Mark R. Schneider
Dan McDevitt on Middle Cathedral (5.9), Yosemite Valley
Climbing, as anyone who loves the sport knows, is a metaphor for life. The following story illustrates the point.
It happened a few years ago. Some friends and I witnessed a painful scene at a popular climbing venue in Yosemite called Swan Slab. A Yosemite Mountaineering School (YMS) guide was introducing his novice charges to the elements of top-roping. It’s a technique where the climber is tied securely to a rope which is anchored from above to eliminate the danger of falling. An eleven or twelve year old kid had just dispatched the gentle thirty foot Slab with aplomb and now it was Dad’s turn. With his son belaying, the man hesitantly set off. But the look on his face told all. After a minute or so of nervous motion, terrified, he froze. Nothing could move him from his awkward stance, maybe fifteen feet off the ground.
The YMS guide, in a calm and measured voice, tried to assure the man that all was well and to trust the gear. But it was no use. He would not, or could not, move another inch. “Keep it tight!” the poor man yelled to his dumbstruck son doing all he could to comply. There was not a millimeter of slack in the rope. But the father’s panic overwhelmed any sense of humiliation. Fear literally poured out of him until, with shirt soaked and respect shattered, he could finally lean back and be lowered the short distance to the ground.
Watching this pitiful scene it was hard not to cringe. Surely, few fates are worse for a man than to be shown cowardly in front of one’s own son, especially since there was no apparent reason for it. The man was securely anchored on what looked to be a 11mm static line – strong enough to hold a Ford F-150. The route itself was 5.7 (moderate in climbing jargon) at best. The YMS guide had tied the man’s son to a bomber anchor and was carefully monitoring the belay. Finally, the man had just seen a succession of youngsters ascend the large boulder with carefree bravado.
Yet fear rarely respects reason not grounded in experience. Ushering forth from and instinctual level, it provokes a fight or flight response to protect against dangers both real and imagined. I was not surprised then, that this middle-aged man felt the terror of height more than his son. The fact is, climbing is dangerous. Technology can and does fail us. People fail us. We fail ourselves. And all the while gravity attacks with an inexorable and deadly pull, ready to crush mortal bodies for any lapse of vigilance. The mature mind embraces this at a deeper level than a twelve year old. Who knows, maybe the man had climbed before and had a close call, or worse, had suffered some real psychological or physical injury.
Climbers on the Glacier Apron, Yosemite Valley
While some people snickered at the man’s shameful display, I felt empathy. My own early climbing days were a visceral struggle with a well-developed fear of heights. Particularly on long, multi-pitch, climbs, there were episodes when terror would rush over me like a tsunami, sweeping away all rational thought. Worse, I knew the fear I experienced was out of the norm. This was confirmed on approaches, which often required 4th and even a little 5th class (very steep) climbing just to get to the route’s start. I tried not to let on, but while my friends would happily scramble on up, sans rope and seemingly heedless of any danger, I was fighting back the demons of adrenaline and emotional overload. For a while I seriously questioned if I were cut out for climbing. After all, I thought, not everyone is.
Turtle Rock, Joshua Tree
So why persist? Why subject oneself to an endeavor that terrifies? For the sheer joy of it. As in life, whether summoning the courage to ask for a date, write a book, launch a career, travel alone to a foreign city, whatever, the pleasure of climbing is inextricably tied to its peril. This joy springs not from the feeling from fear, but in the challenge to master it. Fear has its place. Deadly consequences lie in wait for those who have lost their sense of it altogether. But most of us need never “fear” that. There is a reason why climbers universally attest to the truth that climbing really begins when you take the “sharp end”, that is, to lead the way up. More risk affords more opportunity for joy.
So, is climbing realistic for people naturally timid? Is it possible to overcome paralyzing fear? Yes, it is. People’s response to stress varies, I contend, according to three linked factors: genes, experience, and psychology.
Let’s talk genes first. Some people are born bold. We’ve all known them. They were the kids growing up that seemed to have little fear of anything. They were the first to bungee jump, hang-glide, ride fast motorcycles, or rock climb. I recall chatting with world renowned climber, Peter Croft, about some of his more legendary climbs. I asked him, specifically, about his ability to fend off fear while free soloing (climbing without a rope). He replied, and I believe honestly, that he never felt particularly stressed out. Yeah, he’s cognizant of the mortal danger involved, and ready to back off when he doesn’t feel “solid”. But most of the time he said he felt “pretty much under control”. The sentiments of other bold climbers are similar. “I feel very safe and on belay with my hand jammed in a crack”, remarked Dean Potter about his infamous free soling exploits.
