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I'd
forgotten what real fear and pure terror felt like. These
are not emotions that one likes to acknowledge, let alone
feel. However, while rock climbing I felt both fear and
terror along with accomplishment, determination, and challenge.
A
few months ago I decided that rock climbing would be something
fun to try. There were plenty of rock gyms nearby, but I
wanted to be out in nature, on real rock. Clint and I were
beginners. My only climbing experience was rappelling down
a cliff, while at camp, and some free rock climbing (without
a rope) while hiking. Research led me to Robert Munio, a
man who teaches rock climbing to all ages. We met him on
a very early Sunday morning to climb Goat Rock in the Castle
Rock State Park south of the San Francisco Bay.
After
a short hike we reached Goat Rock, which would have a view
of the Monterey Bay when the fog burned off. All we were
looking at had been submerged beneath the ocean long ago.
This morning, we saw a bay of fog, which looked like a big
white blanket settling into the valleys where the eucalyptus
and redwood trees grew.
We
contented ourselves to look at the view while Robert started
setting up. He handed us harnesses and showed us how to
put them on. (I had never been in such a contraption.) Robert
set up what he called the “webbing,” the series
of ropes that went from the anchor (a tree, bolt, or in
our case a huge formation on top of the rock) over the side
of the cliff. We used two ropes, each made especially for
rock climbing and able to support between 4000-6000 lbs.
The idea of a piece of rope being the only thing keeping
me from gravity's grasp was scary, but exciting at the same
time.
Robert
had set up three climbs, and each was assigned a number
indicating its difficulty. The first was a 5.5, a very easy
climb. The rock for this climb was sandstone with lots of
handholds and footholds. It looked like Swiss cheese and
was a great rock for a first climb. The second climb was
a 5.7. This rock was a challenge for us beginners, but very
doable. There were fewer places to grip, and we really learned
some of the techniques of climbing on this one, like smearing
(smashing the side of your foot into the rock face, pushing
with your leg) and finding holds where there seemed to be
none. The final climb was a 5.7–5.9. Completing this
one was a real challenge. The grips were varied and near
the top the rock jutted out to form an overhang.
Robert
taught us about belaying and why it is so important. The
belayer is the person holding the rope at the bottom or
the top, the person who can put the brake on and stop a
partner’s fall. Safe climbers climb in pairs, and the
climber must have complete trust in his or her partner.
Your partner is the one who catches you if you lose your
grip. After practicing belaying it was time to leave the
anticipation on the ground and climb the rock.
I
put my shoes on, tied a figure eight knot to my harness
and looked up. The first few steps were fairly easy (I started
on the Swiss cheese route). I was surprised at how easy
the handholds were, and how my fingers found cracks and
ledges almost on their own. When I was about 15 feet above
the ground, I became aware that I was climbing and I couldn't
believe I was actually doing it after wanting to for so
long. I looked out over the forests. The view was beautiful.
I looked down and the taste of fear came to my mouth. My
fingers were finding the holes and ledges, but what would
happen if I lost my grip? I'd fall. The anticipation of
the fall was so much more fearful than the fall itself.
In fact, the falls turned out to be pretty fun.
Eventually,
I was climbing up to the overhang on the third climb. Once
I got up as far as I could climb, Robert told me to let
go of the rock and swing out into the air to be lowered
down by the belayer. This scared me the most. I knew the
rope would hold me, but I still didn't want to let go. It
was the unknown space between the place I occupied (on the
rock) and the ground where I would feel safe. I psyched
myself up and let go, swinging wide into the space. It was
great. I was hanging in the air between the rock and the
gorgeous bay by a piece of rope.
After
several rounds of climbing up the various rocks, we decided
to rappel down. Robert set up two rappel lines and we tied
ourselves in, ready to do some sideways walking. Getting
into place to rappel is a lot scarier than the actual rappelling
or even climbing. I had to lean back against the empty air,
supported only by the rope. I had to have complete faith
in the person holding the rope. The taste of fear again
rushed into my mouth and my heart beat fast. Another couple
steps and I was into it. Climbing down was just as fun as
climbing up!
Covered
with dirt and swear and nursing tender fingers, we hiked
back to the car and agreed this was a day well spent. I
remember the beautiful views of the forest and the Bay I
saw that day. I remember looking close for handholds. But
mostly I remember the accomplishment I felt, knowing that
I had used my body to get where I wanted to go. I had used
the strength of my muscles and mind to climb up that rock,
and not taken the path alongside it.
More
about Jacaré
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