Climb On

Feeling like a legend, full of energy, just dying to climb, I rock paper scissored with Sarah for the onsite rights of our first climb that day. I knew whoever lead first would inevitably get all the on-sites that day.  I won the first round, but she wanted to go best of three... I still won. And, with my nerves buzzing I loaded up my harness, 6 draws on each side, top rope anchor, personal anchor, bailout ‘biner, ATC, and finally I put my chalk bag around my waist. I find gearing up almost a ritual. The way I tie one end of my rope to the tarp before I flake it out, how I load up my harness, the double checking and counting. Most of it truly is unnecessary but in a sport like rock climbing the last thing you want to do is make a silly mistake. In this sport those mistakes can cost you your life. 

Ready to start climbing I say to Sarah “Pollo Fiesto?” Which literally means chicken party. I don’t really know the whole story behind it but I guess check your partner sounded a lot like chicken party in El Salvador. Believe me there are no chickens partying anywhere, but this is to make sure we both did our part properly. Again redundant yet necessary, such is the sport.

Everything was good so I had no other choice but to say “climbing”, wait for the confirmation of “climb on” before reaching up and starting my ascent. It’s a funny thing when climbing, even though I knew I could climb the route, and that my belayer knew what they were doing I still found myself with Elvis leg. For you non-climbers aka Mema this means my leg was shaking. My nerves were still running high because this was not a route I wanted to fall on, easy granite slab with lots of ledges. It was also on rock I had never climbed on, I found myself unsure if I could trust holds and checking to make sure they weren't going to pull off in my hands. On top of that I had never actually been lead belayed by this person who had my life in their hands. I consider myself a VERY good belayer. I pay attention, I never leave too much slack out and I spend the entire time the climber is on the wall assuming they are going to fall, so if it does happen I am ready. Before I knew it I was at the anchor, onsite accomplished. 

I find it funny how “walking” up a route isn’t nearly as satisfying as projecting a route. Maybe that’s just me. I want to climb something so hard I barely make it. I would rather spend my day working through one route, and finally getting my redpoint, than easily climbing a dozen. There is no gratification in easy climbing. This humbles me, and again I find myself filled with respect for the first guy that took me climbing outside for the first time. Because before I became a good belayer, well … squirrel.