Authors: Warren Dalzell
Jocelyn smiled seductively and sat beside him. "Say, Jack," she said sweetly," you wouldn't buy any chance have another one of those, would you?"
He took a large swig and belched, "Nope."
Marcie, who was carefully watching the interaction of the other two, snickered at Jack's reply.
Jocelyn gave her a deprecating look and turned back to Jack. She batted her eyes shamelessly, "Can I have a sip?"
"Shucks, you're too late." He waggled the empty can between his fingers. "I tell you what, though, next time I'll give you the honor of bringing the refreshments."
Both Marcie and Spencer laughed. "Yeah, 'an put me down for a root beah," Spencer said. "Coke ain't my drink."
"Actually I'd prefer something else as well," Jocelyn's temper flared, "a good wine perhaps. Something more civilized than a soft drink."
"You're too young to drink alcohol," noted Marcy.
"Oh, lighten up, Marcie. I'm not a child like the rest of you. My folks always have wine with dinner, and I imbibe with them. It's no big deal. It might surprise you to know that I'm not a drunk, and I never drink and drive. That's more than can be said for a lot of adults."
"It's still illegal," Marcie said soberly. "Your folks are breaking the law."
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Sipping a good Napa chardonnay isn't the same as guzzling moonshine. I mean c'mon, there are frivolous rules and there's common sense. I believe in the latter."
Marcy shook her head and finished her sandwich. Jack smiled, "Napa? You mean in Texas they sell wine in auto parts stores?"
"Very funny," Jocelyn grumbled. "It doesn't surprise me that someone from Cleveland would say something like that. You know, it's no wonder that I was twelve before I learned that 'damn Yankee' is two words."
"Ouch!" Jack laughed. "That's pretty good, a little insulting perhaps, but good."
"Yeah, but be careful, Jocelyn," quipped Spencer. He pointed to his ball cap, "You're outnumbud heah."
"OK, guys, lunch is over." Debbie said, brimming with enthusiasm. "Jack, grab the climbing gear. All of you follow me."
"So, what do you think? Safe enough?" Debbie wanted Jack's opinion of the anchoring setup she'd constructed for their cliff descent.
Her climbing partner nodded in approval as he walked around the two large boulders Debbie had selected. Straps of webbing were wrapped around each and they led to loops through which carabiners could be used to attach a rope or harness. The rope itself was 10 mm in diameter, professional grade and had to be at least 70 meters long. "Nice rope," was all Jack could think to say. "Must have set you back a bit, three hundred bucks at least."
"Almost," she replied. "As a certified instructor I get a substantial discount, but, yeah, it's a good one."
Jack began to step into one of the harnesses. Spencer and Jocelyn stood by, watching silently. Marcy was fascinated. She regarded his harness with a mixture of curiosity and awe. Dangling from loops situated around the waist band were dozens of pieces of hardware that clanked and jingled while he fiddled with the adjustment straps. "I recognize the carabiners," she observed, "but what are those?" She pointed to pairs of carabiners linked by short lengths of webbing.
"Those are called 'quick draws.' They're used as guides. One beener attaches to an anchor point, a piton or a cam for example, and you feed the climbing rope through the other. If you're free climbing you should set as many anchors as you can. If you fall you're going to drop twice the distance to the last one you’ve set before the rope goes taut. Trust me, it can really get your attention if you free fall more than about thirty feet, especially if you're using an old rope that’s lost its elasticity."
"Cool! And what are those funny looking things with springs and jaws?"
Jack looked approvingly at the items in question. "It looks like Debbie's invested in some pretty nice protection devices. Most of my climbing experience has involved top roping." He shrugged. "She must do a lot of sport climbing."
"What do you mean by protection devices? You mean like condoms?" The descriptions of the equipment had attracted the attention of Jocelyn and Spencer. It was Jocelyn who posed the risqué question.
