Last year, my son Kyle and I were invited to join a climbing expedition with my good friend and client, Joe, and his son, Sam. Joe has been training Sam in hopes that he'll become the youngest person to ever climb the famed El Capitan, a 3,000-foot vertical wall in Yosemite Valley that most consider the mecca of the climbing world.
The Plan
Fortunately for us novices, this trip would be “light” on climbing, since we wouldn’t be climbing from the bottom up. Instead, we would start at the top and descend into The Notch, where the spire meets the main cliff. Then, we would climb the spire, camp on its face, and finally, return to the starting point via a Tyrolean traverse—think uphill zipline.Father-Son Time
Even though we hadn’t started our adventure yet, we were already getting to spend some great one-on-one time together. I didn’t give it much thought at first, but the preparation for the trip was creating unique opportunities to bond and deepen our trust in each other. The day of the adventure was filled with all the excitement and butterflies in the stomach that you would expect. Thankfully, the whole mission would be led by elite climbers who could take care of all the ropes and rigging. Joe, Sam, Kyle, and I would be free to focus on the experience—and it was quite an experience!The rappel down to the spot where we would begin our climb was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating, but it was nothing compared to the moment of truth—climbing the spire. This was the part of our adventure where the magnitude of what we were attempting finally hit us, and where my parenting skills would be put to the test. As we prepared for the ascent, Kyle froze, thinking he wouldn’t be able to continue. And I couldn’t blame him—I, too, was way outside of my comfort zone.
Bittersweet Success
While that would have been adventure enough for Kyle and me, it turned out that climbing was much easier than sleeping. In order to allow enough time for the climb, we had to spend the night on the cliff face, camping on a little platform our guides had set up—it was the coldest, most sleepless night of my life.I learned something about myself that night, as I lay there shivering, trying to keep Kyle warm and calm: My Boy Scout, be-prepared brain was in high gear trying to think through all of the if-then scenarios. I was thinking about the various things that could go wrong, and how I would respond in each scenario. It turns out that I do this a lot—constantly thinking about plans B, C, and D—this has been one of my strengths in both business and life.
Life in the Moment
But there was something else I realized that night: I was fully present with my son. As a business owner and entrepreneur, there’s always a phone call, text, or email that wants to pull me away from the important moments with those who mean the most to me. That night, the same isolation that precipitated my anxiety about caring for Kyle, also meant that I had no distractions, nothing to pull me out of the adventure the two of us were sharing.The whole climb, from start to finish, forced me to be fully present—it was Kyle, me, and a cliff face that tested both of us. We completed the climb the next day with an immense feeling of relief, but also a feeling of pride—very few people in the world had done what we had just done. The entire experience was every bit as scary as you might imagine, and neither Kyle nor I could eat until the adventure was over, because our nerves had our stomachs wound tightly in knots.
It was really, really hard. And it was really, really amazing. Kyle learned that he’s capable of much more than he thinks, and I’m forever grateful for that night we spent dangling from the famous Lost Arrow Spire. I’ve since retired from sleeping on cliffsides, but not from taking adventures with my children—adventures that challenge us, grow our bond, and give us memories that will never fade.