"the fall I've known was possible but not yet experienced"

On Saturday, anchored in at the top of the 2nd pitch of Beginner's Route on Whitehorse, I thought, "Why exactly do I like climbing? It's kind of dangerous when you think about it." I looked towards the ground, a couple hundred feet down from where I was tethered to the rock by a couple yards of synthetic fabric (granted, it was Dyneema, the strongest fabric ON EARTH) and realized that I had no idea why I was up there but that I was having the time of my life.

On Sunday, my feelings were a bit different.

Forrest suggested that we do Inferno, a 5.8 four pitch route on the South Buttress. I agreed because I'm affable that way, and also because Forrest was going to be leading the hard pitches. In retrospect, we should have regarded the arduous scramble to the base of the climb as a bad sign. But you know, that hindsight, it's 20/20.

I knew from the start, just by the way he was climbing, that Forrest was uneasy. And right before it happened, I knew he was going to fall:

"After traversing over to the very large flake/crack under a right-leaning arch, I was able to set a red Camalot, with a dbl-lenght sling and then tried to pull over the horn, I took it as a layback, stemmed and was trying to surmount the horn when I slipped.

From my sketchy memory and talking on the phone to 'Tom' who'd been leading "Lost Souls" off to our right, I believe this is what happened:

The initial fall was about 16 feet (I was 5 feet above the cam and had a 3 ft runner attached). Somewhere around 12+ feet of fall I hit a small ledge with my left thigh/hip/knee, that seems to have spun me upside down (remember that vividly!) and wound up about 30 feet below the gear, so there was probably some slack due to the route-wander and there was about 110 feet of rope out to stretch. (Tom says the first impact was on my back/backpack on a ledge, but I'm quite certain that's was a second-bounce ... he was focusing on a .10+ lead and not looking at me untill I'd screamed on the way down.) I actually fell inside the loop of the black rope.

I self-assessed, knew that my hip was gonna be painful for awhile but that nothing was broken and I was ok if very shaky. I pulled over to a cam behind a flake, clipped into that, assurred people I was OK and worked out how to get down. I untied the Green line, which was wrapped around Black, re-tied and asked Jess to lower me off as I cleaned the gear on the lower 2/3 of the pitch. The left hip was clearly too painful to climb back up to retreive the intermediate pieces, Tom offered to get the gear on their rappel, and was able to get everything but the Camalot at the top -- free to me, found on WG last year, so that's fine. On the subject of gear, nothing pulled, while I was pretty sketched by the route, the placements were all bomber.

I was really shaky after getting off the route, I've been sketched often enough but this fall was the first time on rock I've been terrified, there was a moment of tears before getting back to the business of getting off."

Terrified only begins to describe what it feels like to watch your partner plummet off and smack soundly into the rock, knowing that you've got him loacked of, but that there is enough rope out that you can't actually stop the fall any sooner than the laws of physics allow.

This wasn't one of those whooping sport whips that are more of a thrill than a danger. This was the kind of fall that has the potential for serious consequences, and even though once you get down and recover you'll recount the story to all your buddies, you still know that flash of genuine terror that screams, I COULD HAVE DIED.

Or in my case, I COULD HAVE KILLED HIM.

That's the part that really keeps my insides churning; the knowledge that had I for a split second looked away, or let my attention lapse I could have let someone fall to their death. I didn't, of course, but that's the reality of this sport, that it's really and truly dangerous and despite all the precautions you take and the safety measures you employ, at the end of the day, it's still a risky sport.

But we're climbers; it's what we do.

In other news, I had breakfast with Boulder today. He's off the AT nursing a broken foot and came down to Worcester this weekend. We met at Annie's and had a nice time drinking coffee and eating hash like we used to before he gave "real life" the big middle finger and became a full time hiker. It was great seeing him again and he looks great, and seems really happy despite the Robocop looking cast on his foot. He still hopes to finish the trail before winter. But first there is french toast to be eaten and old friends to catch up with.