Fear

by Sarah Brinley (Canada)

I didn't expect to find United Kingdom

There it was again, the fear. My old, familiar friend had followed me halfway across the world. I stood at the edge of the waterfall, swallowing the lump in my throat. Hiking was new to me. It was one of those activities I had always meant to try but had never gotten around to. This was my self-discovery trip and the Lake District felt like the perfect place to get my feet wet. After spending my life in Alberta, the Lake District’s landscape felt foreign and exciting. Like I had stepped into a fantasy novel with its farmlands and fields of ferns that stretched into mountains and waterfalls. It was made for exploring with its network of walking paths and trails. People said ‘good morning’ and ‘good evening’ when you passed them on the trail. A little community. What the travel guides didn’t warn me about, was how often I would have to face my fears. My fear of heights and injury had followed me from childhood, where I was terrified to step on escalators or ladders. And this waterfall crossing was one of the many obstacles that I’d had to face since arriving at my hostel. When the hostel owner had shown me the different hikes, the waterfall from this one had sold me on it. I loved waterfalls. The spray of water was refreshing after a long trek and the whooshing made my worries and stress melt away. But now, as I looked at the stepping stones I needed to cross, my palms began to sweat. I looked around for another way to get across. Usually, there was a longer, less desirable route that you could take. But I was on the side of a mountain and this was the only way to get to the top. I rocked back on my heels as I tried to work through my fear. With the waterfall overlapping the path, I could picture slipping and tumbling down the mountainside. Taking a deep breath, I took a step forward… only to retreat as far away from the crossing as possible. Sitting on a rock, I tried to calm my racing heart and ignore the sting of disappointment that swelled in my chest. I had learned that the saying ‘travel changed me my life’ came from these experiences. I had two choices: I could turn around or I could figure out a way to cross. A little voice in my head whispered that no one would know if I admitted defeat. That was a perk of solo travel. I could take my pictures and post them on social media. No one needed to know that the hike went further. But I would know. This moment would haunt me. I would always wonder what would’ve happened if I had continued on. I desperately wanted to tackle the stepping stones. Other hikers had crossed the waterfall easily and I looked on with envy. Each time I was close to summoning enough courage, the image of me falling down the mountain paralyzed me. When the sun had finished its own climb to the top of the sky, a man and his boys were the next to approach the crossing. The man continued on without hesitation and the boys followed him. That was the sign I needed. If two children could cross and not get swept away, I would be safe. Before the fear returned, I grabbed my backpack and marched towards the crossing. I didn’t let myself think, knowing that I would only talk myself out of it. As soon as my foot touched the first stone, the cold water soaked through my runners. Ignoring it, I hopped onto the next rock, and again, until I reached the other side. The sheer joy and triumph of my accomplishment filled me with warmth. I had done it. With a grin, I turned around and looked at the sights from the other side of the crossing. Beautiful. I took a picture to treasure the moment before continuing on the trail. There would be more obstacles ahead, but I had started to build that inner confidence to face my fears. And that was everything.