I’ve been slowly reading through The Trad Climber’s Bible over the last several weeks. It’s a collection of short stories from John Long and Peter Croft, two prolific climbers who greatly influenced modern climbing culture. It’s been a fun read, but something in “Chapter 15: Valhalla and the Birth of ‘The Stone Masters’” really caught my attention. The chapter is an account of John and his partner accidentally sending the classic Valhalla (5.11a). They thought the route was above their grade, but they set out to “fiddle around” on it anyway, just to see what a route of that caliber felt like. Thanks to the lack of pressure, John ended up getting through the hardest part of the route on the first try.
Some highlights:
What was happening here, I later realized, was that by placing no pressure on ourselves to succeed, we were avoiding the fear of failure and were totally free to pony up our best possible effort.
Begining a lead plagued by doubts is a poor starting point […]
In some strange, paradoxical way, going into a difficult lead with a kind of curious indifference, to the point of not caring, might eliminate the pressure and free you up to throw down your best effort.
Better to forget the summit, develop tunnel vision, and take things in small increments: I’m getting to that knob, then I’ll reassess and try for the next bolt, or the shelf, etc. That way, one long climb becomes a series of small ones.
My take-away: The single biggest thing holding back my climbing is fear: fear of falling (duh), fear of gear failing, fear of failing myself. My “Valhalla” is to just be a much better climber than I am today. As with any large endeavor in life, I need to take it one step (née hold) at a time. Practice falling. Practice falling on traditional climbing gear. Practice climbing routes above my grade.
Onwards and upwards I guess.
As an aside, I also found this out-of-body experience super fascinating:
Anyway, moving out onto the second pitch of Valhalla, I experience one of those odd times when i was aware of watching myself, almost as a spectator, as I climbed.