I was introduced to slacklining my freshman year of college in 2017. A slackline is webbing slung between two points, most often trees in a park. In the rock climbing gym at my university, there was a 15 foot 2 inch line that I would attempt after climbing had worn me out. I had a friend whose focus and concentration allowed him to stay on the line for extended periods of time. I was entranced. I saw that it was possible and I wanted to get to that level. With enough tenacity and determination to fall off that thing hundreds of times, I eventually got pretty good. My friend had a line and we would string it up around campus and mess around on it, while just enjoying being outside. I eventually bought a 100 foot 1 inch set up with a ratchet. I was never able to set it up at full length because it was so difficult to get the tension right, but it was still a great line to practice on.
I loved how difficult it was. It wasn’t something anyone could just walk up to and be good at. You had to really want it, and be willing to suck at it for a rather long period of time. The process was alluring. Then it became something fun to do, a good way to spend some time outdoors with friends or by myself. Every step was a practice in mindfulness, in uniting the breath with the steps. Practice in not always listening to that nagging voice in the head. In being fully present. In convincing myself that I could do hard things.
My first introduction to anything beyond a regular slackline was at Tibble Fork reservoir in Utah in 2023. I had been part of this facebook group for slacklining in Salt Lake City for about a month or so and had met up with some of the people once in the park. They posted in the facebook group that they were going to have some water lines and a couple midlines up. I was eager to get into the community and try my feet at some different types of lines.
A midline (and a highline) is a slackline, just higher up- and with a few more safety components. With these lines you are tied into something called a leash so you don’t actually ever fall off the line, just slightly below it. The leash is similar to a rope and is attached to a metal ring that goes over the webbing and then also ties into your harness. A highline is the same concept, just even higher above the ground. With mid and highlines, there are two pieces of webbing instead of just one. There is the main line and the backup line. So if anything were to happen to the main line, instead of falling to your death, you would eventually be caught by the back-up line. In addition to the two pieces of webbing, the anchors that the line is suspended from are redundant. This means that if any one of the pieces failed, the whole system itself would not fail. All of this makes highlining pretty damn safe.
For years of slacklining, I had avoided the dreaded sit start. Instead of practicing it, I would always use the ground as aid in order to stand on the line and walk. A sit start is when you have both of your legs on the line and stand up from that seated position, without using the ground. I knew I wanted to get into highlining eventually, so I made up my mind to learn how to do it. I went to the park with the intention of eating shit a million times until I was able to do it. After an hour or so of repeatedly falling, I had figured it out, not very reliably but it was a start.
Arriving at Tibble Fork, a beautiful reservoir nestled in the mountains, I was greeted by many smiling faces and two parallel lines over the water, called water lines. A water line is a slackline suspended above the water that you are not tied into. So when you fall off of a water line, you fall into the water below. I practiced my sit start on a nearby line that was above the ground and then I was ready to try the actual thing. I waded out into the water, grabbed the rope that was attached to the line and pulled it down so that I could reach the line. This was the first challenge as the line had quite a bit of tension in it, so even pulling the rope down was a bit tricky. Then, after you get your hands on the line, comes mounting the line and getting your body on top of it. This process was far from smooth as I had only practiced it a couple of times. They say it’s fairly easy, you just need to use your momentum, but I hadn’t quite learned that trick yet. I swung my left leg up onto the line so I had more weight helping me keep my grasp on the line. I then swung my right leg out to the side, and with all the force I could manage, swung it over the line to the left. All of a sudden my body was rotating through the air and by pure luck, I was now on the top of the line! I steadied myself with my hands and put my right foot as close to my body as I could with my knee bent. I took a deep breath and brought my left leg up just a little in front of my right leg. I exhaled and tried to find a steady position but my nerves wouldn’t let me find peace. I went to stand up in one solid motion with all my might, but the line dumped me sideways into the water. I was hooked. It was a solid attempt and the following attempts wouldn’t even see me getting both legs on the line reliably. The process of climbing onto the line and thrashing around on it was pretty harsh on the body and would end up leaving some pretty gnarly bruises. I was excited for the challenge.
Behind the water lines, tucked away in a natural bowl, were two parallel 90 meter “mid-lines”. I trekked up the hill to check them out. I didn’t know if I’d actually get out on one but I definitely wanted to see it up close. There was only one person at the line when I got there and he explained how to tie in, which made enough sense to me coming from a rock climbing background. You simply thread the leash through both hardpoints on your harness and then tie a figure 8. In a thick Venezuelan accent, he tried to explain to me the concept of a hangover. I thought I was well aware of what a hangover was but what he was explaining was something different. It is a device that connects to your harness and then you clip it to the webbing. It has a rolling component that sits on the line and allows you to roll to your desired starting position or to roll back in, essentially creating a type of zipline. Anyway, this was all completely new to me and I had no idea what he was talking about. You want me to do what? Eventually my confusion led him to actually show me and things started to make a little more sense. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I fell off, I mean I know I would be tied in but how do you get from below the line back onto the line again? He advised me to just roll out onto the line and flip over and sit there with the hangover connected. After tying in and making sure everything looked secure, I clumsily got myself onto the top of the line. I connected this mysterious hangover to the line and gravity started dragging me outward. I tried to replicate what I did on my first attempt on the water line but I couldn’t even get myself to the top of the line. I tried a few times and then drug myself back to the safety of the land, high on the thrill of even going out there.
