Activity III Satan's Corner.

    So, now you know Mike and Malcolm.  One afternoon they asked me if I wanted to go rock climbing.  "Sure," I said.  "What do I need?"  "Nothing,  just wear some tennis shoes and we have everything else."  I thought they were so cool; real rock climbers.  I figured they would take me up something easy to introduce me into the sport, which in 1978 was on the fringes of even being called a sport.  Rock shoes had just been developed,  there were no harnesses, and all this fancy gear and camming devices were in its infancy.
     As we drove out to Little Cottonwood Canyon, I asked what we were going to climb.  "Oh, I think we should climb Satan's Corner."  Satan's Corner, for those uninitiated with rock climbing, is a long-standing test piece for climbers in the area.  It's hard.  It was rated 5-8+ in the seventies.  And if put up today, it may get a rating of 5-9+ or 5-10.   It is steep and awkward with a very hard crux position and a very exposed feel while you are climbing.  NOT a climb I would take someone on for their first climbing experience, especially in tennis shoes.  What were they thinking?  I still don't know if they just wanted to scare the shit out of me or were trying to impress me with how cool they were as they were able to get up this thing without dying.
    When you first start climbing, the natural tendency is to use your arms to pull yourself up the rock.  Wrong.  How many pull ups can you do?  Not many, right.  Well, imagine trying to do pull-ups all the way up a 100 foot cliff.  Impossible.  As you learn and get better technique, almost all of the climbing is done with the legs.  I didn't know that.  Within about 10 feet of getting off the ground I was wiped.  Arms tired. Hands couldn't even make a fist.  I think Mike and Malcolm hauled me up most of the first fifty feet where we had a little ledge to sit on before we did the final pitch (the hard part) to the top.  I was thinking, I am a dead man.
     Malcolm led off on the second pitch, and when he got about 15 feet up, he began to struggle.  In an instant he was falling.  Out into space.  He was hanging almost level with us.  Mike had caught him on a hip belay.  He scrambled back to the ledge eyes wide and visibly shaken.  I think he went back up and finished the lead but it could have been Mike.  All the while I am thinking there is no way I am going to make it past the crux (hard part) in my Stan Smith tennis shoes.   After Mike and Mal got to the top, it was my turn.  I felt all alone down there, with a thin piece of rope tied around some one inch webbing tied like a belt around my waist.  Slowly, I began.  Each time I moved forward an inch, both Malcolm and Mike hauled on the rope to move me a couple more inches.  I was literally being lifted up this climb.  My mind wondering if the knot on the rope would hold.  What if the rope breaks?  What if I get stuck up here?  Not thinking at all about climbing.  Which is what you should be thinking about. You climb better if you concentrate on the action.  Very much like gymnastics but 100 feet off the ground.  That takes some practice.  Practice I did not have.  We got to the last move which was a dynamic reach to a TGH (thank God hold).  They could not help me with this because they were off to my left and the hold was straight up.  I had to do this on my own.  It seemed like forever to get the nerve up and I was sure I could not do it.  I was exhausted tired and scared.  I think I made a few attempts before I let one good effort fly and grabbed the hold.  I scurried left like a rat on a sinking ship and clipped into the final anchor.  Whew.  Survived Satan Corner in tennis shoes.  That was 1978 and I've been climbing ever since.  I have probably climbed Satan's more than 20 times over the years.  It is still a spicy climb.   I climb 5-10 to 5-11 now but I still wouldn't climb Satan's Corner in tennis shoes, that's for sure.
     Getting through this cancer treatment is a lot like climbing Satan's Corner for the first time.  You have no idea what you're in for.  You don't have the skills to master the treatment.  There is a lot of anxiety, worry and despair.  Sometimes you feel like you are going to get stuck and never come out the other side.  But then days go by, you learn a little here and little there.  Your support system rally's your spirits a bit and you are ready for a bit more.  I think it is somewhat true that cancer treatment takes you to the brink of death and despair and then brings you back to life  again.  At least I hope that's true.
Namaste'