Adventures on The Wall

Well, I didn’t cause any major cataclysmic accidents. Didn’t drop the belay rope, didn’t forget to clip in or double check my partner. I may have forgotten some of the climbers speak, but communication was established through various shouts and gestures. And most importantly, we’re welcome back (at any time during business hours) at the local rock climbing gym.

I can feel the stiffness and soreness in my fingers already: man, are those grips small! I don’t know how they do it on real rock faces. And people who free-climb without rope?

My hands and feet get sweaty just thinking about it.

Today, promptly at noon (high noon for all those Western Fans – and no, there were no tumbleweeds, but the building did look like something out of The Wild West), Nathaniel and I drove up to Weatherby’s, aka Local Rock Climbing “hot spot”.

I figured they knew what they were doing, especially when it came to novices like us. Nathaniel and I have only been climbing once or twice before, but each time we went, we had a blast. It turns out he’s a natural, scampering up the wall a la Spiderman.

Me? Not so much. Let’s just say that I have a sweaty-hand problem. Even now, my hands get sweaty just thinking about it. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy myself. I just needed to tote an extra bag of chalk on my belt.

Seriously. You could tell where I was on the wall, based on the bag of chalk that dangled behind my, er, behind.

We got a “refresher” course on how to belay, tie knots, and ensure our general climbing safety. Let it be known, that before today, I had never tied a double figure-eight knot. So it wasn’t really a refresher course as much as a crash-instruction. But by the fourth or fifth attempt I got it down and could tie with the best of them. Sweaty hands and all.

Luckily, I could count on Nathaniel to double check my knots and belay carabineer. Then again, as this was a potential life and death sport (I don’t fancy a 40 ft fall!), having both partners good-to-go on the essentials of Climbing 101 would be ideal. So I had our friendly climbing Guru Jimmy double and triple check our set up.

We were given the a-okay sign and sent up the wall.

Nathaniel Spiderman went first. Within 2 minutes he was up the beginner wall. Damn! He made it look way too easy.

Next up: The Queen of Sweaty Hands. I gripped the first knob, then second, placed my feet on a few different posts and took a deep breath. A few more moves later I was a full four feet off the ground and ready to slip.

“You’re doing great Sweetheart! Keep it up.” Nathaniel encouraged as he was face-to face with my calves.

I chanced a peek down. So this is what really really tall basketball players see on a daily basis! Glad I’m not bald….

And then, I was stuck. Frozen in one spot, a mere four feet off the ground. And all the teenage employees watching my every move. I felt like a deer in headlights. My hands began to sweat more.

“Try moving your legs apart, you want the climbing to be from your legs, not from your arms,” Jimmy called. His voice didn’t have far to travel.

And sure enough, as soon as I put my left foot on a further knob, the pressure eased and I could feel myself relax. Unfortunately, my hands were sweatier than ever, and with my next reach, I slipped. And fell 3 feet before Nathaniel arrested my fall.

“Let me try that again,” I declared, chalking up my hand until they were white. “Climber climbing!”

“Climb on!” Nathaniel responded, giving me the acceptable go-ahead.

This time, I was ready. I had a plan: push off with the legs, make sure my stance was wide enough, and stop to chalk every four or five moves if necessary. And slowly, inch by inch, foot by foot, I began climbing.

I wasn’t as fast as Nathaniel, couldn’t climb the wall with the teensy-weensy grips like our neighbors to the right, but I was doing it. I paused once, twice to check the grips and re-chalk my hands, and then kept going. Don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down…..

After seemingly ages, but really only a few minutes, I had climbed the beginner wall. I slapped the top and yelled, “Let me down!”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the right thing to say.

Someone – not my husband – called up, “You’re supposed to say ‘Take Out Slack’ for descending!”

Whatever. This was not the appropriate time to lecture me on climbers speak.

“Take out slack, I want to come down!”

And jerk by jerk, I made my way down the wall with Nathaniel at the helm.

I was so happy that I made it to the top, in disbelief that I only fell once, I decided to try it again. And again, I made it up. Dare I say I was improving?

