I was descending a mountain and in my exhaustion I foolishly took the most direct route, which was steeper, with 4th, borderline 5th terrain. At one point where I was down climbing, my right hand was on a small hold, two good feet, solid left hand.

Then my left hand ripped off a hefty rock chunk that was going straight for my left leg that I quickly swung off, leading me to start rotating and peeling away (barndoor), but managed to hold on. I quickly descended to a more stable ledge and stopped for 10 minutes in terror. I actually cried, which I have no problem admitting for the hormonal cascade of crying is tactically advantage when the threat is the environment and further caution is warranted.

I am writing this on my phone so I will share the other story another time. The mountains are a dangerous place.