I know…a long overdue update. So I started writing this when I was sitting in the New Orleans airport waiting for my flight back from my TDY. I’d actually been there a while as Delta decided to cancel my flight to Venice via Atlanta and re-routed me some convoluted way around the world which gave me a little extra time in the airport. This also continues my journeys home saga where my ability to just get home from a trip can only be described as epic fail. As I’d exhausted all of my food options (which are sparse in terminal C in the New Orleans airport) and was tired of walking around, I figured I’d sit down and be productive while waiting oh-so patiently for my flight.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine talked me into going on a via ferrata. For those of you who do not know what a via ferrata is, it is Italian for “iron road.” These routes are mountain passes with fixed cables that you can use to climb and a number of routes that are located all around the Dolomites. During WWI, there were a number of battles that occurred in those mountains. To help troops to move around on high altitudes in difficult conditions (especially in the winter), permanent lines were fixed to the rock faces. Eye bolts were bolted into the rock faces anywhere from 5-10 feet apart and attached with metal cables to make movement of troops and equipment easier. These were the first vie ferrate. The wartime network of vie ferrate has been restored and new routes added for recreational climbers. So in essence, we set out one Sunday to go climb a mountain, specifically Via Ferrata Strobel.
The beginning. Look how happy and naive we are!
Given my fear of heights, I told my friend that I wanted to do an easy one. The routes are graded 1-5 for difficulty and A-C for commitment. Of course he promised, “Sure! Absolutely! I’ve done this one before. It’s totally easy. We’ll be up and down in five or six hours. It’s practically a hike, not a climb.” This was, of course, absolutely false. Unfortunately I would not find this out until much later when it was too late to turn back. We’d borrowed gear from outdoor rec (helmets, harnesses, and the “rabbit-ears” that comprised our safety ropes. Since the route is already set in stone so to speak, there’s no need to belay a rope for climbing. For the ferrata, you have a rope that connects to your harness with two ends about five feet long and a carabiner at each end of both ropes. So two pieces of rope coming out from your harness with two abilities to connect to the steel cables embedded in the rock face.
Rabbit ears...
The climb did start out relatively easy. It was just a hike up the foothills which lasted about an hour and a half. I was about to start complaining that this was way to easy when we stopped for our last break before we started the actual climb. At this point we donned our gear and I felt serious! After we put our gear on, we walked a little farther and I continued to be unabashedly bored until I saw the first (of MANY) cables… It was located in a crevice and I could see both the first and second eyebolts going straight up with third, presumably, roughly 20 ft from the ground but just out of eye’s view as the rock jutted out and sloped back in making it impossible to see above the second bolt. …and I was supposed to climb it. I’m not entirely sure why but my friend encouraged me to go first. I had both ropes in my hand and felt that familiar feeling…the clammy palms, rubbery legs, heart in the throat, the labored breathing…and I realized it was going to be a long climb.
Much like the bungee jump, peer pressure is a wonderful thing to force you to overcome your fears. Realistically, I could either move my ass and just climb the mountain with my friends behind me OR I could do the hour and a half walk of shame back down the mountain and wait in the car for them to come back with epic tales of a climb I missed out on because I couldn’t make my legs move. We were already 1/8th of the way up…how bad could it be? So I took a deep breath and clipped in. The first eyebolt was unnerving. Hanging in a crevice, wedging myself in the rock so I could move the first carabiner then the second over the bolt. That was when I first realized there was nothing helping me hang on that rock except the two ropes attached to the cable in the mountain. Trying to both hang on and maneuver the carabiner off the cable so I could attach it above the second bolt and climb forward was rough but I got the hang of it eventually. Really the key for me was to just focus on the climb above me. To look up and find how many eyebolts I had in view and just find the hold to get myself there. I had a few snags (literally) where my carabiner would catch between the cable and rock and I would kindly request help from my dear friend behind me in the form of curses and pleas…mostly curses.
The climb was truly exhausting. When you look at a mountain from street level and can see the top, it doesn’t look so arduous. It’s not until you’re halfway up and your legs and arms feel like jelly and you just want the climb to be over do you truly understand that maybe you shouldn’t have picked the Italian alps as your first climbing experience. Honestly it was the iron ladders affixed to the rock that made me more scared than the cables. With the ladders, you’re not actually attached to anything as you climb up the rungs unless you hook in at every rung. The ladders are also located at very steep parts of the climb so its just one foot in front of the other until you’ve passed it. The ladders did well to remind me that there was absolutely no turning back. It would have been impossible to ferrata back down. You had to press on, get to the top, and hike down the other side. My friend did give me props on my speed though. I didn’t want to admit that the only reason I was going so fast was because I was too afraid to climb slowly or look down. I figured the faster I could get to a safe footing/ledge to sit on, the safer I would be from falling into the abyss. So Abyss may be overstating my situation a bit but it was a looooong way down.
