thedailytimes.com : Your 24/7 news source

Enter any darkened movie theater recently and you will find superheroes scaling walls, while mere mortals watch astounded. But it is not only the masked and mighty who perform agile feats at great heights; everyday legions of normal, gravity-bound people, with the help of ropes, harnesses and carabiners, do the same while rock climbing.

A stranger myself to this sport, I endeavored one fine summer day to find out what rock climbing is all about. After a drive up the winding mountain road to Eagle Rock, I found myself in the land of wilderness skills enthusiasts. A group of camp workers about my age and Knox Rocks owner John Nowell had volunteered to show me the ropes (literally and figuratively).

We got to know each other with short, goofy team-building games before gathering gear and hiking to the climbing wall.

Perched on a wide shelf overlooking some ancient rolling Appalachian hills, the chalky rock wall loomed 45 feet above me. As I studied its structure, I noticed a few obvious ledges I could grip with my sweaty hands, but other spots looked remarkably smooth. But before jumping onto the wall, I needed to understand what was going to keep me safely attached to it.

'It's all about the feet'

I squeezed my feet into the available climbing shoes, little green Peter Pan-like slippers with laces and special black traction on the toe and sole. "It's all about the feet," I was told, but I wasn't sure I believed this advice. Later, up on the rock, however, I was surprised by my ability, with the help of the climbing shoes, to balance on the tiniest ledges while searching for my next sturdy hold. Some climbers wear extra tight shoes so they can basically put all of their weight on the tip of their big toes.

Yes, the arm muscles are involved as well, especially when holding onto ledges while moving your feet to higher positions. (Warning: Advanced climbers may develop forearms as strong as those of lifelong ice cream scoopers, but without gaining the extra weight.)

But back to the beginning. I slipped my legs into the harness and was clipped to the rope by two carabiners. At the other end of the rope, my belayer, John, was hooked in as well. I clicked the buckle of my bright yellow helmet soundly under my chin, and learned about double-checking for safety.

Now, I am often scared of heights, but at the moment I stumbled up the rocky path to the starting point of the climb, something -- adrenaline from panic, my devotion to New Journalism, some G.I. Jane gene -- had filled me with a strangely calm confidence.

I began my ascent, pausing briefly a short climb up to do as John said and get comfortable in the harness. I swung back and forth, running across the rock face. Standing up straight against the rock again, balancing on my feet, I started making progress upwards. Little nooks and crannies that I hadn't seen from the ground appeared to me as I climbed.

Outdoor climbing way to go

Though I have never attempted indoor climbing and so am biased, I believe outdoor climbing is the way to go. The candy-colored plastic grips of the indoor wall may help a climber to practice moves, maintain strength, and gain agility, but nothing can beat natural rock. It holds unpredictable juts, lumps, and smooth spots; just when you think there's no where to go, you spot a dusty hold.

My breathing was a bit shallow, but I was concentrating only on the task at hand. When you trust your belayer and begin to trust yourself, you forget about the rope, forget about the heights, and think about your next move. I climbed as simply as possible, stretching and pulling my body in ways that seemed natural. Apparently, at one point, I pushed off with my left hand, which is a move often taught to learning climbers, but which felt natural to my common sense and my sense of balance.

I had to pause several times and look ahead to where I wanted to go next and what route to take to get there. As I neared the top, I slipped and lost my grip, but, of course, I was caught by the belayer and simply swung there until I clung on again.

A few more minutes of squeezing my fingertips, gripping my toes, and tightening my core, and I was at the top. I didn't even realize I was there until I looked to my left and there was the metal loop that was my goal, a simple arm's length away, shining like the Holy Grail.

Surprised by success

A cheer of congratulations came up from the ground, and I ventured a glance over my shoulder at the ridges and valleys furry with trees. The Smoky Mountains were filled with smog. I then walked and hopped back down the rock, surprised at my success.

Next, however, it was my turn to learn how to belay. I was more nervous about the belaying than the climbing. Hopefully, this says something good about my character: being responsible for another human being's life is more important than trying something dangerous myself.

But, as with the climbing, it can be done safely and well as long as you learn the techniques and pay attention. And it always helps to have someone who knows better behind you -- in this case, John, holding the rope. Concentrating on the person at the other end, I began guiding and sliding the rope through my hands in a manner of which Archimedes, inventor of the pulley, would be proud.

The adventure was almost done, but I watched a couple more very experienced climbers go up the rock with no problems and little hesitation. Experienced rock climbers scale like spiders, their extremities sticking to the rock like glue while their bodies hang.

I am far from experienced, but learning from these fun-loving specialists showed me how safe, exciting, refreshing, challenging and enjoyable rock climbing can be.