Climbing, Fear, and Me With No Beard

 

The view East from the summit. That John Denver is full of it, man.

Shivering in the pre-dawn light, I'm wishing I had brought that extra cup of coffee. Second cups of coffee have a unique way of reappearing at the most unfortunate moments while rock climbing, however, so I'll have to deal. John and I have myriad pieces of climbing gear spread across a bouldering pad (used when climbing close to the ground with no rope to protect ankles), trying to decide how much gear we need for today's adventure: climbing the most classic route on each formation at El Dorado Canyon. We are climbing in a style known as "traditional', which means we will mostly use pieces of gear we place to protect ourselves as we climb, also removing them and taking them with us when we leave. I have added a graphic below that demonstrates cam placement. 

Placing a cam in a crack.

Not having a piece of gear to protect, say, a wide crack, means climbing past that section without protection (scary and dangerous). This creates a conundrum for climbers, as they must carry all the necessary gear up the rock. After much consternation, we come to a consensus and head up the road to start climbing. It's going to be a big day, and now that we are officially on our way, the butterflies start to flutter in earnest.

Walking from the parking lot at Eldorado Canyon

The National Institute of Health defines fear as an emotion “being caused by particular patterns of threat-related stimuli, and in turn causing particular patterns of adaptive behaviors to avoid or cope with that threat. I don't want to delve into a psychology 101 breakdown of human emotion, but A few things to touch on that are important: Fear interfaces with nearly all other aspects of cognition, can trigger core biological responses, and can be modulated volitionally (pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3595162/). What does that word salad mean? Fear affects cognition; things like memory, perception, decision making, and reasoning. Fear can trigger responses in our bodies such as increased heart rate and blood pressure, rapid breathing and dilation of airways, release of glucose and fats, or surges of hormones like cortisol and epinephrine. That's a lot of words to say that the butterflies I was feeling were due to my body's chemical reaction to the emotion of fear. Whoa, that was a lot. Deep breath, and back to climbing. We will talk more about fear later. 

The Bastille. Our route is just to the right of the people
on the road. 

Cleaning the first pitch of Bastille Crack.

Bastille Crack is a classic 5.7 (climbing ratings are 5.something, 5.7 is easy-moderate) climb up get this, a crack! I take the first lead, climbing over a jumble of boulders at the base of the cliff. It's around 25 feet to a short traverse, and the route proper. I run this out without protection; it's easy climbing, and this allows me to combine the first two pitches without rope drag, trying to pull me off the mountain. Once I make the somewhat precarious step to the crack, I place a bomber cam and put on the cruise control up to the belay. We easily dispatch the next pitches, high-five on the summit, and descend back to the road for our next route.

A belay, on the Yellow Spur I think.

The next route is The Yellow Spur, which is the most difficult route of the day. It's rated 5.10b, which is near the limit of my climbing ability on one pitch, bolted, sport routes. This route is six pitches of steep, difficult, trad climbing. After a bit of a trudge over a boulder field, we arrive at the base of the climb. It's more than butterflies now. My Nalgene bottle feels slippery in my sweaty palms, and the Cliff bar I'm trying choke down feels like eating sand. 

How is it possible to perform at a high level when our bodies seem to be torpedoing us from within? Pay attention, this is the cool part. Remember the wordy quote we talked about earlier, especially the end? It said fear "can be modulated volitionally. The definition of “modulate” is “to adjust to or keep in proper measure or proportion” and the definition of “volititionally” is “done of one's own will or choosing; deliberately decided or chosen”.  You guys ready for this? Scientists have good evidence that we can “adjust and keep in proper measure” our fears, through our “own will or choosing.” We don’t have to let fear hold us back. 

The direct variation of the first pitch on The Yellow Spur.

John leads the first pitch while I take some deep breaths and will the goose bumps away from my shirtless body. We ditched our shirts after the Bastille in anticipation of the summer Colorado sun. A tug of the rope lets me know John has reached the belay. I climb up around the corner, transitioning from shade to sun, enjoying the warmth radiating off of the limestone as I get into a rhythm, cruising up a few pitches until we reach the crux. Rock, paper, scissors gives John the lead. This pitch requires fewer pieces of gear, as the gnarliest section is still protected by pitons, likely from the first ascent by Layton Kor in the late 1950's! You can see the rope clipped into them in the photo below. It takes a few minutes to work out the moves, but John sends the crux without too much difficulty. I'm starting to feel it now, the effort of the climbing, and the lengthy, intense focus building. After an easy, but runout pitch, we are on the summit of Redgarden Wall. The view is incredible, seemingly endless prairie stretching to the East, and the still snowcapped peaks of the Continental Divide on the horizon to the West. We decide to risk the rappel down West Chimney (rock fall is a serious problem) to save time, as the walk off down the East Slabs can be brutal. 

