Taunting Fate (climbing the power pole)
Nov. 4th, 2009 06:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fruzicleI grip the bare, thirty foot tall telephone pole in a bear hug, my thighs gripped around it, my arms encircling it. I am roughly ten feet up the pole, probably, but I haven't looked. I don't want to know. I am completely focused on the task at hand: slithering up this weathered pole.
I reach my right hand up as far as it can reach and grasp a metal "staple." Next I stretch my left arm and grab the staple on my left. I then lift my left knee until I can place my foot on a staple that is at least knee high to the last one I was standing on. Then I laboriously push on my left foot, lifting my body another two feet, pulling all the while with my two arms, to hoist myself up another precious section of the pole. Whew! A little bit farther! But I'm not there yet. I look to the next staple...
I am at Astro Camp, chaperoning a horde of ten year olds. Forty four of them! These kids are here to learn about rocket science. They will blow up hydrogen and helium, point lasers and dance in front of infrared cameras, and launch bottle rockets one hundred feet in the air. They will swim underwater to learn about micro-gravity, and squirm inside an inflatable planetarium to learn about constellations.. They will make a mess at dinner, sniffle when they are homesick, and not sleep very much at night. But more than anything else, they are here at camp for the power pole. They have come to conquer the thirty foot challenge that is The Pole.
When we walked up to the power pole site, we had a preview of the thrills that were to come. From a hundred yards away we could see a student, dangling like a spider, or more likely a hanged criminal, suspended way above the ground. A taut rope seemed hooked to his neck. His legs and arms hung slack. What could possibly have possessed this kid to subject himself to this fate?
As we walked up, I privately told myself that this year I would do It. I hadn't confided to the kids that last year I had wimped out. They probably all thought that I was the woman of steel. Truth be told, climbing thirty feet up in the air on a spindly pole is not my idea of fun. I know, perhaps better than most, that being on top of those kinds of poles is actually much, much harder to do than you might think. Looking upon ten year old kids clambering up with effortless skill makes it look easy. But could I really do it??
I would try.
My hike up Half Dome two weeks ago brought home one very important lesson to me: take it one step at a time. When you really think something is going to be a bear, just do it one step at a time. Literally. Don't look around. Don't look ahead. And what ever you do, don't ever, ever look down.
Pre-climb, I bravely (foolishly?) stepped up to the harnesses to gear up. As directed by the instructor, I placed my feet one at a time into the cat's cradle of red webbing straps and pulled the harness up around my legs. Next, first one shoulder and then the other were slipped into the appropriate black straps. Observant guides carefully inspected every step of tightening and belting and strapping as our group of eight climbers prepared for the ultimate challenge. By the time we were done, we were trussed up like turkeys, our bodies criss-crossed with webs.
Finally ready, we got into position to climb, one by one. Little Sam was first. The belay rope was tied into a sort of noose and clipped into a carabiner attached to the back of his harness behind his neck. That rope stretched up and up forty feet to a pulley on a cable up above the pole. The other end, also called by sailors the bitter end, (interesting choice of words, don't you think?) came back down to our instructor, Liz.. There, the rope was expertly twisted through a harness which was designed to enable her to apply leverage to the rope, bringing it instantly to a stop. She held Sam's life within her gloved hands. Should she somehow faint dead away, that rope was also chained to the ground. We were all assured that "nothing could go wrong." Really?
I watched Sam. Tiny and lithe, and driven to be first at whatever he does, he easily spider-manned up the pole. At the very top, he hesitated.
"It's moving!" he called down to us. Concern was in his voice. Sure enough, the pole swayed slightly as Sam perched at the top. "Make it stop!"
Now this was interesting. Even good old Sam was pausing. "It's still moving!" he shouted, a tremor of worry animating his voice. One of the adults went to bear hug the pole. Would this even help?
I watched Sam and tried not to think about how scary it would be up there. Last year I knew I wouldn't, couldn't do it. This year I silently told myself, I'll try.... I'll try. ....I'll try.
Sam wiggled his little body up and onto the pole. Cautiously he pulled first one foot and then the other up and stood up. "It's awfully high up here," he let us know.
"Jump!" we shouted. "Go for it! Jump!"
And he did, reaching out to bat the orange tether ball suspended way up there to give the climber something to swat at.