Though anecdotal, my own observations suggest that the genetically endowed mind tends to process dangerous situations differently from the norm. The fight or flight emotion is less pronounced. These folks are naturally calmer and less prone to fear. At first blush this genetic disposition seems a blessing. We marvel at and covet the exploits of the bold. But this same disposition, mishandled, can also be a curse. The late Dan Osman, who fell to his death while rope jumping, provides a tragic example. Another is free soloist Derek Hersey, who is reputed to have remarked to a climber about to begin a route, “Remember, when in doubt, run it out." Derek fell over 1000 feet to his death while climbing Yosemite’s Sentinel Dome un-roped.
Randy Mohr on Fingertrip (5.7), Tahquitz (Southern California)
It’s true that the genetically bold often aspire quickly to the upper boundaries of life’s limits, including climbing. Their ability to process fear more efficiently gives them a potent edge over us mere mortals. But that edge does not mean they experience more joy than the rest of us. In fact they may experience less. If mastery over fear translates into joy, the “fearless” have unique challenges all their own.
Past experience is another determiner of how you deal with fear. When I was eight some friends and I were fooling around at the local rock pile near Hayward, California, where I grew up. I had climbed, free solo, about twenty feet up a class five boulder when I realized I could go no further and it was too dangerous to down-climb. I was scared to my bones. I buried my fingers into the rock and shivered like a leaf until, mercifully, an adult came to my rescue.
Fast-forward another eight years. Mark Shubin and I were back-packing around Breeze Lake near Yosemite’s southern border when we decided to do a little “climbing”. In Vibram-soled (definitely not sticky) hiking boots I’d climbed about forty feet up a steep face. Again, I got spooked and froze. For all we knew the nearest help was ten miles away and there was nothing my friend could do but offer encouragement. A fall would have been serious. Somehow, I managed a safe retreat. But I was shaken.
Arik Schneider on Easy Day (5.4), Joshua Tree (California)
After this episode I was very conscious of heights and my fear of them. This is not uncommon. I’ve been acquainted with many climbers who, for most of their climbing career manifested a cavalier disregard for the dangers involved. I’m not referring here to the Dean Potter’s of the world, but rather, ordinary folks whose own prior climbing experience had taught them that all the danger talk is exaggerated. Until, that is, some fateful accident. The trauma of shattered bones and blood flow brought forth a revolution in their emotional framework. People who’ve survived a bad auto accident, life threatening illness, or war, know of this intimately. Some of these climbers never recovered their prior exploits. Those that did learned new respect for gravity and show commensurate caution. Just witnessing trauma can have a similar, albeit less enduring, effect.
Some friends and I were rappelling off the third pitch of a route called “Whodunit” at Tahquitz (a nine hundred foot granite column above Idyllwild in Southern California) a few years ago when we came across a dried but very large bloodstain on a low angle slab abutting a steep face. Gaping at it we exchanged a few comic remarks about what may have happened. It was nervous bluster, really, because we were all noticeably more cautious afterwards.
Of course people do experience exaggerated fears without having suffered any real danger or injury. Just as some people are prone to boldness, others are prone to timidity. But I’m skeptical about the existence of some Acrophobia or fear gene. The mind-body connection is an ocean of mystery. And solutions eager to accommodate our weaknesses, at least to me, are intellectually unsatisfying. Genetics may predispose one to fear but experience, and especially one’s mind-set, can play an equally if not more powerful role.
In regards to the psychology of climbing there is an Old Testament proverb I think is apt: “As a man thinks, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7). Of course if you’re a strict Darwinist the notion makes no sense at all. You’re a DNA slave. If climbing, flying on airplanes, or contemplating surgery incapacitates you with fear – might as well give it up because it’s not going to change. You just don’t have the right hardwiring.
