Last weekend I dangled over a cliff and laughed.
I may have conquered my fear of heights, 40 feet above sea level on a very barren cliff at the aptly titled Cape Enrage. Not indoor rockwall, not guided hike, but a slippery, knuckle skinning cliff. Expected reactions notwithstanding, it was one of the most satisfying things I have ever accomplished.
In the absence of a lot of structure, I'm trying to find goals. In the absence of sex, I'm looking for other highs. When life starts to flatline, it can be helpful to up the ante.
Last weekend I took off for Fundy National Park. With an old friend from my Pony Club days (yes, it exists and I was a member), I braved two days without phone service. I also climbed an honest to goodness cliff.
As a child on Prince Edward Island, sandstone cliffs yielded malleable clay that baked into earthenware. They were occasionally used to jump off of, into sufficiently deep water. Cliffs were decidedly not for climbing.
When I heard “rock climbing” my common sense blurred to a romantic vision of sun dappled 45 degree angle jaunt, the mountaineering equivalent to an indoor exercise bike. Admittedly, this was after a few martinis. Late night cliff jumping probably would have been equally appealing.
I may have conquered my fear of heights, 40 feet above sea level on a very barren cliff at the aptly titled Cape Enrage. Not indoor rockwall, not guided hike, but a slippery, knuckle skinning cliff. Expected reactions notwithstanding, it was one of the most satisfying things I have ever accomplished.
In the absence of a lot of structure, I'm trying to find goals. In the absence of sex, I'm looking for other highs. When life starts to flatline, it can be helpful to up the ante.
Last weekend I took off for Fundy National Park. With an old friend from my Pony Club days (yes, it exists and I was a member), I braved two days without phone service. I also climbed an honest to goodness cliff.
As a child on Prince Edward Island, sandstone cliffs yielded malleable clay that baked into earthenware. They were occasionally used to jump off of, into sufficiently deep water. Cliffs were decidedly not for climbing.
When I heard “rock climbing” my common sense blurred to a romantic vision of sun dappled 45 degree angle jaunt, the mountaineering equivalent to an indoor exercise bike. Admittedly, this was after a few martinis. Late night cliff jumping probably would have been equally appealing.
To be honest, my subconscious had little intention of ever successfully completing a climb, if it proved difficult. I am the kid who used to hate climbing ladders to our tree house and avoided stairs where you could see between the planks.
What I found was a cold, inhospitable rock face. Mist swirled overhead and the foghorn blared every twenty minutes. It evoked visions of British mystery paperbacks and murders on Cape Cod.
The first time I tried, I quit, full stop. I got 15 feet about the algae covered rocky brain-busting shore and started shaking so badly that my feet wouldn't stay in place. I begged to be taken down.
Then, after witnessing my friends surmount what still looked like sheer rock, I tried again. It took forever as I had to calm myself down each time I took a step. “Stop shaking please foot. That's it, calm down. I said, calm DOWN.” I was clinging to one centimeter of rock with my feet and hands. Terrifying, even with the ropes. Taking enough time to coax my body into moving, I made my way up.
After the unexpected jubilation of kissing the purple fastenings at the top, I even tried the harder, second route. By that time, my body ached (it still does actually) but I pulled myself up, knees to chin out of sheer determination. Cue empowering music or whatever. For all the insanity, it was really cool. I may never do it again, and kind of hope I don't have to, but I fought a cliff and I won.
So far this year I have travelled to four continents, with plenty of harrowing and thrilling experiences to leave me laughing for a while. Little wonder with all this adrenaline pumping through my system that going back to a domesticated lifestyle would be frustrating.
Since cliff climbing I have gone riding, sailing, signed up for an online half marathon clinic, and took a boxing class. Yes, I know now how to jab and I kind of like it. I'm manically trying to cross things off my list of things to do in my life because I can't go to the places I want to. What's next? Who knows. I'm not about to jump out of an airplane. But, flying an airplane? I could handle that...
What I found was a cold, inhospitable rock face. Mist swirled overhead and the foghorn blared every twenty minutes. It evoked visions of British mystery paperbacks and murders on Cape Cod.
The first time I tried, I quit, full stop. I got 15 feet about the algae covered rocky brain-busting shore and started shaking so badly that my feet wouldn't stay in place. I begged to be taken down.
Then, after witnessing my friends surmount what still looked like sheer rock, I tried again. It took forever as I had to calm myself down each time I took a step. “Stop shaking please foot. That's it, calm down. I said, calm DOWN.” I was clinging to one centimeter of rock with my feet and hands. Terrifying, even with the ropes. Taking enough time to coax my body into moving, I made my way up.
After the unexpected jubilation of kissing the purple fastenings at the top, I even tried the harder, second route. By that time, my body ached (it still does actually) but I pulled myself up, knees to chin out of sheer determination. Cue empowering music or whatever. For all the insanity, it was really cool. I may never do it again, and kind of hope I don't have to, but I fought a cliff and I won.
So far this year I have travelled to four continents, with plenty of harrowing and thrilling experiences to leave me laughing for a while. Little wonder with all this adrenaline pumping through my system that going back to a domesticated lifestyle would be frustrating.
Since cliff climbing I have gone riding, sailing, signed up for an online half marathon clinic, and took a boxing class. Yes, I know now how to jab and I kind of like it. I'm manically trying to cross things off my list of things to do in my life because I can't go to the places I want to. What's next? Who knows. I'm not about to jump out of an airplane. But, flying an airplane? I could handle that...
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