Crux pitch of The Yellow Spur. You can see a nut as part
of the anchor, and John's rope clipped to the pitons.

Rappelling the West Chimney. Total choss pile.

A younger me, with The Yellow Spur. It goes up
to the right ofthe ridge on the taller peak. 

"Hey, Bud, fear doesn't have to hold you back. OK, easier said than done, right? Like, where’s the training aid to help get over being scared to fall off a mountain? How can humans modulate our fears through our own will if fear is a core biological response that affects all of our cognition!? Sounds bad, I know, but there’s light at the end of the tunnel. The psychologists over at Red Bull came up with this list, and being that their athletes are lunatics, I’ll defer to the experts:

1.  Picture and accept the worst possible outcome.

2.  Visualize a successful outcome.

3.  Failure isn’t real; it’s just information on how to improve

4.  Face your fears.

5.  Embrace the challenge, and the results will come. 

We zip up the 5.6 route, Calypso, on Wind Tower, stop at the car for food, and head up the scary approach to Ruper, our final climb of the day. Ruper is another Eldo classic, with a super exposed hanging belay, off-width crack, and a spooky traverse on crumbling rock out from under a roof to finish. John knocks out the first pitch, and I take off from the hanging belay to lead the six to eight-inch wide crack up pitch two. Climbers jam their knees, elbows, and whole arms into this crack and will their way up the cliff. It's grimy, sometimes bloody work, but it's what we came here to do. We only have one cam large enough to protect the crack (big cams are expensive, and we were broke dirtbags), so I had to place it as far above my head as possible, do a few moves, then reach down and slide the cam up to the next placement. This effort wiped out whatever calories and sugar were left in my system. I'm wrecked by the time I clip the anchors at the belay. We have arrived at the moment of truth: last pitch of the day, and it's 5.9 R. The R rating means the rock is so chossy, it likely won't hold gear if you fall. We drink the last few gulps of hot water we have remaining, hoping the other guy will grab the rack and lead the way. My desire for a cold beer is driving me to get off the rock, so I grab the rack, double-check the belay, and slide my butt off the tiny ledge we have been sharing. Testing each hand and foothold, I gingerly proceed at a miserably slow pace. The sun finally sets behind the wall, granting us respite from the heat and our parched mouths. I rest my head against the rock, taking deep breaths to steady my shaking hands between each move. Five feet away from solid rock and bomber handholds, I wiggle some useless gear into what feels like a pile of gravel to give me some confidence. I need to stem my leg across a blank area, with about four hundred feet of air under my butt. This is a no-fall zone. I need to be focused, but my body is so desperate for water, tacos, and a frozen margarita that I'm fighting the urge to throw caution to the wind, rushing to the top at breakneck speed. My cramping calves remind me to keep moving, delicately stepping across, trying not to dislodge the flaky piece of prehistoric limestone keeping me from swinging back into the face below John's belay. A few seconds of terror and I'm racing up what feels like ladder rungs to the top. Adrenaline replaces exhaustion, hauling in the rope as John joins me on the summit. We sit below a gnarly pine, not speaking or celebrating. We take in the view and savor the moment. 

Cleaning Calypso.

John is belaying me up. I think this was taken from
 about where I was in the previous photo.

Hanging belay on Ruper. This photo is from the start
of the off-width crack.

This is either Ruper, just after the crux crack,
or the top of The Yellow Spur.

Just before the final arete on The Yellow Spur.
That's some exposure!

I will save the details of the three-hour death march back to the parking lot, bonking in a complete sugar crash, losing the trail, and doing some dangerous and ill-thought-out rappels in our quest for water. We got back to the car at about 9:00 pm, having been in constant motion for over 14 hours. 

Why do it? Why risk so much for...nothing? It's point five on our list: "Embrace the challenge, and the results will come. The reward is what we felt in our chests as we sat silently watching the sun set over the Divide. A feeling that the time we spent doing pull-ups on door jams, running, and reading books about building climbing anchors was all worth the trouble. We looked into the abyss and came away smiling. For a moment, we felt like badasses on the summit of the world. We only get these kinds of feelings when it really matters. Learning to appreciate, and even seek out, the struggle, opens doors to places most haven't been. 

As promised, Smas with no beard.

I love to hear and tell stories. Share one of your wild days, or one of the wild days you dream of doing, in the comments. As always, thanks for staying to the end. 

Fortitudine Vincimus, 

Ryan

PS. I took my Christmas lights down this afternoon. Every time I clip/unclip the lights from the gutter, it takes me back to days like this in Eldo.