The Author on an un-named aid route (A2), Yosemite Valley
Fortunately, we humans have a tenacity for demonstrating a nobler paradigm. We’ve proven, whether on the beaches of Normandy or the face of El Capitan, that we are able to surmount the fears that threaten to paralyze. Why do we esteem courage? Because the impulse for self-preservation is not easily defeated, especially in the face of imminent bodily danger. Courage is not the absence of fear, but determined action in spite of it.
How often I’ve marveled at novice climbers, obviously stretched far beyond their personal boundaries, fight a tenacious battle with fear to finally obtain the victory. As in life, if you’re pushing your limits, it’s a battle that never ends. Fear and climbing are intimate, if not hostile, partners, and the divorce rate is low.
So how do you deal with fear? Ultimately, it’s a personal crusade. What works for one doesn’t for another. People’s tolerance and reaction to fear varies greatly and there is no single control regime that applies to all. Fortunately, there are a few practical steps that seem to help.
First, don’t try and swallow too much fear at once. In keeping with the climbing metaphor, if you’re new to the sport, especially on real rock, unless you’re a genetic match with Peter Croft don’t feel you have to say yes to every challenge. Recognize your peculiar fear parameters and push the boundaries in increments. For instance, you may shudder at the very thought of being three hundred feet off the deck; but what about thirty feet, or twenty? Or maybe the thought of relying on “protection” (specialized climbing gear to protect against falls) placed on lead gives you the shivers (like it did me). You just don’t trust the stuff. Then place some pieces a few feet off the ground and practice falling on them. Why not? Think you’ll look foolish? You won’t, and who cares anyway. Remember, courage is a relative and consummately individual quality. The goal is to push past your personal fear boundaries, but not all at the same time. Battle it in increments you can deal with sanely. After all, climbing is supposed to be fun.
The same holds true in many areas of life. Is your dream to impact large groups of people with your impassioned message, but you’re paralyzed by the thought of having to speak publicly? Then experiment speaking to a few people, then a few more. Is the thought of four years of college too daunting to consider? Then try one semester, but give it all you’ve got. The important thing is to step out. However narrow your personal boundaries, push yourself. Start climbing!
Yet in every climber’s experience you’ll find yourself faced with a potentially dangerous situation you just couldn’t plan for. For the novice leader it might be a route section more run-out (cannot be protected with gear) than you’re used to. Or, you’re on a long multi-pitch route like the Royal Arches in Yosemite Valley that for most climbers is done in a day. Problem is, you're not most climbers, it’s getting late, and you’ll never finish the climb before sundown. Worse, you’re not accustomed to rappelling long distances. But now your options are limited.
Shawn Crawford just completing the Tyrolean Traverse from Lost Arrow Spire, Yosemite Valley
One cannot advance in life and expect to avoid such surprises. In these situations it is best to take awhile to collect yourself. Assess your options. Ask yourself exactly what is the danger? Is there a way I can mitigate it? How am I feeling? Is my experience and ability up to the task? Is it reasonable, given the risk, to push ahead? Only you can answer these questions. Often the risk is not as great as your fear suggests. But it is up to you to decide. If alarm bells are ringing loudly in your head it might be wise to retreat or call for help. You can look forward to the challenge another day.
Here’s the key. Don’t allow your defeats to halt ultimate progress. The old song, “familiarity breeds contempt” applies to one’s fears in a positive sense as it does negatively in other areas of life. Stay at it. Confront your fears head on. With repeated exposure, over time, they will begin to diminish. Sooner than you think you will accomplish what once seemed impossible.
Is climbing competently only for the steel nerved? My own experience, and many others I know, suggest otherwise. What was once a source of numbing fear became for me a means of achieving some of the richest moments of my life. And dealing with the fear inherent in climbing has taught me lessons that transcend the vertical world. Not to over dramatize, but defeating fear in one dimension can make it easier in others where the payoff is considerably more strategic.
About that humiliated father at Swan Slab. I prefer to think that he came back, mustered his courage, and eventually triumphed. One thing is certain; few rewards in life are as rich as those that come only as the result of significant effort against difficult odds.
The Author enjoying the view atop Lost Arrow Spire (5.12b or 5.7 C2), Yosemite Valley
Climbing, like life on the edge, as its meant to be lived, is dangerous and fear will always be its close companion. But it need not be your master. With faith, patience, and some determination you can overcome it and experience climbing’s inimitable and boundless joy.
