by Scott Neuffer

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August 14, 2012
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Risk and reward: A tale of high finance in the High Sierra

The first time lightning struck the hillside above us, I felt a tear in the fabric of my self-confidence. The next hit pealed down my spine, ignited the butterflies in my stomach. Then another. Ripping the air. Breathless. The smell of burning. What had been a sense of sublimity minutes before gave way to raw, primordial fear. Cold fear. And the hits kept coming. Like heavy artillery. All light and noise and wind and wetness lashing us. Punishing us for our decision, my decision. Just how we'd gotten stuck at 11,000 feet in the summer's worst storm was, at that …

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The Record Courier Updated Aug 14, 2012 03:00PM Published Aug 14, 2012 02:52PM Copyright 2012 The Record Courier. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.