“When you get to the first section you’ll know if you want to do it; it only gets uglier from there,” the young woman said, wiping sweat from her brow. I had just finished descending Picacho Peak and was eager for more details. Arizona State Parks described the climb up Picacho Peak as a tough hike, saying gloves were a must for the cables on the final scramble up the 1,500-foot climb. cables? Fight?! Most of my hike requires little more than good boots and a good lunch. Crawling on cables and dangling above the desert floor sounded too strenuous for a relaxing vacation afternoon.

The first hikers we put on the Sunset Vista Scenic Trail approach recommended we tackle the top. “You should do it at least once,” they repeated, sounding a bit like college students encouraging you to try shots of tequila and forgetting about the aftermath. I noticed that the women in the group were unusually quiet and did not seem to share the enthusiasm of their male counterparts. Whenever someone waxed poetic about climbing, they seemed to avoid eye contact; I should have recognized it for the gut feeling it was. “You’ll be fine,” a colleague said as he said goodbye, “as long as you’re not afraid of heights.” I make. Or maybe I should say I did.

As we went into the two mile approach I wasn’t sure if I should tackle the peak. The hike sounded intriguing and my husband, Colin, loves ambitious hikes; Against this was my fear of heights. Deciding this was a good time to build up some mental toughness, I resolved to hang on (panic) until I got to the first set of wires. Once he saw the trail, he would know if he had the skills or the motivation. Or if I was really lucky, it would start to rain and the decision would be taken out of my hands!

A good hiker never skips lunch; at the end of the sunset vista trail we found a rock perch and assessed the trail ahead. Using binoculars I saw a hiker crawling along the cables. I could almost see them wincing. Sounds tough, I thought, mentally planning a relaxing afternoon at camp once I turned around.

So how did I find myself embarking on a more difficult hike than I had ever done before? The first set of cables was not as scary as expected. The cables went straight up a vertical rock face for about 50 feet, but the rock walls protected both sides. It looked like an indoor climbing wall with a great view. Since I had tried to climb walls and I liked it, I decided to give the first section a try. I was able to assess my options after my Spider-Man impersonation; if it was bad, I’d turn around and say my sanity was back.

There were many small grooves in the rock, so finding footholds was not difficult. Breathing was more difficult; this was a job he wasn’t used to. I stopped midway to suck in some extra air and get my lung back on my chest! I decided to add additional pushups to my exercise routine in 2009.

When I finally crawled to the first ledge, I was surprised at how well I had done. “Let’s move on,” I told Colin. He wouldn’t have been more surprised if he had told her that he wanted tickets for the hockey season. We came across a couple more sections of cable, some of them so narrow they got tangled up with my pack and poles, making me feel like a spider caught in a web. The view down was scary in places and a reminder to pay attention if you didn’t want to skydive without the plane. Instead, I opted to look up and leave the sightseeing for later.

As I started to fail, I saw another hiker a few meters ahead. He had gray hair and carried a bottle of water in one hand as he swayed on the cable. My water bottle was safe in my backpack as I needed two hands, two feet and some glue to keep from falling. I’m probably guilty of age discrimination, but I figured if this guy is doing it, so can I! Before long we caught up with him and exchanged compliments.

Max explained that he was walking alone, even though his children had warned him not to climb the peak or walk alone. Enjoying his company, we continued our ascent with Max, thinking we could minimize the risk of him walking with him, even though there was no doubt we were all headed for the top. In a side joke to Colin, I asked him, “When did we go from corrupting our nephews with adventure travel to corrupting other people’s parents?”

After 75 minutes we had finished our 1500 foot climb and were standing on top of Pico Picacho. Located about halfway between Tucson and Phoenix, I could see the Phoenix smog to the north and the Santa Rosa Mountains to the southwest. It was beautiful, but I didn’t spend the time wallowing in triumph. Going down would be harder than going up. And there were no escalators to facilitate cable runs.

The descent became hard in a hurry. The cautious approach meant that she was backing down the mountain as if going down a ladder. Unlike a ladder, there were no regularly spaced steps. In some places there seemed to be no steps at all. “Who moved them?” I thought; He had found them on the way up. Colin saved the day, and went ahead to put my feet in safer places to keep me from becoming a young widower. In places where there were no footholds for him to reach, he used his foot as a foothold for mine.

Although I was scared I’d end up on the evening news with the headline “Helicopter Needed to Rescue Hiker on Picacho Peak,” I went downstairs without claiming my travel insurance. By the time I got to the last cable, I was doing a jig that could get me a spot on America’s Got Talent.

As we walked to the trailhead, I reflected on the adventure. I hated being stuck without footholds, but clinging to the mountain wasn’t as scary as I’d anticipated. Was it time to drop the label of ‘a person afraid of heights’? I think so. I’d even do it again, perhaps after a couple of gin and tonics smoothed out the rough edges of this holiday memory. Once again he was convinced that travel was a powerful agent of change, and he had another Reinventure to tell!