Lessons from Looking Glass
There’s this relationship I want to talk to you about. You know the kind. On one hand, you get a little giddy with excitement, and on the other it’s that sweaty-palmed, “I think I’m going to throw up,” kind of feeling. Yes, my husband knows all about this relationship. He even made the introductions and continues to encourage it. The relationship I’m talking about is my relationship is with Looking Glass Rock.
We’ve all seen it from a distance as we’ve driven the parkway. Maybe we’ve pulled off at an overlook to admire the giant granite pluton and its 400-foot walls reflecting in just the right light. It’s a photographer’s dream. My first intimate experience with Looking Glass was a 6-mile round trip hike to the top as just another tourist in 2014, before moving to Brevard. The trail was challenging for this flatlander from Northern Indiana, but the view from the top was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. It naturally became one of my favorite hikes. I felt connected, drawn in, wanting more. It was puppy love. It was easy.
My next intimate experience with Looking Glass was in July 2015. By this time, I had been a Brevard resident for a year. I’d hiked many of the trails in the area, started working at Rockbrook Camp, and taught my first backpacking class. A new opportunity to get a little closer to the rock presented itself. The man I was dating, now my husband, invited me to go climb the first pitch of Sundial, a route on the Nose area of Looking Glass Rock. I’d been climbing in a gym a couple times 20 years ago, so naturally I said, “Sure!”
It was very early on a Sunday morning, Clyde and I hiked in and put on our harnesses, helmets, and climbing shoes. I looked up, put a hand on the cool rock, and started to feel a little nauseous. I belayed him as he climbed up 80 feet to a tiny ledge where he would belay me. I quickly learned some new climbing terms. One is that the “eyebrows” that give Looking Glass a unique dimpled appearance don’t offer anything good to hold on to. I was visited by the “Spirit of Elvis” as my legs began to shake. I also experienced the term “gripped,” meaning gripped with fear as I attempted to move through the “crux,” the hardest part of the climb. When I got to the top, I cried - not tears of joy, but of utter relief. Intellectually, I understand that the ropes, harness, and system are safe. I’m statistically safer climbing that I am driving across town. My heart was still scared.
As a little girl, I can remember trying to keep up with my two older brothers, climbing trees, silos, barn rafters, and even the roof of our farmhouse. Every time I was scared. Sometimes I’d get “gripped” with fear and would need help getting down. Now I was reliving that feeling as an adult, but deep down I felt like that scared little girl. How many times in life are we presented with something challenging, new, and exciting? How many times do we let our fear hold us back? The other day someone said to me, “When something scares the heck out of you, pay attention, and move toward it.”
I’ve done a lot more climbing since that day in the fall of 2015, but there’s still something about Looking Glass Rock that scares the heck out of me. I’ve climbed the bottom portions of other routes, I’ve done some easy multi-pitch climbs on other rocks, and recently I rappelled 400 feet down off the top of the Nose of the Looking Glass - in the dark. I love rappelling down. So what is it about climbing up? Do I feel out of control? Is it that I really don’t trust the system of ropes and gear? Do I want to quit when things get hard? Is it that I don’t trust myself? This is definitely a work in progress.
Whatever you do in life, do something that scares you. Courage, they say, isn’t the lack of fear; it’s taking action despite fear. Face each crux in your life boldly and with courage. One of these days, I will climb my entire way up Looking Glass Rock. One of these days.