"Now, Joselyn, do those look like condoms to you?" Debbie laughed. "They're for fall protection, gizmos that wedge into cracks in the rock to serve as anchors. I'm going to set a few for our climb back out later today.
"Okay, so here's the general plan for our trip down and up this cliff." Debbie made sure she had everyone's undivided attention before she continued. "For the climb down the cliff, Jack will belay us. There will be some slack in the rope, but in case of a fall it will go taut immediately. Jack will feed it out as needed. In climbing parlance it's called 'top roping with belay from above.’ Once we've gone down safely, Jack will rappel down. I'm going to practice free climbing on my way out, hence the need for me to set protection. Once I'm back on top, I'll anchor myself there and belay the rest of you when you climb up." She sat on a rock and stepped through the leg loops of her harness. As she cinched it around her waist and legs she explained in detail what she was doing. "Spencer, there's one important point that I want to emphasize because you're male. The leg bands should be cinched tight against the inside of each thigh, not so tight that they impede circulation, but tight without much slack. In the event of a fall you don't want the family jewels getting caught underneath them. That might be a tad painful."
Jack added more advice. "And, Spence, make sure your pants are loose between the loops. Otherwise, if you fall, the leg loops will pull the fabric tight. I had that happen once; I walked bowlegged for a week."
Debbie untied a small pair of shoes from her harness and, with considerable effort, pulled them on. She then stood and walked in tight circles, wiggling her toes until the shoes conformed to the shape of her feet like a pair of custom made gloves. "Why the ballet slippehs?" asked Spencer.
"These are climbing shoes," said Debbie. "I don't really need them for what we're about to do, but they can really make a difference. On a difficult climb they help your toes and feet actually grip the rock. It's almost like having an extra set of hands." She then inspected Jack's harness, noting that he had anchored it well and had set up his ATC belay device properly. She then tied the end of the rope to her own harness, describing each step in great detail. "Once I climb down safely I'll step out of the harness and Jack will pull both the rope and harness back up to where he's standing. He will assist each of you as you put the harness on. Jack, make certain you check the tension of both the figure-eight knot and the safety knot before each person begins to climb. Any questions?" She surveyed her group with a critical eye. No one looked bewildered or lost. All seemed eager to get started. She turned to Jack and said, "On belay."
He responded, "Belay on."
Debbie sat at the edge of the cliff, swung both legs into the void and began her descent.
Within minutes she was on the ground and had untethered herself from the rope. Jack dutifully hauled it up and began to help Marcie put on the harness.
Marcie had insisted upon being the next to climb. This was the type of activity she craved, and to have Jack standing so close, giving her his complete attention, was a wonderful bonus. When she was prepped, she took a deep breath, grabbed a solid rock outcrop with both hands and lowered her left foot onto a well-positioned basalt nub.
She continued to descend while concentrating on the climbing tips Debbie had given to them earlier: "Always try to support yourself at three points, using two hands and a foot for example. Only then should you reach forward with the fourth appendage. Use your legs as much as possible for support; if you must transfer your weight to your arms, do it with elbows straight—hang from your shoulders—otherwise your biceps will tire and cramp. Finally, keep your center of gravity as close to the cliff as possible, don’t stick your butt out away from the rock." Marcie contemplated the advice as she reached out with her left hand and hooked her fingers into a small crack. Pressing her belly against the rock she slid her right foot over to the diagonal fissure that ran down through the wall. The large crack afforded a myriad of good climbing holds and within a minute she was standing on level ground, beaming from ear to ear,
Debbie gave her a high five. “Nice climb, Marcie. You looked great up there. For someone who’s never done this before you exhibited phenomenal technique. You’re a natural, my dear; if you enjoy this, and if you practice, you can become really good.”
Marcie didn’t need much in the way of encouragement. She was hooked. Visions of her and Jack climbing together as a couple, with the occasional romantic interlude taking place between climbs, occupied her mind as Jocelyn prepared to descend.
