Fear of Flying

Until the beginning of this year it was my proud boast that I had not taken a fall in my climbing career. By a fall I don't mean a small slip onto gear or a controlled slide onto a bolt. I mean a full bodied blood curdling launch into orbit with a real possibility of damage. Some have replied to my claim that I obviously don't climb hard enough whilst others have said that I need to take a few falls to gain confidence in the gear and technique. To both of these I have usually replied with a balanced and well thought out reply "Bollocks".

Well within the space of four months I have taken two falls.

The first was on the chalk. I was fully kitted up. Lots of spiky metal bits and sharp things. The rope had caught on a ledge 20 foot about the pebble beach and I thought it would be a good idea to solo up and free the rope rather than walking the half a mile along the beach up the cliff path and along the top to the anchor. At about 15 feet the folly of my ways became apparent so I started to down climb. I then broke the one and only rule of chalk climbing, never trust a hold coloured white. The hold snapped. I lost balance and tumbled to the ground. The fall seemed to take forever. I remember thinking about holding the axes out and preparing to roll when I hit the deck. Then THUMP the ground introduced its self. I was winded. I had a few small bruises and a mild ego deflation but apart from that everything else was normal. I made a mental note not solo on chalk again whilst the others went up the beach to start the long trek to the top of the rope.

The second was at Portland. I had convinced myself that I could do a route that was far harder that any route I have ever climbed before. The route looked nice and friendly. The first moves went well. They where physically hard but I was expecting that. I edged upto the arete. I perched my self on the corner. I was too far right. I was level with the next bolt but it was out of reach. I moved to the left. There was a nice but small finger hold. I reached over to see if the bolt was close. I felt a little uneasy, wobbly. Next thing I know I'm looking Angela in the eye as she is trying to extract her belay device from the first quickdraw. Then a wave of nausea flowed over me alluding to the fact that the pain in my ankle was going to get worst. Angela lowered herself and then me too the ground and we sat there watching my ankle swell. No more climbing for me today.

Both falls were caused by that heady mixture of overconfidence and stupidity, with different proportions in each case. Neither has made me a better climber and I still have this irrepressible urge to keep my self holding onto the rock rather than push myself into another downward arc. So to those of you who have told me that taking a few lobs does the power of good to your climbing I have revised and updated my well reasoned and considered reply in the light of personal experience it's now : "Complete Bollocks".

Pete