Never Again: Rock Climbing

I’m going to give this Postaday deal a whirl.  I don’t expect to be perfect at actually posting every day at this point, since I’ve tried doing that the last year, but we’ll see how it goes.  Maybe this will give me some motivation.

Anyway, the prompt was this:

Have you ever gone to a new place or tried a new experience and thought to yourself, “I’m never doing that again!” Tell us about it.

Besides doing the whole long distance thing, I think I want to talk about another story.  I could go on and on about the stereotypical sad song about how hard long distance is.  I’m not going to lie, it really was hard.  But while I would never want to do it again, if my circumstances were such, I know that we could endure time apart.  More on that subject is in this post about my love affair with Florence.  I would never wish anyone to have to go through it, but no one should tell you it’s impossible and will never work.

On with the new story…

So this is kind of silly, but then again, it’s not.  I can think of this one time when I was at a camp that our school put on every year.  It was to spiritually and mentally refocus ourselves for the year and to meet new people, etc.  Like any camp, there are little outdoor activities that you can do, like rock climb, zip line, swim, hike, or just hang out.  Some of my friends and I wanted to do the rock wall.  So we did.

Now in the past, I haven’t had too many good experiences with rock walls, but I did it anyways.  Like for example, we had some neighbors across the street who had built a little rock wall in their garage that curved back on itself a little.  When I was younger (something like elementary school or early junior high) we were all over there climbing and I slipped on the part that curved back and fell on the ground (which fortunately had mats).  Still, the wind was knocked out of me and it was a little bit scary.  I don’t think I ever told my mom too, oops!

This terrifies me (photo credit: Himalman’s Weblog)

Anyway, that didn’t leave much of a lasting impression on me because I don’t remember feeling afraid when I attempted the rock wall at camp.  I have a little fear of heights, but I’m usually ok if I feel in control of the situation and rock walls usually have the harness and someone spotting you so I didn’t think twice.  I began climbing and as usual (I expect with anyone rock climbing) my adrenaline starts kicking in as I reach the half-way point.  I start getting a little more “nervous” the higher I go and at about two-thirds the height of the wall, my hand gets stuck in one of the “rocks.”  After a while I start to panic a bit.  I tell the guy spotting me that I wanted to get down.  He yelled back up at me that I was almost done and should just finish.  I said, no I really want to come down now.  He insisted and dragged me up to the top by the line thing that connects the harness to the pulley and back down to the “spotter.”  My hand hurt from being stuck, and I kept bumping into the wall, which also hurt.  Needless to say, I was pretty terrified being pulled up like that.

Now that I tell the story, it doesn’t sound that bad.  But after that experience, I decided that I would NEVER EVER AGAIN climb on rock walls.  And since then, I can honestly say that I haven’t.  Maybe someday I’ll face my fear, but until then, NEVER AGAIN!