On the way down, Bob left. And I really mean left. Shortly after coming off the summit he took off with a comment that we would be all right getting out. “If you want help, just hook up with another guide when they come off the Grand in a few hours,” he declared. And away he went. Bob was gone and I was again left to my own novice devices. 

So there I was, hanging on for dear life. “Don’t let go of the rope,” David shouted, with a grin at my ridiculous predicament. “Thanks buddy, but I wasn’t planning on it,” I nervously snickered back. “In fact, I might just wait here until Bob returns.” 

I eventually managed to get my feet on a ledge, after a little contortionist act (or was it just yoga?), and turn into the rock face again. The rest of the descent was easy, despite the thumping in my chest and the shaking in my hands. David and I then navigated our way out of Garnet Canyon (actually David navigated and I obediently followed, thanking the gods the entire time that he was there, or I would have wound up in Kansas) and back to the Exum headquarters. We didn’t say anything about Bob, because we were still pretty stoked from summiting the Enclosure and in a very generous mood. 

Despite my ill-fated beginning, that day on the summit of the Enclosure began my true love for the mountains. Having earned my first summit through great adversity, the gods began to let me visit them more often. Over the next couple years, I scaled several peaks in the Olympic and Cascade mountains, without too much misadventure. (I don’t really count skinned knees, bruised shins, or pulled muscles, all of which are badges of honor for middle-aged novice climbers.) 

Two years later I returned to the Tetons, and to Exum, with a little more wisdom. “No more young guides for me,” I told them. “An experienced guide, over fifty, willing to teach, patient, and definitely not a screamer,” I requested. And that is exactly what I got. 

Tom has been guiding for decades. He guided me on one-day ascents of both Middle Teton and Teewinot that year, instructing me from his broad experience the entire time. And we talked philosophy. Philosophy! On Teewinot! Life was simply perfect for those few short hours. 

But the Grand remained unscaled, and David’s challenge remained unfilled. I had to return! 

The following year, 2007, I convinced an old law school buddy, Nate, to climb Grand Teton with me, in one day. “A one day ascent of the Grand is a real achievement,” Tom had told me the previous year. So Nate and I began training for a July climb. (It wouldn’t snow on the Grand in July, I told myself.) 

Tom was not available, but a co-worker recommended another Exum guide, Cara. I instantly balked, because Cara definitely wasn’t over fifty. “Another young guide,” I bleakly thought. But we chatted on the phone and Cara seemed nice. Which she truly is, in addition to being experienced and knowledgeable. She freely shared her skills and knowledge with us. She took us to the top of the Grand and back without incident, all in one day. We saw shooting stars streaking through the inky night sky in lower Garnet Canyon; in upper Garnet Canyon we saw the sun rise, thrusting red and yellow fingers into the horizon; we glimpsed geysers in Yellowstone National Park from our perch on the 13,770-foot summit; and, most importantly, two middle-aged friends and their young guide finally conquered the Grand. 

So, it only took me four years to summit Grand Teton, but I finally fulfilled David’s challenge. And what did this novice, middle-aged, climber learn along the way? Always accept a challenge, because it could change your life in new and wonderful ways. Always persevere, because the gods may just be testing your resolve. Whether young or old, always demand a patient and kind guide. And lastly, whatever you do, “Don’t let go of the rope.”

John H. Ridge lives in Redmond Washington. He is an attorney with Stoel Rives LLP and a former philosophy professor at Northwest University.