From the title of this post, you're probably thinking that I've had a rough spot in my life and I'm blogging about it, but this is about a less solemn subject: climbing. Climbing is like no other sport. It is physically demanding, mentally straining, and dangerous. It focuses your mind and sharpens your senses. It offers a challenge that if defeated, brings an incredible sensation of achievement.
"This one seems pretty doable." Kerri, Sterling, and I stood at the base of a route on Wall Street, a beautiful red slickrock wall with many climbs. It might've been the last good-weather day of the year, and we wanted to make the most of it. We looked up with our necks craned, assessing the rock and the difficulty of it. "The book says it's only a 5.8? Let's try it - I'll lead."
"Leading" is to climb a route first, place anchors as you go along, and clip your rope at the top. On most climbs there is a bolt in the rock every 5-10 feet, and if you are about to clip into one and you slip, you will fall twice the distance since your last anchor before your belayer can catch you. So if you climb 10 feet, almost reach the next bolt and
slip!, then you're going to fall at least 20 feet. There's a lot of stress and motivation to not fall while you're lead climbing.
And leading was exactly what I was attempting to do. I tied a figure-eight to my harness, squeezed my feet into my shoes, and took off. A little scramble to the first bolt, and I felt sure I could top out. I kicked my brain into hyper speed, focusing on the rock so I could move smoothly and save energy. One... two... three bolts behind me... and then I stopped. I was on an exposed rock fin with the ground a mile away. There were no holds to my right, drop-off on my left, and a small hold above my head about 6 inches too high. I thought, "If I dyno (jump) to that hold, I'm probably going to fall. But I'll try it--it's all in my head, right?" I ran through my plan. Focus, energy to my legs, and... "doh-AH!" I made an involuntary sound with my throat as I fell and swung down on the rope. "I'm going to try again - be ready to catch me!" It took too many tries, and I got tired of gaining all that distance just to fall again. Kerri, my belayer, yelled up that she'd try it, so I came down.
On the ground and trading places, I described the tough spot to Kerri while I took off my shoes and pulled out my belay device. She climbed past the crux and finished, and seeing that it
was possible, I tried again. After I had made the difficult move and finished, I realized why I couldn't do it before. I didn't have the confidence in myself to stick that move; I was sure I'd fall--and I did.
Climbing is not only about skill of movement on the rock; it requires concentration to solve difficult problems, determination, and confidence to overcome fear. The process is stressful, but the rewards are sweet: an incredible sense of accomplishment and a good dose of adrenaline. Climbing is something I can't quit, but I think it's a lot healthier than other addicting substances. Climbing is a passion.