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First lead


Franko

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My 13 year old daughter wrote this for her 8th grade language arts class. I thought some of you might enjoy it.

 

 

The Lead

 

I stood at the bottom of Orchard Rock at Peshastin Pinnacles, a state park near Leavenworth, surveying the sandstone rock above me. Only my second time doing real rock-climbing, I was ready, eager, and possibly a little over-confident about my first lead-climb.

 

“I think I can get through that tough spot if I put my foot up on that ledge, since I’m more flexible,” I told my dad, who has just tried (unsuccessfully) to climb up the slab of rock. I pulled my foot up around my ear, stretching.

 

“Anytime you’re ready,” he replied, already hooked into a tree at the bottom of the cliff. He was going to be my belayer, or the person who would pull me to a stop if I were to loose my footing and fall. That is assuming my protection caught me first.

 

Probably the hardest part about lead-climbing is placing protection. Unlike a top-rope, where the rope is connected at the top of the cliff and leaves virtually no space to fall, a lead-climb uses protection, little oddly shaped pieces of aluminum that are lodged into a crack and then clipped into your rope so that if you fall, that would be what you fall back on. It doesn’t sound so bad…except that in lead-climbing falls can be over10 feet before a piece of protection catches you.

 

I was all ready to go. Harness buckled, carabiner clipped, everything set. I sucked in a breath and took the first step.

 

Surprisingly, the first ½ or so of the climb was fairly easy, except for a few tough spots. But finally I had climbed past all the protection my dad had previously placed. I was on my own now.

 

Looking down at my choices of nuts and devices, I started to get a little nervous. How could something the size of my thumb hold me up against a heaving fall? I put in two nuts, taking about 10 minutes just to make sure they were good and tight.

 

I continued on, more shakily than I would have preferred. My original plan was to throw a sling around a ledge I’d seen from the bottom and lower myself off that. Now the ledge was next to me. It looked a lot less sturdy now than it had from the ground. I tested my weight on it, and it moved. I decided against relying on it for my life.

 

I was beginning to freak out. Where would I lower myself from now? I couldn’t down climb this, it was too steep. A case of sewing machine leg had erupted from my thighs to my toes, making them jiggle uncontrollably.

 

Calm down, calm down, I told myself. There was a chimney-type crack ahead that if I could climb up, I would have access to a great anchor. But how to get to it?

 

I made my way shakily up the chimney, my dad calling suggestions from below. Suddenly my foot slipped and I was moving downward, the scariest sensation I had yet experienced. Like floating somewhere between life and death, unaware of the outside world.

 

SLAM!!! The next thing I knew, I was lodged in the bottom of the chimney. Shaking, breathing hard, but alive . It was the most exhilarating experience of my life. Now I knew I could get out of here. I could do it.

 

I backed out of the crack, my head finally clear…and I saw it. A solid column, probably strong enough to support a truck, was right beside me. I’d finally found my anchor.

 

After getting to the bottom again, I looked back at Orchard Rock, but it didn’t look the same. It’s like after I’d climbed it, I knew its deepest secrets and darkest desires. And as my dad and I walked away, I felt satisfied, but not like my job was finished. Someday, I’d come back, maybe not the next year, maybe not even within the next five years, but I’d be back, and when I came, I’d be going all the way to the top.

 

Kelly

9-16-05

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