His way is not our way

After some consideration I've decided to write in public about some intimate moments I had with God in June 2010; I've decided that now is the time to blog a bit more about my rock-climbing accident and its deeper significance. I started rock-climbing when I was still a boy of 16. I'm a big believer in accepting the reality of gender, and people who know me well (or who have followed me for some time on the web) will know how keen I am that men live in authentic masculinity and women live in authentic femininity. There are far too many British men today leading feminised lives and this is not how it's meant to be. (There is also an increasing number of women undertaking what ought to be exclusively male roles in our society - to the detriment of their mothering potential and the welfare of their children.) Looking back on my teenage years, I can see that a significant element of rock-climbing's appeal to me was the opportunity the risk and adventure affords a teenage boy to 'test his balls' and explore his masculine nature and potential. Some of the greatest experiences of my life so far - both triumphs and failures - have been spent refining my character in the harsh and unrelenting furnace of the vertical world. At the peak of my ability as a rock-climber I could solo or lead traditional routes up to E6 extreme grade. I will never forget defining moments from my adolescence when I made successful on-sight lead ascents of classic routes including Vector (E2 5c ***) at Tremadog and Left Wall (E2 5c ***) at Dinas Cromlech in the Llanberis Pass (pictured above). Those were the days: precious memories - and defining moments on my journey of discovering who I really am and why I'm here.

After the 2010 General Election I decided that the time had come to go for a break. For me, my candidacy in the General Election was the culmination of a very long period of high stress and hard work and so I thought that a break in Borrowdale was well-deserved and just the thing I needed to recharge my batteries and to focus on God for a few days without life's usual distractions: in short, I was going on holiday. I was up in Borrowdale for a week before the fateful day (10th June) I had my big accident at Shepherd's Crag. I was having a great time: camping, walking, swimming, canoeing and climbing. I did several solo climbs in the week before my fall, including Troutdale Pinnacle on Black Crag - a favourite solo of mine which I've done many times - and an on-sight solo ascent of Mandrake (HVS 5a) on Quayfoot Buttress. The route Mandrake was the same grade (HVS 5a) as the next route - Finale - which I attempted and fell off. I can see how at the time I had no reason to doubt that I could make a successful solo ascent of Finale - because otherwise I would not have attempted it - and I can also see now, with the benefit of hindsight, that I was run down and not climbing well that week, being weakened as I was by months of stress and overwork - and not to mention that at the age I then was, namely 33, I was past my peak years of fitness and climbing activity.

I fell 45 feet (at least) to the rocks below when I fell off a solo attempt of the route Finale on Shepherd's Crag on the 10th June 2010. I suppose it would be fair to say that this incident counts as one of the defining moments of my life! I realised there was a problem about a couple of feet before the point from which I actually fell. I realised that my muscles were stiffening up badly and getting 'pumped' with lactic acid and I knew then that there was a serious and imminent danger of my grip giving out on me. Despite knowing I was well beyond the height zone within which I might have a reasonable prospect of surviving a fall - whether accidental or 'controlled departure' - I was not afraid of falling as such, firstly because I was a very experienced climber, and also because of being a Christian. The last thing I wanted to happen was to fall off, but as a Christian I was not afraid of death (if that was to be my time), and as an experienced climber I had the maturity not only to know that such 'do-or-die' situations are not the time to panic or to let emotions take over but also I had the ability to control myself and 'hold my nerve.' Despite facing imminent death, though the moment was intense to say the least, I was calm and in control. I knew that the seconds were ticking down to when my grip was likely to give out and so I calmly assessed the situation to see if I had any escape options. Reversing my moves and attempting to climb back down was not an option; similarly there were no escape options available in attempting to traverse either to the right or the left. There was nobody I could call to for help (and then try to hang on and wait whilst they might try to get a rope down to me). I didn't have a skyhook or any other equipment on me with which I could've attempted to belay myself to the rock-face. Ruling out a 'controlled fall' as 'suicidal' and reckoning that to fall off would mean certain death, I knew I had only one option: I had to carry on climbing up and make it to the top or else fall off.

Having assessed my predicament, it was at this moment that I said a very brief prayer to God. As a Christian it was not surprising that I might pray to God, but I daresay that most people, Christian or not, might well call out to God in similar circumstances staring death in the face. When I used to solo rock-climb I would generally be in a state of continual prayer from bottom to top and I experienced intense communion with God and the spiritual realm: my unsuccessful ascent of Finale was no exception - indeed God had been very much in my consciousness from when I started my ascent of Finale until the point of crisis. Having quickly assessed my situation and having decided my only option was to attempt to make it to the top, in the moment of crisis I simply said to God, "I always trust you to get me to the top. I thought you promised to get me up?" Well, God made no reply at that time, and I continued to climb upwards for a couple of moves before I slipped and fell off.

If you're wondering what it feels like to be in freefall well I'd have to say it feels great. I know no other feeling to compare with being in freefall. Falling is fine, no problem at all - it's only when you hit the bottom that you have a problem. I distinctly remember the moment I fell off and I remember being in the air as I fell. The whole fall happened in the twinkling of an eye; from the moment I fell off to the moment my body came to rest on the ground was just a few seconds. On impact needless to say I was knocked out. Surprisingly I was not killed instantly and I came round at the bottom of Shepherd's Crag to find myself surrounded by members of the Keswick Mountain Rescue Team. I remember being stretchered on to the North West Air Ambulance helicopter by the MRT volunteers and the beginning of the flight to hospital in Carlisle.

In Carlisle I was scanned and checked all over and miraculously the brain scan revealed that there had been no brain damage whatsoever, despite there being serious external head wounds which were bleeding heavily. I was severely bruised and cut all over my body and I had fractures in three of my four limbs and two spinal fractures, in the neck and upper back. Miraculously there was no damage to the spinal cord itself and so I was not paralysed. Carlisle decided to transfer me the same day to the nearest specialist neuro-surgical unit at [the old] Newcastle General Hospital. It was whilst I was flat on my back on a hospital bed a couple of days after the accident that I heard from God. After my arrival at hospital - in my times of consciousness - I would pray and (struggle to) read from a Gideons New Testament with the help of one of the nursing staff who happened to be a Christian, a Filipino man by the name of Pepe de la Cruz. A couple of days after the accident, God spoke to me through the inner stillness and I 'heard' His voice speak to my heart: God said, "Richard, do you remember saying, 'I always trust you to get me to the top. I thought you promised to get me up?' ?" I replied to God that I did indeed remember. It was then that God said, "I never promised to get you up, I just promised to keep you safe."

Truly, His ways are not our ways. God's promise has preserved my life. He has a good plan and purpose for my life, just as He has for each one of us: it's up to us to seek after His plan for our lives and to walk His way. Learning to walk again after the accident was a hard and painful process, as well as regaining strength and movement throughout my body. I've come a long way but I still have some way to go. I believe I can and will fully recover my former strength and I am training towards that goal. Most importantly though, I have learned that no matter what happens, God is always faithful and true, and He is always sovereign in every situation. To God be the glory!