PQ: P2

It’s four p.m. Thursday, June 5 and I am hanging 200 feet from a cliff along North Crow Creek in the Mission Mountains. Not a typical afternoon for me, a “wanna-be” adventurer who is undeniably afraid of heights, I am learning to ascend in preparation for Primal Quest: Montana (a 500-plus-mile adventure race in Big Sky beginning on June 23).

To compete in PQ, competitors must demonstrate their competence in rock climbing and fixed ropes, paddling, navigation and swimming. The last time I tested my fear of heights was last November at Seneca Rocks in West Virginia. I looked down the 400-foot wall just once in the entire outing. Back then; keeping my eyes glued to the cold rock was all I could do to hold back the tears. Now, the reality of this epic race enables me to focus on mastering the skills I will need to complete it.

Tied to a pine tree another 60-or-so feet above, my life dangles by two small rings of rope bound with prusik knots around the main stretch. The smaller top loop is clipped to my harness while the other, longer one tied just beneath it, is wrapped around my right foot.

When I sit back in my harness, my weight stops the top knot from sliding down the rope and I am able to scoot up my foot loop. When I step up onto the foot strap, it un-weights the top rope, and I am able to slide that one further up the line. Eventually, after many repetitions of stepping and scooting these two knots up the rope, I will reach the edge of the cliff – my ultimate destination.

Surprisingly, I feel safe.

My guide and instructor for today’s training trip is Ken Cornelius, a self-taught expert in the field of rescue rope techniques. An indisputable “King of the Mountains,” Ken’s ski buddies gave him the nickname “Yukon Cornelius” for a reason. A lifelong Ronan resident, he solo hiked the entire range — from Hellroaring to McDonald Lake — multiple times and has reached the summit of nearly every peak on either foot or skis. As lead coordinator for Lake County Search and Rescue, Ken orchestrated numerous rescues including a helicopter landing in a perilous mountain crevasse through a dense fog.

While I won’t be using this exact technique during PQ, it is a perfect way to practice (as well as get a feel for the inevitable muscle burn). I am incredibly appreciative of Ken’s willingness to take me out on such a chilly, overcast day.

When we broke trail to get to the cliff, I received my first-ever introduction to a scree slope. Shards of rock littered the base of the mountain and while I thought going up was a challenge, it was nothing compared to the trip back down. In an effort to keep pace with Ken’s nimble descent, I managed to bloody up my arm during a not-so-elegant barrel roll I unintentionally performed when I lost my balance on a loose boulder.

I realized right away that the fall could have been disastrous — a twisted ankle, knee or face-plant would have left me injured or unable to race at all. It was just another reminder about the importance of respecting the terrain. There is no room for arrogance in the wilderness.

With just over two weeks until the start of Primal Quest 2008, I am still filled with uncertainties. If it’s hard now, how will I ever cross this terrain after covering hundreds of miles over seemingly endless days without sleep? How will I find the strength to pull my exhausted body up hundreds of feet of rope in that state? What happens if I do twist an ankle, or blow a knee before I am even given the chance to try?

Since there are never answers to the “hows” and “what ifs,” I guess all I can do is step up to the starting line as prepared as possible — ready to trust my teammates and take a chance on myself.