The excitement that surged the blood through my veins a bit harder than at my restful state had more to do with the race against the ball of fire in the Kentucky sky than it had to do with my next task. Climbing up 100 feet on a cliff face using only my hands and feet and relying on my own engineered gear placements to protect a fall had become another day at the office for me. When did that happen? I thought, as I tugged on the rope from between my legs and clipped it effortlessly into the hanging carabiner attached to a yellow number two spring-loaded cam that I meticulously positioned into a crack in the rock. Maybe it was the idea that I was on a somewhat familiar climb, or that it’d been over 20 years since I’ve taken up the sport. I looked down and saw the neon green rope trail through my last several pieces and then into the shadows bound by the treetops below. I don’t know, but I love it and I’m blessed to be able to share these experiences with teens! Looking up at the crack ahead and seeing it taper into a smooth, flat and featureless face, I decided it’s time to lean back on my finger tips and look for the anchors that had been drilled into the sandstone and glued into permanence. Leaning out, stepping left, then up, and up more—knowing that a fall here would hurt really badly, I reassessed my mental status—totally calm. I had to chuckle at myself for how strange it must seem to your average non-climber as I built my anchor while standing on a small ledge, hands-free and admiring the view from the top.
“I’m in direct—off belay!” echoed off the opposite side of the valley as I double checked my lifeline and heard the “belay’s off—up rope!” respond back from the darkness below. Time to bring up some company to share in this experience.
“On belay!” came up the wall and I immediately gave the 9.4mm rope a tug and squeezed the carabiner thinking, clicky clicky as I did so.
“Belay’s on…climb on!” was my final command letting Knox know that he was good to start climbing the route after me. He pushed through the crux at the very bottom slabby section and unclipped the rope from the gear that I had set on my way up. Now his life was in my hands as I pulled up the slack in the rope with each movement that gained him altitude. “You got this, dude!” came out as I saw that he was going to finish this route. It had its tricky spots and he struggled with this type of crack climbing earlier that day. “Come on!” I encouraged and with a little more coaching Knox made the move out left from the security of the dihedral and into the abyss of the exposed face for the final 15 feet to the anchors.
With a quick fist bump and explanation of what he was attached to in order to reassure his mental security with the anchor we stopped and took in the sight. Knox and I were standing on a small ledge that nobody in their right mind would ever venture onto without the protection of a rope. Below us the cliff disappeared about 15 feet down indicating a small roof if you were to come up that way, then reappeared with the rock features less and less defined as it disappeared into the tree tops. The western sky revealed what remained of the day’s sunlight, spraying an orange glow over the green that capped the adjacent ridgeline painting the clouds colors that make lose your train of thought. To the east we could make out another cliff line that housed a few cottages, deck lights on inviting dusk to fully settle in. Finally, to our backs the evening fog was settling into place, snaking through the valley floor highlighting the road that followed its path. “This might be one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen,” Knox said as he cautiously looked around him, still embracing the fact that his life was hanging on a couple of bolts glued into the sandstone, I’m sure.
“This is what it’s all about. God created all of this and we get to enjoy it from a view that few ever find,” I remarked. And with that we chatted like a couple guys sitting at a ball game that acted as a good backdrop for conversation. We worked together to encourage Gillian and manage the pile of rope that was collecting on the ledge as he climbed up and joined us for the breath-taking view.
As we descended one by one down the face of the wall and into the fog that was getting denser by the minute, I couldn’t help but thank God for the unique position that I’m in—climbing rock faces, challenging teens and young adults to step outside of their comfort zones, and building relationships that make a difference in our lives; both now and for eternity—can it get better than that? I submit that it cannot. However, I believe that we are each uniquely molded into a masterpiece by our Creator and my wall-less office in the clouds may not be your cup of tea whatsoever—so, the question is then, “What is?” What makes you stop in your tracks to thank God, maybe even with a quippy chuckle, that you are who you are? What aspect of living takes your breath away and humbles you in the sight of the One who knows you best?
-Matt
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