The older girl looked awkward as she picked her way down. Several times while she was still in the higher, more difficult part of the route, she leaned back to rest, letting Jack support her with the rope. Marcie had never allowed that to happen; she had negotiated the climb by herself; the rope had been slack the entire time. When Jocelyn was standing beside her, Debbie gave her the obligatory thumbs-up and complemented her on a job well done. In effect, she’d done very well for a neophyte. Debbie was pleased but made the mistake of referring to the extraordinary skill level demonstrated by Marcie. “When we climb out, watch what Marcie and I do. I want you to take note of how we control our bodies, press our hips against the rock and use our legs to climb. It makes all the difference in the world.”
Jocelyn bristled at what she considered to be criticism rather than helpful advice. “Yeah? Well don’t forget, Debbie, some of us have more developed hips than others. That makes it harder for us to get the hang of things.”
Debbie knew the comment was meant as an insult to Marcie, an uncalled for reference to her youth and lack of physical maturity. Hurtful as it was, there wasn’t much she could say in reply without making matters worse. In addition, Jocelyn’s statement did have an element of truth to it. “Let’s get you out of that harness,” she said sharply, “it’s Spencer’s turn.”
Spencer was nervous as he began his trip down the cliff side. Initially he watched Jack and listened to his more experienced comrade as he meted out advice about where to place his feet, where the next hand hold was, etc. Once Jack was out of sight, however, Spencer’s apprehension level spiked, and he soon made an unfortunate mistake:
he looked down
. Panic set in. He grasped the rope tightly with both hands, and instead of searching for foot holds, he began kicking at the rock trying to find purchase with his boots as though he were trying to run back up.
“Leggo’ of the rope, Spence,” Jack instructed him, “it’s just there for safety. Don’t worry, I’ve got you; you’re
not
going to fall. Put your hands and feet on the rock and climb down.”
Spencer wasn’t listening. His eyes were tightly shut and his brain was on autopilot, focused on the terror of the moment, unable to function analytically. Debbie had seen this sort of behavior many times during the years she’d been a climbing instructor. She knew that, in some people, the fear of heights is so strong they panic the first time they experience exposure and the concomitant sense of falling. The majority of them come around with experience; their apprehension fades with each climb as they gain trust in the equipment and protocol that go with the sport. A few individuals, however, never get used to it. Climbing just isn’t for them. In such cases, their fear is absolutely insurmountable.
Debbie had also, on rare occasions, come across people who are at the opposite end of the fear spectrum. These individuals are so addicted to adrenaline that they can’t climb
with
a safety rope. Without the thrill associated with the danger of falling, they don’t climb well at all; it takes away their buzz. Sadly, the vast majority of these ‘thrill climbers’ rarely live past their late twenties or early thirties. Each climb compels them to attempt something even more difficult until, ultimately, the probability of survival drops to zero.
Even if Spencer suffers from mild acrophobia, he should be able to manage this simple climb
, Debbie thought. She knew of his heritage, that his grandfather was one of the famous Mohawk high-rise iron workers who played such a pivotal role in creating the New York skyline. The kid certainly had a good genetic lineage for climbing.
“Spencer,” she yelled, “Jack is going to lower you about fifteen feet. When he’s done you’ll be able to stand in a cleft in the rock. Once there, you’ll find plenty of hand and foot holds around you. It should be easy to climb down the rest of the way—sort of like climbing down a ladder. There will be nothing to it.” She nodded to Jack and he carefully played rope through his belay device until he was ordered to stop. He could see Debbie, who at the moment was standing out away from the escarpment, but Spencer was beneath him, lost from view. He was also beginning to tire. His harness was firmly anchored through webbing to the rocks behind him, and the climbing rope was well fitted through the ATC and carabiner attached to the harness—Spencer was quite safe; he wouldn’t fall. The problem was that Jack was standing, and his legs were supporting much of Spencer’s weight. His quads were fatigued because the young man was just hanging in mid-air, petrified, making no effort to climb.