HALF DOME: The Art of Acrophobia

HALF DOME

THE ART OF ACROPHOBIA by Bottle Caps

Acrophobia- an extreme or irrational fear of heights

I don’t know the cause… it could be my literally pathetic eyesight, as my mother would often suggest, or it was just that I was raised to be a wimp, as I concluded throughout the progression of my life.  I had no problem coming to blows with someone if it came down to it and I love speed and fast cars…but I wouldn’t dare put Christmas lights up using a 4-foot ladder.  Dysfunction is the key word…although quite coordinated and fairly sure-footed when attached to the planet, I would somehow become the most inept balancer if facing any vertical challenge.  Often the realization would creep into my head that it might just be easier if I went ahead and fell instead of facing the agonizing chance that I ‘might’ fall.

Throughout the years, I had turned my fear of heights into an art.  I had learned to avoid any situation that would require any sort of inclination or airborne probability.  Heights had become my nemesis.  Ladders, stairs, tall rocks, swings…they were my mortal enemy.  I didn’t combat the fear…I avoided it like the plague throughout my childhood and early adulthood. 

I guess if I start from the beginning, this cumbersome and constant apprehension that plagued me might make a fraction of sense to the super-human non-height fearing homo sapien. 

Most of my earliest childhood memories stem from something to do with my displeasure for altitude.  I wouldn’t climb a flight of stairs to any apparatus, especially a second floor in a house or apartment or hotel.  I would literally throw one of the biggest temper tantrums known in the history of man. 

One particularly interesting occasion to unleash my terror came while on vacation with the relatives to North Carolina.  We had driven into the Smokey Mountains somewhere in Tennessee, it was late, we were lost, and no hotel read ‘vacancy’…enough problems already you might think.  Finally, we found a motel with an available room on the 2nd floor.  I actively supported the decision by howling, moaning, and positioning my body so that it would be nearly impossible to get me up the stairs.  This technique worked quite well until someone had called the cops on my family for kidnapping me…it was a ridiculous situation caused by a ridiculous fear.  I was literally dragged upstairs and somehow I was finally able to fall asleep, even though I was not touching the solid earth for the first time in my life.  You would surmise that by waking up the next morning alive and well, I might have at least conquered a small part of my fear…not nearly the case…I still had to return to the planet via death grip and the butt-scoot-step down the stairs.  All of this just confirmed to me that I would have to become better at preventing these situations from occurring…possibly by not traveling with these horrible people ever again. 

Insanity would ensue even with minor trips to the mall.  If by some unholy means, they got me to the second floor, I would walk pinned to the outside wall, as far as humanly possible from the edge.  My actions had to seem utterly clownish from the outside…but all that I knew was that the closer I came to that rail…my percentages of death increased exponentially.  I refused to be just another statistic…a blood-splattered mess in the center of the ice skating ring.

And to top it off… in what could be perceived as actual child abuse… my eye doctor’s office came complete with a glass elevator that caused severe respiratory problems on numerous occasions that I may never recover from.  I would stand paralyzed facing the enclosed corner and never look back.  Most kids fear their doctor because of the dreaded ‘shot’…I feared the arrival and departure…give me shots all day.

The thing about going up is that you always must come down… there is a quick way or the correct way…I wanted no part of either.  Obviously, this precluded any chance I had of flying in an airplane during adolescence.  The instability of air travel is a topic for another long, long day.  One note to surmise my feelings about air travel: many say that air travel is safer than riding in a car…but…how often do you drive a car off a 10,000 foot cliff and how often are you asked to turn your IPOD off when starting a car cause it might make your car crash?

Now, I really don’t know how I got to this point in my life… it was funny cause I grew up with 2 ridiculous shattered dreams:

First…I would never get married or have a honeymoon because I couldn’t be guaranteed a room on the bottom floor of the hotel.  As a kid, I used to agonize over the fact that I would never have a union with my significant other due to this problem…come to find out that there are a myriad of fears (and common sense) that would keep me from getting married until the ripe old age of 33 (Tony Dorsett’s number, by the way)… heights would not be one of them. 

