A Palette for Fear

Scary memories from my last big aid climb

Hiking in to the base of Mt. Moroni, in Zion Canyon, I was uneasy about my intended climb, Crack in the Cosmic Egg. I am nearing the end of a long climbing trip, I have had many successful climbs, seen some amazing places, and I was aware in a shift in my anticipation. I was concerned about getting hurt, I was not looking forward to balancing on tiny hooks and cams to ascend the thousand-foot wall, and I simply didn’t have my heart in it. I didn’t share any of this with my partner, BJ, but he had commented on my extra attention to the gear list, and my lack of sleep. I agreed to take the harder pitches and left the ground, despite my misgivings. I managed to place a small piece of protection in the first ten feet, but I was gripped. Teetering over a piece of gear in the crack not wider than a couple of quarters, I lost my cool. My breath was shallow, my leg was shaking, and I felt scared. I have climbed dozens of long, hard routes in Zion, been in situations where a fall could kill me, and have always prided myself for being headstrong. Now, back in the place where I had learned how to really climb, I was falling apart. I reached up to an edge I hoped would be better, shuffled my feet to regain balance, and then I fell. I fell when I should not have. I had enough time to think “I am falling and I am going to get hurt,” as I watched my protection (a size zero TCU) shift and buckle as the rope went taught. Somehow, it held my weight. I stopped softly 5 feet from the ground and by the look on my face, BJ knew to lower me quick before my fear was realized, and I got sent tumbling down the rock slope below.

Fear has many flavors. Looking up at Crack in the Cosmic Egg, beyond the hard moves that had just throttled me was four hundred feet of thin difficult aid climbing, and it put a bad taste in my mouth. I spent a moment trying to control my breathing, and working to stop my hands from shaking, but I couldn’t get rid of the fear. It was a new flavor to me, it was unlike the fear that pushes me to fight on and focus on every tiny handhold above an old rusted bolt, or fear of getting stuck on a wall at night. There is fear that sharpens my edge, but watching the sunrise in Zion at the base Mt. Moroni, I felt dull.

I spoke with BJ about all this. It is an experience I think all people face from time to time. We have off days, we fall short of our expectations, and we can be very hard on ourselves. A friend told me she was proud of me for honoring the fear, and I see it as an important seasoning experience as a climber. I have been on the other side of this many times, telling people to readjust their expectations, but it is not easy. I like being the guy who can climb anything, anytime, anywhere, but I have to recognize my limits.

There are many reasons for feeling off, the accumulation of emotional stress from other parts of my life, the reality of not being able to always perform at my best, and simply not being motivated. It acts as a reminder to not be too hard on myself, to trust my heart, and to focus on the journey and not the destination.

BJ and I spent a fair bit of time talking, at the base of the route, from climbing to relationships, it seems that this experience has some far reaching lessons. Finally, we packed up and went out for a fun climb on the other side of the park (a 5.7 on Checkerboard Mesa) that still had some tense moments, but also a great deal of laughter and amazing terrain. I came back in one piece, got some quality time with a dear friend, and was able to explore new emotional and physical terrain.

Zion has an amazing power to confront people with their fears, and seems to reveal one's true nature. I for one, am humbled, inspired, and grateful for my experience here.

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