Thoughts From a Tower: Treasure Your Friends and Loved Ones
Before It’s Too Late

Welcome to the Thoughts From a Tower series. This series is essentially a combination of stories and ideas. I’ll show some photos and tell stories about the towers and places that I’ve seen. Next, I present interesting thoughts that wandered through my mind while I climbed these towers. Refer to Thoughts From a Tower: Adventurous Mind page for further details.

I had a wonderful friend once. I owed him so much, but I never had a chance to repay my debt or thank him for everything he had done for me. And now it’s too late. This is a story about treasuring your friends and loved ones before it is too late.

A Matter of Life and Death

It was a beautiful day, and everything was going exactly according to plan. As I admired the gorgeous scenery around me, the sun’s warm rays enveloped my body, and the cool breeze caressed my skin. I felt calm, in control, and ready to go.

But I was heading straight toward my death.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

“Hey, man—just got your text. Tighten a second Crosby clamp and sling about 4 feet below the safety climb head also,” my friend Ryk (pronounced like Rike) said. “Make it a two-step process.”

“But I already have a Crosby and sling 8 feet below, giving me a lot of room to work with. Why not just one step?” I replied.

“About 4 feet is plenty. Trying to move just the 8 feet sling into the perfect spot is moving a lot of weight. When you get to the top, just secure the first sling at 8 feet anywhere—find literally any secure spot. Then you can easily look for an optimal spot for the second sling at 4 feet. There’s less weight while you move the 4 feet sling because the 8 feet sling will hold almost all the weight,” Ryk clarified.

“Sure. I’ll try it. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Within a minute, the second Crosby clamp and sling were in place, and I began climbing the tower.

The objective was simple: install a metal safety cable on top of a 260-feet (79-meter) tower. Excluding my own body weight, I was pulling a total of about 100 pounds (45 kilograms) to the tower’s peak.

If the tower lacked a quality safety cable, then future climbers were at significantly greater risk. A safety cable was, by far, the most effective safety mechanism. Climbers would hook a “safety climb device” onto the cable. If anyone were to fall, the device would catch on the cable, completely stopping the fatal fall.

After an excruciatingly difficult climb, I reached the summit and secured my two slings.

I threw the cable head over my left shoulder, as usual, bringing it closer to my body so I could work with ease.

As I prepared to install the cable head, I heard a loud snap as the tower shook violently.

Next thing I knew, a sharp pulsating pain resonated from my left shoulder region.

My heart sank as my right hand moved unsteadily toward my left shoulder. I dared not look, turning in the opposite direction.

My fingers traced the sharp edge of the safety climb head digging into the upper region of my chest. It felt very cold on such a warm sunny day.

When not installed, this is essentially a sharp rectangular plate—the same part that dug into my chest.

As I held the piece of metal in place, morbid thoughts raced through my mind. Holy shit. Am I gonna fucking die here?

I noticed my body’s violent trembling, and I felt my heartbeat in my ears.

Fucking hell. Fuck me sideways! This fucking hurts! 

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and slowly, attempting to regain composure.

After what seemed like hours, the pain lessened.

Should I remove it now? Do I leave it in? No, I fucking remove it. Of course, I fucking remove it! What the hell am I thinking?! I’m just gonna glide on down 260 feet with this fucking thing in my chest?!

I slowly removed the metal block and examined the deep cut.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been much worse, I thought.

While scanning the surroundings, I noticed the metal bar—the one holding my first sling—had snapped.

I was in utter shock. How did it snap?! It’s supposed to hold like a thousand pounds.

A smile ran across my face as I noticed the second sling still firmly in place.

Ryk was right. The second sling allowed me to secure the cable head in the optimal position. Without it, I would have just left the first sling in place and proceeded to work—assuming the bar would have held as it should. Without it, my chest, shoulder, and upper back would have been sliced open, leaving me to bleed out on the tower.

I peered down the tower, pondering my fate had that second sling not been in place.

The tower was in the middle of nowhere. No emergency team would have arrived in time. It would have been a terrible way to die—bleeding at the top of the tower while rescuers retrieved my lifeless body.

But the focus of this story isn’t actually about my near-death experience. It’s about the dear friend who saved my life.

Lightning Stryk

Lightning rod

Only 1 minute separated me between life and death.