Second…I could never play pro ball of any type.  Growing up, this seemed like a very rational fear to have.  Although I was good at most sports…often times, the best in my village…I was sure that I would have to turn down any college scholarship or pro contract due to travel circumstances.  I used to dream that I would be so good that they would have to make exceptions for me…you know, I would leave by car on Wednesday and meet the team in Philly on Saturday.  Little did I know at the time that many other circumstances would shatter my dreams of becoming a professional athlete and the fear of heights never truly factored in.

As prodigious year after year went by…I took bigger and bigger risks.  By my late teens, I had greatly reduced my fear of the 2nd story hotel room…this would have put one hell of a dent in my Spring Break trips to South Padre Island.  However, I still preferred greatly to be touching the planet.  I think in early college, I took a huge leap forward when I flew to Disney World in Florida…of course, this fear of heights is greatly detrimental to fun at an amusement park as land-lover’s such as myself spend many hours on the unthreatening Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride…not very cool.

I began to overcome (somewhat) my fear of flying and tall buildings.  However, I would not consider me ‘cured’ by any wild stretch of the imagination.  Tall buildings, airplanes, stairs, and mid-sized rocks still put the fear of god into me but I had become much better at hiding and avoiding it as the years went by.  I took considerable chances and began to realize that I was missing out on so many opportunities…most notable of which was finally accepting a 14-hour business trip to Korea that I managed to live through by not ever getting up to use the restroom on the way there and by nearly breaking the armrest during 2 straight hours of turbulence returning over the Pacific Ocean.  Each time the plane landed, I felt as if I had ‘cheated’ death. However, I had capitalized on the opportunity and felt quite good about accomplishing the mission.

All said, there was never a ‘moment’ where I felt I had faced my fear and beat the shit out of it…

But now, at 34 years old, I would face my fears head on as I climbed the mother-of-all physical and mental terrors… Half Dome in Yosemite National Park, California.  Not only does it end at an intimidating slab of slick granite that you have to climb by gripping frayed ropes and pulling yourself up 10 feet interval 2x4s that are braced between 2 loose poles (stable…would not be a good description), but it is a physical task to cover the 9 miles and nearly 5000 feet of elevation gained up the mountain.  My wife, Lee (fear: snakes), and my buddy, Steven (fear: his wife), had been looking forward to this for a long time…enthusiastically discussing it every weekend for the past year as we downed Natural Lights.  I played along and really was excited about the awesome hike but I definitely had reservations about the summit as the time grew closer.  I even made sure that it was the beginning of our trip so that I would not have to think about it all week and could enjoy myself afterwards…this is how we ‘height fearers’ think…how can I avoid or make this situation work better for me?  I read as much as I could find about the hike and checked out every Internet website imaginable…no one made it sound easy and many that were not scared of heights talked about how difficult the ropes and switchbacks were…mind at ease…no…re-assured…no.  Side-note: in the year since we hiked Half Dome, 3 people on 3 different occasions have fallen to their deaths on the cables…very happy not to have had this pertinent information at the time.

Upon our arrival to Yosemite we had to get a couple practice hikes in… so we tackled the simple mile or so to the top of ‘Sentinel Dome’… from this point we could see the ominous hike that would be Half Dome…up and around the giant waterfalls to the finale of the granite mountain far off in the distance.  It did not reinforce any confidence that I might have acquired from today’s climb.  To top it off, we took a page out of the Soprano’s ‘Russian Mobster snow incident’ or the better known ‘Blair Witch Project’ and decided to attempt another hike through the forest at dusk…problem was that the trail was covered by snow…in June.  It was a little crazy but, with very little heights involved, seemed innocent enough.  We would pass 1 other couple that had turned back about ½ a mile in because they could not find the crossing to the river…we plowed on and crossed the river via fallen tree.  From time to time we would find the trail and then lose it again as it continued to get darker.  Finally we turned back…almost to the end, and not entirely against my better wishes since the end is a cliff where you peer straight down thousands of feet to the valley floor through fractures in the rock.  Our return trip provided some minor excitement as Tracy fell through a snow hole and I fell in right behind her…we both moved like spider monkeys to pull ourselves out within seconds.  Point is that we lived through this rather tedious situation so tomorrow should be easy…right?

