“Stell…” My voice whimpered.

“Ang, what? Don’t call my name while I’m climbing.” Stella’s tone was deep and serious. “Don’t have me worry about you.”

I looked down to see my two feet, struggling to balance on the mountain’s steep incline. Both were slanted and moving ever so slowly;  slipping — involuntarily — closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. They were the two feet of an amateur hiker, or in this case, a clueless climber. The faded Puma logo said it all.

Pebbles and loose rocks slid past my feet, down the incline, and off the cliff. I clenched my teeth so no sound peeped out. Instead I could hear a murmur coming from deep in my throat. My body was freaking. My hands switched from loose rock to looser rock, then to frail branch. Break. Great, I thought. What to hold… what to hold. I watched and heard the bigger, failed rocks rolling down and hitting the trees. My eyes shut. Breathe, Ang.

“Lean all your weight toward the mountain! Away from the ocean, Ang,” my big sis, Stelli, called out behind her. “Are you OK?”

I looked that terrified, huh? I threw over my most courageous smile and rested my hand over a rock too big to grasp, nodding back.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Stelli snapped a few pictures, one of which I hoped I was smiling.

You’re probably wondering how we got into this situation. What on earth were we doing on a random cliff in the mountains? And why do I look so scared in this photo?

Well. It started when we drove up to San Fran from LA last weekend. We took the pretty coastal route up the Pacific Coast Highway. It was absolutely BEAUTIFUL. So beautiful that we got distracted by all the sights and never realized my Honda Civic’s gas tank was on “E” for God only knew how long.

Now you have to understand, PCH is one deserted, long and narrow stretch of a road. I wouldn’t even call it a highway. Exits and gas stations are very rare. Hell, houses and people were even rare to see. It was pretty much ocean to your left. Mountain on right. For HOURS.

We started freaking out. I estimated 5-10 miles at the most left in the tank and GPS’d the nearest gas station. 20 miles away, it said, in the opposite direction! My mom gasped in the back seat. There was no where to pull aside either, and we were driving uphill. And there was no way we were making that 20-mile trip. We needed to reach a democratic solution. We had to vote.

My mom and I voted: Turn around NOW.  Get to the nearest gas station. Stell (the one in control of the wheel) refused to turn around and kept driving forward, relying on the slight chance that there was a gas station five miles ahead or less. Now, if you knew us, you would know we’re one very stubborn family, but my sister is probably the most stubborn of us all. So the heated battle in the car was pretty humorous. Three stubborn Asian women with little Asian voices were all bickering, freaking out in a car in the middle of nowhere. I reached for the AAA number from the glove compartment. “I think we’re going to need this,” I half-laughed. Finally my sis gave in and went to make a U-turn at the first house we came across. A hiker was leaving the driveway at the time and I rolled down my window. “Where is the nearest gas station from here?”

“Oh! Just a mile ahead!” he said.

A new sea of emotions filled the car. “I TOLD YOU SO. OMG I’M NOT LISTENING TO ANYONE ANYMORE!” and “OMGOSH STELLI YOU SAVED US!” and “THANK GOD!!!!” hahahahah. It was hilarious.

Anyway, we get to this gas station. $42 for a full tank on my Civic, might I add. These people knew we were desperate. I go to pay the gas attendant and he recommends a hiking trail just behind the station. “It’s a little treacherous,” he said. “But totally worth it. There’s a beautiful waterfall at the bottom.”

That was the beginning of our journey.

I remember smiling at the opportunity. Time for an adventure! And the perfect chance for me to get crackin’ on my new DSLR camera. My sis, mom and I put on our best sneakers — which at the time were those Puma-like casual wear — and marched on.

The sign read: “Hike at your own risk.” That’s how it began.

 My mom refused as soon as she saw the trail — or lack of trail I should say. At first we thought it was just a dead end to a cliff. We had to walk back and take a second look just to realize — hey, this cliff is actually a really steep stairwell to another really steep dirt trail down to a big group of boulders that looks like it might bring you to a beaten up old bridge. All next to an extra steep cliff with more rocks and trees at the bottom! Then the rest looked like darkness.

“It’s a really dangerous trail,” a man’s voice called out about 100 feet away. The young woman next to him was shaking her head in warning.  “I hope you have your hiking shoes on.” 

 “We’re going to do it,” I said. But my voice was no longer confident. My sister had a huge smile on her face, though. The danger drew her in all the more.

Now it all made sense. Why the gas attendant used the words “treacherous” and asked me to “check back” once we were done. “You know, just ’cause you can,” he said. For all we knew, he could have been leading us into a death trap.

This was no ordinary hike. I looked down with determination. I was going to get to that waterfall. I’m a young, healthy, adventurous soul. Whew. I can do it.

I crawled down to catch up with my sister, who was already well ahead. We both carried our weight in all fours, like a crab, sliding our way down the dirt hill. Short, thin sticks pierced in my hands. Minor splinters, at the most, I thought.

Finally, we got to “the” boulder. The boulder that made the trail so forbidden and dangerous to begin with, according to the gas attendant. The boulder that even gave my brave big sis a good scare.

