Touch the Top of the World by Erik Weihenmayer

Author:Erik Weihenmayer [Weihenmayer, Erik]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2002-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

Throughout the day, different Alaskan guides whom Chris hadn’t seen since last year in a similar storm would drop in and soon they’d be best friends again, laughing and telling large Alaskan tales. I loved listening to their stories, which expertly blurred the line between folklore and truth. “I was floating down the Aragatch when I rounded a corner and there they were, a herd of caribou, a thousand thick if there was one.”

“Have you ever heard the story of Hue Glass? He was tore up by a grizzly and left for dead, but he crawled thirty miles with his guts falling out all over the ground and when he found that old cod who left him for dead, well . . .”

“Did you hear about that moose that gored that old boy up near Valdez? Stomped him flat and then damned if he didn’t spit on the poor soul.”

“I was up near Fairbanks last winter. It was so cold, my tires froze into squares. You ever try driving on square tires?”

“Ever poke around in the Chugatch Range? Rock ain’t much. So soft, you can carve your name in it with your finger. Call it Chugatch crud, but there’s enough unclimbed peaks to keep a fella busy for quite a spell.”

Chris, by far, had the best Alaskan adventures. I loved listening to his rough twang, relating his narrow escapes of giant avalanches in the Talkeetna Range, his treacherous fordings of the McKinley River when he was swept, pack and all, down the churning rapids, and his isolated float trips, catching Dolly Varden and Arctic grayling above the Arctic Circle. I imagined Chris as a larger-than-life frontiersman, straight from the Alaskan bush, riding caribou across the tundra with Daniel Boone, together fighting grizzlies and taming the land. “You must be a burly dude,” I said to Chris.

“How do you picture him?” Jeff interjected with a hint of a grin in his voice.

“About six foot two and maybe, two hundred fifty pounds, with a big bushy lumberjack’s beard and arms of steel.”

Jeff cracked up, rolling back and almost choking on one of the slimy sausages. “This time, Super Blind, your extrasensory perception is way off. Six foot two? Two hundred fifty pounds? Arms of steel? He’s more like five foot eight and a hundred fifty pounds soaking wet. Picture a little weasely runt with a shiny bald head, and there’s Chris Morris for ya.” I couldn’t believe it. My brain couldn’t put together Chris’s burly voice and Jeff’s description. I felt the way Dorothy must have, when Toto pulled the curtain back and exposed the Wizard of Oz. Chris jumped up, deepening his already rumbling voice. “He’s lying, Big E! He’s just jealous. I’m six foot four if I’m an inch and at least two-eighty. I’m a big burly sucker, just like you pictured me, and don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise.” Needing to know for sure, I jumped up and grabbed out for Chris. My fingers swept across his bald

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