We settled into our very cool cabin, just on the outskirts of Yosemite National Park, for a very short night’s rest.  We were honestly in the middle of nowhere.  American Airlines lost Tracy’s luggage and sent a nomad to our little cabin, possibly in ‘Limbo’, to return it.  Of course, they got very lost and played phone tag with us until 1am…problem was the phones don’t work in ‘Limbo’.  This allowed very little time to think about tomorrow’s journey…a good thing in my book!

The crow of a damn rooster about 20 yards from our cabin would make sure that we woke on time.  Off we go…good breakfast, backpacks filled with water & sandwiches, a 30-minute drive to Curry Village parking lot, and then a short and flat mile or so hike to the trailhead at the inappropriately named Happy Isles…easy so far!  Our goal was a 5am departure…we arrived here at 6am...not bad for us.  Tracy (fear: physical activity), Steven’s wife, would join us for the first mile of the hike before heading back for a massage…evidently, she had no fear of heights and considered it a waste of time to conquer the mountain.

The temperature was a perfect 65-70 degrees and the park seemed relaxingly silent as the sun rose over the campers at Curry Village (that is a gay sentence!).  There is little warming up as the incline begins at the trailhead and never really lets up…it would be about 9 miles straight uphill from here on.  We elected to forego the ‘mist trail’ route as the waterfalls are raging this time of the year and the mist is actually near hurricane status.  We would take the longer (adds about 1 mile) John Muir loop up, to avoid being soaking miserably wet and slipping off the mountain and dying.  Remember, Half Dome was considered ‘perfectly inaccessible’ until the late 1800’s when some dude climbed half dome by drilling iron bolts into the granite…I will be the judge regarding its current accessibility.

From beginning to the Vernal Falls bridge is really scenic as you walk mostly through forest and along the Merced River…it was really a cool experience this early in the morning and I highly recommend everything up to this point…of course, we were only 1 mile into the hike.  As I make mental notes throughout the trip…I try to put a percentage on my chance of survival.  I feel very good now and give myself a solid 95% chance of survival.

We basically had the trail to ourselves…every once in a while we would pass a small group of hikers or vice-versa but there was nowhere near the ‘moshing’ I had expected.  This is definitely a ‘hike at your own risk’ park…we would see only one park ranger during the entire hike.  It is as if, the park wants to have absolutely zero responsibility (similar to my manager at work) for the actions of those who attempt Half Dome.  I could hear the park echo the solemn words “If you injure yourself, you are FUBAR’d (term from ‘Tango & Cash)” relentlessly.  We continue and cross the Vernal Falls bridge and peer down at the rushing rapids of the Merced River…our motto became ‘Fall…and…Dead’ from this point on.  We then see the last ‘potable’ water fountain on the mountain…new mental note: conserve water.  Small trail switchbacks lead us up another 3-plus miles to the top of Nevada Falls…all of my training seems to be paying off as I still feel fairly confident that I will survive.  Percentage is hovering around 90% as we become much more cognicent of a considerable change in altitude and the unmistakable fact that we are creeping closer to the sun with every step.  Although the trail is much better maintained than I had expected, the higher we travel the more it becomes bordered by a cliff that appears very unforgiving.  There is much time to think during this part of the hike…and for some reason I start thinking about an earthquake.  I question whether my lack of church experience might lead God to punish me as I reach the pinnacle.  I realize that this would be his best chance to get me.  At this point, I realize that I have forgotten my compass and debate whether to go back and get it…I choose to carry on.

Nevada Falls is undeniably impressive as I gather the nerve to look over the edge.  We reward ourselves with the best peanut butter sandwiches ever and then continue on past the last actual bathrooms and back uphill into what is called ‘The Meadow’.  It is quite a change in scenery…the trail becomes much more flat but much less maintained…very rocky and difficult to walk.  We hike forever and finally get to Little Yosemite Valley campground where hiker activity begins to pickup as many camp and make this a 2-day trip.  We are no longer lonely and pass many groups back and forth as you hike-break-hike-break march.  My legs are burning and my water efficiency is lacking as I am forced to drink more due to oncoming cramps in my thighs…not the best situation.  This would be an unexpected obstacle that I would face for the next 11 or 12 miles of hiking…quite brutal but I know that as long as my body will work then I have the mental toughness to carry on until we get to the cables.  As Robin Williams would say in some old movie I hated ‘Carpe Diem’.