Slowly Liz lowered him to the ground, one more body.
But by and by it was my turn. It had gotten darker and darker. No matter how much I had willed them to not have time for me, or light enough for me, they did.
And here I was half way up the pole. Again I repeated the steps. Right hand, left hand, left foot, pull. Set my right foot. Breathe heavily. Another two feet up.
Right hand, left hand, left foot, pull. Step. Two feet more. Breathe heavily. Breathe some more.
I clutched at that pole like a desperate lover. But I realized that there was no moving up unless I grabbed and heaved with my arms and pushed with my feet.
I did remember not to look down. The kids yelled and shouted as I worked my way up.
"Julie! Julie!"
"You go girl!"
And then their voices faded to distant messages. Inch by inch I moved up.
Finally I got to the top. I knew there was no choice but to clutch the disk at the top of the pole and heave myself up. I gingerly eased my butt onto the disk. And then I looked down.
Oh my God!
Far, far below me khaki colored dust speared by brittle sticks of straw promised a very distant and unforgiving welcoming should I plummet downwards. I knew instantly that I was not going to be standing up on that 12 inch platform of plywood so far above the hard, cold earth. I always say, "Know Thyself." And I knew that standing was not an option for this astronaut.
"I'm going to buttjump!" I shouted. Ok, decision made. Decision announced. Now to do it.
Do it? Am I crazy?? As firmly as I realized that I wasn't going to stand up there, I realized that I wasn't going to jump.
Trouble is, there really isn't any other way down. You HAVE to jump!
I took one more totally incredulous look, and pushed myself off.
"AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahhhHHHH!"
Immediately Liz had me safely belayed and I was hanging there, dangling like a dummy, way up high.
Instantly I felt safe. Relief washed over me. A huge silly grin spread across my face.
"You go girl!" My ten year old fans gave me a seriously rousing ovation.
And I thought, I can't believe I did that!
I still can't believe it!
I reach my right hand up as far as it can reach and grasp a metal "staple." Next I stretch my left arm and grab the staple on my left. I then lift my left knee until I can place my foot on a staple that is at least knee high to the last one I was standing on. Then I laboriously push on my left foot, lifting my body another two feet, pulling all the while with my two arms, to hoist myself up another precious section of the pole. Whew! A little bit farther! But I'm not there yet. I look to the next staple...
I am at Astro Camp, chaperoning a horde of ten year olds. Forty four of them! These kids are here to learn about rocket science. They will blow up hydrogen and helium, point lasers and dance in front of infrared cameras, and launch bottle rockets one hundred feet in the air. They will swim underwater to learn about micro-gravity, and squirm inside an inflatable planetarium to learn about constellations.. They will make a mess at dinner, sniffle when they are homesick, and not sleep very much at night. But more than anything else, they are here at camp for the power pole. They have come to conquer the thirty foot challenge that is The Pole.
When we walked up to the power pole site, we had a preview of the thrills that were to come. From a hundred yards away we could see a student, dangling like a spider, or more likely a hanged criminal, suspended way above the ground. A taut rope seemed hooked to his neck. His legs and arms hung slack. What could possibly have possessed this kid to subject himself to this fate?
As we walked up, I privately told myself that this year I would do It. I hadn't confided to the kids that last year I had wimped out. They probably all thought that I was the woman of steel. Truth be told, climbing thirty feet up in the air on a spindly pole is not my idea of fun. I know, perhaps better than most, that being on top of those kinds of poles is actually much, much harder to do than you might think. Looking upon ten year old kids clambering up with effortless skill makes it look easy. But could I really do it??
I would try.
My hike up Half Dome two weeks ago brought home one very important lesson to me: take it one step at a time. When you really think something is going to be a bear, just do it one step at a time. Literally. Don't look around. Don't look ahead. And what ever you do, don't ever, ever look down.
Pre-climb, I bravely (foolishly?) stepped up to the harnesses to gear up. As directed by the instructor, I placed my feet one at a time into the cat's cradle of red webbing straps and pulled the harness up around my legs. Next, first one shoulder and then the other were slipped into the appropriate black straps. Observant guides carefully inspected every step of tightening and belting and strapping as our group of eight climbers prepared for the ultimate challenge. By the time we were done, we were trussed up like turkeys, our bodies criss-crossed with webs.
