I took advantage of my break from nursing school and headed to Joshua Tree National Park. I had not been there in seven years, since my first ever "climbing trip." Seven years ago I had done my first lead climb while in the park. Lead climbing involves placing metal chockstones as you climb with the possibility that one will fall from above onto this protection. Although I had been scrambling on rocks since childhood and had placed protection in cracks to set up top-ropes I had never taken "the sharp end." I remember my first lead vividly.
As we set up to climb a group of three climbers on the opposite wall headed up a wandering route with a slight overhanging section at the end. The leader looked so poised and confident. The route looked very difficult and I couldn't tell what he would hold on to.
I focused my attention on the rock in front of me and headed up with a carabiner full of nuts, some large hexes, four tri-cams, and a single #3 Camalot. The route was classified as very easy (5.2) by the guidebook, but I kept questioning my security, my placements. My confidence was being challenged, but the rock looked within my ability. I couldn't tell why it was so hard.
The route wandered over a rock slab for twenty feet and then followed a chute for another thirty before topping out over a bulge of unprotected friction climbing. I wedged myself in the chute and fiddled with gear. I tried to get the gear securely in the thinnest part of the crack. The crack was the same size the whole way and I only had one of every size so I had to look ahead and plan out my protection three moves in advance.
As I neared the top I put in the cam on a long sling, I put two nuts in opposition and headed out on ten feet of rock which looked intimidating. As I neared the top I got to a crack that would take a tri-cam and I slotted it securely. I knew I was safe and continued on to a good stance where I built an anchor and brought up my friend.
A rush came over me. I had done it. I had pushed my limits and opened up a new world of opportunity and challenge. I looked out at the other party working their way up the much more difficult wall opposite the one I stood on and thought, "That is so cool. I hope one day I can climb that." I was euphoric and hooked on the sport and leading.
Seven years later I found myself back in Joshua Tree and taking the morning off from climbing to avoid the rain that seemed to be rolling in. I wanted to go for a hike and to do some Yin Yoga, so I did. After two hours of Yin I scrambled up a pile of roks and looked out over the desert. It was gorgeous as only the desert can be. Still, quiet, with everything visible. It is like being an eagle soaring high above looking for prey. You can see everything in the desert and everything is in stark contrast.
I picked a pile of rocks in the distance as my target and headed out cross country towards my destination. I didn't know it, but this pile of rocks that was chosen was the same pile that contained the first lead climb I ever did. For those of you who have not been to Joshua Tree this may seem unremarkable, however there are literally hundreds of rock piles spread out over many miles, with thousands of climbing routes.
I neared the rocks and crossed a dirt road which paralleled the rocks. I headed down the road and came to a split between the rocks as wide as a four lane highway. On each side a thick fin of rock arched up from the desert before dipping back into the sand. It was like two giant rock whales breaching simultaneously and frozen in space. I had never known the name of my first lead climb, nor the name of the rock formation it was a part of, but I never forgot how it looked. There it was staring me in the face. I looked across the valley for the route that I had seen the other climbers on for confirmation. Sure enough it was there and as I remembered it. I laughed, I smiled, I was blown away by the series of events that had brought me to this spot a second time.
I sat at the base of each climb. I felt the rock. I thanked the rock for being there and for playing a role in what has been a rewarding seven years full of personal growth, challenge and change. I just sat there and felt connected, grounded literally to that spot.
My partner and I returned that afternoon and I respectfully repeated my first climb, crossed the valley and headed up the climb that had inspired me to grow as a climber many years before. This time I headed up with a light rack of cams and long draws. I could tell what gear I would need from the ground. The initial ramp was easy and I waited until I was twenty feet up to place gear at the first very secure placement. I attached a long sling to reduce rope drag and headed up a very featured face to a ledge below the overhang. I placed two cams in a flared crack and another cam in a beautiful constriction. Before heading up the last twenty feet of overhanging crack I organized the three cams I had so they would be ready in order for the upcoming section.
Right finger lock, left layback, reach high with right hand. The hold was so big that I could have hung like Stalone in Cliffhanger. Plug in a cam. Reach high with left hand, match with right, press feet high and reach for a finger lock, cam again, reset feet, finger locks to slopers and press myself up on top. I felt like a kid again, like I had seven years before, like I do whenever I climb something challenging.
The route had been easy, easier than I had expected. I had spent years making this route more difficult in my mind because of what I had seen seven years before through a different pair of eyes. I felt like I had come full circle and was ready for new challenges. What had looked impossible a few years before was now possible because of the work that I had put into growing in this aspect of my life. What else is possible? How high can I shoot? Getting into nursing school was a process and at times I felt like my attempts were the biggest failure of my life. Now I am in school and every semester I feel more prepared, more competent, and more confident that I have chosen a fitting path for my career.
"There is something uncomplicatedly true in the sensation of laying hands upon sun-warmed rock." - Robert Macfarlane
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