The Rush

That July day had begun like most other climbing adventures. Josh and I headed somewhere somewhat unknown and more than prepared. Our packs were heavy with ropes, cams, other "pro" and webbing we would never need. Food and water, radios and extra clothes were the last items and hastily stuffed on top of everything important.

We had been climbing for close to two years on a consistent basis. First ascents or infrequently ascended climbs were our targets. "Trad" climbing or climbing in the traditional way had become our lives. This style of climbing is the most challenging as the climber and belayer place and anchor all of their own protection. The risk is very high and stressful. We dropped almost everything for these past two years, leaving work early, spending entire weekends out, dedicating week days after work and every waking moment climbing or thinking about climbing.

The "wives" were becoming a little less supportive daily, both because the increasing danger and the time commitment. Our goal had been the "diamond" on Longs Peaks. We were really close to being ready for this epic big wall climb but wanted to "test" ourselves one more time.

Josh had lost his father at a young age, he is the oldest of three boys and as soon as he was able, enlisted in the military. He served time in the early Iraqi invasions and many other places he rarely talks about. We had met during the law enforcement academy and soon became not just great friends but brother in laws as he married my wife's sister.

Our climbing had evolved from very conservative scrambling to extreme first ascent exploration. During our long hikes into the mountains and while roped up on the side of some unknown rock wall we shared stories of fear, danger, loneliness and heroism. One common theme resonated between us, we greatly missed the "rush". For Josh, it was the difficult adjustment of life as a civilian. He had spent a majority of his adult life, trying not to get killed and killing. That environment is something only other veterans understand but the loneliness and desperately seeking of the "high" was a brotherhood he and I painful suffered thru. For me, I was simply addicted to my work and the adrenalin. Jumping out of planes into fire, rescuing and recovering climbers like ourselves in very precarious places, and preparing for the next tactical assault has become common place.

As we made attempt after attempt of each climbing pitch, we constantly challenged one another to look deeper, pull harder and push farther. At some point that second summer we decided that the classic local climb would be our mini big wall test. After his fathers death, Josh had made a self commitment to spend the annual anniversary of his passing doing something to honor his father. Knowing his background in the military, I am sure he had many of stories doing just that in remote locations, this time he and I would climb together honoring his father.

The climb was rated fairly moderate, but later we would find the typical "sand bag" climbing rating system used was almost worse than in Boulder Canyon. In other words, we were headed towards an epic day. We began the day early and the weather was a typical rocky Mountian July "blue sky" day. The approach was fairly flat and easy, only at the end did it gain altitude ending below the first pitch. Looking upward the pieces of the climb began to come together. The first two pitches were straight forward and somewhat sheltered from the hot sun making climbing easy and enjoyable. As Josh took the lead on pitch 3 it was evident things would change.

This is the classic part of the climb. A miserable vertical chimney that transitions into an awkward semi horizontal crack all 300 feet above the ground. Placing enough pro for our comfort level was impossible and infrequent as the crack size grows from a fist to a refrigerator. As josh moved deeper and deeper into the unknown I began to lose both visual site and voice contact, soon he was but an endless rope moving above me as I hung suspended feeling weightless at my belay spot. After about an 1/2 hour of no rope movement I realized something must be going on and after 1 hour I became worried. Two hours passed, with intermittent rope movement and somewhat broken communication between us that included a substantial amount of cursing. At some point I decided he must be tied off and ready to belay me up, I began climbing. As I moved thru the lower section of the crack I cursed at him wondering what in the hell had he been doing. Eventually, I moved to the transition from vertical to somewhat horizontal. I can recall the last piece of pro I had to pull prior to this move. It was deep in the crack, it was obvious Josh was desperate when he had placed it and wanted to make sure it would at least hold his lifeless hanging body as the fall from here would have been death. Climbing the inside portion of the crack felt safe and sheltered but peeking over the edge out onto the face was another story. After many unkind words I pulled the last piece of pro and moved out onto the face. Although I was top rope belayed by Josh it was terrifying. I had used almost all my reserves to get to this point in the climb and we were not even done with the pitch let alone the climb. Somehow I made the last final moves and met up with Josh, he was hanging off of two questionable anchors and holding a third for me to tie into. He was exhausted and told me he was "done". I agreed and we finished the last of our water, ate some power bars and began to look for a way down. After many scouting missions and recon efforts, it was all but obvious that the only way off this wall was upward.

I hadn't counted on leading many pitches of this climb as Josh is a great lead climber and typically took us up most everything. But with at least three pitches to go, he made it clear it was my turn. The next pitch was even worse. The spot we had anchored was just left of a massive overhang that would need to be scaled in order to gain the "easier" last few pitches. I moved under the roof and desperately gained some smeared footing and one finger pocket hold. I hung underneath the roof, imaging my fall, first I would fall weightless for a 20-30 feet then could feel the shocking jar of the rope. Most likely, our questionable pro at Josh's perch would blow and we would both be found in an pile of blood and bones at the base of the climb some 300-400 feet below. I had seen so many of those piles throughout my career it was almost too vivid as I hung there frozen in fear. Eventually, with his encouragement I reached up to find a fist size crack, jammed my sweat soaked fist inward and moved in one fluid motion upward. Gaining the roof was the push we needed and soon we both continued sharing leads all the way to the top. Late in the day we watched the summer sun set over the beautiful Rocky Mountains and eventually found our way out and back to the truck around midnight.

Climbing had become another replacement for my emptiness. But after this climb I realized there absolutely had to be more. In church last night, Pastor Jim talked about pushing it to edge, taking risk. As with this climb the hardest part is making the next move and trusting your belayer. Jim calls it faith, and I'm thinking God is one great belay partner with bomber anchors. Maybe he is that reserve parachute, that cover officer that comes just in time, or that surgery that helped us live another day, even that spouse who has supported us each as we make our precarious moves thru life. The truth is, having the belief there is more to life and death is really more challenging than seeking any adrenalin rush.

As I hung below that roof, or underneath that rope wondering if Josh was alive and even while trusting my fist would hold me as I pulled over the roof, I realized it was all nothing in comparison to my fear of being a good husband, father, brother and son. It was meaningless as I considered the challenge of trying to be the man God wants me to be. I've hid behind adrenalin all of these years, trying to find something to scare the life back into me, this whole time I was really running from what I feared the most, becoming a man that loves his wife, leads his children, honors his family and worships God, in other words, having faith in something greater than I will ever understand, conquer or master.

Part of that faith is finding time and space for the things that mean the most and connecting these each with God. For some that time and space is yoga or meditation, for me it is adrenalin. But now as Jim said, I hope to get that "heart thumping heavy breathing, palm sweating nervousness" thru my same adrenalin rush experiences but with a greater appreciation for the bro that is belaying every climb no matter what the next pitch holds. Find your climb this week and put your faith in God. Don't recklessly reach for the holds, but rather confidently find anchors through the faith he will belay your next fall.

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