On Sunday I climbed the Exum Ridge route on the Grand Teton. I’m not a climber and at times was quite scared.
But what exactly was I scared of?
I was roped in, with no possibility of falling to my death. Unless, of course, the gear failed. Or, more likely, I failed to use the gear properly.
I think what I was most scared of was not being able to do it. The Exum is a route people rarely descend. Even in bad weather, once you are on it, the safest way off the mountain is up.
But the weather risk wasn’t the thing scaring me. If conditions turned, we’d still all be in it together. My real fear was the limit of my own ability. Could I do it? And if I couldn’t, how the heck would I get off that mountain? Would I be the weak link on the team?
I shared a rope with one of my oldest friends, Bill, and his son, Theo. Theo is 20 and I’ve known him essentially his entire life. Bill and I have adventured together many times and seen each other through life’s highs and lows. He not only knows me, but knows what I can and can’t do, perhaps better than I do myself.
Bill guided professionally for many years on big mountains. He has that lighthearted spirit that makes sharing time in the mountains wonderful. Always the right joke at the right time. But his jovial nature is paired with a deep commitment to caring for others. I watched him closely as he prepared for the climb, pouring over the guidebook and selecting his gear.
I saw a man who takes his responsibilities seriously, but never takes himself too seriously. It was a beautiful thing to witness and a virtue I hold high.
Prior to the climb, Bill insisted I would be fine. But how did he know? How could I trust him?
Until Sunday, I’d never thought there was another sport quite like rowing.
Rowing offers a beautiful tension between the individual and the team. You have to be in complete sync with your teammates, but you are solely responsible for your own oar. Ball sports are different. The pressure is on when you have the ball, and you certainly have responsibilities when you don’t.
But sometimes you can hide.
Dangling on that rope Sunday, with nowhere to hide, it occurred to me that rowing and climbing are quite similar. You’re in it together, but you gotta do the actual thing yourself.
I love that tension, and holding it is what makes the experience so rich. We move in partnership, but that partnership collapses without individual action. Trust makes the whole thing go.
And I guess that’s how I managed the fear and got up the route—I trusted Bill. And Bill and Theo trusted me. More than I trusted myself. And those two forces coalesced into an emergent belief that I could do it.
Hours later, after all the exposure and technical bits were behind us, Bill asked what my favorite part of the day was.
The best answer I could muster was, “All of it! Just sharing a big experience with you and Theo.”