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| Scary memories from my last big aid climb |
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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.
live close.
Tomorrow, I leave for Red Rock, NV and hope to climb a few routes I have been
enchanted with for years. There is no better place for sunshine and long difficult routes.
