Trust the Rope

Early morning Sundays are typically my time to get introspective. Reflection is important in almost all things, especially as you grow older. My thoughts this morning went to a time 25 years ago to a mountain in Southwest Colorado named Mount Jagged.

Mount Jagged doesn't get the fanfare that many of the surrounding mountains get, it's a shade under 14,000 feet (13,830). One of the first questions I always get about the mountain is, was it a 14'er? Nope, it wasn't, but it was a technical climb and one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

Colorado Outward Bound School was always this thing I had to do. My dad spoke of it when I was a kid, and I became enamored with the idea of attending. I like taking chances, still do, and am a natural explorer. That explorer's mentality cuts both ways though, sometimes you do really stupid shit, and you get burned. Sometimes it goes the other way, and you remember small details of a 13 hour climb 25 years later.

The Prep:

We had been in the mountains for almost 12/13 days. All of us went through altitude sickness, sleep deprivation, muscle pain, dehydration, etc... It takes a while to adjust to 10,000 feet, especially if you were a low lander like I was. All of the mess that we went through was to prep for this climb. By the time we got to base camp, all of us were ready for the challenge. We set up camp in the valley below, No Name Creek watershed, and sat looking at this goliath the day and night before.

The Morning Of:

When you climb a peak, you leave early in the morning, not 6am early, like 2am early. The rule of thumb is that you want to be descending no later than noon. Most of us were restless the night before, and didn't sleep well, but when you sleep under tarps held up with snow axes, that's pretty much par for the course. We got our gear together, our day packs, and set out to the base.

The Snow Field:

The first part of the climb and the welcome to our day was the snow field. If you look at the picture and the dotted line, that's the snow field. The two hours was trudging up to the 4th dot in the picture. This was a workout, harder than Orangetheory, harder than crossfit, it was a climb at about a 65 degree angle for more than a mile. For every two steps, you lost one because the snow we were kicking steps in kept giving away. You can't go straight up, you have to traverse side to side. The reason for this is that if someone falls, they don't bowling ball everyone else. If you can see the small rock outcropping to the right of the 4th dot, that's where we dug a bit of a dugout for everyone to hang out in. That's when the ropes started.

The Snow Gully:

We were winded, and at the base of a very long snow gully. This was the beginning of our clip-ins. The lead instructor ran the ropes up the snow gully and each of us one by one would get out of our little protected dugout, clip-in and begin the slow walk up this super steep area. Ron told us to trust the rope, stay focused, don't get distracted and keep going even if you want to quit, keep going.

We all eventually worked our way to the top of the dotted line in the picture and got to the first step of the tallest mountain spire. It was around 8am and we were glad to have made this far.

Exposure:

In the mountains, exposure means that there is a high risk of injury in case of a fall. In the case of Mount Jagged, it meant death. We began to traverse the front of the spire, some parts rocky, some parts snow and ice covered. In the picture above you'll see the solid line dip down almost like we'd be getting a break, unfortunately that was not the case. There was a snow field runoff (A short one) and we had to cross this field with over a 1,000 foot vertical drop, it was scary as shit. I cannot think of a time in my life where I have been more focused on something. "Trust the rope," Ron kept saying. One by one, each of us crossed the face of this mountain in dead silence. All you could hear was the wind and the breathing of each person. The only affirmation you received was the nod of a head, and very pointed positive stares from your patrol.

Corkscrew:

When you look at the picture, you see the line stop in the saddle next to the spire. That's not the end of the line, you went up the backside and bouldered your way up to the summit. It was not technical, but one by one we took turns going up. When you climb with a team, you have to climb together. Rocks crumble sometimes, and the people above can create falling rocks and issues for the people below them so everyone has to stagger. Slowly, but surely we all worked our way to the top.

View From the Top:

We all made it. Once you get there, you don't have a lot of time to soak it in. It's gorgeous, it's just absolutely amazing and exhilarating. Passing clouds meant you could feel the electricity in the air, it was time to go down. The electricity in the air will make carabiners hum, will make your hair stand straight up, it's absurdly cool and terrifying. "90% Of mountaineering accidents happen on the way down," Ron said. "Trust the ropes, trust yourself."

Long Way Down:

We got to do everything in reverse again, though this time we were headed down and it wasn't as taxing. Reflection begins immediately as you work your way down. It was euphoric to retrace the steps you just took hours earlier, but this time forced to "look down" the entire time. The cool part of the the downward trek was getting to the dugout at the bottom of the snow gully and then glissading down with your friends. Glissading is sliding on your rump with the only brake being your ice axe. It sounds dangerous, but it's not and it beat the crap out of the ascent. I felt like a 6 year old that just rode their bike without training wheels for the first time.

We got back to camp, cooked a bowl full of reconstituted refried beans, maybe some ramen (I don't remember the exact meal), and everyone slept soundly for the first time all trip.

Trust Your Rope:

Years later, as I reflect on some of the good and bad in my life, I have a clear understanding of what "trust the rope" really means. It's a metaphor, not in that moment, but it has become a metaphor in my own life. If you took the time to read this, you are someone's rope. Chances are someone close to you is your rope. Be glad the rope is there when your life gets shaky. Carry that thought forward and never forget to help others feel like they can trust the rope you provide.

Be well, and take care of each other.