I have a hard time just taking the time out of my day to think about things. If you think that sounds dumb, just think how dumb it feels to write it down. It’s true though. I’ve found that it’s a lot easier for me to just shove things down into myself, like you would something you don’t think you’ll need till later into you backpack on a hike. That being my attempt at an obscure outdoorsy person metaphor. I know what you’re thinking, Trent is a savant at writing. Jokes aside it’s a pretty good metaphor on how I view pain, suffering, conflict, etc in the present time of when it happens. It’s just not very useful to what I’m doing. I imagine it comes off as inconsiderate sometimes, or callous to intense events. The truth of it is, I just haven’t given them much thought. This introspection could seem random or out of the blue, but I write this because last weekend I was 4 inches away from dying, or being severely injured while rock climbing.
Milo and I hiked up the steep path in Eldorado canyon towards the climbs we had scoped out earlier on Mountain Project. The hike was no joke, and my second day at this altitude was making it even harder than it would’ve been otherwise. I had woken up late morning with a dull headache and a general foggy-ness had situated itself in my head. To add to those factors we had also not left the house till around 2pm and not gotten to the parking lot till 3pm. So combined, all of my least favorite factors to have a good day rock climbing; Groggy, headachy, pressed on time, legs tired, and just generally not psyched to do scary things. That last part is probably the biggest problem I would have, because if you’re not in the right headspace to do scary things, then leading on trad probably isn’t in the itinerary for the day.
We set down our gear at the base of the vertical wall, and shed our damp, sweaty fleece hoodies. The route we initially had hiked up a mountain for was occupied by a decent sized party running top ropes for what seemed to be newer climbers. A man rappelled down in front of us as we looked up the wall for other prospects. We asked him how the route he just finished was, and he replied that it was a nice 5.9- route with one “heady” crux. For those not with the lingo “heady” refers to a move or set of moves that require your mental fortitude to be solid. Mine that day was not solid, I wasn’t even in a good mood to be there at this point. One could describe me as bitchy at this point in the day. Milo however was super stoked to try a 5.9, his first 5.9 trad lead as well. I said have at it, and put him on belay. He ran up it with a few pauses, but overall a very clean lead. Being truthful it made me frustrated that I wasn’t where he was with his trad head game. After Milo came down I said I would top rope it and clean it. And if I was to determine where the problem started, it was here.
I’ve climbed a decent amount outside, and there are certain safeties that I forego sometimes. Mom stop reading here. There are certain procedures that fall aside when you’re with experienced climbers. I don’t check every single thing before I leave the ground if I’m with someone I trust. I think the biggest mistake this day that Milo and I both made was that we weren’t really relying on ourselves, we both thought that the other had their systems locked down. I left the ground and completed the 5.9 top rope with no problem. When I reached the top my headache was worse. I clipped my personal anchor system to the bolts at the top of the route to secure myself to the wall, and shouted down “On anchor”.
Climbing partners have many commands to one another, and it’s important that you go over these with your partner if you plan on spending some time together. Milo and I had not gone over specific command meanings, which already is setting up for disaster if things get misunderstood. When I say “On Anchor” what I’m basically saying is “Milo i’m safe, give me slack but don’t take me off belay”. But Milo doesn’t know that, so he shouts back up “Off Belay?”. This lack of understanding of commands is almost offensive to me 110 feet off the ground. “He should know this” I thought. I shouted down “Yea sure, Off belay”, because I was already anchored in and could do what I was going to do off belay anyways. I grabbed the rope and made an overhand on a bight and clipped it to my harness, just incase If I were to drop the rope, I wouldn’t be stranded at the top of the route. I untied my figure 8 from my harness and fed it through the rappel rings and start to pull it through. Here’s another mistake on my part that I was too out of it to think about doing with Milo. I didn’t tie a stopper knot in the tail of the rope I had just untied from myself, partially because I knew that it was a 70 meter rope and would easily manage the 100 foot rappel with both tail ends on the ground. We’ll get to why that’s important later, if you don’t already know. I start pulling the rope into a coil into my hand and yell “ROPE” as I toss the coil over the lip and down to ground. I know my rope has 2 faint black stripes at the mid point of the rope, but I opt for just yelling down to Milo, “Am I on the ground?”. He yells back up “Yes… well kind of”. “What the fuck is kind of on the ground” I say in my head. Trying to not fully give in to my frustration I yell down “Is it on the ground or not?”. He replies “It’s on the ledge like 10 feet above me, but I’m sure it’s on the ground”. Partially being too annoyed to continue the 110 foot conversation, I started down my rappel.
I’ve rappelled maybe hundreds of times, I’m not really sure. I’ve done it a lot. I know that rappelling causes a decent amount of climbing related death because of simple complacency, but that could never be me. I’m high angle rescue certified, i’ve been a rock climbing guide for coming up on 4 years now, and I’ve taught many of my friends how to rappel outside. When I was taking my high angle rescue course, my instructor left us with the final word “After all we’ve taught you, the most important thing to remember is.. Don’t fuck up and die”. At the time we all laughed it off like some inside joke we all shared, but she was serious. One of the easiest things to do when you stop being careful is in fact, fucking up and dying. and it’s basically what I was about to do on Saturday.
