The winning essay from the 2007 International Festival of Mountaineering Literature takes us on a dark and surreal journey up Britain's boldest climb - The Indian Face.
Stuck high on that slab, like a child swept out to sea, Chris had screamed for fifteen minutes. He couldn't move up, he couldn't reverse. Legs cramping, toes sliding, he swore. Then he'd gone quiet, resting his forehead against the rock. His rapid, loud breathing dimmed to a faint rasp. Young Martin held the useless ropes like rosary beads...
In reply to Jack Geldard - Editor - UKC: Suprised you didn't give up work and live the life of luxury with the winnings. Did you get my mail this morning?
A fine piece of writing. This year entries must be on the festival theme of 'Partners - Who Needs Them?' Was there a theme last year or was it carte blanche?