Confronting Fear: How an Ordinary Hill Walk Took an Unexpected Turn
Finding myself 30 feet up and not knowing what to do.
“There isn’t an opportunity to bail. Are you ready?” asked the leader.
I looked over the edge of the vertical rock face we needed to climb down, probably 30 feet in height, unable to really see what was in store. I’m comfortable rope climbing, but doing so without equipment is another matter, especially when it’s windy and damp.
No, not really, I thought. “Yes”, I said.
We were 3 hours into quite a difficult hill walk, and climbing wasn’t expected today. The route would always have some ‘clambering over rocks’, but this was something else entirely. Getting off the hill before dark required us to keep moving, but I really wasn’t sure I could, despite the many years of rope climbing. How such a beautiful setting could cause such terrible feelings was beyond me.
My friend goes first, always up for a challenge. Watching this happen makes me feel a bit ashamed, particularly since he’s quite a bit older than me. I remain on the ledge, holding on tight and trying not to get blown off. The conditions are not ideal, but at least it’s not raining. Quiet descends on the group as my friend turns around and tentatively steps backwards off the edge.
I’m not particularly brave, so in situations like this, I usually wait for someone else to put up a safety rope before tying in and heading off. Unfortunately, we must climb down with no guarantee of safety today, and it’s something every good climber must face. My friend reaches the bottom, and now it’s my turn, but despite being physically strong, there remains a chance of serious injury.
“Ready, Frank?” calls my friend.
Oh crap, here we go. This is it. I’m actually going to step off the ledge. I must do it. Will my life be forever changed today? ‘Man up’, I tell myself, whatever stupid thing that means. My friend safely making it down offers some comfort, but not being roped in gnaws away at the back of my mind. It’s the opposite mental state I need right now. Smile, for Christ's sake, and look confident.
“I’ve found a path down!” shouts the leader.
I step back from the edge and follow him down the path instead. I feel disappointed rather than relieved because, as nerve-racking as the climb might have been, I was quietly confident I could do it. Instead, I took the easy way out and avoided the challenge of climbing with no guarantee of safety, making me less prepared for next time. I’m still a rock climbing novice, and it sucks.
I’m Frank, an autistic software engineer and owner of Better Software UK, a software requirements consultancy.