Less than half way up
This was my climb. One safe spot to the next. I would just keep hooking in and climbing and moving until I found a spot on a rock where I was comfortable enough to sit down and take a breath and not freak out about how high I actually was. On the particularly flat places I did find enjoyment in the climb. I could take a deep breath and smile and my accomplishment. Look out and around and realize, that while I was ridiculously far off the ground, I was in control of the situation and just had a little more to go. A little more to go…or so I thought.
Every time I thought we were getting close to the top, we’d find another set of cables to climb and I would get increasingly more frustrated. When you’re actually on the mountain and on the last 1/3rd of it, it’s hard to see the top so of course I was assuming it couldn’t be THAT much farther. After all, we’d been climbing for longer than my friend said we’d have to climb… this was the same friend that told me this would be easy. We kept pressing but it was becoming increasingly discouraging to keep finding cables to climb and more paths to take. I was tired. The climb was no longer enjoyable. I just wanted to be off the mountain and drinking a beer in Cortina with normal people who don’t decide to climb a mountain on a random Sunday. Of course my fantasies of sitting in a comfy, warm pub with food and beer were completely wanton as I still had more to climb.
The three of us were on a particularly tiresome cable where I was about to hit the top of the rock face and crawl over to lay down to catch my breath while my companions caught up when my friend, who’d done this climb before, and the one that brought us here did mention he thought we were getting “close” to the top. His close and MY close were completely different concepts sadly. We were sort of close comparatively. I mean, we were closer to the top than if we’d started at ground level or even at half way. But I was expecting to round the rock face and see a meadow through which I could prance to the top of the mountain. This is what I actually saw:
Seriously?
I wish I could have thought or said something meaningful or insightful…unfortunately the only thing that went through my head was “Are you f**king kidding me.” I should have known better really. Again, this was the same friend that told me this would be an easy climb. So this was it. A crawl across a vertical ledge with a pseudo rock bridge and narrow 3 ft passage leading to an iron ladder (did I mention I hate ladders) which lead up to one of the last three cables that were bolted into completely exposed rock. And by completely exposed, I mean, if one of the cables didn’t hold for some reason…I would have been back at the car much faster than I thought possible…
So for the last 30 mins of the climb I pressed. I put one hand in front of the other, one foot in front of the other, tried to regulate my breathing, tried to keep my hands from shaking as I moved the carabiner from one cable to the next, and refused to look down until I felt safe. I just made my way upwards. I wont lie. After all that awesome climbing beforehand I felt like the guru of rock climbing. This last rock face which was entire exposure, made me feel incredibly out matched. Finally we got there. There wasn’t a meadow I could prance around in. There was just loose rock until I found my way to the top and sat on the rock and just looked around. To be honest I didn’t feel like I was at the top of the world. I felt tired. I felt like I wanted a beer. I felt like I was at the top of a very high carnival attraction which, at any point, someone would push me off of. What really hit home was the birds perched on those rocks. The birds that looked at you for a split second like “WTF are you doing here?” and just hopped a little off the ledge and took off soaring from the precipice I sat on. Honestly I’m not sure how to describe it. I was exceedingly high up sitting on a rock an staring at my feet trying to get my bearings. I was roughly 7400ft off the ground and the only thing I could focus on was the fact that the birds that hung out at that point could just come and go as they please and seemed entirely confused that I couldn’t just spread my arms and take off. I did sit and find some solace in the fact I had water and was at the top of a mountain and worked really hard to get there. The view as gorgeous.
The birds soaring around me was liberating. Of course, in the very back of my mind, was that ever so helpful yet persistent voice that said, “LOL you idiot…you still have to get down.”
So I would like to say that was the end to my via ferrata story but there’s always the trip back down. Not so much climbing as skreeing down the mountain trying not to fall and just wanting the end in sight. It was a long process but I dont particularly want to re-live it even through blog drafting so you’ll just have to take my word for it that the last 3 hours of the trip was even more painful than the first 4. It was miserable and horrible but we eventually made it back down with more scratches and bruises than before.
In the end we made it down, scratched and bruised and sore but we made it. This was one of my proudest moments I’d had in a while. When I saw the car I just wanted to run and hug it. Given the fact my legs refused to respond to my commands after hour 7, I gave in and just limped until I fell across the hood exhausted. We drove back to Cortina to get a pizza and the much deserved beer then went home. The next day, I wore my blues to work and hobbled around in my heels trying to just sit at my desk and not draw attention to myself. Everyone usually talks about what they did the weekend before. However, when anyone asked, “Hey, what did you do this weekend?” Saying, “Yeah, I climbed a mountain.” just didn’t seem to really cut it…
