Mismatch somehow

I've always liked climbing on things (Right knee registers a dissenting opinion), but never liked heights. A very early memory is of happily clambering partway up a slide and then realizing "Oh crud." (FWIW airplane travel doesn't bother me, and it doesn't matter much whether it is me or someone dear to me near the edge. Or near the foreshortened slope.)

I'm not sure how to square that circle.

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Devil's Lake is a beautiful park, even with ominous clouds heading over the bluffs in your direction. We figured that it was going to be super-crowded and so parked at Steinke Basin and took a long access road into the park, which brought us in at the top of the bluff without having to climb or fight traffic. I'm starting to get better at tunnel vision, though that defeats the purpose of taking the bluff trails. (When I walk and stare at something off to one side, I drift.)

When we got to the Devil's Doorway trail we rested and watched our guests, teens, families with little kids, and a one-eyed lady with a cane climb down to see the Devil's Doorway. Felt a little silly.

Further along the path, a Spanish family said someone had fallen. None of us was trained or equipped, so we stayed away to give the pros room, and about 20 minutes later a couple of fire rescue vehicles appeared, and some time later an ambulance showed up at Steinke--it couldn't navigate the paths and waited for the call that the others were bringing the patient. We didn't learn any details, but fallers are usually the cliff-climbers, not the average path-walkers.