Climbing out the "devil's ass crack"

Grandfather Trail, NC
September, 2011
___________________

"I'm feeling fear." I looked up at my son, Josh, who had already climbed out of the "chute" or what he renamed "the devil's ass crack," a much more appropriate description of the 1/8-mile-long 45-degree-angled crevice with rock walls on each side and scattered small boulders and rocks up and down the crack. Like a giant rock ass crack with lots of fossilized hemorrhoids. An old grandfather's crack for sure.

"Good!" Josh resounded.

What's so effing good about me feeling fear because my short legs and arms can't seem to find a rock hold for my hands and a secure place to stick my foot to hoist myself up so I can climb out of this crevice!! God. What if I slip? I won't die, but I could sure break a bunch of bones, or get a concussion or something. And then people will say, "Dumbass Carol. You should know better than to go climbing around at your age on rocks like that. Stupid. What were you doing that for? Why didn't you have climbing equipment?"

Shut up voices. This climb doesn't need climbing equipment; it's not that steep. Besides if I injure myself, well hell, at least I was doing something I want to do.

"You're NORMAL Mom! It's normal to feel fear." He chuckled as his words descended down the crevice mingling with the thoughts running through my head.

He kept yacking, "It's not normal to not feel fear. Like we were talking about earlier today. I don't know anyone who would respond like you did on the trail when that thing screamed in the woods and when that big dude showed up at your tent without a pack on. Most people would feel fear. But not Mom." He chuckled some more.

Earlier that day, amidst our many conversations, I'd shared with Josh, again, how I'd handled two different scenarios on two different nights when I was solo backpacking in May, 2010, on the Appalachian Trail.

One night I'd heard horrid screams, what I thought sounded like a monkey screaming bloody murder, not far from my tent pitched solo alongside the trail. What was that!!? I'd asked myself as I lay in my tent with its false security. Instead of allowing my heart to jump to fear, I'd thought, Well, I can't do anything about it. If some sort of beast decides to attack me, I guess I'll just be attacked. My food bag is hung high enough up and far enough away from the tent. Maybe whatever it is won't come near the tent. And with that, I went to sleep.

The other scenario was the scariest incident though. I'd set up tent right beside the trail, literally; my tent pole touched the edge of the narrow two-foot wide path.

I knew I was only about 1-1/2 miles from a public road. I'd read the safest place for solo women on the trail is in the woods, to never camp near the roads. The map showed a steep, long decline to the road which meant a steep, long ascent to get to my tent - an ascent most people wouldn't take unless they were serious hikers. I should be safe here; I'm far enough from the road. Better here than toward the road and it is getting dark.

Then, as the sun continued to lower in the sky, along comes a 6-1/2 foot tall, 250 pound, muscle bound dude up the trail...without a backpack. Oh shit? Why doesn't that dude have on a backpack. What the fuck?? I sat on the log outside my tent continuing to eat my supper as he approached.

After our cordial conversation - about him just moving here from Chicago to be with his girlfriend, about his buddies coming down in a few weeks so he is checking out the trail to know where to take them, about what a rugged 1-1/2 mile climb it was to get to my tent, about his inquiry of what lay north on the trail from whence I'd just come, about safety on the trail and wasn't I scared and asking me if I was packing - he headed back south from whence he'd come.

Damn. What if he's lying and comes back here and rapes and kills me. I have no cell service. I could write his name, at least the name he told me, in my journal and describe what he looks like and that way if someone finds my journal they can maybe at least catch him. I have my Swiss army knife, like that'd do any good. There's no way I could fight off that dude; he looks like a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. Instead of allowing my heart to jump to fear, I'd resigned myself to the same tactic as the monkey screams, "Well, there ain't nothing I can do about it. I might as well just lay down and go to sleep." And I did.

Josh told me that just isn't normal, how I'd just turned off those fears and gone to sleep. So I guess I did feel some fear; it was just short lived. It is seldom I feel fear along the trail.

But now, in the devil's ass crack, I felt fear.

Josh kept talking, "You know Mom, if you fall you won't get hurt that bad. Might break some bones or something."

"Would you shut up!?!" I hollered at him, my heart jumping on the inside and wondering how I was going to get out of this situation.

But he kept egging at me, just to needle me and kid me, as he does. I kept telling him to shut up. Then I just had to block his voice out and steel my mind.

Calm down Carol. Worst case, you fall and hurt yourself and some rescue team has to come in and get you out. You'll be embarrassed. You're business will take a slow down. But you can't just stay here on this rock wall. You have to move!

Deep breath. I bounce my legs just a bit to make them move. They aren't paralyzed. Feel around the rocks above me with my left hand, searching for a hand hold.

Three points on the rock and butt out. That's what you learned at LEAD. Trust your shoes. Find a hand hold.

I found one. My foot felt slippery on the loose rock.

Hoist yourself Carol. Make your legs work.

Josh kept talking. I kept blocking his voice from my mind.

It seemed like 30 minutes, but was probably only four, maybe five.

My fear calmed and I scrambled up the rest of the devil's ass crack, across all those hemorrhoids.

Ha!

Like backpacking, I'll do it again. And maybe next time I'll even attempt MacRae's Peak.
_________________

Me climbing down the Devil's Ass Crack