Birds of a Feather

Clay Hurtubise c2026

We had biked, hiked, drank beer, and of course, eaten pizza, together. We were birds of a feather.

There is a picture of us on the summit of Mt. Blanc. No photograph exists of the time we climbed up through a waterfall on The Eiger. When we had to go down the waterfall, I went first. As Bill came down he was right in line with going into the entrance of an underground river. I pulled him aside, avoiding a cold burial.

In the early years I thought he had a kind heart, that would change with time.

It broke my heart when he announced that he was joining the Air Force. With only a few days left, I was determined to show him a good time.

That summer I had taken up rock climbing; I was still a novice but had climbed with some talented climbers.

“Bill, why don’t we climb Whitehorse ledge before you leave? I want you to experience what it’s like when I climb. Mother nature is my church. When you climb, all other thoughts will dissipate. On the ledge, it’s like communion.”

“Great, but I don’t have the equipment”.

“That’s OK, we can rent climbing shoes and a harness at the shop”.

“I’ll take you up an easy climb. It’s friction climbing, it’s all about keeping pressure on your feet and smearing your sole against the granite. Don’t expect to find handholds, it’s all about the feet. It’ll be fun, something you won’t forget”.

Whitehorse Ledge is about 1,400’ tall, though most climbing routes are in the 600-800’ range. The majority is about at a thirty-degree angle, which doesn’t sound bad until you’re a couple hundred feet up. Some routes have minimal protection, meaning there aren’t places to anchor yourself. This would be the first time I led a climb. I got Bill all set up and told him how to hold the rope should I yell ‘falling’.

With a copy of the local guidebook in my back pocket, I started up a route for beginners. When we reached a belay station, an area that allowed the climbers to tie in securely, all was going to plan.

A bolt had been placed into the granite, allowing me to clip a carabiner in, this would protect me should I fall. It was about a hundred feet above Bill. Misreading the guide, I veered off the easy route and entered a much more difficult route. When I was thirty feet beyond the last piece of protection, I was near the end of the technical part, the slab was less steep after that.

Man, I thought to myself, this sure is difficult for a beginner route. All I needed to do was reach for one last handhold. The end was in sight. When I reached out, I broke a friction climber’s commandment. Thou shalt not alter the angle of thy feet.

I knew the mistake the instant it happened, “uh-oh”, I thought to myself. This is going to hurt. …it did.

As my shoes started to slip, I yelled ‘falling’. Not able to admit defeat, I tried to find something for my fingers to grab. The crystalline surface was unforgiving. My knees, shins and forearms made contact, grinding the skin off. Every fingertip had the flesh removed. I tumbled over a lip, swinging out mid-air, then smashing into the wall. My t-shirt belonged at the Vatican.

…it was covered in stigmata.

Another climber, on a different route, yelled over, “Epic fall, man. Be careful”.

There I was, hanging 600’ above the ground. A 11.5mm rope… my lifeline. Bill had responded correctly and stopped my fall. I was 20’ from any hard surface. Looking up was surreal, I was hanging horizontally, looking up. The bright blue sky seemed closer than ever. I asked, “Bill, could you give me some slack so I can reach the slab”.

On contact it took a few minutes for me to regain composure. I let him know I’d start climbing again. Going down seemed riskier, more complicated.

Honestly, I don’t know how I finished the climb. Every move was painful. I could feel the crystalline surface dig into the exposed meat of my fingers.

At the spot where I fell I could see tiny pieces of flesh. I pushed through.

I discovered the reason for my fall. I had neglected to tell Bill when I was nearly out of rope, to let me know. When I reached for that handhold, it was like pulling on an elastic band. I was yanked backwards.

At the top I prepared to help Bill up. Tied in securely, I was able to put tension on the rope to keep Bill from falling.

Back at my apartment, Bill had to take off for home.

My roommate, also named Bill, was home, another bird in my little flock. Room-mate Bill and I were becoming friends, or so I thought. Running and climbing together. As I was telling him of the adventure, the doorbell rang. “You stay there, I’ll get it”, Bill said.

He returned with a man carrying a briefcase. I had forgotten that I had an appointment with a life insurance agent. My appearance was a wreck, torn, bloody shirt, scraped and bloody knees , shins and forearms. I was holding ice filled towels in both hands.

Bill sat to the side while the agent asked me questions. “Do you smoke‘?, the agent asked.

“No”

Bill mumbled, chuckling to himself, “ask him if he rock climbs’. The agent went on,

‘Do you hang glide”?. “No” ( I gave it up the week prior when I had a near fatal crash).

“Ask him if he rock climbs”, Bill said with more gusto.

“Do you drink or use drugs”?, agent asked.

“I drink just a beer or two occasionally, I’m a pharmacist, so I only push out drugs. I jokingly replied.

“Ask him if he rock climbs”!, Bill said even more loudly. He put a pillow over his face to muffle his laughter.

“Do you surf or race motorcycles”?

“No”

Bill left the room in tears, but before he left, he said,

….“Ask him if he rock climbs”!

The agent clearly wanted the sale and ignored Bill. He handed me paperwork and said to call him when I was ready to buy the policy.

He held out his hand. Without thinking, I removed the towel to shake hands. I got blood all over his. As he looked at his bloody hand, I handed him the towel.

…“I rock climb”.

…“So I gathered”

In his bedroom, Bill was laughing hysterically.

I didn’t buy the policy.

With both birds, Bill and Bill, we had trusted our lives with each other. That’s a strong bond, something to chirp about. I thought we’d grow old together.

…Within the hour of telling them, both birds flew the coop

never to be heard from again.