I watched admirably as my sister’s thin, toned legs gracefully stretched from big rock to big rock. Her wardrobe was a little more fitting for the occasion — jean shorts, orange tube top covered with a black hoodie (both of which belonged to me). Her sneakers were equally casual as my Pumas.  I sported a new pair of  long Hollister jeans and a grey hoodie, now caked with mud and grass stains. I was also not nearly as fit physically.

Clack. Stelli gasped. I looked over to see her iPhone had fallen out of her pocket, off the boulder and was now resting at the very edge of the cliff.

“Don’t worry about it. Keep going. It’s fine, I see it.” I said loudly, but calmly.

The camera lens cap was next. Clack. It dropped and landed a foot away from the iPhone.

“Oops!” Stelli looked down at me. I could have walked a few steps to pick them up, if I hadn’t been so chicken. I couldn’t move at all. But I knew I would have to move quickly — if Stelli were to fall off, I would be responsible for catching her.

I blamed the gust of wind for pushing me closer to the edge, when I knew it was all in my head. No more excuses, I begged myself. All I heard was the wind and an inner voice repeating an apologetic prayer over and over again in my head. “I’m so sorry I didn’t do everything I promised I would do,” the voice kept saying over and over. Shut up, Ang. Don’t lose it. I looked down to my deathbed of rocks and trees. It was a beautiful deathbed. How would it feel? If I just fell now? My bones fell weak and light, as if falling would be so…easy. I imagined it would feel a lot like the pricklies that were all over my hands now, but 1000 times worse and all over my body. Would it be a quick death? I leaned my head away looking down at the group of green trees leading to the rocky shore. Would it even be worth it if we made it? At least I would die in something pretty, if I did fall. Or would I die? But would people easily find my body? Did I want to be cremated? Or buried? And where? I haven’t done everything I wanted in my life yet. I can’t die. My thoughts consumed me and I had to shake them out of my head… Quit it, Ang. I must have held my breath for a minute because I was panting by this point.

“OK! You’re turn! Ang, It’s really not as hard as it looks. It’s all mental!” Why does she sound so excited, I thought to myself. What if we fell? I wanted to pee my tight Hollister jeans out.

“Stell. I am SO SORRY.” I felt awful and like a failure, but I had to do it. “I’m just not ready to die yet.” I probably sounded ridiculous. In fact, I knew I sounded ridiculous to my big sis.

“Oh my God. You’re not going to die,” she said.

“Stell, I know this sounds crazy and I’d hate to admit it. But sadly, if there was a big man standing right over there under the boulder, and I knew if I fell he would be able to support and catch my weight, I would do it,” I admitted. “But I can’t catch your weight, Stell. And you can’t catch mine. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Being the feminists that we were, all three of us — my mom, my sister and I — we very rarely admit when we “need” a man around. Because quite honestly, we never had a man around our whole lives. The closest was our Uncle Alex who I coincidentally wrote a Father’s Day card for today, but we were always three independent women who managed by ourselves fine — carrying televisions, sofas and beds, fixing windows and doorknobs, killing roaches with our hands — you name it.

And now I was shaking here (so dramatically reciting my own obituary to myself), admitting that I needed a man to do this climb unafraid.

“That’s SAD, Ang,” Stelli replied. I had feared she’d be disappointed in me. But then she said, “I know what you mean…”

I smiled. I guess we all need people in different ways at times. Men — you are still only good for manual labor and for catching ladies when they’re scared! (haha just kidding). Or I could have just been using that as a excuse to turn around and return to our mommy. Desperate times call for desperate lies. And they all make sense in your crazy head at the time, but looking back, you know they are only silly excuses.

So, we turned back. My sis did not argue. She played the big sis role well and comforted me. She had to climb down that impossible boulder though, which took another 10 minutes or so, and then I had to physically turn myself around on the same spot which took the scared baby in me one or two minutes or so, and then we began the return climb back.

This route was a lot easier. As you can see, it’s not just my sister who’s smiling now.

 The climb up was a lot easier. It was a lot faster, too. I managed to do the climb with one rock on each hand. (Hey, I wanted a souvenir).  By the time we reached the top, my emotions skyrocketed from fear of dying to overwhelming ELATION. Ahhhhhhhhhh…… that feels good, I thought. The adrenaline rush was incredibly… addicting! We took another victory photo and called it a day.

I kept saying, “We did it! We did it! We made it!” and my sister never hesitated to correct me.

“No, Ang. We didn’t make it,” she said. “I should have just gone on without you!” Of course she was joking, but only half-joking. I did feel 50 percent failure, 50 percent pride. We never made it to the waterfall. All I could think about was how and when I would try the whole thing again. Imagine the feeling when you actually make it to the bottom.  I understood why people do crazy things like that now, and how addicting that can become.

But all in all, I guess I wasn’t as adventurous and fearless as I thought. Not now anyway. Hopefully in the near future, I’ll be more mentally stable and physically fit to finish that path. I wasn’t ready to die yet, obviously. But the thing was, I wasn’t ready to even risk my life yet.  At least not in that kind of wind. Or in those Pumas.