Zipping Through Morning

Day 287: I'm not fibbing. Going zip-lining may have been in the back of my mind, but it was not an idea I was seriously entertaining when I left home this morning. I had two free passes to Northwest Trek, and when I couldn't locate a potential cohort, I decided to go alone. Now bear in mind that I'd read up on the zip-line adventures NW Trek offers, and although I hadn't seen the course layouts, I was afraid I might lack the upper body strength to complete any but the very basic "kiddie" version. I couldn't see that being much of a thrill, not for an old climber like Your Humble Narrator, no sir.

As I drove to Trek, the mental gears began to grind. What harm could there be in asking about difficulty? The gal in the admissions booth encouraged me to talk to staff at the zip-line center. They in turn assured me that the Discovery course was within my physical capabilities. The next thing I knew, I'd forked over the fee and was getting harnessed up.

There were about ten people in my group. We received some basic instruction and then were told we'd be expected to go through a qualifying course before being turned loose on the real thing. "If you make two mistakes, you'll be disqualified from the team," we were told. As we lined up, I sensed a uniform reluctance at my back, so I said, "Well, I might as well be the first one to make a fool of myself." I clipped into the first safeties and scrambled up a ladder, over a slatted suspension bridge and whizzed down a short zip-line. Passed with flying colours!

Advancing to the real course, I conquered a "climbing wall" quickly, bounced over a longer suspension bridge slung between the trees (suspension bridges are old-hat for this Parkie) and called out, "Clear!" Then I crossed a 4-inch wide plank bridge to the next platform and called out, "Clear!" again. The course instructor advised me that I didn't need to give the "Clear!" signal unless there was someone waiting behind me. Oh, nope...nobody back there. Halfway through the course, I realized no one was anywhere near me. I was way ahead.

All in all, I passed over or through at least ten "obstacles" such as plank bridges, cargo nets, hammocks, slat bridges, loose loops of rope, and a single "tight-rope" cable in addition to three short zip-lines (the longest about 250 feet). Unfortunately, I was not allowed to carry my camera, so I went back and got these pictures from the ground. I'm almost tempted to buy a GoPro (permitted) because I'd like take on the more challenging courses.

Tahoma Creek Suspension Bridge

Makeup Day 7: The Tahoma Creek suspension bridge often stops hikers in their tracks for a few minutes (sometimes longer) until they can come to grips with the fact that they're not going to get from Over Here to Over There without crossing it. It is one of two "build-your-own-bridge" kits in the Park, the other spanning Carbon River in the northwest corner. Both are substantial (pun intended) improvements on the former wood-and-wire contraptions, but nevertheless, I have seen a range of people from little old ladies to strong men go down on their knees to edge across either on more than one occasion. The braver individuals still tend to grip the wire handrails tightly, and set a nervous, hesitating pace which causes the structure to bounce more radically than it does when taken at a normal stride. I'm a veteran. I hold my trekking poles vertically in one hand so they won't catch a cable and run the other hand lightly along the top wire as I stride across. About mid-way, I do a catch-step to break the oscillation as it transfers to the descending portion of the planking. And then, if I happen to have a companion, I stand at the far end and offer words of encouragement, which is to say I berate them for being one of the world's biggest chickens, bruk-bruk-bruk.

These kit structures are so solidly built that they do not need to be let down on one side during the winter to ease the weight of snow build-up. Not so the old bridges! I remember coming upon this particular crossing in late October or early November one year with my sights set on Indian Henrys, only to find that the right-side cables had been relaxed and the planks were hanging at a 45-degree angle over the canyon. I was not in a mood to be denied the remainder of my hike, so by holding onto the cables still tautly strung and placing my feet carefully on the top ends of the planks, I worked my way across, the weight of my pack causing me to tip backwards even farther than the angle of the boards. I didn't know about Donkey then, or I'd have said, "I'm lookin' down, Shrek! I'm lookin' down!" Still, I did the deed (alone, mind you, with no one to tell me how foolish it was), and of course had to repeat the adventure on the return to the trailhead. Given this history, I hope my readers won't fault me for making fun of those who this newer, sturdy, substantial bridge intimidates. After all, I'm still here to tell the tale.