I awoke in my bed at 6:30 a.m, nearly devastated from the lack of sleep. First off, I do not feel comfortable staying at hotels, mostly due to the fact that I am not used to staying at hotels, since in my eyes, it is something of a luxury. And secondly, the night had been very warm. I took a quick shower, went down to the third floor to grab myself some sort of breakfast before everyone were due to leave for Preikestolen(Pulpit Rock), a huge rock formation in the norwegian fjord of Lysefjorden.
As I arrived in the dining area I became very confused of the set up, the dining area was very big, and the area designated to get your breakfast, the buffet, was equally big and I found myself being lost a few times, scratching my head not knowing where to begin. Lost in the meaning of what food to start with, as there were lots and lots of it. Well, I managed to make myself some sandwiches and then everyone was off for the ferry that was to take us to the base of the mountain where the Pulpit Rock is located.
When I came to Stavanger with my work I had no idea what I was heading into. Yeah, I had seen the Pulpit Rock on pictures and figured it would be a pretty high climb, but easily accessible. Oh my, was I wrong.
Just want to inform you all that I am insanely scared of heights, suffering from a bad case of acrophobia.
Anyways, we arrived at the base of the mountain by bus after a short ferry-trip from Stavanger. I started following my fellow co-workers up the mountain and so far everything was fine. It had been raining the whole morning, but as soon as we all started to walk up the mountain, the sun showed it's face. After a few hundred meters along the path up I started having problems, the path was narrowing, it was getting steeper and steeper and I was desperately clinging to the inside of the path. But I kept my pace, walking upwards.
Every now and then I managed to forget about the height I was ascending and even managed to enjoy my surroundings. At times I stopped to admire the view, desperately holding on to a tree, or a branch or whatever I could find. Some of the views were spectacular to say the least. Just imagine yourself climbing up a hill and when you reach the summit of that hill you are met with a sight that more or less blow you away in sheer "epic-ness".
The path was not something one could call a "proper road", at some locations it included heavy climbing over boulders for about 50-100 metres upwards, pretty steep. Sometimes it was a wooden bridge going over a swamp, or a bog. Other times one were going through small areas of trees, jumping from rock to rock. But everywhere one was surrounded by this incredible landscape, rock formations that that clearly speak of eons in age, mist caressing the tops, trees located in areas one would thought to be impossible for life to grow.
During this climb, my fear was present, but I could control it, I simply looked somewhere else, and if there were enough ground to stand on, I managed to enjoy my surroundings.
But when we started coming close to the top, at about 600 metres, this doesn't sound like much, but for a person like me it is way too much(especially if you are standing at cliffs going straight down), I started loosing control. Me and a few other co-workers came to the lats patch before the top, which is a very, very, narrow path, 600 metres up in the air, you can see straight down. At some points there is cracks where the path stops and you have to hold on to chains bolted into the mountain which you hold onto as you jump to the next platform so to speak. At some spots the path was as narrows a as 1 meter or less, not kidding. My legs started to shake here, real bad. But lucky me I have such great co-workers who helped me and cheered me on so I continued. I couldn't back down, that was impossible for me.
But after an incredibly painful and shaky last walk I made it to the Pulpit Rock, this awesome rock formation which looks like it's carved out of the mountain, made for giants to stand on. Or sit.
Acrophobia is serious business. As is any phobia. My legs were turning into jelly, gravity wanted to pull me off the cliff to a painful death, which seemed inevitable. But I did manage to crawl out to the center to sit for a few minutes with my co-workers, drank some juice and then I went back to my "safety-spot" again. I was almost choking at this time. Had sever problems with breathing and I felt myself slipping more and more out of control until one of my co-workers suggested it was time to head down. If she hadn't I probably would've died there, become paralyzed and unable to move. That is what real fear does to us.
That's how terrifying the whole experience was to me. With some supportive help from a co-worker, I managed to slowly descend the Pulpit Rock, at least the path which is the highest and the narrowest, after that I regained control and were able to more or less run down the mountain.
This is me, clinging to the mountain-side.
Do I regret it? Oh, no. I'm happy I did it, considering my fear of heights, I've seen one of the most beautiful views of Norway. The only thing I felt when I had managed to climb down the mountain, was shame and guilt.
Shame and guilt because I hadn't been able to enjoy it as much as my co-workers had done, because I had been so terrified. I felt beaten, even though everyone told me how courageous I was, conquering one of my worst fears. But I didn't feel "worthy" of all that praise. I felt ashamed.
But why? Why did I feel shame and guilt? Now, today when I think of it I realise how foolish it was for me to feel that way. When I instead should feel pride and happiness for being able to spit one of my greatest fears in the face.
And I do.
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