Up a Wall

Julius Caesar said, I came, I saw, I conquered. I returned to the rock walls at Slidell Rocks, I studied them closely, and the conquering part? Well that is where things get interesting.

I enlisted my sister as my spotter this time around. She promised she wouldn’t let me fall, though she also wouldn’t make promises to not laugh at me. So after we let the children run around a bit, it was time to take on the wall. The wall is a thirty-five foot straight climb. It doesn’t sound like a great distance, but when you’re staring up at it – or down – the distance feels much too far.

My sister and I clipped into the harness gear, and I was feeling a bit uneasy. (Okay, that is an understatement. Have I mentioned yet that I’m terrified of heights?)

My son rushed over and asked, “Mom, give me twenty bucks.”

“Why?” I asked, thinking this was a good stall tactic (on my part that is).

“So I can buy snacks in case you don’t make it.”

My sister chimed in with a smile. “Where are the car keys in case you don’t make it.”

At this point I’d already placed my hands on the rocks in starting position. This was not easing my tension.

My godchild Hayden chimed in. “Oohh, she’s not going to make it.”

At this point I made a comment about bringing the wrong cheerleaders with me today. Everyone laughed as I attempted to climb, teasing that I was going to fall or that I wasn’t going to make it.

I didn’t make it. I didn’t even reach my head above the yellow line on this first attempt. So I immediately tried again. This time my “cheerleaders” were distracted and were trying to tackle some rocks of their own. I made it higher, but I had trouble finding the rocks I could use to push myself further up that wall.

My sister’s job was to lower me so I could return to the floor. At this point she hadn’t quite got the hang of it, and she released me too fast. I slammed into the wall -  not even the one I was climbing.

I drew the attention of the owner, who walked over and said in a sarcastic, but the nicest way possible that it had been very graceful.

It had been plenty of things, but graceful was not one of them.

I took a break and watched others climb up the walls, amazed by how some made it look so easy. I hadn’t even made it high enough for my fear of heights to really kick in.

I decided to try again on a different wall. This wall still stood thirty-five feet tall, but it had larger rocks. (Large in rock climbing does not come anywhere near my definition of large however. It simply meant I could place my toe on the rock versus the tip of my shoe.)

This time my “cheerleaders” stood quietly around. My son had designated himself as photographer, and he stood by waiting.

This time as I climbed I had to think about what rocks I could use to push myself further to the top since the rocks were spread further apart. When I reached the half way mark, my sister started helping with the path, and Andrew began snapping pictures. Cara also shouted out “Go Mommy” during this. About three  quarters up, with my heart pounding and blood pumping, my son called up for a picture. I looked down and the distance between myself and the ground hit me. (Insert a few choice words that I hope Andrew wasn’t able to read on my lips.) The fear of heights had kicked in AND I realized that I’d also have to go down.

After returning my eyes back to the wall ahead of me instead of below where the people looked much too small, I took several deep breaths. I decided that I was going to make it to the top just because I’d said I was going to do it, and I did not want to have to repeat this again.

With hands shaking, I pulled myself up to the top, my sister calling for me to touch the bar at the top.

I looked down again, my heart pounding harder. My sister called and asked if I was ready to come down. Hmmm…. No. She laughed and asked if I was going to stay up there. Hmmm… maybe. She had after all let me slam into a wall at only ten feet up. Thirty-five feet was a long way down.

Maybe I’d climb down a bit first. Of course, that’s not how it’s done. You have to let yourself go, hold onto the rope, and trust that they will lower you down slowly as you kick yourself away from the wall.

My daughter took off running, yelling that she couldn’t watch this. Truthfully, I didn’t want to watch this either. After struggling down the wall a bit, I finally let go of the wall and kicked myself off. (I’m not saying this was graceful either.) She did bring me down without incident though.

Though I probably took three times as long as everyone else to climb to the top, I did it. And though my entire body was shaking as I reached the ground, I still made it to the top. I also have the video to prove it. Andrew figured out how to use the video feature on my camera and thought it would be funny to record me coming down. I suppose he thought I’d slam into the wall, too.