Tonsai is a paradise. Even with the whole world crumbling around us. Anxiety had hit the climbers in Tonsai. Last minute flights were booked in fear of being locked out of their own country. Apart from the wifi connection updating us with the progress of the virus, we were isolated. Disconnected from the world. Instead we spent our time focusing on the moves on a route or meticulously packing our parachutes.
Time on the wall has always been isolation for me, social distancing in a most extreme form. Being in the moment, 150 metres off the ground hanging from a stalactite has never been more positively distracting; nothing else mattered. My focus amounts to the next few seconds and minutes. Not the dread of finding work when I get back, paying my mortgage or whether I’ll be able to get into Switzerland to see my wife. All that is left behind are the thoughts of what is happening right now; engaging my core to stick the next hold, or perfectly placing my feet on a cliff edge 150 metres above the jungle below, about to jump into this tropical haven.
For climbers it’s a perfect setting; the onshore breeze cools the limestone holds and washes away the plagues of mosquitoes. Hard climbs follow horizontal roofs eroded by the Andaman sea all a short stroll away from the beach side bar, where a mango lassi awaits after a hard send. For BASE jumpers it’s as equally as blissful. The multi pitch climbing serves as an adventurous access for the summit of these karsts, mostly inaccessible due to impenetrable jungle. I stand at the top of our chosen exit looking out at the horizon, the sun setting on the archipelago; towers breaking out from the sea. Swinging my arms out to the horizon, with momentum by body follows off this jagged tower.
Ten years ago whilst climbing in Tonsai I first saw a BASE jumper. All jumpers remember the first time they saw someone jump. I’m sure like all other BASE jumpers this was a turning point for me. I guided Prue to the top of an exit point. Before she jumped I nervously said I would see her down at the bottom, with a slight unsurety in my voice, like it might be the last time I see her. As she leapt, the commitment amazed me. If only I had that surety in my climbing.
I feared failing. But improving your grade is just that; a long process of failing until you finally clip the anchor chains at the top. Then repeat the process again on another route. A process of self loathing, 90% failing with only 10% success. I didn’t enjoy this idea and stayed within my climbing limits. There is no option for failure in BASE jumping, only success, the consequences are too high to make a mistake.
Controlling your inhibitions while climbing can be lengthy, the focus transcends to a flow where movement is unhinged. Whereas in base jumping the peak of focus may only last a split second; that point of no return as you leap from the safety of the rock. How you leave the cliff determines how accurate the freefall will be. Once the canopy is open it’s now just about landing safety, the hard part is done.
What was once a daunting task of repeating a route falling again and again now started to become less of a chore and more enjoyment. Learning how to move more efficiently over the rock, cutting out unnecessary sequences from the route. Fine tuning it until it became choreographed.
Much has changed since my trip all those years ago, but my thirst for climbing and jumping had stayed the same. My mindset now characterised by an ambition to improve, even if that does involve failing. I could still remember the moves, fingertip placements on holds I crimped ten years ago. Now I climb those routes as a warm up as I focus on pushing my grade over the next two weeks. I last visited as a climber with the hope of doing a BASE jump, now I come as a base jumper with the hope of doing a climb.
I accept that failing is part of the process as I look at the impossibly steep roof. The limestone formation looks like a frozen wave. A false start just invigorated my mindset to challenge and complete the route. Soon the moves flow, muscle memory saving my energy as I move from one hold to another; knowing exactly how much effort to hold onto each pocket, not to expend too much energy. It’s become less of a thought process and more of a natural inhabited movement. Much like my body position when base jumping, my moves in this climb have become an instinctive movement.
I clipped the chains with a simple sigh of relief asking Tom “did that count?” It seemed easier then expected, everything flowed smoothly. But when your training has paid off and your fear of failing is suppressed then maybe something you feared trying for so long actually becomes just the start of what is possible for you.