QotD: Danger Is My Middle Name
When was the last time you did something dangerous?
Submitted by Ross.
Depends what's considered 'dangerous'. I will never be considered as your adventure seeking type. I don't climb mountains, I don't jump out of planes. I'd give my left testicle (the one that's smaller - I'm not that adventurous!) to afford to race cars or bikes but that's because I'd be the one in control. That's my major proviso in undertaking anything in the least bit dicey. Am I going to have 100% control over my environment? If not, no thanks, I'll sit right here & have another beer, thanks all the same. I can't even ride pillion on a motorcycle without freaking out, because I'm not the one in control.
Having said all that, and declaring that I'm a staid scaredy-cat, two years ago this month I almost lost my life on the side of a granite tor while hiking in our favourite national park. Here's a snippet from the site, describing the walk I was on.
The Pyramid — Map reference (c) — 3.4km (2 hours return) Classes 3 and 4
Magnificent views and the sight of Balancing Rock are rewards for reaching the Pyramid's summit. The track to the base of this monstrous granite dome has gentle to moderate gradients. Weave through eucalypt forests and past rocky outcrops and wetlands to the base of the exposed rock face. A good level of fitness is required to make the climb up The Pyramid as the ascent of the exposed rock face is steep and may be tiring. Take your time to rest and enjoy the view.
Warning: the summit has steep cliffs and potentially slippery surfaces. Keep to the track and supervise children closely.
If the climb doesn't take your breath away, views of Balancing Rock, the Second Pyramid and over Girraween National Park will. There is no walking track to the second Pyramid and considerable rockclimbing experience is necessary to scale it.
Note the references to 'potentially slippery surfaces'. Had I the presence of mind to take photos on the way up, you'd be able to see just how steep this walk is. At places, it's easily a 12 in 1 grade and hands as well as feet are required. No hand holds, no rails or even ropes to help you on your way, and amazingly, foreign tourists climb up this several hundred foot tall slippery granite tor in what we call thongs, or what Americans call flip-flops! Bizarre!
Anyway, somewhere near to where this photo was taken, I slipped and wound up flat on my belly inching slowly toward a sheer drop off. The saving grace being that I hadn't clipped my fingernails for a few weeks. Personal hygiene habits aside, I didn't need to clip them afterwards.
I simply cannot relate in words the terrifying experience this was and the twenty minutes of abject fright I suffered afterwards, sitting in a tiny granite hollow created by centuries of rain, hundreds of feet above ground level with a 60-70 degree downward face in front of me, shaking like a leaf in a high wind.
I never did make it to the top of the Pyramid. It was all I could do to negotiate my way back along the supposedly designated path (designated by splashes of well-worn white paint at 50 foot intervals) to a point where I could finally stand up straight, clamber over some intervening rocks and head back down through the intermittent stream of walkers and tourists all gaily heading off to put their lives at risk as I'd just done.
This walk-hike-climb is a major attraction for visitors and campers at Girraween. You haven't seen the park until you've climbed the Pyramid, or so I'd been told. When I slipped and what passes for my life - all 47 years of it at that time - literally passed before me in seconds, I couldn't have cared less if I ever made that final twenty or so feet to the summit. I still don't. I do look at that tor every time we go camping at Girraween now and marvel at the fact that I can. Stand there and look at it, that is.
I'm not afraid to die, but I'll be the one who chooses the place and time, thanks very much, and it won't be by sliding off a granite tor in the southern highlands of Queensland's granite belt.
