Climbing

My Dawn Wall Is a 5.5

August 30, 2016

At Earth Treks, where I climb, there is a large motivational display. “What is your Dawn Wall?” it asks. Below that somewhat intrusive question is photograph of photograph of gym members tackling that one route that always seems to elude them. There’s an occasional 5.10. Most of them aim significantly higher. I try not to stare at it too long.

My Dawn Wall is a 5.5.

When I tell people this, I immediately become that annoying person who needs validation. I babble about how I know it’s easy, that I’m being ridiculous, that seriously, I climb 5.8! Sometimes even 5.9 (not successfully). There was that one awesome day I made it up a 5.10a! (Yeah. I don’t know how that happened, either. It was probably mislabeled.)

Repelling

Repelling down a route I climbed in Great Falls. This is somehow less terrifying than the 5.5 at Earth Treks.

Stop it, you say. Accept yourself, be comfortable with where you are in the process, you don’t need validation, blah blah blah.

Easy for you to say. Your Dawn Wall is not a 5.5. Your Dawn Wall is probably a 5.13, or a respectable 5.10c at the very least.

It’s an easy climb. Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgenson spent 19 days on the Dawn Wall in Yosemite. On my little 5.5, I can reach the top in less than 9 minutes. The wall curves inward until about halfway, where it proceeds to gently curve in the opposite direction. I usually get about two moves from the top before I start to shake. Not because I’m pumped. Because I’m terrified.

Lily climb

Lily’s first climb. She’ll probably send my 5.5 before I do.

The way the wall curves, if my foot slips while I’m reaching for the final hold, I will find myself dangling from the ceiling by my fingertips. This is not all in my head; I’ve actually seen it happen. Usually this is followed by awkward squirming until the climber realizes there’s no way to get his/her feet back on the wall, and then the belayer lowers him down. No big deal.

But every damn time, I get so close, that image pops into my head, and suddenly my guts sink to my toes. Even writing about this climb, right now, makes my palms sweat.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

But I can. And someday, I will. I know this because I have an uncomfortable habit of doing things that scare me. It’s not one of those fears I never have to face, like cows. I’ll look up, see that last move, and wonder if I can make it. I’ll picture that fall in my head, feel it in my stomach. Will I slip? I don’t know. But I’ll go for it anyway.

And I think that terrifies me most of all.

Evelyn climb

My 3 year old considering her next move on a 5.6. She thinks my 5.5 is ridiculous.

You Might Also Like

4 Comments

  • Reply Allison August 30, 2016 at 9:00 am

    You take your kids climbing! That’s awesome. I know what you mean about irrational fears. Climbing is such a head game. You’ll get this one, I know it.

    • Reply Lynn August 30, 2016 at 10:00 am

      Thanks! I’m working on it.

  • Reply Mary August 30, 2016 at 9:57 am

    “It’s not one of those fears I never have to face, like cows.” I just choked on my coffee. Are you scared of cows?!

    • Reply Lynn August 30, 2016 at 10:00 am

      Not scared, exactly. But definitely nervous! Luckily, it hardly ever comes up. My kids like visiting farms, but the cows are always safely tucked behind a fence.

    Leave a Reply

    %d bloggers like this: