My first time leading sport was memorable, a long 5.8 at Rumney with plenty of jugs and rope drag. There were solid hand and foot holds, something I rarely encountered bouldering at P-way, so I really was more focused on not back-clipping than being scared of falling. Leading trad for the first time was not quite as carefree.
I had followed my friends and random acquaintances up Cannon, Cathedral, Whitehorse and several single pitch trad routes at Sundown, so most of my gear-placing knowledge came from cleaning. I had messed around with some hexes and cams with both hiking-boot-clad feet firmly planted on the ground at the bottom of the upper cliff at Sundown. I knew the basic principals of constriction for nuts and that over-camming was bad, but that was about it. Now, months after my seven minute cliff-bottom practice session, I was going to try it out.
Skyler had invited me to join him and Kevin for a weekend at Cathedral and Whitehorse. I was overtired and had a Monday exam, so naturally I told Skyler I couldn’t go Thursday night, got up at 6am Friday morning and woke him up calling to see if they had left yet, and still managed to be allowed to join.
I followed a few pitches on Cathedral, getting a taste of 5.9 crack climbing, laybacking like a classic sport-climber. I was perfectly happy with my stress free top-roping, but Skylar promised they would get me leading after Kevin worked on his projects. He kept his promise.
Late in the afternoon we left the Barber Wall and headed to the North End, where I was shown a 5.6 and Skyler’s method of racking. Luckily the crux was in the first seven feet, which was followed by a stand-up rest to place my first piece. The route even boasted a piton two thirds of the way up, so taking a grounder after that point was nearly impossible. I was decently confident with my placements, though each one required at least two minutes of unclipping, testing, and reclipping several cams—sometimes the same two cams repeatedly—before I could move on. The first few placements were easy, no-hands stand-up rests, but after the piton there was a long section of easy crack that I immediately began to run-out to get to the next easy placement.
“Liz, we know you can climb 5.6, but the point is to practice placing gear,” Skyler called from below.
Darn, I couldn’t just start off my trad career running out 5.6s. I stopped half-way up the crack and began my usual fiddling, but this time with only one hand, the other jamming. It was the third crack I’d ever climbed and the first time I’d really had to jam my feet into anything before; things became stressful. After several gear placement attempts, I realized I had already used the cam I wanted. My hands were sweating, my foot felt like it was sliding, and I was struggling. I kept trying pieces while simultaneously attempting to jam my foot farther into the crack. I considered giving up and just running it out, but I didn’t want to fail at my first real placement either. Plus it was a 5.6; I’d sent grades higher my first day sport climbing. I took a few overemphasized breaths, picked the best piece I could, stuffed it in, and hoped it would pass the Skylar check when he followed.
Then I went to continue up the crack, only to realize that my foot had most certainly not been slipping out like I thought. Instead it was so well wedged in that I was stuck and in a bit of pain. Double fist-jamming, I slowly worked to unstick my foot without ejecting myself off the wall.
I was relieved and exhausted when I reached the next no-hands, stand up rest and casual stroll over to the anchors. I hadn’t fallen, and when Skyler and I simul-rappelled down to clean and check my pieces he said all of them were bomber except the one I’d struggled on, which he said would have held; however, I hadn’t crush it either. I was humbled and better understood why trad climbing took so long for the leader. I had a taste of why my partners were always exhausted after five pitches of 5.7 when I could go for a run at home after following them. The climbing itself wasn’t the crux; it was knowing that I was fully in charge of saving my own life with some pieces of gear placed correctly in locations I would have to spot along the way. I wasn’t just searching for the next bolt and hoping for a clipping jug.
I can push my climbing limit with sport without too much terror, but trad is where I'm faced with how much fear comes with greater responsibility.
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