For some reason, I joined a group of guys who were planning to rapel down a 100 foot cliff when there were perfectly decent trails leading to the base. There I was, with some people I had only known a short time who kept repeating, "Trust us. It's easy!" Right. I just wanted to know who was going to catch me if I fell.
So it was me, this huge rock face and a 150 foot rope. I put on the harness. I gripped the rope so tightly, my knuckles started to turn white. I decided to ease my way down the cliff, letting the guys fly down in a couple of leaps and bounds if they wanted to.
Back then, my hair was long and hung loosely around me. After about ten or fifteen feet, it became entangled in the rope. Great, I thought, here I am hanging halfway down a cliff by my hair! I started to panic. I didn't know I knew so many four letter words. I had to climb back up the cliff to extract some of my hair. Some is probably still in the rope.
My hair was caught twice more before I once again touched the surface of the earth. My friends, who had done this before, rapelled in about two minutes. I took twenty. I can say now that I have rapelled, but I think maybe once is enough.(I did actually go rock climbing a few weeks later as seen in the photos. Somehow going up was not as bad as down!)