pockets until the family has unloaded their gear for the day and started off down the nature trail.

As they pass us, I hear the dad ask, “So, what’s he like? Is he batshit?”