Fear

I recently started going to a writing club. Yes, a bunch of middle aged women get together once a month and draw a topic out of a hat. Then we write a short story about that topic. The story should be an experience from our past so that eventually we will have a collection of stories to pass on to our posterity. I'm not sure if any of my posterity would be interested, but I have enjoyed the group, and listening to their stories. The first topic I wrote on was fear.


This is going to be a piece of cake, I thought, as I stood at the bottom of the pyramid of Kulkulkan, in Chichen Itza staring up at the 91 steps to the top. I had been working out on the stair climber at the gym for many years and I could climb more than 200 flights without a second thought. I was thrilled that I would be able to climb this building without even breaking a sweat.
Kulkulkan is a restored temple ruin in the lost city of Chichen Itza in the Yukatan peninsula. It is in one of the largest ruined cities in Mexico and boasts many buildings that have been restored or partially restored. Two sides of the pyramid shaped building are still in the state they were found in, and the other two sides have been restored. One side has a large thick rope running from the top to the bottom to assist people who are climbing down. Our guide explained that we could ascend the building on the side without the rope, and descend on the rope side.
I turned to my husband, Brian, and said,
“I’ll climb about half-way up and then turn around. You can record it on the video camera. Then follow me up.”
I was eager to start up the steep stairs and prove to myself once again that I was in great shape. I climbed, counting each step as I went. When I reached fifty, I wasn’t even breathing hard, and I wasn’t ready to look back yet, so I decided to keep going until I reached seventy steps.
I realized I was about two-thirds of the way up by then. I was feeling pretty accomplished. I knew I was strong and that, although the steps up the building were steep and narrow, I would easily reach the top without having to catch my breath or wipe sweat from my forehead.
I turned around to wave to Brian and the video camera. But I was completely unprepared for the shock of what happened next. As I turned around, my eyes glanced down, and down, and down! Fear gripped my heart in a way that had me reeling back against the cold stone stairs. Until that very moment, I had not once considered that I had a fear of heights. The angle of the building was a shockingly steep forty-five degrees. It was similar to the angle of a ladder placed at the side of a house. The seventy or so steps that I had climbed were each about eighteen inches high, so I stood more than one hundred feet above the ground.
I molded my body back against the stairs as tightly as I could. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst at any moment. I was shaking from head to toe and fighting very hard to keep from sobbing. I was absolutely stuck. I knew I had only two choices. I could either climb back down, or go up to the top. At that moment, I heard another woman’s sobs to my right. She was sitting on a stair a few feet higher than I was and a man was speaking to her soothingly. She edged her feet down to the next stair, then slid her bottom over the edge and carefully lowered herself down another stair. As she reached the next stair down, her voice erupted into another stream of sobs as she clutched desperately to the man next to her.
I could see myself climbing down the same way with one exception. The man that she was clutching so desperately to was not anchored to the wall in any way. How easy would it be for him to slip and take them both down to the bottom in a matter of seconds? I made my decision then to finish climbing to the top, knowing that there was a rope to hold onto on the other side that would assist me in getting back down.
I carefully turned my body back toward the pyramid and finished climbing the last twenty steps. There was a building on the top, and I hastily pressed my back into the corner of the doorway where I allowed the convulsions to take over as I cried. I was still in a predicament. Although out of immediate danger, I knew I still had to climb down. I was alone at the top, and I knew I couldn’t stay there. I bravely looked over the edge, without moving any closer to it and a new wave of nausea and fear overcame me. I could see Brian coming up the stairs, but I was ashamed of the feelings that I couldn’t seem to control. By this time, my breathing was very heavy, and I was sweating profusely. I had wanted so badly to show off the fruits of my labors at the gym, and now my body was betraying me. I decided to sit down where I couldn’t see the steep decline of the building and try to get a hold of myself. I managed to get my breathing under control, but just as I was beginning to calm down, my husband made it to the top and a fresh wave of sobs washed over me.
We stayed on the top of the building for about thirty minutes. I knew I had to get myself back down, and I dreaded the moment I had to step over the edge of the first step. The thick rope was anchored into the first step, so I could not hold on to anything until I was a few steps down. Just like the woman I saw on my way up, I clung desperately to my husband’s body while I eased myself over the first step. As soon as I could get up my nerve, I let go of him, and grasped the thick rope to my left. I remember each step was as bad as the one before, and to add insult to injury, my husband stepped down the building as if he were walking down a flight of stairs. I have never been so relieved to reach solid ground as I was on this day, and I have not felt such terror on any other occasion in my life.