365 True Things: 14/Mastery

(Note: this post involves technical stuff. Don't worry; just keep reading.)

I woke up this morning in a sweat. Today was our monthly Search & Rescue training, and we were doing ropes competency check-offs. I had been tapped a couple of weeks before to run the rappel station. But . . . I wasn't entirely sure I knew how to do a conditional belay, which is a little cord you attach to a leg loop of your climbing harness; if, while on rappel, you should be so unlucky as to get hit by a rock and knocked out, you wouldn't simply slither off the rope: the conditional belay would lock and you'd stop.

I knew I could just ask—but I have a chip on my shoulder, I guess you could say, about knowing things. If I'm supposed to know, "I don't know" is not an option.

I had done some online research and more or less verified what I thought I knew. I also learned that there are several options for a conditional belay. There was my ticket: I could ask what the best option is! Then ask for a demo. Then go on my merry way and man that rap station. Perfect.

But then when I got to training, our commander, Steve, pointed at Ivan, one of the deputies, and asked him to man the station. Whew! Off the hook!

Then Steve looked at me and asked if I wanted to check people off on systems. Uh oh.

Rappelling involves a rope, a friction device, and that pesky conditional belay. Period. Systems—a.k.a. mainline (shown here) and belay, ropes that are used for lowering and then, later, raising a rescuer with a litter—involves (for each rope) an anchor, a "bearclaw," a cord, two prusik loops, a pulley, a friction device (ladder rack or "scarab" for the mainline), several carabiners, all of which are assembled in a specific way: the system. And when you switch from the lower to the raise, you throw another prusik and pulley into the mix. Systems also involves a bunch of knots and hitches: figure eight on a bight, munter hitch, double fisherman, radium release hitch, double interlocking long-tailed bowline, half and full hitches, etc.

And I'd been worried about the rap station?

But, okay, I was game. I'd practiced more complicated stuff not long before. And as proctor? I'd just be watching. Right? I can see if something's wrong, even if I'm not always necessarily sure just what is wrong. And then we'd work it out together.

The one thing I needed extra tutoring on was the double inter-locking long-tailed bowline. It's used to attach the rescuer and patient to a litter (as in the photo here: the yellow and blue loops at the top are the knots in question—they attach to a "god ring" that is at the center of the litter harness). And because I felt pretty confident about the rest of the systems, I found (thankfully) that it wasn't hard to ask about that one little thing. So I got a good lesson, and my confidence rose. I was good to go.

Long story short, working with my teammates, some of whom knew pretty well what they were doing, some of whom didn't, I am now solid on systems. We worked through stuff together. On one vexing problem, I asked for help. (I did! I asked for help!) I learned that most of us are sure about some things, not necessarily so sure about others, but there's always someone around to fill in the gaps. And together, we can get it right.

Photo courtesy of Alain Claudel.

The final check-off was the "up over and down" station, which involves ascending, traversing, and descending a rope. I stood and watched as people struggled to various degrees doing the circuit. Then Bob asked if I was up for it. Sure! I've always been able to do this one easily. And today, yet again: it was fun! Nothing to know. Nothing to remember. You just do the work.

Although I'm a pretty in-my-head kind of person, it's a pleasure to let your body take over. And if I keep practicing—and relax—maybe some of the other stuff that I overthink will become second nature. One can hope.