A climber with a fear of heights is more common than you’d imagine. For half my adult life, I climbed—and I had a terrifying fear of heights. But I did it anyway. Why?
My passion for the great outdoors was bigger than my fear. Still, the fear could paralyze me from time to time. I remember early on, hiking in Itatiaia National Park in Rio de Janeiro state, when a curve on the trail stopped me in my tracks. I sat down, breathed, and tried to compose myself, frozen by fear. Eventually I kept going, and the feeling of overcoming it was so much better than being defeated by it.
Not only that, but I also climbed rock faces and high-altitude mountains. My fear of heights is really a fear of falling. Rock climbing, if not super technical, felt fairly safe—the fear of exposure was somehow easier to control. But high-altitude mountains with their exposed ridges, glaciers, and walls were a different story.
My fear of heights taught me to understand and explain why certain situations trigger bigger, sometimes uncontrollable fear, and others don’t. For example, I’m fine flying in a small balloon basket, but hang gliding? Sorry, that’s a hard no—something I have zero desire to try.
It took me years, if not decades, to learn to have those hard no’s in life.
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