There are probably many stories that I can share about my personal climbing adventures , from the south of France, Switzerland and Russia on one side of the world to the South Pac ific islands. But the one thing that I'm most compelled to share is my feelings and passion for climbing. From the very moment you start to gear up and look at the line it's always like taking your very first steps again. That first step off the ground onto that vertical trail get's your heart beating and you really become tunnel driven to stay on the trail.

When that first foot leaves the ground and is planted I begin plotting the next moves from the positioning of my feet to the direction that my hips are going to hang. What hold am I going to take? Should I balance on one foot or should I distribute the weight equally` on both feet? From the base of the mountain to my last step to the peak, each step becomes a question. Climbing becomes my private puzzle... not a race to the top, but a meticulous and patient challenge.

After pacing questions on physical maneuvers, I begin to study and become acquainted with the elements... What kind of rock am I working with? Is it shell rock, sharp edges, grani te with polished smooth surfaces? There is an array of rocks on the climb which present different angles. Some can be quite steep with overhangs forcing me to make changes in direction on the trail. Staying focus and adjusting to natural presentation becomes the rush and burn to conquer the climb, the true test of a professional climber.

As I ascend to the top, my conquest of each step can be measured from clip-to-clip. Each clip becomes a weigh point, a sort of buoy in vertical land. It's also a marker of reality... the reality of falling. If I pop off, this one clip-small as it may be- might be the very thing that will save my life. Likely just more than a quick jerk, I'll luckily be displaced some 50 feet below my last clip. I try not to think of worst cases. But falling becomes part of the challenge of facing fear and thinking next steps. How quickly the senses begin working in the threat of possible harm. These very same sensory mechanisms become the buffer of fear as they work to shut down feeling and emotion.

While climbing the peaks in southeast France in the town of La Palud, I recall training a friend Jean Paul. We were scaling a well known canyon in an area called Verdon (Gorges Du Verdon). I was leading at the time and I had just come up over the shelf and probably about 50 ft above Jean Paul when I abruptly popped off. Thinking back, I knew that the rubber blew on the tip of my shoe and I vividly remember falling past Jean Paul, who was my belayer, (one who safeguards a falling climber). I was yelling to him stop me at anytime and at about 15ft from the point of popping off the rope, I reattached myself. Without thinking and with shear instinct, I quickly worked my way back to the spot where I had popped off, clip-to-clip. The clips were definitely my milestones.

The ultimate high is at the top... when I've taken that breath and realize my effort put forth in the climb. With each success to the top, I take in the serenity, peace, and panoramic view... a view shared by a determined few. As I prepare for the descent, I quickly think of my next steps. I throw my rope through anchors (cold shuts and chains are used as well) that I have set to repel. While coming down I pacify the excitement as I cautiously make I way down to tell another story.

With climbing, there are many fears... not just falling. I guess after many years of climbing across the world, I'm not afraid of falling. The lack of will to get back on it and climb again after a fall is what I dread and fear most. I guess I've been doing this long enough to know that, as in life, if you fall, you just have to get back up there and try to make it work and if you don't then you just kind of lose out on the victory of success.