Via Ferrata

This year, for my 36th birthday, I decided I wanted to do the Via Ferrata in West Virginia.

I had been going back and forth for about a week, trying to decide if I really wanted to do it or not. On Tuesday, I went ahead and called and made reservations for my birthday on Friday.  They required payment over the phone, so there was no turning back.

All week, the forecast for Friday had looked beautiful. It was the only day with no chance of rain, but on Thursday, the forecast changed to cloudy with scattered thunderstorms. I was beginning to question how I’d decided to spend my birthday. Clinging to a rock wall studded with metal rungs in the midst of a thunderstorm didn’t sound the least bit appealing.

When we woke up Friday morning, it was cloudy in Charlottesville, but by the time we’d finished our (very yummy!) breakfast at the Bluegrass Grill, there were a few breaks in the clouds and it looked like it was going to clear. The further west we drove, however, the darker the skies became. It sprinkled a little on and off.

When we arrived at the Nelson Rock Outdoor Center, a guy came out of the building and sort of sheepishly approached our car. I could tell by the way he did it, that he had some bad news for us. He told us that they had been able to get a hold of the other couple, but we must be the ones they hadn’t been able to reach. He explained that because of the weather, they were operating on a 2 hour delay, to give the rungs a chance to dry out, because they get very slick and dangerous when they’re wet. They were also closely watching the weather, because if it rained again, they would have to cancel all the climbs for the day.  He told us there was a diner down the road, where we could get some breakfast, and a trail we could hike not too far away, but other than that, there really wasn’t too much around.

When we returned, two and a half hours later, we were immediately handed waivers to sign. There was a couple who appeared to be somewhere in their forties and looked as though they had just stepped out of an REI catalog sitting at a picnic table, and a young kid sorting through climbing gear. The couple, Cynthia and John, were from Orlando and made up the other half of our climbing group for the day. The young kid, Aaron, was our leader.

After brief introductions, Aaron handed us each a harness and a helmet. He showed us how to properly get into them and how to use the three carabiners attached to our harnesses. He then led us out the back of the building and up a short, steep hill to the base of the first rock. There was a group of 24 climbers just ahead of us. Some of them were still in sight on the rock above us. We stayed on the ground for quite a while, to give the group a chance to get further ahead. Cynthia took a picture of us before the climb.

Before we started climbing, Aaron showed us how to clip into the cables, and made it very clear that we were to always unclip and clip back in with the same hand. This way, we would always be clipped in with at least one carabiner. He also explained that all of the safety equipment was designed to keep us from dying, not to keep us from getting hurt. It would most definitely hurt very badly if we were to fall. He said to leave 3 lengths of cable between us and the person above us, to avoid a human domino-effect in the case of a fall. And to try not to fall.

Our leader then started climbing up. Then Cynthia, then John, and then it was my turn. The first little bit wasn’t too bad. There were plenty of rungs, and I wasn’t too high off the ground. But as I climbed higher, I could feel the fear creeping up. I caught glimpses of treetops out of my peripheral vision, but I knew that if I wanted to continue to climb up, I couldn’t look down. When I looked up, I could see John, but nobody beyond him. Cynthia and Aaron must have been over a ledge somewhere far above me. This was more dangerous than I thought it would be. I was on the side of the rock face, who knows how far off the ground, and my safety was completely in my own hands. I did not feel ready for that responsibility.

There were a few places where there weren’t any metal rungs to hold onto. Here, we had to find our own footing and hand holds on the rocks. In most places it wasn’t too hard to do, but then, suddenly, I was stuck. My right foot was on a very small ridge, and I had a decent hold with my left hand, but I couldn’t find a place for my right hand and I wasn’t confident enough in my foot placement on the damp, slippery rock to hoist myself up any further. I tried a few times, but I just couldn’t find a place for my left foot. I started to panic. My legs started to shake. I must have been there for quite some time, because Aaron made his way back to me, telling me where there were some good holds for my right hand, but his arms must have been longer than mine, because I couldn’t find them. He offered me his hand, but that didn’t feel like a good option, either. I really didn’t like feeling as though I was holding everybody up. I took a deep breath and hoisted myself up.

