Hike of Doom.

[ebbomega]

Car pulls up, and Jerry, Dave and I all step out of the vehicle parked
into the Youbou pub next to the creek.

Grab our light packs, proceed with the trek at a moderate syavitz
(always guauge your pace based on the ninja noises you make), jumping
rock to rock, getting a decent solid walking pace along terrain that
isn't made for walking. I lag behind a little bit off the bat.

On the most part, early on, the hike is just a reminder of two things.
One, that it's been winter and I'm out of shape. Two, keep moving
forward and you won't have time to fall.

Of course, that's a lot easier said than done. By about the quarter
point I'm already using my hands more than I should. Apprehension
about the fact... hey dave... you can hurt yourself here.... it seeps
in.

I used to have a massive fear of heights. Then I took up Rock
Climbing... I figured.... noncompetitive sports! Sure Rugby rewards
from time to time, but on the most part I found it relatively mindless
(eh, competitive sports teach us so little). For the longest time I'd
freeze up badly on the wall, especially near the top. I was a pretty
wimpy kid, so the cries of "I can't make it" were well heard from my
lips earlier on. Then one day we went rappelling on a 160' high
railway tressle, with jagged rocks and rushing water below, not to
mention a bajillion crossbeams to hit your head on on the way down.

So I'm rappelling, about 100' up, and I look down on my beaner
(locking device that keeps you attached to the rope), and not only has
the rope been rubbing up against the locking device so that it was
unlocked, but it was pressing in against the beaner's hinge, making it
so the beaner was actually open. So the rope is about 2 inches from
slipping and me no longer being the jived up raver you see today and
instead a statistic impales on a rock or two. I look at the beaner.
Think for a second, "That's kinda dangerous, huh?" and lock myself off
(wrapping the rope around my leg a couple times to keep the descending
device from descending) and move the rope so it was actually inside
the biner, lock the biner, and finish the rappel until I'm on the ground.
Ever since then my major fear of heights has been shaked. I asked my
first year psych prof about this in first year and his answer was that
because I dealt with it my confidence in the situation had been
raised, thus removing the panic level.

Now, I'm out of practice. I hadn't done the Hike of Doom in very
nearly a year now. I've done a couple forest missions with Jerry and
Dave through the winter, but never much of such exhileration as the
Hike of Doom. As such, my panic factor is a little bit higher than
normal.

So I keep telling myself excuses for going on, and continue up the
hike. Let music cycle through my head whilst I go up. Note to self,
though: While you do love Fischerspooner, the song in your head whilst
performing rock climbs should probably not be a song that just cycles
the words "Just let go... Let it go!" over and over again. We scale a
tree to jump to a cliff, jump across a slight gorge and by the end of
it we're doing full-faced rock climbs.

I get to the base of the big waterfall climb, Dave gives me a heads up
on a foothold, saying "I always slip my foot there." I head up the
wall, giving good attention to my handholds. I get to a point where
three of my four appendages are within a one-foot radius of each
other, and I have to lift the fourth... Just as I hop up, my right
(upper) foot gives way and I find myself perched up against my arms. I
slide my leg up to get it on the ledge, and end up levering it against
my thigh and knee (Bad Dave. You're not as flexible as you were in
high school). I get up to the top. Dave looks at me with one of those
no-words-necessary "You ok?"s. "My footing slipped," I say.

The worst of it is pretty much over here. Now it's just a few more
rocks, and I take a bit of a higher and longer way around, which ends
up in a horizontal rock-traverse that I eventually manage to jump
across from, and we sit down in the sun on the rocks next to the Pools
of Doom.

Nobody really thinks about jumping in the Pools at this time of year.
Christ, they're polar-bear swims enough in August, let alone the end
of February. We sit down, I crack open the daypack and bring out the
little candies Rhonda (Dave & Jerry's mom) let us gack before we went
out ("For when we get to the top," Dave said). Jerry pulls out the
plastic bong and begins to load a bowl.

First bowl, we all smoke. Then Dave plays the "I'm good" card and me
and Jerry keep seshing, munching, and chilling out in the presence of
the sun, enjoying the forest around us and its ability to just exist
of its own volition. Hippie moments, I guess. Nature always provides
the trippiest visuals.

Then we start headed back down.

If ever there was a rite of passage that quantifies Duncan for me,
it's this one: Take a man up a mountain, get him stoned, then head
back down. This is how Sabbah's Hashishim did it, wasn't it? Well, on
the hike back down, the fear factor triplicated because, hey....
You're stoned now. And the song is even moreso stuck in your head now.
Now you're going _down_ and telling yourself "Just let go".

Do well for the first bit. Then I start walking down a slanted log,
and my hesitation catches up with me, my feet slide out, I land on my
tailbone and slide right off the log. Instincts pop in: "You're on a
log with branches, Dave." I grab the notch next to my head, slide
down, extend arm, and let go of the tree just in time to let the feet
land on the ground.

Go Team Venture!

First major fuckup, rest of the hike is a breeze. A couple seconds
later, I catch up and end up taking the lead down for a little bit.
Dave and Jerry have a lot more experience with this hike (they used to
live right next door to it) however, so they tend to lead the most of
the way down. But I hold my own. Playing the language of the river at
this point (to not sound too much like a hippeh).... a controlled fall is
all you need direct yourself down, and let the trees take care of the
rest. We get back down to the bottom, have
a little bit more candy, head back to Dave and Jerry's to grab some
post-hike food.

Silliness,
Dave "I think this is why I'm still stuck on the island right now" Leckie

[mojo]

i wanted to go for a hike today. it was perfect weather.

[Goat]

You're a bigger man then I am, getting ripped on a mountain where complex knots are required to get down.

[ebbomega]

Like I said, free climbs, so no knots.

Dave and Jerry's parents are the ones who taught me how to tie most of the knots I know, mind you...

Rhonda is hilarious. On the way out she was saying "I'd tell you guys to be careful, but that'd kill the whole point."