If you’ve ever tried to hold a romantic conversation while dangling from a rope, 240 meters above the ground, with your hair whipped into a bird’s nest by cruel desert winds—well, congratulations, you’ve already experienced a tenth of what I went through on the side of El Gigante in Chihuahua, Mexico.

Yes, my friends, the craziest place I’ve ever been was a rock wall. La pared. A 2,300-foot vertical face of orange limestone rising out of the depths of the Candameña Canyon like it’s in some postcard from a movie scene. Frankly, I was there half on a dare and half because, in moments of highly questionable judgment, I tend to convince myself that extreme adventures are “fun.”

Spoiler: they’re not always fun. But they do become unforgettable stories.

The Call of the Canyon: “What do you mean by ‘multi-pitch climb?’”

To set the stage, I’ll introduce my then-boyfriend, Nico—your classic adventurous type. While I was happy sipping coffee at a plaza in Madrid or lingering in Santiago’s bookstores, Nico was happiest scaling enormous cliffs, kayaking into the unknown, or dangling from places humans have no business dangling. He claimed this contrast made us an ideal couple: I’d keep him grounded, and he’d pull me toward the stars. What it actually meant was arguments about whether we spent our next vacation with our feet on the ground or suspended hundreds of feet above it.

So there we were, standing in the shadow of El Gigante with a small group of climbers. Nico gave me a helmet, some shoes that squeezed my feet like a bad relationship, and a lesson in “multi-pitch” climbing—a term I sincerely believed I could ignore until I was already strapped into a harness, regretting several life choices at once.

Multi-pitch climbing, for anyone blissfully uninitiated, means you’re climbing in stages. It’s like passing levels in a video game but real life. The first climber (in this case, Nico) ascends the wall to anchor themselves to a ledge or a rock point; then the second climber (me, against all better judgment) follows. This repeats until you reach the top—or in my case, until you start fantasizing about faking a twisted ankle for an early exit.

Love on the Rocks: The Most Romantic Meals You’ll Never Forget

Here’s something I wish someone had told me: trying to maintain romance or charm on a rock wall is a fool's errand. Between bouts of sheer terror, sweaty palms, and unflattering grunts of effort, you’ll lose all illusions of grace. Climbing is humbling.

Somewhere around the fourth pitch, about 600 feet above the canyon floor, we reached a decent-sized ledge where we paused to rest and refuel. Nico reached into his pack and pulled out what I can only describe as the saddest two granola bars in human existence—this man called them “lunch.” Ladies and gentlemen, there is no amount of desert scenery breathtaking enough to make up for the disappointment of being handed dry crumbs when a breakup-worthy sandwich would have sufficed.

But here’s the moment I’ll never forget: Despite my scowl and my granola-based grievances, Nico pulled out a little thermos. He poured two tiny cups of lukewarm tea (don’t ask how it didn’t spill everywhere during our climb), smiled, and quoted Neruda—one of my favorite Chilean poets. “Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.” I rolled my eyes, naturally, but beneath the sarcasm was a flicker of warmth. The man was trying. Bonus points for poetry, even if the tea tasted like it came from a dollar store.

Lessons from the Ledge: “How Did I Get Here (and Why Are My Legs Numb)?”

Let me tell you, sitting on a ledge halfway up El Gigante allows for plenty of time to reflect on your life choices. Somewhere during pitch seven—when I was dangling in midair and swearing profusely in three languages—it struck me just how much relationships resemble rock climbing.

  1. Preparation is Everything: Whether you’re climbing a cliff or entering a new relationship, preparation matters. Communication, trust, and the right equipment (or emotional tools) are essential. In either adventure, you don’t want to end up hanging by a thread with no backup.

  2. You’re Going to Get Uncomfortable: Let’s face it, the initial climb of a relationship often feels like walking on air. But sooner or later, you hit the hard bits—the sweaty, messy, awkward stuff. Can you handle it together? Do you trust them to secure the rope while you dangle in your least flattering moment?

  3. The View Is Worth It, but Only If You’re Both All In: A relationship, like a climb, only works if both people are committed. If one of you is half-hearted—or, worse, doing it just to appease someone else—it will show. And let’s be real: no view is worth risking a fall (literal or emotional) over a forced compromise.

The Climb Down (and Some Relationship Advice from the Canyons)

I have to admit something: We didn’t make it to the top of El Gigante that day. With gusty winds setting in and my nerves nearing their limit, we turned back after the tenth pitch. I told Nico it wasn’t a failure; it was a “strategic retreat.” He smirked like he didn’t believe me, but to his credit, he didn’t push the issue. We rappelled back to solid ground, dusted ourselves off, and celebrated with tacos so spicy they could’ve fueled the climb back up.

In hindsight, climbing El Gigante wasn’t just one of the craziest places I’ve ever been. It became a test of limits—not just physical but emotional. My patience wavered. My trust wobbled like a poorly anchored foothold. But at times, I remembered to laugh...even when I didn’t want to. And sometimes, isn’t that the essence of forging a lasting relationship?

If I can leave you with one takeaway, it’s this: Adventures—whether they’re up a cliffside, on the streets of Santiago, or in the unpredictable maze of love—are less about where you end up and more about how you get there. Who holds the rope while you climb? Who meets you at the ledge with a thermos of tepid tea and a line of poetry, even if it’s a little cliché?

That’s the person worth holding onto (preferably somewhere closer to sea level).

Final Thoughts: A Little Encouragement for Your Next Adventure

If you’re feeling stuck in a relationship or even with yourself, maybe it’s time to climb your own metaphorical El Gigante. It doesn’t have to be a literal cliff—thank goodness. But take a risk. Go somewhere new. Let yourself feel a little out of your depth, and see what surfaces. Whether it’s love or self-discovery, the view is always a little clearer from somewhere unexpected.

And, if you ever find yourself harnessed to a wall with granola crumbs for company, remember: You wanted the adventure. Now hold on tightly, trust your anchor, and don’t look down.