I've certainly had some close calls like rapping off the end of ropes and things like that, but for pure fear, my epic on Lemmington still sits fresh in my mind. Back in the 90s when a route like this was really pushing my limits, I remember we decided to give it a top rope first. I took up some gear and sussed what I'd need to take. Then came down and placed those exact pieces on my harness and nothing more. Began climbing nicely up the layback, placed a big wire, then made the slabby balance moves left to be confronted by the headwall and its thin seamy cracks. Very pumped now, bring on the Elvis leg. Pulled out the two wires that I'd determined fit perfectly in the placements. For some reason, they didn't. Shit. Panic. Fighting the pump, wires won't go in, start overgripping, increasing the pump. If I fall now I'll hit the ground. Now overwhelming panic. Entire body shaking. A small crowd has gathered in shocked silence. Elbows start to rise, I'm coming off. I can feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes and my chest feels like it's being squeezed. I begin to bang my forehead against the rock repeatedly. This is my way of forcing myself to calm down...
I wrote that much and then I realised - I don't remember anything more! I have no memory of what I did after that point. I know I didn't fall. I must have managed to get a single wire in and then sketch my way to the top but I have absolutely no memory of it, and yet the fear of that moment is burned clearly into my mind. |