Nathaniel thought so, so we moved on to the next wall: the highest wall without an overhang, and grips of varying size and shape. You know how some grips can be super-friendly: crescent-moon shaped with a deep groove for your finger. Yeah – those are the nice ones. Then there are the grips the size of a quarter with just about the same level of sheen. And for someone with naturally sweaty hands, those were nearly impossible.

Geeze, I don’t know how I got through 12 years of violin performances. My hands were soaked! To this day before a race, you’ll see me wiping my hands on my suit. A dead giveaway for nerves, if you ask me.

Next wall, Nathaniel climbed up The Bear Grylls way. No, he didn’t remove his shirt or do 100 pushups after ascending. But he choose a path that was right next to the corner wall, and half wedged, half climbed his way up. I was very impressed.

So much, so while I was enjoying the view of him way at the top, I didn’t hear his plea to be let down.

“Mmph out mph ack!”

“What? I can’t hear you! You’re doing great – keep going!”

“It’s really high up here!” came the response. At least that’s what I think he said.

“You’re fine! What? What did you say?”

“Emme mmph shit enummf now!”

Well, that one was a little hard to discern, except for the swear word.

“Remember, we’re not supposed to swear! It said so in the policy.” I yelled helpfully up.

That’s when he turned and glared down at me. His race was red, matched his Wisconsin shirt perfectly. I could see his legs quivering, and his eyes looked dark and foreboding.

“Down! Now!”

Sheesh! “Okay, okay, I’m letting you down.”

Jerk, jerk, jerk went the rope as Nathaniel was hastily lowered 40 feet down.

I was a bit peeved, though. Here I was cheering on Nathaniel as he reached the top of the highest vertical wall, and all he could do was yell down to me. Sheesh!

“You were a little rude up there!” I commented as he reached the bottom, wondering what exactly had gotten into the boy.

“You wouldn’t let me down! I had a death grip going, my fingers were shaking, and I’m stuck with nothing except a double figure eight not and belay holding me in place! And I couldn’t get down!” He adjusted his harness and made a grimace.

Oops – seems like I didn’t get the climbers speak after all.

“Well it seems so much easier to say ‘Let me down’ than ‘Take Out Slack’. Overly complicated, if you ask me!” was all I could think of to say.

Luckily after lots of praise and encouragement, he forgave me and encouraged me to give the wall a try. I knew it would be hard – if someone as good as Nathaniel had a tough go at it, I knew it would probably take a few times before I got anywhere close to being off the ground, let alone 40 feet up.

The first two attempts ended in falls. One from two feet, and the other from five or six. All in all, not much progress was made, except I figured out that I really hated one round, wooden hold. It was the only one to grip, so I figured if I wanted to make it up and over, I would have to move quickly before my hands got too sweaty.

My third attempt was different. I took a deep breath, didn’t look down, and set about tackling the wall inch by inch. One hold became two, which became four, and before I knew it, I was half way up. Don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down. I paused to reapply some chalk, making sure that my hands were extra powdered. And then set up on my way again.

If Nathaniel or any of the employees shouted encouragement, I didn’t hear. I was in my own world, one hold at a time, one step higher at a time. I wasn’t scared, just focused on the task at hand. I could feel the sweat on my brow, feel the iron-grip of my fingers, was aware of the strength in my leg as I made my way up the rock face.

Within a matter of moments I was two, then once reach from the top. I took a deep breath, made my final grab and hoisted myself up. I had made it! Finally I allowed myself a quick peek over my shoulder and down.

Yep, very high up. Sweaty hands and feet high up. Knees started to quake.

But I had made it. In spite of falling on previous attempts, in spite of sweaty hands, I reached the top. Yes, I probably looked funky with a giant chalk bag and white hands to boot – but that didn’t matter. Was it the hardest wall? Absolutely not. But it was a challenge to me, to my relative inexperience. Perseverance and focusing on the task at hand were the key. Sort of like triathlon, I suppose.

If I don’t get in my own way, I reasoned, I could pretty much do anything. Good food for thought – but then at 40 feet up, one’s thought process could be slightly off.

“I’m coming down. Let it out – whatever! Give me slack?” I shouted, but Nathaniel got the gist of what I was yelling from way above.

I leaned back, took one final mental snapshot of the top, and let myself go. It was incredible.