I Fell Off a Cliff

A Humbling Afternoon in Red River Gorge

A long weekend in Red River Gorge, a Via Ferrata course, and the moment I realized confidence and capability aren’t always the same thing.

Stephen J Cilento

25-May-2026 | 4 Minute Read

“I think I’m done.”

At the time, I was hanging off the side of a cliff.

A few seconds earlier, I had decided that I had rested enough and was ready to finish the section I was on. I pulled myself up, reached for the next handhold, and by the time I realized what had happened, I was already dangling from the safety lines attached to my harness, staring at the rock wall in front of me.

It had happened too fast to even be scared.

I looked up at the couple climbing behind me and did the only thing that felt appropriate: I started laughing.

They asked if I was okay while they began to anchor themselves into the cliff to wait for the rescue team to come help me. I assured them I was fine, but…

“I think I’m done.”

To be fair, we had all underestimated the course from the very beginning.

When Christina and I booked the Via Ferrata at Red River Gorge, I assumed it would be challenging—but manageable.

I had some experience with this kind of thing.

Back in my late teens, I used to teach C.O.P.E. courses at a Boy Scout camp. Low ropes. High ropes. Ziplines.

Later, my brother and I spent time free climbing and bouldering at Rock State Park in Maryland.

So, when I saw the Via Ferrata course online, my thought process was simple:

“It’s a bunch of ladders bolted into the side of a cliff. How hard can it be?”

Obviously… my thinking on this matter was a bit, flawed.

The course sat inside a horseshoe canyon and was broken into phases that increased in difficulty as you moved along.

You climbed using rebar steps, ladders, and handholds while clipped into steel safety cables anchored to the cliff face.

I was part of a large group. And since the option was given to start at section one or two, I chose two.

Sections two and three were challenging, but not overly difficult. Just enough to give me a little more confidence than I probably should have had.

By the end of phase three, my arms were already feeling it.

Fortunately, the course had exits after each section, so I climbed down to take a break. I met up with Christina, and we talked a bit about how much fun I was having. She was happy I was enjoying it.

I ate an apple, drank some water, and then headed back up to start phase four.

During orientation, the guides had warned us that phase four was one of the harder phases of the course. Particularly the first part, which was mostly an overhang and required a lot more strength than I expected.

They weren’t exaggerating. And I felt it early on.

It was steep. Physical. Constant movement.

I stopped several times to anchor myself to the safety cable, just to rest my arms.

By the time I neared the end, I was exhausted. My hands and arms were completely spent.

But I could see the finish.

Just two cable sections left.

So, I pushed through.

Well, at least that’s what I thought I was going to do.

I unclipped my anchor after my last resting point, reached for the next handhold…

…and suddenly I was hanging off the side of the cliff.

Instructions had been given not to try climbing back up if we fell. So, I waited.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that when I fell, I ended up behind a grove of trees and completely out of sight of the guides below.

Eventually, the couple behind me got their attention, and a rescue team started making their way up the wall.

I hung there for about 10 or 15 minutes before they reached me. As they climbed up, I couldn’t help myself and called out:

“Help! I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!”

Given where the phrase originally came from, probably not the best thing to say.

But it accomplished two things:
It let the rescue team know I was fine.
And it made the whole situation feel a little less like a rescue and a little more like:
“Let’s get you down so maybe you don’t do that again.”

Oddly enough, once the guides reached me, all those old ropes course instincts kicked back in.

I understood exactly what they were doing as they built anchors and worked through the rescue system.

At one point, as I was helping attach a carabiner to my harness, one of the guides looked at me and asked:

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Still dangling there, I laughed.

“Actually… I kinda have.”

Eventually, they got me secured and then helped me down off the course.

As I hiked back to the lodge, I could still feel the adrenaline, which stayed with me for a while after that.

My arms were completely smoked, and my hands were shaking.

But honestly?

I still had a huge smile on my face.

The funny thing is that the trip itself had been almost perfectly paced before that.

The first couple of days were filled with hiking trails, rock arches, waterfalls, dirt roads our car definitely wasn’t designed for, and drives through the Nada Tunnel—including one stop at a spring where we used our water bottles as a makeshift carwash so we could feel better about putting the top down.

It felt like exactly the kind of trip we needed.

A little adventure. A little time away. A lot of fresh air.