I can’t do this. No way! I can once I get past the start. No. I’m gonna try. Are you kidding me? I got dis. Get me down! I can’t! No way don’t make me. I had heard every contemplation known to man over the 24 hours leading up to the big rappel… That morning the Fall Kentucky sun seemed to pass us by, blocked by the ridgeline that towered over our campsite and kept the air brisk, temping us to remain in our toasty sleeping bags. Lazily we swung out of our hammocks that acted as our personal cocoons to keep us toasty and spider-free throughout each night we camped in the gorge. It was rappel day, and Ja’Quan was the only one on the team who was truly looking forward to today’s adventure with excitement and a sense of challenge—the other three guys, well, let’s just say the word “trepidation” was more fitting.
Gio, Jakob, and Gianni may have been feeling a sense of relief as we started back-tracking our steps through the old-growth forest, now laden with brown and yellow leaves. The trail that was all too familiar was strangely mangled by giant, once live trees now lying on their sides tearing up the foliage as they fell with their widespread root system. The first hurricane last month made a significant impact on the forest as far north as Kentucky and we were experiencing the impact firsthand, lost without a map or compass in our pockets—only the familiar memory from repetition in these woods to guide us. Getting lost might mean having to forgo the rappel, finding another way out of this adventure requiring a less vertical descent; but unfortunately for them, the tenacity to play hard wouldn’t allow such an option. Eagle Point Buttress must be found, even if it takes us all day (you never go on a Project Forty adventure without a headlamp)! Reaching our buttress in time for a very late lunch gave the group a chance to physically rest, but mentally the real work was just getting started.
Eagle Point Buttress offers a view of the Red River, some 500 feet below the large, flat rock upon which we were perched. Unhindered by trees or foliage to prevent us from falling, the landing did not give the group a piece of mind that they might not accidentally trip on themselves, stumble 40 feet then fall off the edge themselves. Though not very likely, they stayed so far back that I didn’t even have to enforce my 15-foot-from-the-edge-rule. We looked out over the cliff with its beauty and grandeur, admiring the handy work of God carving out this gorge with the tip of his baby finger or simply allowing a global flood to do the work for Him our minds raced. Looking is one thing, imagining oneself backing over the edge on a rope tied to a tree? Well, that is a whole other animal that was trying to be tamed in the minds of these guys. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure or unsuspected panic was doing its best work to stay clenched to the cerebral cortex of these men, who were soon to be numbered among the few who rappel off cliffs for leisure.
Finally, the time had arrived and the biggest hurdle (themselves) to be faced head on. The sun was setting and in true Project Forty fashion, headlamps were fastened to helmets anticipating the darkness that was soon to settle into the valley. One down, smooth with no issues; fear met its match and was overcome. Now Gianni’s turn. Harness on and locked snuggly? Check. Carabiner locked? Check. Belay line, muenster-mule-backup? Check. Petzl Rack threaded properly with the brake stand in Gianni’s grip? Check. Helmet on, headlamp lit? Check, check. “I can’t do this. Don’t make me do this. Oh my God. I can’t…” the continuous panic began to spew from Gianni’s lips and his eyes locked in place, lids open wide.
It took a minute for me, also in a harness and anchored to the trees set back from the edge we were approaching, to get him to snap out of this dreadful moment in time to hear my rebuttal: “Have you pushed yourself? Can you honestly say that you have gone past your comfort zone to get to this place, standing on the edge of a cliff in Kentucky?”
Still tense he quickly responded, “Yes, for sure yes. Don’t make me do this.”
Sensing his high level of fear I reminded him, “There is always another way down. You have two options at this point: you can back down with me a couple of steps toward the edge and see how you feel. Or, you can let your brother go next and watch him go down then try again yourself. And then, there is a third option where we go down to the group another way entirely. I’m proud of you for just being up here… so many ‘firsts’ on this trip!”
“I’d like to go down another way.”
“That’s fine, but first can you enjoy this moment with me for just a few seconds longer?” I put my arm reassuringly around his shoulder then asked him to look behind him to his right and then to his left. We looked together at the sun settling into the landscape causing the clouds above to turn brilliant oranges, purples, and reds. We took in the dense collage of beech, sugar maples, white pines, hemlock and oaks that covered the uneven terrain and the river that carved its way through it. Then, we prayed together on that cliff.
Gianni joined my descent, hiking down the left side of the cliff, hauling rope with him on his back, and regrouping with the others midway down the trail toward the river. He successfully climbed a steep and rooted trail that gives guidebooks a “strenuous” rating for the trail. He shared his faith journey at dinner that night. When I told him that I was proud of him for all the ‘firsts’ on this trip I wasn’t kidding. No phone for 4 days. Camping outside, in a hammock no less. Swimming in a river in October. Being away from home. Climbing, hiking, hanging out on a cliff, Miguel’s Pizza, having a clear mind to think… all firsts. Sometimes we can get down on ourselves for what we cannot do and miss all the areas in which we have grown. For Gianni, this trip had so many ‘firsts’ that he was proud of that not completing the rappel was not even an issue. Life is a journey—a journey with many facets, views, rabbit trails and people. It’s a journey that includes some difficult climbing and maybe even a cliff that requires circumvention or dropping off the face with some help from friends who have experience in navigating cliffs. Whatever route you take, make sure that you can climb back into your cocoon in the cool night air and know that you gave it your absolute best shot… and that there is always Spring.
-Matt
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