I had casually texted Ryk, expecting to use his advice for another tower. Fortunately, he replied promptly, and I followed his advice on this very tower.

Since I usually do not answer phone calls while high up on a tower, that 1 minute was literally life-saving.  Had he taken longer than 1 minute to reply, I would have continued making my way up the tower—heading directly toward my death.

We had been conversing for months, slowly becoming great friends while trying to deal with stupid shit from work. He would tell me about his dream to have his own business—one focusing on videography and photography. He was excited about the house he recently bought with the woman he recently married. Frequently, I would talk shit to him, and he would talk shit to me.

One of the most quirky things about Ryk was his texting speed. Ryk always responded to texts lightning fast, and it was very common to receive a reply within a minute, sometimes seconds.

I nicknamed him Lightning Stryk. It was one of his charms. In a flash, he was always there when you needed him, always ready to help. Not only was he a great friend, but he was one of the few climbers who were better than me (then again, I did get fucking stabbed by a metal plate at 260 feet).

A month after the near-death incident, I was briefly in town one day for work. I dropped by to say hi and deliver some materials.

“Dude, I’m starving! You wanna get some food?” Ryk asked.

“Shit, dude. I already ate. And I booked an early flight out—was thinking of heading home as soon as possible.”

“Ah. It’s all good. We’ll catch up next time you’re in town!” Ryk said, waving goodbye as he walked toward his house.

I waved back as I drove away. “I still owe you a beer, man! Hell, I owe you whatever the hell you want to drink! Thanks for all the help! Saving my ass and all! Another time!”

Ryk smiled. “I drink a lot man! You’re gonna regret saying that! Another time for sure!”

Another Time

But another time never came.

A couple of weeks after our last meeting, I received news that Ryk had passed away due to health complications. Despite a feigned composure, the sadness was overwhelming. For months, I distracted myself through my work.

Because of Ryk, I always made sure to respond to messages or phone calls as soon as possible. No games. No laziness. No procrastination. Always as soon as possible, whenever possible. Every minute mattered because all it took was 1 minute to save my life.

Now Is the Time

Ryk’s death gave me a profound perspective on the uncertainty of life.

This uncertainty is best exemplified by one of my favorite poems, and I would like to share it with you.

Around the Corner

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

“Tomorrow” I say! “I will call on Jim
Just to show that I’m thinking of him”,
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner, yet miles away,
“Here’s a telegram sir,” “Jim died today.”
And that’s what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

This poem beautifully captures the relentless passage of time, the tiresome distractions of life, and the fragile nature of human relationships.

We think everything will be just as we left it. We think there will always tomorrow. We think there will be another time.

But everything can change in an instant. There may never be a tomorrow. There may never be another time.

I will never see my friend again. I will never get the chance to buy him drinks, and the debt will never be repaid. I never even had a proper farewell—just a hurried wave and a casual “another time.” It was probably the 5th time I said that to him. I never thought it would be the last time.

Like many, I had fallen into the trap of thinking that another time is right around the corner. But, for me, another time is gone forever.

I like to revisit the poem once in a while to remind myself that I must always treasure those who are dear to me. No matter how busy I am, I still try to find the time. In the worst case, I reschedule immediately and limit myself to no more than two postponements.

My left chest still carries the scar from that fateful day. For the longest time, it pained me to see it. Now, the scar is a constant reminder that I should treasure every moment and every person dear to me.

Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t keep planning for “another time.” Don’t assume you are guaranteed another time.

We can’t assume our friends or loved ones will always be there. We can’t even be certain that we will be there. And we will never know for certain because anything can happen. A few precious moments is 100% better than a lifetime of regret.

Like many others, Ryk could have taken his time before replying to my message. He could have simply ignored the message to “save” some time. But it simply wasn’t in his nature. He just wanted to enjoy every moment. I was in too much of a hurry to see that he hid behind a pained smile. He likely knew that he did not have much time.

To him, every moment and every minute mattered. And, on that fateful day, the minute that he could have “saved” ended up saving my life.

I know he would forgive me. He’s just that kind of person. I’m just not sure if I can forgive myself.

Treasure your friends and loved ones before it’s too late. Believe me. I still carry the scar that reminds me of my mistake.

Don’t rely on another time. Now is the time.

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