江蘇 王木華

When I was 13,I climbed my first mountain—a 1,200-metre peak.I loved the challenge of overcoming something bigger than myself.Soon I'd climbed nearly 100 peaks.

I often go climbing with my friend Mel Olsen.Three years ago,on December 30,the two of us drove to Oregon to climb Mount Hood.

It's safer to start at night,when there's less risk of the sun melting the snowpack.We started at 3 am,following the paths alongside the ski runs.It was about-10℃,and we wore easily removed layers,knowing we didn't want to get too hot on the climb.

At around 9 am,we reached an ice step about a meter tall.I volunteered to go up ahead of Mel.Then suddenly a whole piece of ice broke off the step,right under my foot.

First,I fell backwards,and then I slid.I could hear Mel calling my name as I bounced(反彈)off the rock face.My fightor-flight response kicked in,and I stretched out my arms and legs so I wouldn't roll down the mountain.

When I hit the ground,I could feel my bone slicing into my skin and muscle.As Mel made her way down,I started yelling for help,and a group of other climbers came to assist me.They fixed my leg and called Portland Mountain Rescue.Mel waited beside me while I tried not to scream from the pain.

When we got to the bottom of Mount Hood,I was taken straight to a hospital.The doctors told me it would be a year before I could climb again,but I was back on the mountain paths within six months.I'm not going to let one fall—no matter how terrifying—keep me from doing my favorite thing in the world.

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Why did the writer start the climb at night?

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