The inherent risk of rock climbing is that you can fall. That’s obvious to anyone. What may not be particularly obvious is how common and casual falling can be. When you boulder indoors (which is my main form of climbing), the floors are matted. You fall properly, everything is fine. I take 10-15 foot falls several times / week and have yet to have an issue. When you boulder outside, you bring a crash pad and have a friend spot you. Is it comfortable? Not at all. It’s scary as hell. Will you be alright if you’re smart about it? So far, yeah. (There is definitely risk involved, don’t listen to me ever.)
Recently I have started integrating some roped climbing into my life. It offers a completely different workout & challenge for me, since long, roped routes are much more about endurance & smart moves whereas in bouldering, I get by on flinging myself aggressively at things I believe I can catch. When you’re toproping (rope is set up above your head and your goal is to get to its highest point), you basically don’t fall. Yes you slip, but your belayer is on deck to tighten the rope should you misstep, which, when done right, should lead to relatively miniscule fall distances. Your worst case scenario, when things go as they should, is maybe a twisted ankle or an extremity lightly smacking some rock. You rub some dirt on it and start climbing again. This is all fine for toproping, but in order to get the titular rope up to the titular top, someone has to lead it. This is where the fun & danger simultaneously kick in.
Now some honesty: lead climbing isn’t *that bad, at least at my level. It is definitely more dangerous than toproping, but there is protection in place for you. The gist is that you start on the ground, tied into the rope as normal, except that the rope is below you as you have not yet taken it to the top. You move upward in small segments, each culminating in a clip-in where you run your rope through a carabiner in order to help protect you. You then move on to the next segment, aiming to reach the next clip. Eventually you reach an anchor at the top, run the rope through it, and get lowered down so that anyone/everyone else can toprope the sweet route you just sent.
The clips from this route are circled in red.
The tricky thing about all of this is that, between clips, you’re climbing above the rope’s safe point. You fall, your drop distance is equal to the length of rope between you and the last clip before the belayer can catch you. Bigger falls = bigger risk obviously, so lead can be a biiiiiit sketchier than some people are comfortable with, and it can totally get in your head. (Spoiler: it got in my head).
This past weekend I went with my usual suspects out to Reimer’s Ranch, a gorgeous, sprawling haven for Austin nature lovers. We went to Shortcake Wall, one we’ve visited before, to get in some early morning climbs. Jon, the most skilled in the group, lead just about everything, the rest of us toproped, and fun was had by all. By the end, though, I was ready to challenge myself and lead one. This wasn’t my first rodeo, I had led a few climbs before and I like to try one route on the lighter side each session. Plus, I had never fallen.
Since we’d been there all day, we had pretty much climbed every route (there are six listed in the Austin Climbing 2nd edition book, aka our bible), so I landed on the sixth as my lead. The route is called Hat Dance, and it’s rated as a 5.9 PG in the book. 5.9 translates to “Ryan can most likely do this unless something dumb happens” (again, spoiler) and PG means that there is some mild danger in the climb. Mild. Mild doesn’t particularly scare me, so I went in unphased.
The danger of this climb comes in the middle. After your second clip, you have to begin a rightward traverse (moving laterally) before ascending a little further to the third clip. If you fall, you swing, which is more dangerous than falling straight down because being caught by your belayer won’t halt your momentum.
Feeling strong & confident from multiple successes throughout the day, I started my way up the route. I got a little tripped up at the first clip, because clipping in is hard and I’m not quite accustomed to the motion yet, but after the first speed bump I began climbing as usual. I made it to the second clip with no issues, and was feeling solid as I began the danger zone segment. The traverse sent easily, and now it was time to go up, but as I started climbing skywards I started to let a little panic set in. Being off to the side, kind of pumped, and feeling the extra pressure of knowing the danger is apparently the recipe for nerves, and once you start freaking out, that’s the end of that. My fingers got less precise, I couldn’t get a strong grip, and before I knew it I was letting out a pathetic yelp of “Jon, help” before soaring downward in a pendulum arc.
Extremely luckily for me, Jon was belaying and knows what he’s doing. He got lifted off of the ground, took position for impact, and we collided a few feet in the air. When I realized what had happened, (read: I was unscathed) I quickly checked on him and, upon receiving confirmation that he was indeed golden, I hugged the hell out of him middair.
I was freaked out. According to the group, I had no color in my face, which I believe based on how incredibly shaky my body was. It scared the everloving piss out of me, and I switched to photographer mode and snapped shots of Jon finishing up the lead, partially so I could toprope for redemption and partially to retrieve my gear. What a guy.
Here’s the thing though: as I look back on the fall, while I definitely feel like I’ll be more careful from here on out, I don’t feel any more fear than I did before. Maybe it’s because my first whipper (official climbing slang) didn’t end in a hospital trip, or even a bruise, but now it feels no worse than an unexpected journey down from the highest ledge in my bouldering gym. It’s been internalized as just another experience to draw from. I think that’s partially because I’m a dumbass, but also partially because that’s what the sport is about. You fail, you internalize, you conquer.
Anyway, while I can read into this experience all day, the true morals here are A) always have an attentive belayer and B) don’t do dumb stuff.