I’ve done a lot of crazy things in my life, but nothing quite compares to the sheer terror I felt during my brief (and regrettable) attempt at cliff camping. What was supposed to be an exciting and “unique” way to experience nature turned into an absolute nightmare—one that left me questioning every decision that led me there. If you’re considering cliff camping, I strongly urge you to keep reading. My experience might just save you from making the same horrifying mistake.
The Idea That Seemed Like a Good One
It all started when I came across the concept of cliff camping while scrolling through social media. There were pictures of people hanging in tiny, precariously balanced tents, perched on the edges of cliffs with sweeping vistas behind them. It looked incredible—breathtaking, even. I imagined myself waking up to a beautiful sunrise, hanging off the side of a cliff, feeling one with nature in the most extreme way possible. It seemed like the perfect way to break out of the usual hiking and camping routine.
I did my research and prepared my gear, or so I thought. I packed the lightest, most durable equipment I could find—ropes, carabiners, a specialized cliff camping tent, and plenty of other gear designed for safety. But the reality of cliff camping would be nothing like the pictures I had seen, and nothing could have prepared me for how utterly terrifying and miserable the experience would be.
The Terrifying Realization: This Was a Bad Idea
The first moment I truly felt the weight of the mistake I’d made came when I was rappelling down the cliff to set up camp. I was a seasoned climber, so I wasn’t completely new to heights or ropes. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for the anxiety of hanging there, hundreds of feet above the ground, watching the drop beneath me and thinking, “I could die today.”
As I slowly descended, my heart began to race. I’d done rock climbing before, but this was different. This was not just climbing; this was suspending my life on the side of a cliff, relying on a few pieces of gear that—though designed for safety—still felt entirely inadequate. The sheer vulnerability hit me like a wave. Every slight movement, every gust of wind, made my stomach flip.
When I finally reached my “camping spot,” the fear didn’t let up. It only got worse. I set up my tent, which was smaller than I anticipated and felt like a flimsy sheet of fabric hanging on the side of a rock. There was no shelter from the wind, no real protection from the elements, just a constant awareness that I was hanging in mid-air. It was like trying to sleep in a hammock—if the hammock were attached to a cliff, and the ground was an impossible distance away. My head was racing the entire time, and the fear of falling never left. I couldn’t relax.
The Worst Part: The Fear of Falling
I had always been terrified of heights, but I never realized how deeply that fear would affect me in a situation like this. It wasn’t just that I was high off the ground—it was the constant feeling of being on the edge of something. I couldn’t shake the image of myself plummeting down, no matter how safe I tried to convince myself I was.
Every time the wind picked up, or I shifted in my tent, or even when I heard a rock fall somewhere in the distance, my mind would spiral. I kept imagining myself slipping, losing grip on the rock, or even the tent failing. It was a constant, gnawing fear that I couldn’t escape. I kept looking down, which only made it worse. The drop felt endless, and each second I spent suspended in the air only amplified that gut-wrenching sensation.
The Isolation and the Struggle to Stay Calm
The isolation was another thing that haunted me. Out there on the cliff, I was utterly alone. There were no other campers around. No one to talk to, no one to reassure me if my panic started to get the better of me. It was just me and the cliff—and that horrifying feeling of being completely exposed. The idea that if something went wrong, I’d be stuck out there alone, with no immediate help, sent my anxiety into overdrive.
At one point, I considered packing up and just climbing back up. But it was too late—I had already descended too far. The only way out was to ride it out until morning, praying I would make it through the night. The thought of falling was constantly in the back of my mind, but what scared me just as much was how I was feeling emotionally. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t relax. I felt completely and utterly unsafe. Every minute spent in that tent was a battle against the panic rising in my chest.
The Night I Will Never Forget
The real test came at night. Trying to sleep when every fiber of your being is screaming at you that you’re in an incredibly dangerous situation is almost impossible. I tried closing my eyes, but every time I did, I imagined myself losing my grip and tumbling down. I would drift in and out of a fitful half-sleep, only to jerk awake with a start, heart racing, the sounds of the wilderness around me making everything worse. The rocks, the wind, the occasional movement of my tent—all these things kept me in a constant state of alertness, making it feel like the longest night of my life.
When dawn finally broke, I couldn’t get out of that spot fast enough. As I packed up and rappelled back up the cliff to safety, I realized how close I had come to my breaking point. I knew, deep down, that I would never attempt cliff camping again. The fear, the discomfort, the constant anxiety—it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth the view, it wasn’t worth the challenge, and it certainly wasn’t worth risking my life for.
The Aftermath: Why Cliff Camping Is a Terrible Idea
Looking back, I can’t help but feel like cliff camping is one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made. It’s a hollow, reckless attempt at “adventure” that ends up being a test of how much fear and discomfort you can tolerate. There’s no beauty in being that far off the ground. There’s no thrill in wondering if your tent will hold up or if the wind will send you plummeting to your death.
Sure, some people might look at those pictures of people dangling from cliffs and think, “That’s amazing!” But for me, it wasn’t amazing—it was a nightmare. If you’re considering cliff camping, take it from someone who’s been there: it’s not worth the fear, the anxiety, or the risk. Stick to safer, more grounded adventures. The heights may look beautiful in photos, but when you’re up there, all you’ll feel is terror.
And trust me, you don’t need that kind of terror in your life.