Lucky Charms

One moment, I was comfortably scrambling up the side of a mountain in the Sierra Nevada, California, USA. The next, I was knocked down by falling rock and lost consciousness.

- Derek Cheng

I awoke hours later with blood blanketing my face and soaking through my right trouser leg. As I sat up gingerly, my back whimpering in protest, I realised there was so much blood around my left eye that it was fused shut.

It was just after noon on a cloudless, July day. I was alone and 300m up the northwest face of Clyde Minaret, about 16km from the trail head and an hour's drive from civilisation.

It was the latest of many solo mountain missions, the appeal of which understandably eludes most sane people because of the inherent risks of loose rock, exposure to the elements, and being completely out of mobile coverage.

But there is very little that compares with covering an enormous amount of mountain terrain in much less time than it would take in a team. The joy of moving from peak to peak, across different terrain, at your own pace and however you please. The lack of any city smog, or any work hassles, or thoughts about what to do or wear to be socially accepted. The exquisite solitude.

That appeal must always be balanced against the objective danger that mountains present, and how lucky you feel. Loose rock is not uncommon, and there are normally no second chances if something happens to you while free-soloing.

As scans and tests would later show, the tremendous impact to my cheek - just below my helmet - forced all the bones around my left eye to cave in and bruised my brain, leaving it bleeding and swollen in the left frontal lobe. So hard was the impact that I had no recollection of where I had been, or how far I had fallen.

My left shoulder shared the impact, as did both my shins, leaving them with deep gashes and swelling. My bloated hands suggested that I had held them out to soften the blow. My neck suffered a fractured bone and ligament damage, as did two bones in my lumbar spine.