Joe Iole and the Deathly Avalanche

Joe Iole was waiting for me as I climbed down from the summit.

“Well, we did it, buddy,” he said. “We summitted Everest.”

“I know,” I said, “but I can hardly believe it. You know, if it were not for all your help and constant motivation, I never would have made it. You’re a real-” I had a lot more to say about how important our friendship was to me and the gratitude I felt for just being able to tag along on the adventures of such a brave yet considerate guy, but those were all the words I got out. Without warning, I couldn’t breathe. Moments earlier, I had been fine, but now I was gasping for air. A terrible realization slowly dawned on me. I had not been paying attention and had used all my bottled oxygen.

“Take mine,” Joe Iole said, taking off his mask and handing it to me with his own bottle. “I can make it down without it.” I replaced my bottle with his as quickly as I could in my dizzied state and was struggling to secure it in my pack when we heard a shout from just behind us.

“Joe Iole!” We both turned quickly and saw the kid hurrying down the peak to catch up with us, eager to tell us something.

“Hello, kid. Glad you could make it,” Joe Iole said. “Now, come on and help me get M down to camp.”

“But look at that,” the kid said happily, gesturing towards a nearby cliff.

“Ah,” said Joe Iole contemplatively, looking at the small animal resting in the sun. “That’s a baby Panthera uncia, more commonly known as the Snow Leopard. It was almost driven to extinction as a result of people killing it to sell its pelts. There were less than 1,000 of them living at one point. Thankfully, it has recovered slightly, but it’s still endangered. It is a lovely animal, kid, but we really don’t have time for sightseeing now. We’ve got an injured climber to take care of.” The words had barely left his mouth when a rumbling began beneath our feet.

“Avalanche,” Joe Iole said.

“And it’s heading straight for the baby snow leopard!” the kid exclaimed. Joe Iole quickly sized up the situation, his eyes narrowing with steely determination.

“Kid, you’ve got to help M down to camp,” he said and then turned to me. “M, you’re going to be fine. I have business to attend to.”

Quickly, Joe Iole dropped his pack, and charged directly into the path of the avalanche towards the baby snow leopard. None of us blinked as he vaulted across the treacherous icy rocks, the monstrous wave of snow crashing at his heels. At speeds not thought possible by a human, his hand, barely a blur, snapped out to snatch up the scared little cat and cradle it safely in his arms, his steady gait never breaking. Now, as it became the ultimate contest of man versus nature, with life at stake and only success or a cold death hanging in the balance, I noticed, alarmingly, that the only course away from the avalanche led to the edge of a cliff, shearing off the mountain face into a misty oblivion far below. My cry, both futile and too late, was drowned out as the wall of ice and snow smashed down, exploding in a white cloud that concealed everything. And then all was still. In horror, we looked on to blank smooth slope, freshly glimmering in the sun. And silent, as the moment when all our secret dreads became reality.

“I can’t believe it, kid,” I said softly. “He’s gone. He’s really gone.” I looked at the kid and saw his tears freezing on his cheeks as fast as they fell. “We have to go, kid. There’s nothing we can do for him now,” I said, but the kid stood frozen with shock. If only Joe Iole were here to save the day, but he would never save another day, never dive in front of another speeding train to save a Duck-billed Buntingi, never again fight off a pack of hungry wolves before they attacked a Hairy-eyed Dwarf Lemur, never lay down in front of a another bulldozer threatening to destroy the habitat of the Ngoni Moss Frog.

I was going to have to get us out of this myself, and I was going to have to think fast. What would Joe Iole do if he were here now? Hmm… He would leave the kid behind and save himself, right? Yes! That’s it! I would just take the kid’s oxygen and head on down. Man, you got kind of a rush when you made these split second life-or-death decisions. Not bad, and of course, there would be three times as much freeze-dried beets for me. And I might as well take the kid’s water. He probably wouldn’t need it, and there is plenty of snow if he gets- No no no, wait, that couldn’t be right. Joe Iole wouldn’t do that. I could feel myself breaking out in a nervous perspiration despite the cold. The wind was getting stronger, and dark clouds were rapidly moving in. If I did not come up with a plan soon, we were both going to freeze to death up here, but my mind lingered on Joe Iole. What would Joe Iole do? How could he leave us? Then, suddenly, I figured it all out.

“We’re doomed, kid,” I said, but the kid was still staring off into the space where we had last seen Joe Iole and not listening. I looked too, giving in to the hopelessness of our situation. Surprisingly, at that moment we heard the distinctive sound of an ice pick striking its mark. Next, a hand raise up, setting a scared but safe baby snow leopard in the crisp new snow, and finally, Joe Iole pulled himself up over the cliff edge. He paused there briefly to gently pat the leopard’s head and then came over to us.

