|FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK!
After an hour or so, I got tired of blowing on the whistle. I reminded myself that I'm a professional engineer, I have a map, I have a reliable compass, I can do triginometry in my head, and I fucking aced my land surveying course.
I carefully navigated east, stopping to sight landmarks every 10 metres. I had to climb over some rather large rocks and scramble through some tough underbrush, but eventually I came to a scree slope that led up to a rock chimney.
My testicles snapped up into my abdomen again when I started up this slope. The rocks kept shifting, and if I slipped, the drop would be far steeper and more painful than my initial slide. Even the topsides of my fingers were sweating, and my fingertips kept slipping on the rocks - I now understand why professional climbers carry bags of chalk with them.
It wasn't even noon when I first slid down, but it was around 6 PM when I finally managed to get to the rock chimney. I had removed my pack and was using it like a grapnel, tossing it above my head so it would wedge between rocks and give me something to hang on to when stones shifted between my feet.
I sucked down three litres of water during this climb, but had no need to pee - it was all coming out as nervous sweat.