scared stiff

Fear is a natural human reaction, even a healthy one. I experience fear in different situations and on different levels. It keeps me on my toes. There is one particular climb I do at Devils Lake that just scares me spitless. I have climbed it 4 or 5 times, but about half-way up I am scared I'm going to fall. I haven't yet, and I know if I do, the equipment and my belay partner will keep me safe. They have on other routes where the rock has evicted me. But that one route just scares me. I am not experiencing terror, but it is fear on a certain level. I can't explain it.
When I was about 11 or 12 I developed an interest in snakes. I borrowed books from the school library and read about snakes and how to identify them. I knew there were only a couple of kinds of snakes where we lived that were venomous. If I was careful I could look for them. We were living in central Illinois, near a wooded area and the south fork of the Sangamon River. It was a perfect place to find snakes and other critters. One fine summer day I remember walking along the road to the bridge so I could cross over to the other side of the river. As I neared the bridge I noticed a snake off in the grass. I got a little closer to try to identify it but I could not tell what kind of snake it was. I couldn't see it's head or it's tail and it looked like a lot of snake. It was kind of knotted up and could have even been more that one snake. It looked muscular; it looked deadly. As I tried to get closer, I couldn't move. I was so scared, I was shaking. I could not move closer. I couldn't see the snakes head or tail, couldn't tell what kind of snake it was, couldn't really tell how long it was. I felt that if I moved any closer, it would bite me and I would die. I was terrified. I could see it moving, not much, maybe just breathing, but it was alive. I got out of there. A few days later I went back to see if I could find it but this time I was taking a long stick. I thought that if I could sneak up on it, I could use the stick to flick it up on the road to get a better look at it. When I got there, it was in the same place. It was knotted up it the grass and I still couldn't see head or tail and it looked just as big. As I approached with my stick I felt the same terror as before. Even with the stick, I couldn't move any closer. I was so afraid that as soon as I touched it, it would strike, that it's reaction would be instant and that it would not miss. I knew that I would die on the side of the road.
Over the next few days, it bothered me that I could not make myself flick that snake up on the road, I had to give it one more try. I had a terrible fascination with that snake and could not give up. I had to go back one more time, and I did go back. As I reached out with that stick I began shaking, I felt raw terror. I couldn't do it and never tried again. Now, my memory is not the best, but as I think back over the years and of the things that have scared me, I can't remember anything that has ever scared me as much as that snake.