I lowered down the rope at a good pace, the double strands of my lime green 70 meter rope sliding through my darker green ATC belay device. My eyes focused mostly on the wall, studying the easier top sections of the route. I wasn’t in “it”, “The zone” whatever you want to call it, I wasn’t fully present. I was just going through the motions. Maybe out of habit, or luck I looked down to check how far was left on my decent right as I felt a flick against the back of my right hand. There exists this slow motion switch in our brains when catastrophe is about to occur, i’m sure of it. Instinctively I knew that small flick against my hand, I didn’t even have to look at it, I knew it was the tail of one of the rope strands. My eyes shot down past my right hip as adrenaline shot through my arm and my hand clamped down on the rope. I held the rope strand maybe 4 inches from the tail end. I had an instant vision of the rope sliding through my ATC, the rappel rings, and then it falling with me as I plummeted the rest of the 70 feet to the bottom, bouncing off the small tower on the way down. This all happened in maybe 1-2 seconds of real time. The fog lifted from my head, and was replaced with a hyper focus. I had stopped the immediate threat, but was still holding onto the last 4 inches of my rope strand. I locked my right hand down even tighter, and shot my left hand up above to grab both strands above my ATC to pull myself up the rope. I had then added another foot or two to my line and tied an overhand on a bight in the strands, then tied a stopper knot in the tail end I had almost just rappelled off of.
I sank back into my harness as the adrenaline washed back out like the tide leaving the shore. It’s replacement was anger. I grabbed the tail hanging a foot below me and showed it to Milo 70 feet below. “I ASKED, AM I ON THE GROUND!?” I yelled as calmly as I could down the wall at him. He replied with “You were on the ground” with a nervous chuckle at the end. My mind filled with “How the fuck could I have been on the ground and my tail is 70 feet up this fucking wall”, but I kept that inside as I jugged back up the line to the anchor point. While clipping into the anchor again at the top of the wall I was fully aware of what I was doing. I didn’t ask a thing to Milo on the ground this time, I knew what I needed to do in order to get to the bottom safely. I pulled the rope through the rappel rings until I saw the mid point in the rope and put myself back on rappel. On the way down I had decided two things; I was done with climbing for the day, and I was never climbing with Milo again. (Spoiler: both of those were wrong)
I sat on the ground, still mad while Milo stood in front of me talking through what had happened while laughing nervously. I didn’t give him much to work with. When I feel emotion strongly I just get really quiet and internalize it. I took a deep breath in and said to him “I’m probably done for the day dude, I almost just died”. He replied “Dude that’s totally fine, I’m good to leave too”. I was embarrassed more than anything at this point. Climbing areas on Saturday in Eldorado Canyon aren’t solitary places, we were climbing next to maybe 10-20 other climbers all around us. It wasn’t clear if they had seen or understood what had just almost occurred but I wasn’t about to make a scene and make it apparent. Me, an experienced climber, had just committed one of the most rookie mistakes possible, I didn’t tie a stopper knot. I started to put my hiking shoes on utterly fed up with my day when Milo pointed out that the party who had been top roping on the route next to us had just left. I began to fear that If i left there that day in defeat, my climbing in the future would suffer. Getting back on the horse in a way, I timidly lead up the route. Milo ended up having to finish it in the end, my head filled with uncertainty about my ability to do anything to do with rock climbing prohibited me from committing to moves required for the route. But I top roped it after him and looked out at the view of the top of the climb, it was breathtaking.
I reflected on how lucky I was. These mountains so rarely give a second chance to the careless, and here I was unbroken after one monumental act of carelessness. Milo and I joked back and forth about how close that was to being catastrophic. He said “Dude I would’ve hit my PLB immediately”, which to those who aren’t mountaineers or maybe an experienced outdoors person, a PLB is a personal locator beacon. In my Wilderness Rescue course I would joke that PLB stands for the “Please Leave Button” and you should press it when you’re ready to bail. This was the first time I had even considered that It would be me on the other side of that rescue scenario I had trained so hard for.
As we walked back down the steep hike towards the car, I had a very weird feeling. I said to Milo “I don’t think it’s really hit me yet.. that I was 4 inches from death today”. I still haven’t really felt it really. I’m not sure if that’s a result of my ability to shove heavy things deep down, or it not really being all that important. Logically I know that I won’t do it again, and maybe it sticks in my head as a learning experience. Later on that night we nervously laughed and joked about “Trent almost died today” and I would kind of stare off and think “What does that even mean”. I’ve had this ethos of “well if it’s my time, then it’s my time” for life in general. While death gripping the last 4 inches of my rope I imagined my body bouncing off the pillar of rock below before hitting the ledge and then the ground at Milo’s feet. And all my brain could muster was a “Well.. that would suck”. I see it as a positive and a negative that I can diminish such an intense thing down. Historically, the ability to not care all that much has helped me get over things fairly easily. I’m finding as life goes on though, I can’t flip that switch as easily, and I can’t get out of caring about things like I could in the past.
I guess I’m semi relieved this hasn’t scarred me like it maybe should. I still want to do big and bold things in the outdoors, and the idea of this being the pinnacle of my boldness in rock climbing is almost more frightening than death for me.
