a bit of personal background:
(1) i have no prior rock climbing experience. i'd been indoor bouldering a couple of times when i lived in colorado, but the landscape, techniques, courses, gear, etc. are unique to each sport.
(2) i don't particularly enjoy heights. i'm far from being acrophobic, but very seldom do i voluntarily find myself in situations hundreds of feet above ground with only a rope and a man with whom i can barely communicate keeping me alive.
(3) i think nature is cute. onward...
i arrive at the rock climbing center at 8:15 a.m. and pile into the bac

we set off on our great adventure and i can honestly say that i've never in such a short period of time experienced so many incredibly exhilarating highs and, conversely, so many utterly death-defying, gut-wrenching lows. or, what i would like to refer to as my woes and whoa!'s:
whoa! - unabandoned, uninhibited, blissfully explicit exposure to nature. you're
woe - as you're climbing, sticking your hand into a crevice of the mountain to balance your weight only to realize you've stuck your hand into a finely nestled beehive.
woe - having your guide realize that your ATC (the device that essentially ensures you don't plummet to a bloody, rocky death) has a crack in it just as you step off the cliff.
whoa! - having a back-up ATC, a chain-smoking guide with quick reflexes, and faith
woe - hiking 200 ft up the side of the mountain to realize that t
whoa! - realizing that there is, in fact, a bottom to said cave, reaching it, and realizing "hey, i'm standing at the bottom of a 200 ft deep cave!!!"
whoa.