Climbing was a new sport for me when I went to Arkansas. I had started my climbing adventure less than a year before and had joined the Inspire Rock climbing team a few months earlier. I had never been outdoor climbing before and had only ever seen outdoor climbing in movies.
 
No less than a month later, my team and I went on a trip to Horseshoe Canyon Ranch in Arkansas to climb for a week. You can imagine how nervous a twelve-year-old beginner climber would be to go outside for a week with new climbing coaches, new team members, freezing temperatures, and horrible weather.
 
After an exhausting ten-hour drive up with my dad - which began with a few fun parts like eating junk food and singing along to music, then about half-way there, deteriorated to getting lost and hot-headed arguments that left me frazzled - I finally made it to the campsite. Most of the team was already there because they went up with the coaches. I struggled with feeling like I didn’t quite belong.

Author Reagan Solt at Horseshoe Ranch, Arkansas.

We had a huge campfire and plotted our route to the first climbs. There were so many things I hadn't heard of - multi-pitch climbing, crack climbing, taping your fingers - my mind was about to explode. The next morning, I woke up at five thirty and gathered my gear, ate a protein bar, and was on my way to meet up with the rest of the team. After a twenty-minute drive to Horseshoe Canyon and a seven-minute hike to our first rest stop, we got to climbing. I knew how to do the basics like set up a top rope and clean a route, so as one of the first people ready to climb, I set up the first climb of the day by leading it.
 
I tied in and walked up to an easy 5.8. Although I may have looked calm and collected, my mind was racing. How was I going to get to the top? What if the rope broke? What if a rock fell on my head? I was freaking out. Because I was the youngest on the team at the time, I felt like I had a lot to prove. I couldn’t show or tell anyone how I really felt.
 
I double-checked my knot again, and breathed out a shaky sigh. I pushed all of the negative thoughts out of my mind and started climbing.
 
The holds were rough and sharp; They felt like nothing I had ever climbed on before. As I continued up, I could feel the rock crumbling under my touch, almost disintegrating when I put my weight on it. My mind raced a mile a minute; I was certain the rock was going to give way beneath me, that I was going to fall – and fail – on this 5.8 while everyone was watching. But, when I finally let myself calm down, applying what I had learned in all of my training at the gym, I felt the feeling of freedom and adrenaline.
 
When I reached the top, I clipped into the anchors and stood on top of the wall. The smell of the fresh morning air was heightened. The breeze was blowing my wild hair into and out of my eyes. Most of all, I felt the sting of the rocks on my hands. That was a magical moment.
 
I went on to do three other climbs before we moved on that day. For the next few days, I still felt like I was getting my bearings, so I stuck to the easy stuff. On the fourth day, ready to push myself a little more, I found THE route.
 
As climbers, we each have a preferred style of climbing. Some like slopey holds and slab walls, others migrate to jugs and overhanging walls. I like crimpy overhung routes; so when we got to our first spot on the fourth day, I felt an instant connection to a climb on the wall. The climb, called Lavender Eye, was a sixty-five meter overhanging wall with crimps-galore.

At the time I was onsighting 5.12b at the gym. I thought Lavender Eye would be an easy conquest at 5.12a. After tying in and checking knots, I felt confident and excited. I was getting the hang of this outdoor climbing thing.
 
The route started out at an easy v3, but slowly rose to a v6. I was sweating and had already fallen a few times. Why was I falling so much?! 5.11s were my warm-ups indoors!
My coaches were below cheering me on. I was angry I couldn’t flash this. I was angry my coaches were watching this flailing. My awareness of being a new climber pulsated in my brain, fogging up my logical thinking. Next was the overhang.
 
All of the beta that had been shared with me about how to conquer this section flew out my head when I saw how high-up I was. My heart beat faster and my lungs felt constricted. I was starting to panic. I was far above my last draw and the next one was on the overhang. I shook out, got some chalk, and forced myself to breathe. I moved towards the overhang and grabbed the rope, blindly clipping into the draw. I then climbed back down to the previous jug.

Reagan Solt on an unknown climb in the North Forty area of Horseshoe Ranch.

I heard commotion down below. As I looked down I saw my coaches pointing at the draw. I was confused, but they didn’t let up. I looked towards the draw, and the problem finally registered - I had back clipped!
 
My heart rate shot back up and I started to panic again. I knew I had to fix the draw or it could be very bad if I fell. I slowly made my way back to the draw but my pumped arms and sore fingers couldn't unclip it from that angle. I climbed higher to try again from, hopefully, a better angle. I reached my hand above the overhang and grabbed a jug, pressing my stomach on the edge of the overhang. The clip was now a good two feet away. I reached down as far as I could with my other hand and unclipped the draw. I couldn’t get the rope back in so I started to downclimb, but there were no holds to downclimb to.
 
