A Journey of Fear and Confidence
By Alayna Callanan
I was three hundred feet up the mountain, and, I was crying my eyes out. I was not even half way up the eight hundred feet of White Horse Ledge, but I was already at my limit. It wasn’t so bad at first; it was probably a 5.6 or 5.7 start. Maybe even easier. I was with my dad, my brother, and our guide, Tom. My brother and I had never climbed before so it was all very new to us. Luckily, Tom was a very experienced and confident climber. Without any protection, he literally walked right up the first pitch to the first set of anchors. And of course when it was my turn to climb, I was already scared. I had never climbed before. I didn’t know what to expect.
Wearing my rental gear, I began up the gentle slope. I did not have nearly as easy a time as Tom did, but I did manage to make it up. With each pitch, we climbed higher and higher. And with every increase in altitude, my fear increased more and more. I had never really known my fear of heights, but around three hundred feet, it kicked into overdrive. I began sobbing and begging to go back down. Typical of my dad, he would not let me go back down. He just barely convinced me to climb one more pitch. I did this, but I had tears streaming down my face the entire time. It was not as bad as I thought it would have been once I made it to the top of that section, but I had hated doing it. I was furious with my dad but I was just happy to come down after that.
One year later, I came back to face my fears. Not only was I afraid of heights, but I was also afraid of falling. We went to the same place with the same guide. I made it up to the three hundred-foot point with ease. After all, it was a very easy climb. I continued on past where I had made it the previous year and kept on going. It took a long time, but we continued our journey.
About three quarters of the way up, we took a short break. We ate some food and prepared ourselves for the daunting 5.9 pitch ahead. As we were resting and Tom was setting up our next pitch, we saw a dark, ominous heading in our direction. We could see the rain from miles away. And we knew that at some point that cloud was going to release its rain on us.
That point happened to be when I was climbing the hardest part of the hardest pitch. It was petrifying to climb it in the rain, but somehow, I made it through. It was smooth sailing from there.
Finally, I had done it. I successfully climbed the mountain that had scared me off the year before. It took all day but the feeling of accomplishment was tremendous.
It was this experience that began my climbing career. I was about nine years old when I first attempted White Horse Ledge. Now, I am still climbing at sixteen years old and I have loved it ever since. Sometimes climbing is tough and frustrating, but I cannot live without it. Lead climbing and various other things can terrify me, but then I can be rewarded with breakthrough moments. In 2007 at Camp Aleksey, I had one of my greatest climbing days on the last day of camp. I led Tropicana, my first lead 5.11 at the time, I sent Black Mamba on top rope, and I made all the moves on Captain Hook. This year at Regionals, I forgot my fears for the day and I climbed the best I have climbed in a very long time. I climbed with extreme confidence and gave it my all. I did not even care if I made it to Divisionals or not because I had climbed so well. But, as an added bonus to the day, I found out that I had indeed qualified for Divisionals. It is still an ongoing battle to overcome my fears, but it helps keep me motivated and keep things interesting.