A blog extract from a Queenstown Adventure Guide Program Spring 2023 alumni, Jorinde.
At the moment I am in New Zealand where I am training as an Adventure Guide and enjoying the beautiful views on the other side of the world. Time passes quickly and the schedule is busy, but let's go on an adventure in the land of the hobbits soon!
There you hang!
"Pfff," I exhale a shaky breath as I cling to the rock wall. I'm only a few feet above the ground, but my heart is still pounding in my chest. My arms tremble and my palms feel sweaty, with my toe I try to push myself up on one of the tiny ledges. 'Grrrrt', my climbing shoe slides off with a scraping sound and I inhale sharply. Fortunately, I feel the climbing harness pressing into my thighs and the rope pulls me up a little. "Come on, you can do this!" Jessie* encourages me from the ground. When I slip away again I shake my head. "No, I'm coming down. I can not anymore.'
I feel disappointed in myself… I've always loved climbing, why does it feel so scary now? As a little girl I used to go to the climbing hall with my father and brother once in a while and enjoyed scrambling up while my father belayed me. Then I was never afraid. Then, during the elective modules of gym at school, I did a climbing course with a friend and we learned more about climbing techniques and belaying. During that course I froze for the first time and I remember exactly what that felt like: about ten meters high, with shaking arms, sweaty hands, a pounding heart and no idea how to proceed. Panic! In the years that followed I occasionally climbed (once a short boulder course, once with friends outside Norway, once bouldering with friends), but never managed to do it really regularly. So I feel that I am a lot less well prepared than some of my fellow group members, who regularly hang from a climbing rope in their home countries. And yet somehow I was the first to try this rock face by raising my hand enthusiastically when instructor Osian* said, "Who here remembers how to tie yourself in with a figure-eight knot?" I stupidly didn't expect that to mean that I immediately went up the wall... And yet somehow I was the first to try this rock face by raising my hand enthusiastically when instructor Osian* said, "Who here remembers how to tie yourself in with a figure-eight knot?" I stupidly didn't expect that to mean that I immediately went up the wall... And yet somehow I was the first to try this rock face by raising my hand enthusiastically when instructor Osian* said, "Who here remembers how to tie yourself in with a figure-eight knot?" I stupidly didn't expect that to mean that I immediately went up the wall...
(*Names have been changed for privacy)
When I'm back on the ground I quickly free myself from the rope and take off my climbing shoes. "Ah those shoes are so uncomfortable!" I complain, wiggling my aching toes. Climbing boots are supposed to be tight to give you extra grip, but in the heat of the New Zealand sun my feet feel like they've been boiled and squeezed together. I watch intently as first Jessie and then Kevin* scramble up that goddamn wall too. Both are good climbers with quite a bit of experience and seem to float upwards without any problems. The ledges I couldn't stand on are like steps under their nimble feet, they cling to the tiniest nodules of stone and every movement is fluid. Grrr, I can't get around it: I still have a lot to learn.
We switch with the other group and head to 'Big Corner', a climbing route that (as the name suggests) meanders into the rock at a natural angle. This is a historic climb; the second route ever climbed in this area by mountaineers who wanted something to do when Mount Aspiring (the nearest high peak) was impassable due to bad weather. “Here, I'll take care of you,” Kevin says, and clips his belay device to his belt. Elliotte* is his back-up belayer (added security while we're still learning) and I slide my aching feet back into the boots and tie a figure-eight knot. "Is this end long enough?" I let Osian inspect the knot and he nods. "Click your carabiners again!"
You can read Jorinde's blog here.