When I got good enough, Lina convinced me to take the Intro to Lead Climbing class at our gym. Lead climbing requires you to attach the rope to your harness and pull it up behind you, then clip it into fixed draws that are placed periodically along the way for your protection. There’s no rope pre-attached to an anchor at the top, so if you fall, you fall down past where you last clipped in below, and hope that your belayer is paying attention and gives you a soft catch. During the class, I was required to fall about eight feet. It was terrifying (I hadn’t wanted to let go!), but also incredibly empowering. I knew it might be a while until I was totally chill about falling (or maybe I never would be), but I was slowly but surely getting better at dealing with it.
That was the most important thing in climbing mentality—not the fall itself, but how you approach it. Do you accept that you might fall, and try hard anyway? And when you do fall, do you give up, or do you try again?
◆◆◆
One day in early spring, Cassie asked me if I wanted to try climbing outdoors. She was going to be in New York for work and was planning to tack on a trip to the Adirondacks to climb. She’d never been to “the Dacks” before, but she’d heard good things, and she wanted to take me on my first outdoor trip. Lina told me that she used to go out to the Dacks all the time, so when I mentioned it to Cassie, she suggested that I invite Lina, too. Lina gladly accepted.
The getting-to-know-each-other began well before the trip. Cassie organized a conference call a month before for the three of us to discuss logistics. Cassie loved planning things, so she took charge in researching the climbs, looking into weather, campsites, etc. But Lina was the local, and she possessed the ultimate guidebook and plenty of experience. Watching those two lady crushers interact was absolutely awe-inspiring.
“So you’ve climbed in the Dacks before? Which areas?” asked Cassie. She was sitting back in her chair and casually sizing Lina up.
“All of them,” said Lina, matter of factly. She wasn’t bragging; it was just true. “I spent a lot of time climbing there with my husband.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re married? And you never told me? Where’s your husband?”
Lina blinked and looked away, taking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. On screen, Cassie’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you Lina the Crack Queena?”
Lina nodded and chuckled softly. “Yeah. It’s been a while since someone last called me that, though. I haven’t been outdoors or on crack since...you know.” She sighed. “But I’m ready to get back out there now.”
Wait, what? Lina had been on crack?
Cassie nodded, her face sympathetic, not at all concerned about Lina’s admitted crack habit. “My husband’s not a climber, so I never have to worry about him being reckless. I was so sorry to hear about Craig. I never met him, but I have friends who have climbed with him. They said he was a really smart, funny guy.”
Lina shook her head and muttered, “Not smart enough to knot his ropes.”
I glanced between the two of them, their sad faces, understanding dawning. “Your husband...died? While out climbing?”
They both nodded. When Lina didn’t say anything more, Cassie explained, “His nickname was Craig the Cragster. He was really well-known in the community. He died in a rappelling accident...maybe a year ago?”
Lina sighed. “Yeah. But the point is, I’ve been around the Dacks and I know the best places for us to go to get a good mix of stuff, some easy routes for Anna to get her toes wet, then maybe some harder routes for us to play on,” she said, pointing between the two of them. They began a detailed discussion of which regions to visit, which routes to try, and what gear to bring. From their smiles and playful exchanges, I could see the mutual respect growing between them with each passing minute, proportional to my bewilderment at all of the terms that they were throwing around. I had no idea what I was getting into, but I knew that I looked forward to their in-person meeting, at least. I busily took notes on my phone, vowing to watch every online video about outdoor climbing later that night. And to read up on rappelling accidents so that I could make sure they never happened to me.
◆◆◆
A month later, they finally met in-person, and I was not disappointed. Two goddesses (one, short and blonde; one, tall and bronze) had come together and mutually recognized one another. They firmly shook hands and smiled, nodding, and with their meeting, my world shined a little bit brighter. I literally shivered in anticipation for the weekend—it was going to be a kick-ass time with those two.
And it really was. By the end, my ass was so kicked.
I’d obviously known that it was going to be different from climbing in the gym...but it was totally different.
In the gym, the route-setters make it very clear where your hands and feet are supposed to go. The routes are clearly delineated, and the holds, bolts, and ropes are all routinely cleaned and inspected for safety.
When you’re outdoors...anything goes. And shit happens.
Lina and Cassie did all the hard work of leading and setting up the top ropes for me to climb more safely...but even so, it was so much more nerve-wracking than climbing in the gym. Instead of cheery, brightly colored holds, all you’ve got to work with are these tiny little cracks and crevices, which are often difficult to spot and even harder to trust. And damn they were sharp sometimes. Some of the routes were a little wet or mossy, and even home to some nasty bugs. Climbing in the shade was freezing, but
