Afraid of Hiking Heights

I seem to be afraid of heights. Perhaps I haven’t phrased that correctly. I am afraid of death seems more like it. Afraid of the sure death that is to come if you trip and slip off a cliff and crack your head open on the razor sharp rocks below.

Yes. The perils of hiking have me a-feared.

It’s the second time I have walked out past the Battery to the start of one of the North Head hiking trails on Signal Hill – and the second time I said “no way,” and turned back.

Perhaps the fear comes from my over-protective mother, who so worried about my catching cold and dying (just like her 3 brothers and one sister did back in Ukraine when she was a kid ) that she insisted on over-dressing me in pants and sweaters even in the heat of summer. And when I fell and scraped a knee, mother would chastise me with her well-rehearsed script  “see what happens when you run?”

So, I learned better not to run, let alone on high cliffs.

Or maybe it’s because the paths which come terribly close to the edge of the cliff, are peppered with plenty of jutting rocks that you can trip on -  and I have a tendency to gaze at the panoramas, ignoring the trail at my feet to admire the vistas.

And then there’s the wind.

The shot above is taken just passed the entrance to the trail.  I clung to a rock and stuck my arm out to take the pic as a wave of anxiety washed over me when a thought of how easy it was to trip and go over the edge. Then a 50 year old woman breezed past me – jogging!

I dunno. I have no fear of heights in a plane, and even on amusement park rides, if I am closed in, I feel safe and secure and will give all my trust to the device, relishing the speed with abandon. But if it’s an open space or contraption and something I can fall out of,  I just don’t seem to be able to trust myself. Hmm – mental note – I think there’s something here for my therapist.

I called my friend, Andrea, from my cell phone and she told me that it does get easier the further you are along the path. The trail is well-maintained, with many sections of wooden boardwalk or steps for the steep parts. In some places there are chains built into the rocks for you to cling to. Small comfort.

She also told me she had heard of people falling or being blown over. Foreign students she recalls. Which reminded me of the news story in Toronto when a family of tourists were blown off the City Hall ramp by a freak downtown wind gust.

Obviously, tourist boards shouldn’t hire me to talk up their tourist attractions.

Anyway, it was a beautiful day yesterday, and just being out and about near the water was a joy. I bought a yum yum spice apple cake at Sappho’s Cafe on Duckworth, the new lunch spot opened up by NIFCO’s executive director and wonderbar Jean Smith, which I ate while sitting on the foundations of old bunkers still on the hill.

I had to tell myself it was a lovely spot, because in truth bunkers scare the shit out of me, and I had to pretend I wasn’t jealous as hell watching the groups of mostly women trot by fearlessly in jogging shorts for their regular after work hike and chat. But I was sure glad to be out, and have decided that I want to buy a house in The Battery for sure, because it’s just too damn charming. Did you hear that universe?

One day maybe I will walk the trail, and enjoy it. But for now, though I know I can do it, it’s just a bit too angst-ridden for me. I am a water gal, not rock gal.

[caption id="attachment_382" align="alignleft" width="590" caption="[ North Head trail starts here. "]“]”]”][/caption]