They say time slows when you’re facing death, and that may be true, but I didn’t have enough time.  All I could do was grab the loose end of the rope as I fell.  The idea was to pull it tight so that the friction would stop it sliding through the straps of my backpack.

Even with the pack distributing some of the force, the impact of the sudden stop when I ran out of rope was bone jarring.  The breath was forced from my lungs and my shoulders felt as though I’d been cleaning windows all weekend.  Some survival instinct made me keep my grip on the rope and it was the pain from the rope digging into my wrist and forearm that snapped me out of my state of shock.

I had no time to waste.  I quickly got my feet back onto the wall.