TR: Fear of Commitment

(Warning, if you haven't climbed this route and don't like beta, you may wait to read this afterwards...)

The air was perspiring late in the afternoon when I followed JC and Keith up a dirt trail to Commitment. Keith had successfully led a 5-pitch route as part of a club evaluation the day before. I was a Yosemite rookie (still am) and tagged along to clean and clock more routes on smooth granite.

Pitches one and two were straightforward and easier than 5.9. Keith led the first pitch, meaning he'd probably lead the crux (third) pitch. JC had all the beta, since he'd led it before.

"You'll need to remove your helmet. Protect the crux with a #2 camalot."

During JC's lead of the second pitch, Keith and I conversed. "You have the easy job," Keith said. I was planning to follow the three pitches since I had only led up to 5.7 (including a humbling 5.6 chimney, where I'd backed off lead that morning).

He offered up the crux, "You want the last pitch?" I declined. Though he said nothing aloud, I knew he didn't want to lead the 5.9 lieback section. He'd complained earlier that day of feeling awkward on the Church Bowl Lieback route.

"In the worst case scenario, JC can lead it. He's done it before," was my consolation.

We all made it to the belay below pitch three uneventfully.

JC belayed Keith up to the crux and then requested that I back up the belay right before the crux. There was a two-inch horizontal crack where a two-foot wide roof intersected the vertical rock. Although the section was short, it required an awkward shimmy with the roof glowering just a few inches above your head. As far as I could see, there were no obvious footholds to aid the precarious shuffle just a few feet right and around the roof.

I nearly held my breath as Keith placed two medium camalots before the crux and scrunched his six-foot plus physique into a curl, steadily maneuvering to get up into the next vertical crack. With a couple shouts of beta, Keith was above the trouble spot. We shouted congratulations and encouragement from below. Ten seconds later, as he was placing his next cam, we heard a horrible cry. The kind of sound you'd make on discovering a dead man.

"Aghhh...!!!"

JC and I looked at each other blankly. _Could the lieback really be THAT BAD?_

"There... there's...sss.. a sssnake up here!" Keith stuttered.

JC and I looked at each other in disbelief. _Was he joking? It sounded too surreal._ Just the night before, Keith had admitted to an acute fear of snakes during lantern conversation.

"He's kidding," JC said, but we waited with uncertainty. Keith stalled and backed down a couple feet. A California King snake had been cozy in the crack where he wanted to place gear. He waited for what seemed like 10 minutes before resuming the climb. It was 6:30pm and I feared climbing or walking down in the dark.

I was fearful that Keith's acute snake phobia would distract him from the climbing and increase chances of falling. JC's army sergeant type philosophy was simple but contrary. It was a good idea for Keith to face both fears - snakes AND laybacks - simultaneously. It would help him get over his fears.

Once Keith was convinced that the snake had moved on, he moved faster than Florine (well, figuratively anyway) to the top of the climb and prepared to belay me up.

As I started up the route, Keith was still choked with adrenaline and belayed tightly. At the undercling roof, the moves looked improbable.

I yelled down to JC, "I don't see the moves," and told him I considered purposefully falling onto the rope to pendulum right past the crux. JC replied that that wasn't a good idea. He matter of factly pointed out, "That's a 5.9 crack," as if my climbing career would be short-lived unless I deal with this. _Oh well_, I braced fingertips and toes against rock, with neck crooked 45 degrees, and groveled right. I sped up the lieback, leery of disturbed snakes. Keith congratulated me at the top and I complimented his lead.

He apologized immediately for screaming. I said, "That's OK." He had led a hard pitch and who'd have predicted a snake?

We stumbled back to the shuttle just as dark overshadowed the Valley. It was 8:30pm and we were starved yet filled with satisfaction that each in his own way had overcome some fear of Commitment.

originally posted on Newsgroups: rec.climbing
Date: 2003-10-11 10:17:20 PST

See Also:
poem: soloist
essay: the best climbing meal
essay: the seduction of climbing