All I could hear was Corey yelling at me, “Ken, COME ON, we’re almost there. We can’t stop now!”
I replied back with a noticeable tinge of fear, “I.. I can’t, dude. I’m really really afraid of heights.”
He snapped back, “You have to be kidding me! I can’t finish this by myself! We’re so close!”
I didn’t know what to say. We were climbing Middle Teton, one of the highest mountains in Grand Teton National Park. The only thing on my mind was the deep valley to our side that looked like a long ways to fall.
--
Let me backtrack for a second. While I was in Wyoming I made a couple good friends, Corey and Stephen. We bonded through our long days in the restaurant and our adventures through the Wyoming wilderness.
The three of us may never cross paths again, but after Middle Teton we would be friends forever.
One night in the employee dining hall, we were chatting with our friends over a few pieces of oversalted pork chops. They were bragging endlessly about a mountain, Middle Teton, they had recently climbed – ice axes, glaciers, rock climbing, and all. Throughout the meal I could feel Corey’s competitive edge and Stephen’s need for intensity brewing. As we left the dining hall we were already figuring out how to coordinate our days off to attempt Middle Teton.
--
We arrived at the trailhead with a little less sunlight than we had planned, and as our ride wished us luck and drove off, it started raining. Before we knew it, we heard thunder. Half an hour into the trip we were already at each other’s throats.
Stephen asked: “Yo, should we stop?”
Corey grumbled back: “F this!”
I ignored them, trudging ahead and mumbling under my breath: “I told you we should’ve gone on Wednesday.”
We went forward with the long climb to the base, switchback after switchback. Before we knew it, the rain had stopped, we had set up camp for the night, and we were catching picturesque views of the Wyoming wilderness.
The next morning we set out, rumbling over rocks until we made it to the first glacier. It was one of those, don’t-look-up don’t-look-down just-keep-going-climbs, but I couldn’t help myself and I peaked down. We were higher than I thought.
Sidenote – I’m afraid of heights. I thought this whole adventure could be one of those stereotypical overcoming fear stories – Ken fears heights, climbs mountain, overcomes fear. Instead, it was more like – Ken fears heights, climbs mountain, still afraid of heights. The lesson as always, you can’t win.
After the glacier we took a well-deserved break. In fact, we took several breaks along the way. Nobody would say it outright, but you could feel the energy of the conversation shifting with every break. We started out saying, “Dude, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” but on later breaks we were saying, “Dude, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
We eventually reached a valley where we could see for what felt like miles away and miles down. I was at the height of my fear.
All I could hear was Corey yelling at me, “Ken, COME ON, we’re almost there. We can’t stop now!”
“OK OK.”
I leapt, and landed on the ledge by Corey’s footstep. There was what seemed like inches between our feet and an endless fall.
“See, I said you’d make it!”
I felt paralyzed by my fear of heights, but my competitive side was fighting. I could feel the two voices going at it, when suddenly Corey jumped and pulled himself onto the next rock. He glanced down at me:
“You can sit here if you want, but I’m getting to the top.”
And with that he was off.
From there it’s all a blur – we were scrambling, problem-solving the safest routes up treacherous rock formations, and at the same time in the midst of a race to the top. I barely even remember the summit, I vaguely recall running ahead of Corey as I sensed the peak coming, but I couldn’t tell you much.
Looking back, that adventure was an epic victory. I at one time referred to it as the greatest two days of my life. A victory over my fear of heights, over the greatest creations of mother nature, but mostly it was a victory of the thrill of adventure over the boredom of everyday life.
All I know is, I would never have made it alone.
See you on the other side,
from ken