Finally ready, we got into position to climb, one by one. Little Sam was first. The belay rope was tied into a sort of noose and clipped into a carabiner attached to the back of his harness behind his neck. That rope stretched up and up forty feet to a pulley on a cable up above the pole. The other end, also called by sailors the bitter end, (interesting choice of words, don't you think?) came back down to our instructor, Liz.. There, the rope was expertly twisted through a harness which was designed to enable her to apply leverage to the rope, bringing it instantly to a stop. She held Sam's life within her gloved hands. Should she somehow faint dead away, that rope was also chained to the ground. We were all assured that "nothing could go wrong." Really?
I watched Sam. Tiny and lithe, and driven to be first at whatever he does, he easily spider-manned up the pole. At the very top, he hesitated.
"It's moving!" he called down to us. Concern was in his voice. Sure enough, the pole swayed slightly as Sam perched at the top. "Make it stop!"
Now this was interesting. Even good old Sam was pausing. "It's still moving!" he shouted, a tremor of worry animating his voice. One of the adults went to bear hug the pole. Would this even help?
I watched Sam and tried not to think about how scary it would be up there. Last year I knew I wouldn't, couldn't do it. This year I silently told myself, I'll try.... I'll try. ....I'll try.
Sam wiggled his little body up and onto the pole. Cautiously he pulled first one foot and then the other up and stood up. "It's awfully high up here," he let us know.
"Jump!" we shouted. "Go for it! Jump!"
And he did, reaching out to bat the orange tether ball suspended way up there to give the climber something to swat at.
Slowly Liz lowered him to the ground, one more body.
But by and by it was my turn. It had gotten darker and darker. No matter how much I had willed them to not have time for me, or light enough for me, they did.
And here I was half way up the pole. Again I repeated the steps. Right hand, left hand, left foot, pull. Set my right foot. Breathe heavily. Another two feet up.
Right hand, left hand, left foot, pull. Step. Two feet more. Breathe heavily. Breathe some more.
I clutched at that pole like a desperate lover. But I realized that there was no moving up unless I grabbed and heaved with my arms and pushed with my feet.
I did remember not to look down. The kids yelled and shouted as I worked my way up.
"Julie! Julie!"
"You go girl!"
And then their voices faded to distant messages. Inch by inch I moved up.
Finally I got to the top. I knew there was no choice but to clutch the disk at the top of the pole and heave myself up. I gingerly eased my butt onto the disk. And then I looked down.
Oh my God!
Far, far below me khaki colored dust speared by brittle sticks of straw promised a very distant and unforgiving welcoming should I plummet downwards. I knew instantly that I was not going to be standing up on that 12 inch platform of plywood so far above the hard, cold earth. I always say, "Know Thyself." And I knew that standing was not an option for this astronaut.
"I'm going to buttjump!" I shouted. Ok, decision made. Decision announced. Now to do it.
Do it? Am I crazy?? As firmly as I realized that I wasn't going to stand up there, I realized that I wasn't going to jump.
Trouble is, there really isn't any other way down. You HAVE to jump!
I took one more totally incredulous look, and pushed myself off.
"AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahhhHHHH!"
Immediately Liz had me safely belayed and I was hanging there, dangling like a dummy, way up high.
Instantly I felt safe. Relief washed over me. A huge silly grin spread across my face.
"You go girl!" My ten year old fans gave me a seriously rousing ovation.
And I thought, I can't believe I did that!
I still can't believe it!
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no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 02:08 pm (UTC)Screaming helped!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-08 06:48 pm (UTC)oddly, I actually find most climing kinda boring.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-06 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-06 12:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-05 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-06 12:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-06 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-07 04:55 am (UTC)It's two days later and I'm STILL exhausted!!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-07 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-07 05:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-08 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-08 06:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-08 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-08 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 05:37 am (UTC)It really did help to be able to visualize it so well from having seen it before.
Thanks for reading again.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-09 01:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 12:35 am (UTC)Thanks for reading.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-09 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 05:29 am (UTC)I always enjoy your cartoons!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-10 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 12:37 am (UTC)But jumping off that pole was seriously difficult! I just had to take the leap!
no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-10 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-11 05:24 am (UTC)