I once mistakenly said yes to a rock climb and very much regretted it. I had done some climbing before and enjoyed it - always scared at some point of a climb, but the enourmous thrill of getting to the top was the dividend.
Having enjoyed a climb earlier in an 'adventure outdoors' week away, I was flush with confidence and chose another climb as my end-of-week special event. But, this time I was up there with the proper boys, with their big balls, ridiculously defined muscles and long limbs. I was way out of my pebble-climbing league.
Anyway, I did indeed freeze on the rock face, half way up and was stuck for about 20 minutes. I was doing OK until I glanced over my shoulder to the bottom and my world went into a spin. A leader had to make his way back down to me and talk me around into sensibility. It was a master class in physiological manipulation. I was physically locked-hard on to my holds and just could not release, or move, even when my mind
told my fingers to let go This was probably lucky because the first few guys (piss takers) that tried to ‘help’ me would have had their heads torn off if my hands were free - I was utterly terrified. Going back down was not an option and the only way was up – done very very slowly. And, yes, the urge to jump off and end the emotional agony was real.
The point of my little story - yes, as rocketonarail says, those folk on the Chinese rock face were taking a risk that some prick (me) could panic and cause all sorts of calamity and mayhem.
My fateful last ever high climb was on the Llanberis Pass in Snowdonia. Never, ever, again. This kinda fuckin’ madness… roped-on by professionals, lots of holds, but a certain 'verticality' to unsettle the soul....
