Waiting For A Call Out

Mountain Rescue Rucksack

I’m kneeling on my bedroom floor. Waiting.

There’s a bit of a knot in my stomach and I’m not sure why.

We’ve just been given a stand by message. I’ve been on enough call outs before. Maybe it’s the anticipation.

Or maybe I just ate my dinner too quickly.

I had only just got off the hill.

Here we go again. Good job I haven’t had a chance to change out of my kit yet.

 

I go to my bag and check it over, but I haven’t even unpacked it yet. It’s all still there, ready to go.

I put my red jacket back on and try to read a book…

But I can’t focus properly, because I’m waiting.

We don’t usually know when they’re coming. Sometimes we have a guess.

I’m not used to waiting.

I sit on the edge of my bed beside my phone. Upright.

My brain’s telling me to relax, act casual, but body language is having none of it. Since when do I usually cross my legs?

I listen to the rain outside.

It’s getting darker.

 

I think of something else I could have packed.

I dig a pair of gloves out of the bottom of the wash basket and put a packet of emergency jelly babies in the front pocket of my Paramo.

I look at the phone and sigh.

I don’t like waiting.

I like responding.

At least we had the chance to eat dinner…

The knot is coming back.

 

At least I wasn’t away this weekend: 4 call outs in 3 days is pretty unusual for us.

I suppose this abominable weather is pretty unusual for August though.

Sorry tourists…

Not that I would put it past Dartmoor.

 

I pick my phone up and search for the mentioned location on the OS map.

Without realising what I’m doing, I start to plan my route in and guessing at the RV…

 

It’s been almost 20 minutes now.

Perhaps I should try to do something else this evening, in case it doesn’t happen.

I go to see how Dave Cornthwaite’s trip expedition around Norway is going and get sucked into adventure videos on Youtube.

Funny how that happens…

Then my computer can’t cope with the pressure and decides to freeze.

I look up at my phone: half an hour now, what’s going on?

 

I try to pick up the book again and no sooner have I opened the page – RINGTONE.

The book hits the floor as I grab my phone.

Yes.

I run down the stairs, out the house and I’m gone.