Fear, frustration, falling...and foraging

Dear everyone who's coming out to climb with us this trip,

I am really really bad at lead climbing. I mean REALLY bad.  As in, I'm quite capable of failing on a 5 because of a lack of lead head - that level of bad.  Please manage your expectations accordingly.

Yours frustratedly,

Ali

The trip started fairly well, given how little climbing I'd done before we left, and in our brief stops in Catalunya, Chulilla and the Costa Blanca on the way down it seemed like I was making progress. But in the last couple of weeks, here in el Chorro, it feels as though I've hit a wall.  The weather hasn't helped with establishing a rhythm (although given what I hear has been happening in the UK lately I probably shouldn't complain too much about the drizzle we've been having).  But mainly, as always, it's my lead head that's been letting me down - I have a crippling fear of falling. In certain situations, e.g. on a traditional route above dodgy gear, this might be reasonable, but on sport climbing if you fall all that happens is you drop a few metres until you're caught by a safety system (rope clipped into a bolt drilled into the rock) of which each component could individually hold the weight of a small lorry.  I know my fear is irrational.  I've thought about it logically, I see other climbers take falls all the time with no ill effects, and I've caught Andy when he's fallen off routes more times than I can count.

Logic doesn't help though - as soon as I get into a situation on a route where I have to do a move that I'm not sure about, where there's even a tiny possibility that I might mess it up and take a fall from above a bolt, my mind goes to pieces. I get sweaty hands (not helpful), grip the holds too tight, stop trusting my feet, hyperventilate, etc, etc, and quite often am completely unable to commit to the move. No matter how many times I tell myself, logically, that it's safe, that Andy's not going to drop me (he'd never hear the end of it if he did), something about the feeling of the rope being slack and dropping backwards into the unknown sets off the primal terror part of my brain.

I know exactly why I have this problem.  I had a fear of falling when I started climbing, as I think do most people - I maybe have it a bit worse than some, but it's pretty common.  However, I've never really done anything to try to fix it. The only way to deal with an irrational fear of falling is to fall every so often to show your subconscious that it's not really that bad.  I never did this - I fell into the trap (one that I think maybe a lot of girls who climb with boyfriends fall into?) of usually toproping and seconding things, thinking 'I'm not ready to lead this yet, I'll come back when I'm more confident'.  The problem with this is that, as Dave MacLeod eloquently explains, if you don't actively work to expand your comfort zone it doesn't stay the same - it shrinks.  By never trying to lead anything scary, I've now shrunk my comfort zone to basically zero, such that now everything is scary.

Expectations vs reality

Another issue I'm having is dealing with my own and other people's expectations.  I've spent most of the last few years surrounded by climbers who don't see leading as a big deal, and who think 6a is such an easy grade that it's barely worth even warming up on.  I've realised I've internalised this idea and therefore see 6a as something that should be easy.  So far though I've only managed two on this trip and both felt like a huge mental struggle even though they were on days when I was climbing well. On bad days I've failed to climb 5's because of The Fear, and end up beating myself up because it "should" be easy.  It's a bit demoralising when you mention to other climbers that you're only climbing easy things, and they immediately start recommending 6b's that you should try - as things are going now they might as well be suggesting that I fly!  And The Fear means I can't just get on it and have a go anyway - I'd just end up lowering off below the hard bit having been too scared to go higher.  Sometimes the advice can be frustrating too: e.g. "I get scared of falling too: you've just got to forget about it and focus on the climbing". No, sorry - if you are capable of "just" not thinking about it, then you don't have the same problem that I do!

I know exactly how to fix the problem, but it's not very nice.  As I said, the only way to deal with an irrational fear of falling is to take some (safe) falls to teach your subconscious mind that it's not really that bad.  I did some googling to see if there was another way (there isn't) and came across a blog describing someone overcoming the same issue - she made a resolution on her birthday to take a lead fall for every year of her age.  I therefore picked 27 as a suitably arbitrary number of falls to aim for (if only I'd thought of this before my birthday last month!), although given the scale of my problem I thought 27 sets of 27 falls would be more like what's needed.  I did one set of these a few days ago when it was drizzling, off a slightly overhanging 6c.  Starting from nothing, going straight to taking big falls from above the bolt felt like too much too soon, so I focused this first session on taking drops from having my waist level with the bolt.  This gives a short 1-2 m fall as the slack in the system is taken up and the rope stretches, but still has that sensation of falling backwards onto a slack rope that I struggle with.  I managed a session of 27 of these, gradually trying to reach higher and higher up the wall before letting go.  As expected, the first was the worst, then each successive fall from the same place felt a little easier.  It surprised me a little how the fear came back every time I changed something though - I could fall several times from one position and it would get less scary, then I'd move one foot an inch to the left and suddenly felt as terrified as I had the first time.  It's a start, anyway - more work (26 more sessions, at least!) needed. Just got to keep going with it - I really don't like doing it and if I'm not careful I can always find an excuse not to.  Hopefully it'll be worth it in the end if, by the time we get back to Catalunya, say, I could relax and enjoy myself a bit more while climbing closer to my limit on lead...

If not, I'm not sure what I'll do. I could keep climbing but only toproping and seconding.  There's nothing actually wrong with this, and I really enjoy climbing when the fear's out of the equation, but for sport climbing it feels a bit like playing tennis with the net down.  I'd have to deal with my climbs never being counted as "proper" ascents by other climbers, and I'd always be reliant on someone else to climb my routes first to fix the rope up there for me.  Or I could get really really strong, so that I can climb harder without feeling like I'm going to fall.  But that's a lot of work, and there's still the possibility that one hold that's slightly smaller than I'd like could completely shut me down.  Or I could become a boulderer so I don't have to deal with heights, although I would then have to deal with my other fear which is awkward top-outs on boulder problems.  Or I could find a new sport entirely - if nothing's better after 9 solid months of climbing then at least I'll know I gave it a proper try...

Amptrax

In other, less whiny news, we did our first long multipitch route of the trip yesterday - the classic nine-pitch 6a Amptrax.  We have designs on doing some much longer, harder multipitch routes in the Alps and Dolomites later in the year, so this was good practice for remembering how to climb efficiently as a pair again.  For speed (since rain was forecast in the afternoon) Andy led all of the pitches (see above), and I just tried to focus on climbing quickly and sorting out the rope efficiently at each belay point.  The climbing was exciting, and steeper than expected, but felt a little insecure as the high humidity made some of the more polished handholds feel a little greasy.  In the end we only did the first five pitches because I was convinced I'd felt a few drops of rain and decided it would be a good idea to retreat. As it happened, the sun came out again halfway down the first abseil (the rain that was forecast for the afternoon never arrived), but it would have been a bit of a faff to go back up again by then.  We did all of the hardest bits though so it still counts!

On the way back I had a bit of a Ray Mears moment. I've been interested in foraging for a little while now, and a few days ago one of our new van friends showed me where to find wild asparagus. It grows at the base of one of the many types of prickly bush that make up most of the landscape round here. Presumably, if you leave it to grow, it will turn into more prickly bush.  Since we were running a bit low on vegetables for dinner, I decided to go foraging to see what I could find. I was semi-successful - here is my asparagus:

I foraged an asparagus!

It might be a while until I can survive by myself in the wild though! Andy very generously let me eat the whole thing - it tasted pretty much like cultivated asparagus but slightly more bitter...