The second time I got on a highline it was at the top of Lone Peak in Utah sitting around 11,200 feet above sea level. Lone Peak is one of the steepest climbs in the Wasatch Range and totals about 16 miles round trip. I had heard that some people were rigging a line up there but still didn’t quite have the “in” in the community. I decided I would pack up my backpack and lug all my camping stuff to the top of this mountain. Surely if I hiked all the way up there with a good attitude these folks would let me get on their lines. It was a beautiful and grueling hike up to the top of Lone Peak, only a couple miles in I could see the line stretched between the highest points, my excitement grew with every step.
I eventually made it to the meadow below the summit and noticed that there were actually two lines set up. There was a 190 meter midline that was set up in the meadow where people were camped, and a 70 meter line set up on the tippy top of the mountain in between two peaks. I greeted some of the people that I had met once or twice and someone explained to me how to get up to the line at the top without going back to the trail. They had set up some fixed lines that you could ascend. I didn’t realize I needed any of my climbing equipment so I hadn’t brought any but someone lent me their ascender and gri-gri and quickly explained to me how to use an ascender. I began ascending up these fixed ropes but it was much harder than I expected as there weren’t many foot holds to utilize in lifting my body weight up. After about 20 minutes of making it way harder than it needed to be, I reached the point where I could disconnect from the rope and hike up the rest of the way. I heard two people coming down, talking with excitedly about the line at the top. I recognized them from Tibble Fork. We reintroduced ourselves to each other and they told me their names were Brian and Bryan. They said there wasn’t anyone left up there and they were going down to get food. It was already getting into the evening and they had been up there all day. I was nowhere near being ready to get on a line by myself, so I went back down the ropes with them. I decided that I would try the line in the meadow this evening and go back up to the top the next day.
That evening, with the helping hand and encouragement of Brian, I tied myself into the line on the meadow and scooted myself out on the line. This time I was able to get myself on top of the line and into a sitting position. I tried to take a couple of deep breaths and then gave my best shot at standing up. The line bucked me off and I lunged forward to catch the lines with my hands as my legs and lower body fell below the line. I clung to the line with all my might and Brian shouted, “let go, trust it”. I wasn’t sure how I’d get back up and was terrified of the idea of letting go but I had to figure it out sometime. I slowly released the grip of my hands and fell slightly below the line, it was exhilarating. “Now what!?” I yelled back to Brian. He instructed me in bringing one of my legs to the other side of the leash, pushing it down with my leg in order to make it easier to climb it back to the line. I did what he said and struggled my way back to getting my hands on the line. Then I had to figure out what to do with my legs. I somehow got them back on the line but my body was still below the line. I had to swing a leg over the line to get back up on the right side. I then tried to calm my breathing and steady my shaking limbs before giving it another go. I tried this in total 3 times before I was utterly exhausted from the act of climbing the leash. The last time I climbed the leash I thought I wasn’t going to make it back up. So with the fear of getting stranded out there, I rolled back in and decided I would try again in the morning.
The morning came and with plans of de-rigging (the process of taking the lines down) around mid-day, time was ticking to get up to the top and give that line a shot. This time I ignored the fixed lines and with a group of about 5 people we scrambled up to the top, trying to find the safest and least sketchy route possible.
We got to the tippy top and I was speechless. You could see it all, from the city of Salt Lake to every peak in the Wasatch. In between the two highest points was this thin string of webbing that allowed people to walk on thin air.
I waited my turn and when I was up, I nervously tied into the line. I asked the person who went before me to double check my knot. It was just a standard figure 8 climbing knot, but suddenly with the ground 800 feet below me, I wanted a second person to confirm that I would not die. I actually asked, “I’m not going to die, right?” just to be clear. I clipped the hangover to my harness then to the line. I clumsily crawled out and slowly began letting myself roll further out.
