Experience camping on the edge of a cliff in Estes Park, Colorado

It takes a special kind of adventurer to scale a cliffside, rappel down to a portaledge (a tiny nylon cot) and sleep suspended on the side of a mountain.

Today, that adventurer is me, along with my sister and our guide. I must admit, despite my love for extreme sports, this one has me second-guessing.

This is cliff camping – an incredible experience for those brave enough, but definitely not for the faint of heart.

For seasoned big-wall climbers, it’s a well-established practice. When the climb is too tall or tough to finish in one day, they camp right on the cliff face itself.

Daredevils like Harry Kent, the owner of Kent Mountain Adventure Center in Estes Park, Colorado, aren't phased by extreme challenges. He's been climbing around the globe for 45 years.

'Climbing for me is as routine as brushing my teeth,' Kent says. 'It’s just a natural part of my life.'

With his passion for climbing, it's no surprise that in July 2014, his company became the first in the U.S. to offer inexperienced climbers the chance to try cliff camping – something that typically requires five to ten years of experience.

Travel Guide: Skiing in Colorado

The challenges: Bathroom breaks and other unexpected moments

First things first: How does one actually get to the portaledge?

Very carefully – and with a lot of preparation.

On a bright June day, we begin with an essential item: food. We pack veggie-packed hummus wraps for lunch, quinoa and cheesecake for dinner, plus fruit, water, snack bars, and eggs. One thing's certain – we won't go hungry.

Next, we receive a brief orientation and embark on a 30-minute hike to base camp. By 11 a.m., we arrive, and our fearless guide, T.J. Sanford, heads off to prepare our cliffside cots.

He ascends to the summit to set up the anchors, rappels back down, climbs up again, and uses a pulley system to bring up the gear. Then, just before we rappel down to our cots, he assembles the portaledges.

We could have participated more in the setup, but as beginners, we had enough to focus on.

In fact, there are so many unknowns: For one, how will it feel to sit on a tiny platform 300 feet in the air? Will we even be able to sleep when the time comes?

And then, there’s the question of bathroom breaks. (We later learn it involves a GoGirl device and a bit of a balancing act.)

10 record-breaking natural wonders in the United States

'It just seems intimidating,'

Before long, it’s time to go. Climbing over boulders and passing through the evergreens is simply enjoyable. As the rock face becomes steeper, we rope up and continue upwards. In less than an hour, we reach the summit, and it’s time to rappel down to our resting spot for the night.

As I rappel down, I'm fully in my element: a peregrine falcon occasionally squawks, and the stream below hums gently. The calming effect of nature washes over me. Everything feels right.

That is, until I glance down.

My objective is to land directly on the ledge and attach myself to a different rope. This part is tricky, as the ledge swings and shifts unpredictably. It’s not as solid as I’d hoped.

I keep reminding myself of something Sanford said earlier: 'You're always anchored and backed up. Redundancy is key, and you're connected to two separate systems. It’s safer than riding in a car. It just feels scary because you’re outside your comfort zone.'

Even so, when I finally land on the ledge, I remain still for a solid 20 minutes. Sanford and my sister are still at the top. I’m completely frozen. There’s no barrier on the ledge to prevent me from falling off, but I’m securely roped in, so I can't move far.

After my sister finally reaches the ledge, it takes another 30 minutes before we feel comfortable enough to look over the edge, and another half hour passes before we remove our helmets. We manage it fairly well, but I imagine not everyone would.

'I once had a client freeze up while we were rappelling down to the ledge,' Sanford recalls. 'Having someone dangling between my legs with their legs straight out made for a very challenging, personal rappel.'

17 life-changing trips

Rewarding views that require effort to experience

Once I find my footing, I finally take in the breathtaking surroundings – the neon-green lichen on the cliff face, the towering Longs Peak at 14,259 feet, the stunning Jurassic Park domes, and the Mummy Range.

With its breathtaking beauty and diverse landscapes, it's easy to understand why people flock here. Adrenaline-fueled activities like mountain biking, ice climbing, and river rafting abound. Plus, Rocky Mountain National Park offers year-round chances to spot elk, bighorn sheep, and deer.

As we devour dinner, delivered in a basket (Sanford’s portaledge is about 15 feet above ours), we’re still buzzing from the whole experience. The sun is setting, we’re taking in views that few ever get to witness, and we can’t stop grinning.

But it gets even better. A hummingbird flutters right in front of us, hovering at eye level, its wings beating 50 times per second. Sanford sees this regularly, but for us, it’s like something out of a fairytale. Even more amazing, he shares that this season, he’s witnessed baby peregrine falcons learning to fly.

'I had some incredible close encounters with the parent birds,' Sanford says. 'They swooped and screeched at me as I moved my gear. Nothing compares to watching the young ones gliding through the air and playfully sparring with each other.'

Why Mount Everest remains the ultimate climb they can’t resist

To sleep, or not to sleep?

Once I settle into my new sleeping arrangement, I start to relax. We had already planned that I’d sleep (or spend the night staring at the top of the tent) on the edge, while my sister would take the side near the wall. Surprisingly, it feels quite snug.

'I’ve never had anyone fall off the ledge,' Sanford notes. 'I’ve heard tales of climbers, usually couples, getting too rowdy and causing the ledge to flip, but I’ve never seen anyone simply roll off. If you were to fall asleep and roll off, you’d only drop a few feet before the tether would catch you.'

Still, the thought crosses my mind every time my sister shifts.

Luckily, I stay firmly tucked into my sleeping bag throughout the night. As the winds pick up, we pull the tent flaps down, turning it into a cozy little fort, suspended high above the treetops.

By morning, we’re greeted by a stunning sunrise, veggie omelets (cooked with care on a Jet Boil stove dangling from the cliff), and a visit from the mama falcon. She’s in full protective mode, so we brace for her to attack the drone capturing our adventure. She swoops dangerously close to the buzzing device but surprisingly leaves it unscathed.

Before long, we realize the hardest part is yet to come: getting down. After spending the whole day either seated or napping on the cot, we now have to stand on the unstable platform and rappel back to the ground.

I cautiously rise. The cot wobbles, and I nearly lose my balance. With little elegance, I lean back and start the hopping motion that is rappelling.

Sanford reminds us that feeling fear is entirely natural.

'Being afraid of heights simply means your brain is functioning properly,' he explains. 'As humans, we're not meant to feel comfortable dangling from steep cliffs.'

Once we're back on solid ground, we can't stop grinning, all day long.

Months later, I’m still sharing my gravity-defying adventure with anyone who will listen. Without a doubt, it’s one of the most fulfilling experiences I’ve ever had. Now, my friends introduce me with: 'This is Sarah. She does wild things like spending the night hanging off a cliff.'

Yep, that’s me. And I would gladly do it again, over and over.

7 amazing spots to encounter wildlife across the United States

Planning your trip

The most visited national parks in America are...