Fear of Climbing

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I am not athletic, I am the antithesis of a jock. But, never say never. 

In 1998 there was a natural disaster in Quebec and Northern New York and Vermont, a series of ice storms wrecked havoc on the trees with a coating of ice that also brought down power lines. We survived it but we had a country house that had tons of branches that had fallen, strewn all over the property. Back back story; I had purchased a chainsaw, after reading all the injuries it could cause, I returned it to the store. Now with all the wood on the ground I had no other choice but to buy another chainsaw. 

Before the storm, I was diagnosed with high blood pressure and extremely high cholesterol - LDL count, before the storm; i.e. I was in bad shape - over weight. The pounds started to melt away as I cut wood. I eventually went through 3 chainsaw; one literally melted in my hands after hours of work. And I came out looking fit as a fiddle by the end of spring. The branches were gone along with the fat. 

Now I get to the gist of my story. My teen aged son had been helping me and as a lark I asked him if he would like to go climbing with me, as repayment for his help. This happened after we watched the head woodsman from McGill University cut down the high branches aided by his teenage son; he was a Tarzan figure with his chainsaw high in the sky. It seemed like a crazy idea at the time, I who hated heights.

We headed down to a climbing gym and, with much trepidation on my part, we received instruction in climbing and rope technique. Again, I must tell you that before this happened I was afraid to go up a step ladder. A fear of heights has been nagging me since I was very young, I was a committed acrophobic. The first wall looked big, a mear 25 feet, but it seemed like Everest to me at the time. I belayed my son, and then it was my turn. Never have I ever sweated and had fear like that in my life. Then I got to the top, and suddenly I felt free, and an exhilaration I was to have over and over, as we later climbed higher wall and more difficult routes - even climbing outside. Then I had to let go, and trust that my son would hold on to the rope and me.

He did. 

We had each other's back. Suddenly we were equals, not father and son, but climbing buddies. We went back and did even higher climbs, up to the 100 foot walls, and a bond was formed between us. If you ever have to get to know someone, climb with them. We both were exhilarated by climbing, buying our own shoes, and harnesses. Eager to climb. You learn  things about yourself on the wall. You learn how to be present - in the moment. You learn how to break down difficult routes into manageable segments, and if you fail, you try again and again. As Yvon Chouinard says, “The only good reason to climb is to improve yourself.” 

The climbing gym we went to had many kinds of climbers. We were in awe of the children's parties where they would scramble around us and past us without a care in the world. The women were the best climbers, limber and strong. One day my son came home and told his mother, "The women climbers are as small as you and they are amazing!" He learned how to respect women's abilities, especially when we saw a heavily gravid women (6 months pregnant) doing one last climb. We watched with the owner as she climbed, and he told us she wanted to do it one more time before her confinement. 

Most of all the gym smelled of fear or adrenaline. Because there was real fear in the air. People who climb, climb with fear, but they over come it,  it never goes away. The sounds of the gym, when they weren't piping in music, was one of silence, and then a sudden thunk and the slithering of rope through a carabiner. A shout of exultation or of frustration would punctuate the cathedral like space. You climb alone, with your climbing partner holding your life (literally) in his or her hands. He or she shouts encouragement or instruction, but in the end it is your call. And the rush when you get to the top is indescribable. 

At 46 years old - at the time - I wasn't one of the oldest climbers in the gym, but we all respected each other, there was no macho Mano to Mano kind of shit going on. Sure there were the super stars who did free climbing who we look upon with envy, but each of us was on our own journey of discovery, to find out if we could overcome our fears. 

Years later, I no longer climb, but my son and his wife still do and he took me down to the now renovated gym to see them climb. It was great to see them on the wall, belaying each other and I thought to myself that they will have a strong marriage because they know how to face obstacles together. And they have each other's back. That is enough.