Back in the summer of 2012, I found myself working at Youth Leadership Camps Canada in Orillia, Ontario. Tucked into the woods, buzzing with energy and adolescent enthusiasm, YLCC was a place where leadership was built, memories were made, and occasionally… gravity fought back.
I had been assigned to the rock climbing wall—an honourable post among the staff. Unlike some of the other counsellors, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call light on my feet. So naturally, I was tasked as the belay anchor—the human counterweight for climbers ascending the vertical wooden beast. My job? Stay grounded, keep the rope taut, and gently lower campers down once they’d conquered the summit. Simple enough.
Most days went smoothly. I’d clip in, plant my feet in the mulch, and watch brave kids scramble up the wall, determination in their eyes and rented harnesses awkwardly hugging their hips. When they reached the top, I’d slowly ease them back to Earth, all smiles and high-fives.
But then came the moment—the kind that sticks with you like pine sap on your bare feet.
One afternoon, a heavier-set camper decided to give the wall a try. She was nervous, but tried her best to overcome her fears, and I admired that. I clipped her in, double-checked everything, and gave her the go-ahead. She climbed like a champ, reaching about three-quarters of the way up when she suddenly lost her footing. Time seemed to slow.
She slipped.
The rope snapped taut and I did exactly what I was trained to do: I sat back in my harness, ready to absorb the force. Except… her descent had some momentum. The instant she dropped, I felt the unmistakable jolt—then came the skid.
Like the DeLorean in Back to the Future, heels dug into the ground, I shot forward across the mulch, kicking up wood chips and leaving behind a clearly defined trail of “this guy was here.” Before I could even process what was happening, I was airborne—launched clean off the ground. We met in mid-air with a WHUMP and immediately burst into laughter.
There we hung, swinging together in the balance of physics and hilarity. A pair of tangled climbers suspended in time.
It took a full team effort to get us down. Fellow staff grabbed my ankles, untwisted us on the belay line, and reeled me in like a stubborn fish, while others guided the camper back toward the wall so she could plant her feet. It was chaos. It was ridiculous. And it was one of the most memorable moments of the whole summer.
That day, we all learned a little more about the power of teamwork, the importance of laughter, and that sometimes… gravity just wins.