Article Contributed on: 11/14/2009 12:39:45 PM
Really, I didn't start getting nervous until we got to the bottom of the rock. Neither the view on the web page or the view from the Point showed the actual climbing route up Mt. Hayden. So we made our way to the start of the climb with me blissfully unaware of what lay ahead.
To be honest, the description of the approach had made me more uptight than the thought of the actual ascent. It was full of warnings about thorns and thickets and the dire consequences of going the wrong way. So I spent most of the night before worrying about the approach. We made it just fine. Silly me.
Now, I don't like to be the one that says "Whoa, this might be a little much", so I didn't. I have a serious aversion to being the one that whimps out. So, instead of looking at Brendan and saying something like "Are you freakin' crazy?!? I can't climb this flippin' rock!", I sat down, pulled off my hiking boots and put on my climbing shoes.
I put on my climbing shoes, drank some water, and tried to look like I belonged there. Not that there was anyone else to notice or care. This rock appeared to be going straight up. All around us The Canyon sloped away. It was quiet and warm. To the west The Canyon grew in intensity and depth, to the east the desert stretched off to the horizon. Occasionally a helicopter would fly past, far to the south and below us. Tourists on sightseeing tours. I'm not so sure I wouldn't have traded places with them, had I been asked.
Eventually, after checking our equipment and making sure I remembered how to belay, Brendan started climbing. I was happy he was leading. He was the one that had to figure out the route and place our protection. All I had to do was follow him up and pull out the various cams and nuts that he placed as we climbed. Easy enough, at least in theory.
Eventually he disappeared above me. I continued to let out the rope, always keeping a sturdy grip. Climbers have to trust each other when it comes to the rope. You catch each other with the rope. Soon he announced he was off belay. That meant it was my turn.
Following someone up a climb is a bit like riding a bike with training wheels. All the excitement is still there, but in the back of your mind you know you won't fall. At least not too far. You know in the back of your mind that you are safe. What you sacrifice in excitement is made up for in what all climbers, tree or rock, call comfort level. I was pretty happy to have my training wheels in the form of a set line on this one. It gave me a good comfort level. Up I went, feeling the rock for hand holds, looking for a place where I could set my feet. Knowing Brendan had just done the same, without protection above him. Figuring if he could do it, I could sure as heck try it.
One thing I have learned in my business of climbing and pruning trees is to focus on the now. Getting too caught up in what might happen in a worse case scenario does you no good. So instead of wondering how the heck I was going to get up 300' of this rock or what happens if I fall, I concentrated on the next hand hold, the next toe hold. And up we went.
When you belay the lead climber you have a lot of time on your hands. In this case we had 4 different pitches, so I would reach Brendan, hand back all the protection I had removed on my way up, find a more or less comfortable position, and let out the rope as he continued up. It was a pretty nice place to kick back and belay, I'll say that. Hard to beat The Grand Canyon as a place to soak up some view.
I watched as the sun followed its track across the sky. I watched as the shadows moved across The Canyon, and how the shades of the colors of the rock would change with it. I watched as contrails from jets thousands of feet high laid a moving shadow across the desert. I listened to the quiet. Sometimes I would look down, a bit bemused at how the trees and rocks below us continued to recede with each pitch.
Then it would be my turn again, and I would follow the rope. I was impressed at Brendan's ability to find us a way up, even as he admitted we might be off route. At one point I asked him what he would rate this particular section, and he replied that my guess was as good as his. That kind of impressed me.
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There was only one spot where I thought I might not make it. The rock stretched up and away from me, with just the slightest toe hold and an awkward move to get to the next hand hold. Brendan assured me he had me on a tight belay, and I went for it. And made it. Woot!
Rock climbing is as much about mental discipline as it is anything else, including physical strength. It took us most of the day to get on top of Mt. Hayden. We sat up there for awhile, ate some snacks and took a couple of pictures, then rappelled down.
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All the while your mind has to stay concentrating on the task at hand. No worrying about work or wives or much of anything else here. Mess up and the worse thing that could happen is you kill your partner. That would be a very bad thing, worse than dying, so you concentrate. A lot.
When we finally finished the last rappel and reached terra firma I was relieved. My brain wanted to let go. It wanted to relax. I had felt this feeling before after a long day in the trees.
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The sun was getting low. Brendan was tired. I could see he was very tired. Leading is tough work. Especially when leading a 51 year old neophyte who is more used to climbing Ponderosa Pines than he is some rock. Just the thought of that wears most climbers out, I'm sure.
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We started the slog back through the thorns and the thickets, and I scrambled ahead trying to find the easiest route out. Eventually we got out of that thorny ditch from hell, arriving back at the MotorHome as the day finally gave up and the night took over. The night sky filled with stars and we were happy as heck.
I think I pounded 4 straight beers in euphoria. Brendan described the whole day as a giant pain in the arse. We took a photo that continues to amaze me with the grizzly, euphoric look we have going. We had done it. We had climbed Mt. Hayden, a worthless rock in the middle of nowhere, and now we could talk about it. Even if no one else cares. Oh yeah.