About 1 mile to go, we see a gathering of hikers over near a cliff looking off in the distance.  Everyone is seeing the cables for the first time.  What a surreal and mind-altering site.  The people look like ants scaling the side of the mountain.  It was probably the most exciting and depressing thing I have ever seen.  It was time for a ‘gut check’ for all involved.  Along the way we had made hiking buddies with an English dude and his chick…after seeing the cables she decided that reaching the top was out of the question as did a couple others.  I, on the other hand, really couldn’t stand still due to the cramping and decided to make my decision when we arrived.  Little did we know that we had to scale the most intimidating switchbacks ever to even get to the cables.  Ringing in my head is this title that I read prior to making this journey “Each year 4 million people enter Yosemite Valley and every one of them sees Half Dome.  A very small percentage of them consider hiking to the top.  Of that small percentage, an even smaller percentage make it to the top.”  My goal was to become a member of that elite club.  I remembered that Steven brought the video camera so I tried to take some video of our epic treck to show the grandkids some day.  As we engaged the switchbacks…basically steps cut into the side of the steep granite mountain…the realization that it would be possible to have video was immediately erased…this would take our full undivided attention.  I don’t know how to describe this section of the hike, except to say it is ridiculously unsafe and certain death could follow any mis-step.  Mentally, I have calculated my chance of survival at an astonishingly low 60% and falling fast.  My legs are jelly and all I can think of is if my body will be identifiable when they clean me up off the valley floor some 4000 feet below!  You could say that my fear of heights was at its peak now.  I was beginning to feel like I had committed to something that I just couldn’t finish…BUT there is no way in hell that I am turning back and trying to get down these switchbacks on my own.  All the way up, all I am thinking is about how I will ever return down these when I actually have to ‘look’ down the mountain.  We finally make it to the top of the switchbacks and are only a couple hundred yards from the cables but can easily see hikers scaling them.  It literally took my breath away…I had that same paralyzed feeling I got when I was a kid…I was trapped.  My chance of survival had become nil.  I was to the point where I just wanted to lay on the ground and not move like the hotel stairs situation of yester.  We made our way across a wide but precarious catwalk to the staging area.  Looking up, it was obvious that the mountain was much steeper than any picture I had ever seen.  They say the camera adds 10 pounds to the person…I guess the camera subtracts about 20 degrees from the angle.  I was scared-to-death and thought about backing out as I looked down and could see the muscles in my legs cramping.  However, against my brain’s better wishes, I forged ahead.  To put it into perspective, if this were a ride at an amusement park and I was in 100% physical shape…there is no way in hell that I would do it.  I am not sure why this situation is different…but it is. 

We put on gloves and Steven went first, I went 2nd, and Lee brought up the rear.  Even the first couple steps were utterly horrifying…the elevation made breathing difficult, my tennis shoes had no traction, the gloves had no grip on the steel cables, the rock was inconsistent and had odd-shaped ledges to hurdle, and the wooden 2x4’s were placed about 5 feet too far apart…and, as if all this weren’t enough, you had to dodge the people coming down the mountain by moving to one side and holding on for dear life.  To sum it up… only do you have the heights that I fear most…you have a plethora of these external obstacles and physical demands.  This was a brutal proposition and I soon decided that I was cool enough without doing it…so about 30 feet up I turned around and headed back down.  Somehow, as I turned around I saw the people below me that were doing it…all ages, genders, sizes, and shapes…and I realized that I am by no means a quitter so what would I be proving by NOT doing it.  I used more courage than I ever have and turned back up the cables.  I never looked down and after an agonizing 20 minutes, I had scaled Half Dome and was sitting directly in the middle of the top.  I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment but was unable to enjoy it because I feared the return trip down the cables and switchbacks.  As I watched the small but joyous fraternity of explorers doing everything from suicidal handstands to hanging over the edge I felt more than happy to sit in the dead center of the dome, mull my chances of survival, and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwhich.  There would be time for celebration and relief once we reached the bottom.