The Hike
The Hike
I have this fear. It causes my legs to shake, I break out in a cold sweat and I start rambling on to anyone who is nearby. As thoughts of certain death run through my head, the world appears a precious place. I imagine my own funeral, and then snap back to reality. My stomach starts feeling strange and my palms get clammy.
I am terrified of heights. Of course, it is not really a fear of being in a high place. Rather, it is the view of a long way to fall, of rocks far below me and no wall between the edge and me. My sense of security was screamingly absent. There were no guardrails, or other safety devices. I could only rely on my balance.
Despite my fear, a few summers ago I found myself climbing to a high place. Most of my club ball teammates had come along on a day trip to the South Kaibab Trail, a gorgeous canyon views of the Grand Canyon. The hike takes you through Kaibab limestone and the Toroweap formation and happened to be one of the steepest in the canyon.
After eating our sack lunches within sight of the canyon, many of us wanted to make the climb to an area above it. We knew others had done so on previous trips. A few girls went first to make sure they were on the right path. But after they left, the rest of us seven decided to go ahead without waiting for them to return. I suspected we were going the wrong way, but I kept silent, figuring that the others knew better. We went along the base of the canyon until we reached the climb. It stopped me in my tracks.
The climb ascended steeply above us. The majority of my view was filled with rocks. Looking high to the sky, the boulders rose in a staggered manner. Peering back down toward the bottom, all I could think about was how far it would be to fall.
My thoughts were interrupted by the realization that my friends were already beginning to climb! My anxiety increased as I watched them. Do I turn back? I kept asking myself that same question over and over again. Half of
I have this fear. It causes my legs to shake, I break out in a cold sweat and I start rambling on to anyone who is nearby. As thoughts of certain death run through my head, the world appears a precious place. I imagine my own funeral, and then snap back to reality. My stomach starts feeling strange and my palms get clammy.
I am terrified of heights. Of course, it is not really a fear of being in a high place. Rather, it is the view of a long way to fall, of rocks far below me and no wall between the edge and me. My sense of security was screamingly absent. There were no guardrails, or other safety devices. I could only rely on my balance.
Despite my fear, a few summers ago I found myself climbing to a high place. Most of my club ball teammates had come along on a day trip to the South Kaibab Trail, a gorgeous canyon views of the Grand Canyon. The hike takes you through Kaibab limestone and the Toroweap formation and happened to be one of the steepest in the canyon.
After eating our sack lunches within sight of the canyon, many of us wanted to make the climb to an area above it. We knew others had done so on previous trips. A few girls went first to make sure they were on the right path. But after they left, the rest of us seven decided to go ahead without waiting for them to return. I suspected we were going the wrong way, but I kept silent, figuring that the others knew better. We went along the base of the canyon until we reached the climb. It stopped me in my tracks.
The climb ascended steeply above us. The majority of my view was filled with rocks. Looking high to the sky, the boulders rose in a staggered manner. Peering back down toward the bottom, all I could think about was how far it would be to fall.
My thoughts were interrupted by the realization that my friends were already beginning to climb! My anxiety increased as I watched them. Do I turn back? I kept asking myself that same question over and over again. Half of