At the foot of the tower

From the courtyard, the scaffold around the clock tower had looked like a tidy pencil grid. I had even told the others that heights had never troubled me. Directly beneath it, however, the highest platform seemed alarmingly exposed against the sky, and my joke about the view emerged as a dry whisper. Mara checked my harness twice, then asked me to test each clip myself. Her unhurried care made the climb feel controlled rather than foolish. I still avoided looking towards the clock face. Instead, as she opened the gate, I fixed my attention on the first three rungs.

In your own words, explain the writer's thoughts and feelings before climbing the scaffolding.