CAMPTON, Ky. — Crouching on a narrow ledge 120 feet above the ground, I turn my back to the long drop and halfheartedly extend a boot over the edge of the sandstone cliff.
I grunt when my leg slips while feeling for a foothold. My foot dances around until relief comes in the form of a sturdy metal rung jutting from the rock.
“That was the hardest one yet,” I yelp as the harness I’m wearing scrapes against the rock.
Skilled climbers spend years accumulating the experience and equipment to ascend cliffs like this one, but as a beginner I have scaled this rock face after little more than 15 minutes of training.
Welcome to climbing, via ferrata style.
Italian for “iron way,” via ferrata consist of metal rungs — drilled into the rock for hand and footholds — and a safety cable.
“This gives the average person who’s not going to make all the big investments and all the time it takes to get into climbing, it gives them the experience,” says Mark Meyer, owner of the via ferrata at Torrent Falls Climbing Adventure near Kentucky’s Red River Gorge Geological Area.
The gorge is one of the most popular rock climbing destinations in the U.S., and in 2000 Meyer chose a nearby canyon to build what he says was the first American via ferrata. Climbing via ferrata is popular in Europe, where it was first used to move troops across the Alps during World War I.
“It’s transitioned from a military application into a recreational activity,” says Meyer, who hired a French company to build his course.
Torrent Falls is a two-hour drive southeast from Louisville, Ky.
I arrive on a chilly morning accompanied by an adventurous uncle, Dale Popp, and serious trepidation.
“Welcome to our vertical world,” says Meyer, an eager pitchman and former mechanical engineer. “This can cure the fear of heights, if you do it enough times.”
Adults pay $30 and are fitted with a harness and helmet. A double lanyard attached to my harness has two carabiners. The oval-shaped metal snap links used by climbers are clipped around the steel safety cable that runs the length of the 3,400-foot course.
Other via ferratas have sprung up around the country in recent years. Courses in Nelson Rocks Preserve in West Virginia and Waterfall Canyon Climbing Park in Ogden, Utah, rise higher and stretch longer than Kentucky’s. And two new via ferratas have gone up this year: in Smuggler’s Notch, Vt., and Jackson, Wyo.
At Torrent Falls, Meyer has newcomers practice on a boulder before taking them on the beginner’s section.
“Your knees are shaking!” Meyer teases after I mention that I don’t care for high places.
My breathing becomes heavier as we head up, first Popp, then me with Meyer behind. Moving up the massive rock canyon, I look down and tighten my grip on the metal rung.
People do this for fun?
“It’s an addicting thing, you get hooked to it,” says Bill Strachan, a Kentucky engineer who has been rock climbing, without metal rungs, for 30 years. But even longtime climbers have to fight back panic.
“You sometimes look down and you know, you get that feeling, that hey, I want to make sure I don’t fall from here,” Strachan says.
Looking down from about 35 feet up, I feel a tingle in my arms and I squeeze the metal rung. I remember this white-knuckle grip — I was 10 years old and riding my first roller coaster.
After nearly every step, climbers must unhook the carabiners — one at a time — and attach them to the next section of the safety cable.
The trickiest part early on is finding room for both feet on the 8-inch wide U-shaped rungs. I have to train myself to take an uncomfortable wide step with my leading foot to leave room on the rung for the other.
Moving along, the satisfying clinking sound the carabiners make clipping into the thick cable begins to feel therapeutic.
But just as we are settling in, I spy a set of rungs in front of us that rises up in a zigzag to a spot near the top of the rock.
“What’s all this?” I ask Meyer.
“It’s called going vertical, boys!” he says.
The course, broken into six stages, gets progressively more difficult as climbers round the canyon on the via ferrata. This was the beginning of the “intermediate” third section.
“You know that saying, it’s worth the price of admission? This is the part right here,” says Popp, a retired firefighter from Jeffersonville, Ind.
As we gain elevation, the voices around me begin to fade, like in a campy war movie after a grenade blast. Lactic acid builds up in my arms and they begin to burn.
At the top of the ascent, the metal holds move left, dotting across a sheer face. On the other side is a wide ledge, an inviting place to sit and rest.
“You’re 120 feet from the ground,” Meyer quietly tells us.
I step out onto the first rung, and all the visuals from the climb up — the metal bars, rock outcrops, vegetation — vanish.
Nothing but sloping cliff face all the way to the ground.
“This is a whole new ballgame,” my uncle chimes in.
I tiptoe across, feeling more confident of my footing on the rungs now that we have been climbing for about 40 minutes. I grunt through the first 10 feet, then notice that my grip has relaxed and the sweating has slowed.
Climbers also have a “rest line” on the harness, which can be clipped to a rung so they can relax their arms by letting go — something I hadn’t entertained until now.
I clip the third line on to the metal hold and slowly loosen my grip. At first I keep my fingertips on the bar, a useless gesture.
My arms move away, and I spread my hands in a celebratory pose.
Looking around, I begin to see what attracts people to rock climbing: fright mixed with exhilaration, testing your limits and the view from the top.
Without those metal rungs to cling to, I might never have glimpsed the world from a climber’s perspective.
