Amanda Goes...climbing the walls

Because of my athletically-challenged nature, I've always stuck with hobbies that are fairly passive. Reading. Watching TV. Maybe a little painting.

It's not that I'm lazy, or that I hate exercise. It's just that, every time I tried to do something athletic, it turned out badly. That includes what was, until recently, my only attempt at rock-climbing.

I was a freshman in college, living in the dorms, and our resident assistant arranged a rock-climbing trip to a local park. The expedition ended when I somehow managed to fly off a rock, sprawl backwards and whack my head on another rock. Thank God I was wearing a helmet.

For obvious reasons, I tried to put this embarrassing incident behind me. And it worked — until recently, when one of my editors suggested I try indoor rock-climbing as my latest "Amanda Goes &," thinking it might be fun.

I almost immediately had flashbacks to my ill-fated college adventure. But, I figured, indoor rock-climbing was different than what I'd done before. There was a fighting chance that I wouldn't smack my head on something this time. I decided to be brave and give climbing another shot.

That's how I found Go Vertical, an indoor rock-climbing gym in Stamford. Go Vertical has 8,000 square feet of climbing surface, up to 38 feet high. The gym offers private instruction sessions, and when I contacted Go Vertical manager Hernan Donoso, he suggested I start with one of those. Normally, the sessions last about an hour and cost

$64.

I arrived at the gym to find a semi-empty room, bordered by walls studded with big chunks of plastic. The chunks are called holds, and they're what a climber uses to pull himself or herself up the wall. You climb using hands and feet, resting both on the holds as you find them.

Donoso said we would try a couple types of climbing during my session. But first, I had to get properly outfitted. I was given a harness and a pair of climbing shoes, each uncomfortable in its own special way. The harness was like a particularly stiff pair of shorts. You pull it on over your clothes, and fasten it around your waist. Donoso attached a bag of chalk to my harness. During climbing, your hands can get sweaty and slick, he explained. Rubbing them with chalk absorbs the moisture and makes it easier for the climber to get a good grip on the holds.

The shoes were also unpleasant. They were toe-squishingly tight, which Donoso said is intentional. A smaller shoe makes it easier for the feet to latch onto the holds, he explained. That may be so, but they're no fun to wear.

The first type of climbing I tried was called top-roping. Donoso led me to a 30-foot-high wall, with a rope anchored to the top. In top-roping, the rope on the wall is secured to the climber through the harness. The process also involves a belayer, someone who basically holds onto the rope and controls the climber as he or she heads up the wall.

Once Donoso secured me, it was time to climb. He acted as my belayer, and told me how to use the holds to work my way up the wall. I put a foot on one of the holds, and grabbed another with both hands. Then I put my other foot on another hold, grabbed yet another hold with one of my hands, and slowly made my way up the wall.

It was a lot simpler than I'd anticipated. All you have to do is concentrate, find the nearest holds, then trust yourself to grab them. In fact, I was doing fine, until I realized how far I'd climbed. I was about three-quarters of the way up the wall. That meant there was 20-plus feet of space between my body and the ground below. Even though intellectually, I knew that what I was doing was safe, I realized that, theoretically, it was possible for me to fall to my death.

Not likely, but it could happen. Considering such possibilities made me anxious.

"I can't do anymore," I yelled down to Donoso.

"One more, Amanda!" he yelled back. "You're doing great."

I stared at the wall, and took a deep breath. "I'm safe," I told myself. "Nothing will happen to me. Don't wuss out." I pressed on, and managed to pull myself up a little further. But, I figured that was high enough for my first climb, and Donoso agreed that I could stop. Now, it was time to teach me to come down. Donoso told me to hang onto the rope, lean back, plant the soles of my feet on the wall, and sort of walk down.

I did what Donoso told me, but when I started to move, I lost my bearings, swung off the wall and screamed bloody murder.

This is not supposed to happen. Donoso, still holding the rope below, told me I was fine. The faux pas I had just committed was known as a "barn door," and occurs when a climber plants his or her feet too close together when going down the wall.

I managed to get back on the wall, then spread my feet further apart and continued my descent. I reached the ground in one piece, if a little shaken.

I'd been climbing for all of 20 minutes, and had already messed up. But Donoso was encouraging. He had me try another wall, about the same height, but with larger holds. Larger holds mean more to grab onto, which translates into an easier climb. It was easier — I made it all the way up, and managed to come down smoothly.

Now that I was more comfortable, Donoso had me try some harder tasks. He took me over to another climbing wall. It looked like all the others, except the holds were marked with different-colored tape. Each color represents a "route" on the wall. This means climbers can only use holds marked with this color as they head up the wall.

This forces climbers to think about and plan their ascent, Donoso said. He wanted me to try it, using the blue route marked on the wall. I should only worry about getting my hands on the blue holds, he said. I could put my feet wherever I found a berth for them.

I began to climb — and to curse Donoso's name. Finding the blue holds, and reaching them with my hands, was much harder than the climbing I'd done earlier. I couldn't just reach and grab. I had to think. About halfway up, I started getting tired and frustrated. The blue holds got harder and harder to find.

"I can't do this anymore!" I yelled.

"Sure you can, Amanda," Donoso yelled back. "One more! You're doing great."

I looked around for another blue hold, found it and pulled myself up. Then I found another, and pulled up again. I was getting tired, though, and I really wanted to stop.

Donoso kept pushing. "Just one more!" he yelled.

"You already said that!" I hissed back.

"One more!" he replied.

I grimaced, and made it up a little higher. I rested a while, then tried again, but I couldn't do anymore. Finally, Donoso relented and let me come down. I made it far, though, more than halfway up. I was kind of impressed with myself, considering how hard the climb was.

Next, Donoso had me try a different type of climbing, called bouldering. Unlike top-roping, which relies on technique and endurance, bouldering is all about strength. In bouldering, you just grab onto the holds with your hands and feet, and scale away. There's no rope, no belayer. Just you. And a really thick mat, in case you fall off the wall.

The wall of Go Vertical's bouldering cave is about 18 feet high. Donoso showed me how to grab onto the holds and pull myself up. That wasn't a problem for Donoso, who climbed up the wall like a cat. He wasn't even wearing climbing shoes, but bulky boots.

I, meanwhile, barely got a foot up the wall before I fell. I kept trying, but just couldn't get a good grip, particularly with my feet. Pulling myself up was also difficult, because my arms were still tight from my previous climbs.

Thankfully, Donoso was a little easier on me this time, and let me stop after a few attempts. Bouldering can be hard for a beginner, he said, particularly if you're already tired from climbing. So, I moved on and did top-roping one last time. Donoso had me try climbing the gym's highest wall, which was roughly 38 feet tall. I was a little squeamish, but figured I could make it if I tried.

Sure, I stunk at bouldering. But I'd already done much better than I'd anticipated. I was certainly a long way from the girl who smacked her head on a rock freshman year of college.

I began to climb the wall and, oddly enough, it felt like the easiest thing I'd done all day. I was far from a natural climber, but I felt comfortable reaching out, grabbing the holds and slowly moving upward.

Finally, I reached the top. It was really satisfying, being up that high, and knowing I got there myself. I had a feeling of accomplishment. A feeling of pride in my personal success.

And, I didn't hit my head on anything.

Go Vertical, 727 Canal St., Stamford, is open from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., Monday through Friday, and from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Membership is $64 a month for adults, and $48 for those younger than 18. Prices for a day pass vary depending on the time of day, and type of activity. Private instruction is available.

Walk-ins are welcome, but it's suggested that you call ahead. Call 358-8767.