Reunited with Fear on Red Mountain

Do you experience fear? Probably. More than likely, you’ve experienced it on several occasions in your life, hopefully, more so because of your own doing and not because of others. How often you experience fear depends on a lot of factors, the life you’ve lived and the experiences that developed your fear sensor over time. You see, fear is one of the most basic human emotions, we are all programmed to feel it, but how much and when depends on so much more.

What Levels of Fear Do You Feel?

Take Alex Honnold for example, in the movie Free Solo; the doctors scan his brain to see how a man who climbs the most challenging cliff faces in the world without ropes responds to fear triggers. The results of the test? It turns out his amygdala doesn’t entirely operate like most humans. His brain is programmed to experience fear far less than most. One might postulate that early experiences help code our minds and our reactions. Fear itself is programmed into the nervous system, and it works like an instinct. From birth, our minds and bodies come pre-equipped with the survival instincts necessary to respond with the fear emotion when we sense danger or feel unsafe. It’s this fear that helps protect us so we can live out a long and fulfilling life.

What happens when your fear trigger doesn’t operate as often as others? What happens when you are like an Alex Honnold and your amygdala has been programmed to ignore what would, in others, trigger the fear receptor? You find yourself living a life full of adventure, with a lot of danger thrown into the mix.

The more I climb all these mountains alone, and with others, the more I have come to realize that, to some extent, maybe not quite as extreme, I have a similar brain makeup to that of Alex. Unlike Alex, however, I can and do still experience fear – every once and awhile. A few months back, for the first time in a long time, I remembered everything that comes with that emotion.

Enter my Winter-y Summit of Red Mountain

I decided on a beautiful spring morning, the 4th day of April 2019, to venture down the 90-corridor (a stretch of Interstate 90 where outdoor enthusiasts go for quick day trips in the Greater Seattle area) to check out a mountain that I hadn’t heard a lot about, but found capturing my attention as I perused the All Trails app on my iPhone. As part of my quest to complete 52 hikes this year, Red Mountain via the Old Commonwealth Trail seemed like a very formidable opponent, considering the route boasts 2,775 feet of gain in as few as 2.45 miles. It sounded like a quad grinder, the perfect test for my continually healing hip.

From WTA.ORG

“While still a walk-up, you can test your vertigo on the last 1000 feet while climbing the red west slope of Red Peak. From the top is an amazing 360-degree panorama of the various peaks in the Snoqualmie Pass area. The first five miles are on the well-maintained trail passing through old-growth with areas of blueberries and salmonberries. The final ascent is on fairly solid rock with scree in areas, bits of heather and blueberries, and a scattering of alpine trees gripping on here and there. Some of the rock is smooth so, if wet, might be too slippery to climb without aid.”

They make it sound like this hike will require some effort, but it doesn’t seem that bad overall. Except, when you finally get out there, you discover the reality is that the final approach is a Class 3 scramble and in the winter it is one hell of a steep snow-covered slope. It was on this snowy ascent that I remembered for the first time in a few years, what it’s like to experience the full spectrum of FEAR. As I ascended that steep ascent with my adventure partner Erinn on the phone, I did that one thing you shouldn’t do when you’re way up high, I turned around and looked down. Gasp! Yes, gasp. I could not believe how steep this climb was. It was one that made my ascent feel extra rewarding.

Feeling fear for the first time in a long time was a strange feeling. My heart raced a million miles an hour. My breath became rapid. The possibility that I could slide down this super steep ascent and build enough speed that something tragic could happen whizzed through the forefront of my mind’s thoughts. The reality that I am not invincible knocked on my door telling me to take my approach and descent with the care.

It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time, probably since the 2013 Death Race when I stood frozen unable to enter the Chittenden Reservoir in the Green Mountains of Vermont. Just like then, I was scared, for my life, for my safety, for what might happen.