Cliff camping in Colorado: postcards from the ledge

I am hanging from a cliff, 150 metres above the ground, in the middle of the night, with nothing to occupy my thoughts but pitch-black air, bare rock walls and a dose of vertigo strong enough to cow a harpy eagle. I should be sleeping; I’ve been trying for hours. But six billion years of evolutionary common sense is keeping my pupils dilated to a steady panic. Some fears, I realise in sudden horrific clarity, are too primal to be conquered. They must be endured.

This is cliff camping: a new extreme activity offered by Colorado operator Kent Mountain Adventure Centre, which pioneered the idea last year with biker-broadcaster Charley Boorman for his TV series USA Adventure. The overnight tour, on the outskirts of the Rocky Mountain national park – which is celebrating its 100th anniversary in January – puts vertical virgins in the hands of experienced climbing guides for a night on a professional mountain portaledge that is guaranteed to provide dinner table tales for years to come.

Just visiting the Rockies is an adventure in itself: the national park is 415 square miles of jagged snow-capped peaks, Alpine lakes and glacier valleys filled with black bears, coyotes and moose. America’s raw beauty and untamed natural spirit is well represented here. There’s horse riding, snowshoeing, 300 miles of hiking trails and the headwater of the mighty Colorado river. But of all the ways to enjoy this iconic wilderness, cliff camping must be the most extreme and is definitely not for the faint-hearted.

“We haven’t watered it down in any way,” my guide, Buster Jesik, said as we readied our equipment for the day. “It’s intense.” He should know. Fresh back from notoriously difficult ascents of El Capitan and Mount McKinley, twentysomething Jesik is to climbing what James Bond is to the dry martini. He makes it look good.

Portaledges, he explained, are used by mountaineers to sleep on during vertical wall ascents that would take more than a single day to complete. Similar to a portable camp bed, they are hauled up on ropes behind the climbers and then anchored to the cliff at night using a variety of gravity-defying gadgetry. But this makes it sound straightforward. Imagine instead a nylon cot, with less space for sleeping than a church pew, and no sides, suspended at head-spinning heights by nothing more than rope, bolts and a fatalistic sense of optimism.

“It always surprises me how nervous people get up there,” Buster said, eyeing me without a hint of sarcasm.

Our day began with basic safety instruction and practice ascending fixed lines (the easiest route to the portaledge, and no climbing experience required) before the mystery of midnight portaledge pee protocol was revealed: an empty bottle for Monsieur and a funnel like contraption called a she-pee for Madame. Anything more than that? Just don’t go.

After that we were off, hiking through steep pine forests to the base of the cliff: sharp granite peaks glowing in early amber light around us, chipmunks scurrying overhead, a herd of elk lazing in the shade. But as Buster set up the portaledge high on the cliff above, dark clouds blew in overhead, bringing hail, high winds and drums of thunder that ricocheted around the valley. When I was finally able to follow him up – pulling myself to the top of the 50-metre vertical ascent as the sun set in a golden arc beneath the rain – a flash of lightning exploded suddenly by our side.

“Move fast,” I heard him shout above the storm, his eyes flaring against a vortex of dark cloud. We descended shaking and wet, my mouth swearing uncontrollably. We were going to wait out the storm, Baxter explained, then scramble up the mountain and abseil down to the ledge. In the dark.

“It’s good to get scared sometimes,” he said, smile now fully returned. “It stretches the limits of who you are.”

An hour later, those limits had been stretched to breaking point. By the light of head torches, in the middle of bear country, we fought our way through a steep, scrubby gully, Buster tying us together so if one should slip the other would arrest the fall. We jumped crevasses, clung to dark precipices and felt the weight of air snapping like hungry mouths at our feet. At the summit – the orange lights of Estes Park, the Rockies’ biggest town, flickering like candles far below – we traversed to an exposed pinnacle, set an anchor around a large boulder, and lowered ourselves into the abyss of night, walking backwards down the cliff to reach our hanging bed.

Later, as I lay still, fighting vertigo, watching stars, sensing the pull of empty space like hands spinning me backwards into the night, I remembered something Buster had said. “Your mind will tell you shouldn’t be there,” he had warned. “The secret is controlling it.” I’m not sure I did: adrenalin kept me awake all night – I didn’t get a wink of sleep.

Dawn rose over the valley, flooding colour into treetops and the shadows of the Rocky mountains. With the light of the new day, my courage began to return, too. I felt like I was peering at the view from beyond the realms of our normal world, sharing a perspective only a handful will ever see.

Hundreds of feet beneath us, people were getting in their cars, switching on their TVs, going to work. That life, my ordinary everyday existence, seemed so safe and contained now. Perhaps that’s the point. Some fears may never be conquered, but they can be transformed into new possibilities.

Back on the ground, I kissed the dirt, looked up and promised myself I’d be back one day.

• Cliff camping is offered exclusively by Kent Mountain Adventure Centre (+1 970 586 5990, ) in Estes Park, Colorado. An overnight trip costs from $600pp, based on three people participating, and includes two experienced mountain guides, all equipment, transfers, dinner and breakfast. A daytime-only climb with lunch costs $300pp

More Rockies highlights

Road trip
The snaking 48-mile Trail Ridge Road is America’s highest paved road, topping out at 4,373 metres. Take an extreme drive and witness a high-alpine landscape few people ever see.

Scary stay
The Stanley Hotel on the edge of the park was inspiration for Stephen King’s cult chiller The Shining, 25 years old next year. It has doubles from $250.

Camping
To have the wilderness to yourself, camp in one of the park’s backcountry sites. Locations include Summerland Park for autumn colour, and Rabbit Ears for wildlife.

Winter fun
Enjoy the Rockies without the crowds once the snow starts to fall. Cross-country skiing, snowshoeing and sledging are available throughout the park, with free ranger-led instructional programmes in winter, too.