Dreams are made of this: a magnificent late summer afternoon in the scenic Sierra Mountains of Central California – timing, location, it was perfect. The short hike from the Highway 50 parking area brought me near the base of the magnificent water fall thundering down hundreds of feet of contoured granite. The sight and sound filled my senses with the therapeutic exhilaration only found in beautiful spots like this. Moreover, approximately 20 miles to the East, the Topaz jewel of the West, Lake Tahoe crisply kisses the shoreline with her bodily fluid deep and cold as the thoughts of Old Man Winter. The crystal clear water prompted wandering thoughts of past experiences by the lake and wonderful memories flowed like the babbling stream at my feet. Like when often traversing high above on a mountain side, I marveled at her pristine beauty and timeless allure; she provides one of the most inspiring views in America.
Returning to the equally pleasant present, I carefully surveyed the cliffs above my position at the base of the falls. It appeared quite likely that I could, even without climbing gear, scale the significantly precipitous slope for some good ol’ adrenaline pumping adventure. After several minutes of courage building contemplation while the frothy, swift, and rocky offspring of the boisterous falls rapidly toured South, I set forth to conquer the world as I saw it. Warm sunlight pouring from behind the apparent crest beckoned me on as I began the ascent. It was only approximately 75-80 yards, but quickly assumed the guise of a mile nearly straight up.
Miniature hand and footholds made it difficult and slow going, but all were within reasonable strenuous reach until about three-quarters of the way up, where stretching the muscles became more an exercise in self-torture than great sport. The fleeting corner-of-the-eye view of the raucous, cascading blue and white water below was magnificent; however, the tenuous hold on the cliff side rock niches transformed my idyllic view into a nightmare vision of slipping and hurtling to a certain agonizing end to my possibly foolish quest.
Ten more minutes of pulling, straining, wheezing, and questioning my sanity brought me to a crisis situation. The next finger grip was beyond reach as gauged by the efforts I had employed thus far and as many climbers discover, there are times when retreat holds little appeal. The nature of a clinging ascent frequently prevents a reversal. One must go up. However, the only way to make the next miniscule crag was to leap the extra 12″ from my current precarious perch. Compounding the already growing fear was the fact that if I did reach the grip, I would have no foot support and must quickly reach a little further for a second notch to then pull all my weight, with mostly finger strength, to the next foot nub.
I was at the edge of my envelope, paralyzed with fear. Sweat flowed unbridled as the cascade below – not conducive for a good grip. There was no choice. Go up or risk a certain miss-step and tragic fall because, pressed against a wall, my body blocked any effective view of a downward path. Damn! I had to do it!
Nevertheless, I obviously made it. I ventured a monumental leap of faith that left me in shock, wonder, exhaustion, exhilaration, and nearly breathless thankfulness to God as I rolled up and over the brightly sunlit crest onto the soft grass safely away from the razors edge. As I relaxed in the much welcomed security and warmth, I reflected upon life and business situations when one must also negotiate the proverbial leap of faith for success. It’s worth the risk, go for it!
