Posted on January 30, 2012

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On the weekend, I gave rock climbing a go. Not actual rocks, but coloured sticky-out things on an old wall. In a humid converted shed where skinny-muscly dudes (you know, those teeny tiny ones who have oddly massive arms?) with cool climbers’ names like Diago and Rocky (ok, maybe not), force you to wear a tight nappy-like harness before they scamper away up a 10 metre wall.

Being a bit of a princess and slightly height-a-phobic (or acrophobic, whatevs), the thought of hauling my harness-stuffed butt up a tall wall with only a rope to separate me from a painful death, was a terrifying one. But I was surrounded by hoards of six year olds who were practically swinging upside down from the ceiling. The Lad was also in attendance, as was his sister and her friend who was so pro (on only her second time rock climbing!) that she rivaled the instructors. Hence, I had to fight back the tears, grab hold of the tiny, slippery knobbly things and power up the wall.

On my first climb, I got about three metres off the ground, before looking down and screaming, ‘OK, I’M DONE NOW!’ I didn’t even wait for The Lad (who was holding the safety rope below) to give me the ‘come down’ signal. I threw myself away from the wall. And slammed back into it. Hard. Thankfully, The Lad then lowered me gently to the ground. Unfortunately, he forgot to slacken the rope, so I was left hopping around in circles, attempting to pull out a heinous harness wedgie.

Later on, I decided to launch up a ladder. It looked pretty easy – the ladder was on an angle and stretched to the ceiling. I slowly stepped up the rungs, trying not to look down at the ground as it disappeared below me. Then, about halfway up, the ladder suddenly swung around on itself, twisting and turning. Within seconds I was hanging off the side with one leg looped through the rope, twirling and whirling. The shed spun. It was like Cirque du Soleil – the audition rejects special. My foot then popped out of the rung and I fell away from the ladder. So I was essentially floating in mid-air, in a seated position, with yet another wedgie. Tres embarrassing!

Since my new motto is to give myself over, wholly and fully, to new experiences, I didn’t let the ladder episode dampen my spirits. I tried a few more climbs and each time edged closer to the top of the wall. I didn’t quite make it to the ceiling. But I still ventured further off the ground than I thought I could. And to me, that was success. Next time, I’ll reach the top. Yes, believe it or not, I’m going to give it another go!

Have you tried rock climbing? What did you like/not like about it?