“Joe Iole!” the kid said. “You made it!”

“Sure I made it,” he said smiling. “Did you think I would leave you? Now, we need to get out of here and I could use a hot chocolate. How about you, kid?”

The kid smiled back, and as we turned to head down, we saw the mother Snow Leopard come out to take its baby back to the safety of their cave. I stood there for a moment, looking out over the mountains, glowing peacefully in the setting sun and felt a sense of profound relief.

Joe Iole was still with us. The world was still safe.

Joe Iole: the Man, the Myth, the Legend: the Blog: the Blog Readability Test: the Post

I've been telling everyone this for as long as I can remember, and now I have proof.

Honestly, I'm so happy about it I might actually update.

Joe Iole and the Forest of Fire

It had been a slow day at the office. I sat slumped over my desk trying desperately to finish the crossword puzzle and bottle of whiskey I had been working on since lunch. Joe Iole sat across the room, finishing the last of the sweaters he had been knitting for the local homeless dogs before the first snow of the winter, his eyes shining, filling the room with his thoughtfulness and generosity. I lit a cigarette, reclining in my chair and thinking of all the close calls and tight spots Joe Iole had pulled me out of recently. It was certainly nice to have a little peace and quiet.

Suddenly, the kid burst in, his hair singed at the front and his clothes smelling strongly of wood smoke.

“Joe Iole!” the kid panted urgently between breaths, “You’ve got to come quick! It’s an emergency!” Joe Iole looked up quickly, his face taut with steady alertness. It was a face I had seen many times before but only in the face of extreme peril. He was ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

“What can I do to help?” he asked with unwavering confidence.

“It’s the forest, Joe Iole!” the kid gasped. “It’s on fire!” With lightning speed, Joe Iole sprang to his feet.

“Come on M, we have work to do!” he said grabbing his coat and glancing in my direction.

“But Joe Iole,” I stammered nervously, “this could be really dangerous. We could get hurt. Maybe we should just wait for the-”

“There’s no time to think of ourselves now. This fire could be real trouble,” he said, pulling on his coat. “The forest needs us.” With that, he and the kid darted out the door, sprinting towards the ominous column of dark smoke rising just beyond the horizon.

I quickly gathered my things and apprehensively took off after them puffing along as fast as I could. When I finally caught up with them, holding my side and gasping for air, I saw Joe Iole putting a blanket around the shoulders of one of the many villagers he had pulled from the blaze.

“Thank you, Joe Iole!” they all cheered in unison.

The fire truck had finally arrived, and it looked like another disaster had been narrowly averted. The kid came running up, giving Joe a big hug.

“I don’t know what we would have one without you,” he said through his tears of gratitude.

“It’s ok, kid,” Joe Iole said, ruffling the grateful boy’s hair. “I’m just here to help.”

Then I noticed something in the distance.

“Err… Joe Iole…” I said hesitantly.

“What is it M?” he asked. But I didn’t have the strength to answer. All I could do was point into the distance where a small animal was trapped in a circle of flames. Joe Iole immediately understood.

“My God,” Joe Iole said, “that’s a European Mink, or Mustela lutreola. With its slender, flexible body, bushy tail, and webbed paws, along with its dark, dense, winter coat, I would know it anywhere. They have shown a large decline over 80% of their natural range and are one of the most endangered animals in the world. It is commonly assumed that they are extinct in this region.”

“Well,” I said uneasily, knowing where this was going, “I guess the firefighters can handle it now though, right?”

“But look!” Joe Iole said. “They have a kink in their hose! They’ll never get there in time!” Before I could protest again, he tossed me his coat and dove back into the now raging fire. With the speed of a cheetah and the nimbleness of a gazelle, he charged fearlessly towards the trapped mink, leaping gracefully over large flaming chasms and ducking giant falling branches. Without stopping, he swept the scared little mink into his arms and began to make his way back into the ever-increasing inferno.

“Oh, I can’t watch,” I said to the kid, fearfully covering my eyes.

The next thing I knew, Joe Iole was standing over me, an endangered mink in one arm and offering me a canteen of water with the other.

“It looks like you passed out,” he said. “Drink a little water and you’ll feel better.”

“It must have been the heat,” I said, “and I have been feeling a little ill.”

“Of course,” Joe Iole said, patting me on the back. “You’ll be just fine.”

Gently, Joe Iole smoothed the mink’s fur and set it on the ground.

“There you go, little fella,” he said softly. “Our natural wildlife is one of our greatest treasures, so you be careful out there. But if you ever need help, you know where to find me.”

As the little mink darted safely into the setting sun and the firefighters sprayed down the last of the glowing embers, Joe Iole helped me to my feet.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get you home. I think our work here is done.”