Climbing the Mountain
When I was 37, I went through the North Carolina Outward Bound School’s 45-day outdoor leader program. We carried 60-pound packs over scores of mountain miles, slept under tarps on the ground, cooked our food over camp stoves, canoed in 40-degree whitewater, and climbed up granite rock faces. To top it off, it rained for most of those 45 days. One of my most memorable experiences, aside from the rain, was rock climbing.
The first day of rock climbing instruction included handling ropes, clipping in and out of safety systems, and proper hand and foot techniques. The gradual grade, six-foot-high rock face we practiced on was easy to navigate and posed no greater risk than scrapping a knee.
On the second day, we graduated to a single-pitch climb, whereby a person at the top belayed the climber below. This was real rock climbing on a vertical face that was 30 feet high. Our instructors, watching us from above and below, coached us on how to read the rock and where to place our feet and hands. We also tested the safety system by letting go of the rock and relying on the person belaying us to keep us from crashing to the ground. This was all to prepare us for the final climb on one of North Carolina’s most iconic rock faces: Table Rock.
On the day of the big climb, we were divided into three groups. I was considered an intermediate climber and was paired with one other participant and an Outward Bound instructor, who led the climb and set the hardware into the rock as she went. I was third in line, which meant that I was responsible for cleaning up the hardware (removing it from the rock). This was a multi-pitch climb, which meant hooking in and out of the hardware at each point in the system. The idea here is that if a climber loses his grip and falls, he will only fall as far as the next piece of hardware allows him.
It was a gorgeous crisp autumn day with clear blue skies, a nice break from the rain, and endless views. On this multi-pitch climb up a 200-foot sloping rock face, I was out of eye and earshot of both the lead instructor and my fellow student climber. The instructor set the line for us, so I was following a route she knew I could handle. At one point, I decided to trust the hardware and leaned into the rope and away from the rock. Had the hardware failed, I would have taken a hard fall. It was exhilarating!
As I approached the summit and the end of the climb, I saw one of my instructors sitting on a rock shelf in the middle of our route. The shelf was about five feet wide and hung about two feet over the rock face below. The climb, at this point, had been growing more vertical and I was beginning to feel fatigue in my hands and feet.
I came up to a few feet from the base of the ledge and asked my instructor, “Where should I go?”
“It looks like the rope comes this way,” he said. “You tell me.”
Keep in mind that at this point, I’m holding on to the side of the mountain and right above me is a two-foot ledge. The only way onto that ledge is to grab it, let go of my hold on the rock, and pull my body up over the rock, which at this point is dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. I was also running out of steam and could feel my muscles begin to shake as I held onto little crevasses with my fingers and the toes of my climbing shoes.
If I failed, I’d fall. I trusted the gear and the person who was belaying me at top, so I wasn’t concerned with my safety as much as I was concerned with failing this final test—losing my grip, dangling on the ropes, and looking like an ass.
I had to act fast. I had to trust myself. “I'm coming over the top!” I told him.
I took a deep breath, reached my hands above and behind my head, grabbed the ledge, and pulled my body up and over, landing at my instructor’s feet.
“Well done!” he said, as he offered me a hand and patted me on the back. I thanked him with a “Woo Hoo!,” feeling a deep sense of pride and accomplishment.
What did I learn from this experience besides the proper techniques for rock climbing?
This multi-pitch climb didn't come at the beginning of a rock climbing experience but rather at the end. We had been well-trained by highly qualified instructors. They knew the course, were confident in their abilities as experienced rock climbers, and were sure that I was up to the task.
An instructor was waiting at the most difficult point to guide me. But rather than tell me what to do, he coached me through my own decision-making process.
I was confident in my ability to accomplish the task, and began that day with enthusiasm.My accomplishment was shared by my instructors. My success was a reflection of their ability to teach and guide me.
As leaders, we want to make sure that our people have that combination of competency and enthusiasm for the tasks we delegate to them. Our goal is to help them reach their goal(s) and summit their peaks. We succeed when they do.