I sat there, shaking, peering beneath me at the ground 800 feet away and the panoramic view of the valley. I knew I was safe. I mean, logically, I knew the line was safe. I was tied in, there was a back up line and all the material in the anchor was redundant. I was so safe. However, my body wouldn’t listen to this logic. My limps quivered and my instincts screamed for me to retreat to safety. My body seemed to try to convince my mind with each jittery movement that we shouldn’t be out here. I had managed to get my body on the right side of the line and was now sitting on the line with my right foot on the line and my left leg extended below. The hangover was still connected to me so even if I fell, I would not fall more than a couple inches below the line. After swearing I wasn’t going to be able to make it back up that leash the day before, I was petrified of unclipping the hangover and having to climb the leash again. I was terrified that I would make a fool of myself in front of all the people I had just met that could actually do this.
In that moment, I was hooked. Hooked at the possibility of one day being out here and actually feeling comfortable and confident. I knew I was going to dedicate myself to this until I was able to do it. It was one of the most thrilling and terrifying experiences I had been through. To be sitting, suspended on one inch webbing strung between two of the highest peaks around. In a space that few humans have been before. In a space that usually belongs to the birds. I felt so awkward and foreign out there. Yet here were people who looked like they were in their natural habitat, 800 feet above the ground, only connected to a thin stretch of webbing. With fear filling my mind and the clock ticking, I came below the line and rolled back in, vowing that the next time I would do this I would at least unhook the hangover and take the whip. A whip is when you fall off of the highline. You are attached to the leash that is connected to the line, so when you fall off you only end up a couple feet below the line. After you whip you must climb the leash up to get back to the line. This process can be quite exhausting, especially in the beginning, but once you get used to it and learn some technique it is pretty easy.
I’ve met the most wonderful people here in Salt Lake City through highlining. I had to rely on the kindness and knowledge of the community in order to get access to the highlines. There is a lot of specific gear and knowledge that are needed and the only thing I had was stoke to do it and a willingness to help and learn. Stoke begets stoke and everyone was so supportive and welcoming from the beginning. From not even being able sit on the line, to not knowing how to climb the leash, to the 5 or 6 sessions before I even stood up and the hundreds and hundreds of whips since. This community has been cheering me on and giving me encouragement by merely showing me that it is possible. Everyone was once in my shoes and in this phase of learning how to do it. Yes, some people pick it up quicker than others but everyone has to go through an adjustment and a learning period. Everyone has had to suck at it long enough in order to be worthy of doing it. The best things in life aren’t easy. Some things in life just come to us and some we’ve got to work our ass off to get them.
It has been one of the hardest things I have ever done, and the road, or line if you will, is still quite long. That’s one of the things that always drew me to slacklining. No one can just stand up and be good at it, and there is always room for growth. It is very unique and nothing can really prepare you for it. You have to suck at it consistently, for a rather long period of time before you can even do it. It isn’t easy being bad at things. I think a lot of people are easily discouraged from pursuing it because of that. You have to suck up the embarrassment of eating shit in front of a bunch of random people and have the tenacity to get right back on it, just to be bucked off a moment later. You have to learn how to fall, but more importantly how to keep getting up. It is continually humbling. I crossed my first line and then for the rest of the weekend I struggled to even stand up on a line. But soon enough, you start to get it. Something I often tell myself is the only way to not get good is to stop trying. It is such a neat sport because there really are no limits, you can keep pushing it and creating different challenges. There is always room for improvement or learning something new.
Almost 7 months of steady dedication later I am sitting here writing this post and am just now starting to actually walk with some form of consistency. My sit starts are finally pretty dang reliable, which is nice because you have to stand up to get to the walking part. I do quite well on shorter lines, being able to “send” them, the act of walking across the line without taking any falls. I’ve crossed a 53 meter line and most recently my biggest accomplishment, crossing a 90 meter line. They say learning this sport is a slow start but then progress becomes exponential. It is very refreshing to be entering into the phase of actually walking the lines instead of just constantly falling off them. I feel like I really broke through something after having crossed that 90 meter. I realized I can do pretty much anything if time allows. My stamina has increased tenfold and I am able to fall off and get back on as many times as it takes. I proved this to myself again when I crossed a 60 and 70 meter line both ways this past weekend.
Now for the burning question on your mind…. how do you get them damn lines across!?!?! Well theres a plethora of ways but I will attempt to describe the way I have seen it most. Essentially all parties are on one side of the cliff, lets call it Anchor A and there is a boat load of paracord. A couple people take one of those ends of paracord and guide, throw and maneuver it around any trees or obstacles and hike down or around from that anchor and scramble up to the other anchor, Anchor B. Now you stretch that paracord taught and the people at anchor A attach the webbing to a carabiner and hook that carabiner to the paracord that is now stretched between Anchor A and B. The people at anchor B start to pull the paracord until eventually they get the webbing. Then Anchor B folks put that webbing into the anchor system they have built and Anchor A people do the same on the other side. Its a bit more complicated than that but thats the jist!
As Bob Ross once said, talent is pursued interest, in other words, anything that you’re willing to practice, you can do
Thanks for reading!
