December 1, 2010 climber Mark Bloch makes the following suggestion: "The End of Our Story: I have a radical idea. It came to me last night in a dream. Mara should start a new note on her page and call it THE END. Then we should start working backwards from the end and when the two stories meet, that will be the completion. That way we KNOW it will have the right ending. It is the various camps on the way up the mountain that will have to ebb and flow according to our Gumbish whims."
December 7, 2010
Mara Thompson
Experimental: First - "The End" and working backwards in time on the tale of Mount Analogue.
This ending will work backwards/towards the portion of Mount Analogue in prior note. Good luck to us all.
This could be the End...Or - Lee Goldberg
The End of our Story _ Mark Bloch
Mark - "Daumal could not complete Mount Analogue but we did. We planted the Daumal flag at the peak. We had returned from the 25th century to finalize his endeavor. As Susan oppressed the PLAY button on her audio vibration unit, the rest of us lined up in our positions to form the Fibonacci grid in The Shape of the Waffle, completing the prophecy. The unit's only surviving song began to play. It was of course, Born in Chicago by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. With the rest of the 21st century world clearly visible on the horizon, we began to dance."
Mara - It's anticlimactic. When we reached the peak prepared for a 360 degree view we found it was actually the lip of a huge caldera. The jagged crown of rocks around it appeared to be a fence between us and nirvana. I alternated between saying, "Wow! Look at the size of that thing," to, "Turn around, we can see the ocean behind us!" Thankful that soon we'd be headed home, at least most of us would be, I sat down to make an entry and quick sketch in the field notes.
Mark - Bill and Ria were the last to slip through the slit. The rest of us were standing there patiently waiting for them. Mara clutched her pen and continued to look around. Susan was still out of breath from her brave journey to fetch the vibration unit.
"THE END - this is either our ride out of Mt Analogue or the bungling of our way out.... not sure" - Mara Thompson
Mara - At the last portion of the trek we wonder where the dirigible would be able to land. It appears the final peak is a very high and narrow spike. This model had been completed after we departed for Mount Analogue. I began to look forward to the sights, but especially the smells of the lowland.
Bill - Still red roped to Susan and Яia I let my eyes adjust. A dark cloud mingles with our shadows which are greatly stretched in the morning sunrise. The shape passes quickly as I feel a tug. Looking back, I feel an unconcerned nostalgia as I realize my tail is snagged and won't pass through. The rope 's end too, is lost in the mist. Mara has paused to make a quick sketch of our entry. I wave knowing her quick hands capture even tiny fragments.
Mark - Susan had snagged the ancient 23rd century vibration unit just in time and now had made it back just as the dirigible was overhead. 10 seconds later and the shadow would not have protected us. As the protective lid of the mountain flew away... being tugged by the blimp, we said goodbye to what looked now like a giant hallucination floating away on the wind. When I saw her still panting and hoping no one noticed her nervously fidgeting with the peradam and the tail and her hair and the 2 monkeys AND the unit and most importantly that her rope needed adjusting between she and Ria and I reached over to help a relieved Susan. "I can't wait to hear it again," I told her as I gently untangled the rope and made room for Ria and Bill to stand on the edge. Susan seemed grateful despite the break in protocol and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and admitted, "I hope it still works." Lee rolled her eyes.