We had been told that there were two escape routes off the rock, for people who, for whatever reason, decided to not continue. On our way up, we had seen a lady hiking back down, who had opted out at the first escape. At the time, I’d been fairly confident that I wouldn’t be doing that. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Soon, though, the first escape route was behind me and I was climbing even higher. From above, I heard exclamations “Of Sh*#!” and “Wow!”.  Aaron yelled down to us that we were approaching the aptly named Scheisse Notch. I maneuvered out to the edge of the rock, and it was my turn, “Holy Sh*#!”. The entire world seemed to open up, and drop off to nothing. I looked out, at green tree tops, distant mountains and wide open sky, but I still could not look down. It was about 12 feet more of climbing to get to a ledge big enough to wedge myself into. I forced myself to calm down and dig my camera out of my backpack for the first time since we’d started climbing, to get a shot of Kurt, who was still on the wall behind me.

This was the first ledge we’d come to that was big enough to sit on. We stayed for a while, enjoying the view, and talking with the others in our group. Cynthia and John were indeed in their forties. They had spent the last decade and a half seeking adventures all over the world. They’d hiked in Patagonia, Costa Rica, and New Zealand, biked in Croatia, and skied in the Alps. Later, on the drive home, Kurt and I both agreed that Cynthia and John were exactly the kind of couple we hoped to be ten years from now.

The climbing was a little easier for a while, and we soon found ourselves at the swinging bridge.

We’d again caught up to the group ahead of us, so we had some more time to sit and enjoy the day before it was our turn to cross the bridge. I had relaxed a little, and was having a lot of fun by this point in the climb, but I still wasn’t sure how I would handle the bridge.

I ended up handling it better than I’d expected. I just focused on the board in front of me, and was careful not to look ahead at how far I still had to go.

Until Kurt made me stop and pose for a picture.

It was steep climbing again for a little while.

And then we were at the head wall, again waiting for the group ahead. The head wall is an optional climb up and then back down a rock wall. It is the only place where the rock is beyond vertical.

When it was our turn, Aaron told us that this was the most physically demanding part of the day, and that if we had been at all unsure of our climbing skills up to this point, we shouldn’t attempt it. I was torn. I can’t pass up a physical challenge. I adore physical challenge. I was having much more trouble with the mental challenge. I was very confident I could handle the physical part, and chomping at the bit to test my ability. It was the mental challenge I wasn’t sure I could handle. I wasn’t sure I could get over my fear.

While I was standing there, waiting my turn, trying to decide if I would attempt it or not, the sky was getting darker and darker. Aaron, Cynthia, and John  were on the rock when Aaron got a call on his walkie-talkie from back at the building. Rain was coming our way, and would hit within the next 5 minutes. The group ahead of us were quickly making their way down. Kurt was standing at the base, waiting for his turn to start climbing up. It started to sprinkle. My choice was made for me. Considering what I’d learned earlier, about how dangerous it is to climb when the rungs are wet, I was eager to get off the rock as soon as possible. Kurt reluctantly came to the same decision. I don’t think Aaron ever actually said we couldn’t climb, but from the top of the head wall, he said he could see a wall of rain headed our way. He and Cynthia were both hustling to get back down. John, though probably equally eager to get down, was not moving quite as fast. He appeared completely exhausted from the climb.

Kurt was pretty upset that he didn’t get to climb. I was too, a little. But I also felt like I’d had plenty of excitement for the day. We never did get more than a sprinkle of rain. In fact, about 5 minutes later, the sun came out for the first time all day. It was a little eerie how the weather had turned so seemingly bad at precisely the moment that we were to climb the head wall, and then just as quickly, once we had moved beyond it, turned so beautiful. It definitely felt like it wasn’t meant for us to climb that wall. If for no other reason, we now have definite incentive to go back.

A little while after leaving the head wall, we climbed over the second fin and onto the mountain behind it. Here, we took off our helmets and started hiking up the trail to the summit. The 360 degree view from the summit was truly amazing, and I was grateful to have such a great group to enjoy it with.

It was evening by this point, but we stayed up there on the rock talking and laughing for nearly an hour. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry to go anywhere.

As far as birthdays go, this one ranks pretty high.