It seemed that no matter how I tried, I couldn’t reach the hold below. I tried again and again to get the rope back in the draw. Each time it slipped from my fingers, I grew more hopeless. I desperately did not want to fall. I knew I would either have to keep climbing and hope to clip the next draw, or take a big fall – already far above an unclipped draw. I started to climb up, but had been hanging for too long. My feet slipped off the footholds and I was dangling. I had to fall.

---

Author Reagan Solt on Sonny Jim (5.11a) at Horseshoe Canyon Ranch, Arkansas.

---

​All I heard was the sound of my heart racing and my shallow breath. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and let go. I was a jumbled ball of hair, rope, and fear. I never opened my eyes once. Tears streamed down my face and snot dripped down my nose. Suddenly, I felt the rope tug and I shot out my legs. My ankles hit the rough stone. Even though I should have been engulfed in pain, I barely felt it. I was so relieved that I had stopped falling.
 
My belayer lowered me slowly and rushed over to see if I was okay. After getting untied and taking my gear off, my head and heart started to slow. I played the mistake over and over in my mind, and it became amplified that everyone was watching - tears, snot, mistake, big fall, and all. My coach told me I had fallen ten meters (30 feet)! I was shocked. I felt fortunate I didn’t hit the ground, and that just added to my fear and embarrassment. 
 
We went home the next day and I took a few days off.
 
When I returned to the gym, everything looked different. The walls weren’t as tall and scary; the holds seemed friendly (even the nasty ones); everything felt easier. One of the first things I did was get on a 5.11d. I climbed it quickly and efficiently. I was still confused, considering how I had fallen multiple times on Lavender Eye. Soon, I came to realize that everything felt easier in the gym compared to the outdoors.
 
For a while after the trip to Horseshoe Canyon, I refused to get on overhung routes. I also started paying closer attention to how I clipped while lead climbing. I didn't want to back clip ever again.
 
The first time back on the overhang walls, I was petrified. Every time I clipped, I double checked it to make sure it was correct. I also asked my belayer to keep me really tight. Slowly, I got over my fear and returned to climbing overhangs on a regular basis.

Then came the next trip to Horseshoe Canyon. I felt stronger both mentally and physically, but I struggled with wanting to try Lavender Eye again, yet being terrified of it. 

The day we went to Circus Wall, the wall that also houses Lavender Eye, I panicked. Just looking at that climb brought back the fear - it made my hands clammy and my breathing short. While at Circus Wall, it felt as though Lavender Eye was staring at me - burning through the back of my head, taunting me, trying to lure me to come out and play. I threw those thoughts out of my mind and tried to relax and enjoy the rest of the day.

Later that night, after we had gone back to camp, I was clearly unsettled. One of my coaches came up and asked if i was feeling alright. I brushed off the attempt to comfort me and walked into the camper. I went to bed early, though I didn't sleep much. I had these half-awake/half-asleep nightmares of the fall and weird scenarios of me hitting the ground. As I neared the ground I was flooded with emotions - I don't want to die. I'm too young. I haven't done everything I wanted to.

​When the morning finally came, I knew these fears didn't make sense. I knew I had to face this climb. I didn’t even care if I sent the route, I just wanted to try it again. I needed to show myself there was nothing to fear.

After a twenty-minute hike and ten minutes of warming up on Green Goblin and Ace In The Hole, I was ready to face Lavender Eye. I hopped on the wall with ease; I had forgotten how simple the first part of the route is. Once at the lavender eye - the climb's namesake - the climb becomes more difficult. There is a tricky slab section above the eye and the next clip is too far, with the only good hold inches out of reach. You have to trust your feet on these two tiny foot holds, and hop to the sloper before clipping.

​After spending a few minutes on the slab, I went to the crux.

​Where the roof starts, there is an undercling. It's not bad but it tears into your skin. The only way to get the rope into the clip is to have your right hand in the undercling and your left hand clipping. So there I was, sweat burning my eyes and no chalk left on my hands. This is the most terrifying clip on the route - both because of the body positioning but also because of the way the draw hangs - you have to pay close attention to avoid back clipping. I ran over it in my head - how to slide the rope in - and I easily saw the mistake I had made last year.

Above and right is the lavender eye that is the namesake of the climb.

 “The rope goes over the draw.. Over the draw… over the draw” I repeated these words as I stretched my arm until it was burning from strain. I could feel the cool metal on my hands as I opened the gate and dropped the rope in. I realized my eyes closed with fear the entire time. I slowly opened my eyes, initially shocked by the bright light of sun, and looked at the clip. What I saw made my heart leap. A perfect clip! I had done a perfect clip!

I continued climbing the route, slowly making it over the roof, passing the clip. I fell not long after, but I didn’t care. I had done what I needed to do. The second my shoes hit the rough sand, I ran to my dad. I was thrilled.

Author Reagan Solt facing her fear and the Lavender Eye one year later.