[x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/1″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_text]Craning my neck, I stare at where I’m about to go. Double check my knot. Confirm the harness is double-backed. Reapply chap stick. Take one last look. There’s nothing left to do but begin.
The route isn’t particularly high or difficult, but it’s still the most exposed climbing I’ve ever done. As with most things in life, it feels great when in action. Terrifying when my monkey brain takes over, when the chatter of fear and failure sneaks in. I hum quietly to distract myself. Gain height, remove gear. Round the edge, feel stuck and doomed to fail. Find a handhold, feel confident and capable.
Reaching the top I can’t help but grin. Give Daniel an excited high five and turn to take in the view. A kaleidoscope of color for as far as the eye can see. Rolling hills full of the most vibrant greens, oranges and reds. Acre upon acre of forest standing at the very precipice of change. Making one last showing before giving into winter, dropping it’s foliage and settling in to the barren cold.
Backing over the edge, I take a breath. Force myself to trust in the outcome and begin the rappel. Halfway down, I hang into the abyss created by the overhanging rock. Excite in the newfound feeling of zipping through the open air. Feet back on the ground, I unhook. Call up to Daniel and await his descent.
Looking around, we pick another route. And another. Watch from the rock as the sun falls behind the hills. Begin the hike down in the last moments of daylight. Reach the car as dark settles in.
Arriving at the house, Big Mama and Baylor greet us excitedly. Happy from a day exploring the farm and snoozing on the couch, they run around the yard tails wagging enthusiastically. Motivated by food, they follow closely willing it to be dinner time.
Dogs fed, we take stock of supplies. Onion, potatoes, corn, shrimp, beer and seasoning assembled, Daniel has dinner on lockdown. Pulling out the mini speaker, scrolling through my playlists, I have the evening tunes handled.
At the sound of a truck door shutting, Baylor and Big Mama run outside to greet Paz.
Hey dogs, how you doin’ dogs?
The list of people I’d easily trust to watch Baylor is short, but Paz is already at the top. He loves dogs through and through, has a kind heart, a gentle and reliable nature. Dogs know good people and Paz is adored by all the dogs. That’s everything I need to know to trust him.
Eyes big, I watch as the seafood boil is piled right on the newspaper covered table. I’ve never experienced this, but love it already. Cheeks sore from giggling at the stories from these longtime friends, back warm from the toasty fire, belly full from a delicious home cooked meal, I can hardly believe my good fortune. Scanning the room, I smile, silently give thanks for the opportunity to be a part of this.
Standing in the shop, I step closer as Daniel opens the bag, unfurls foot upon foot of black and green nylon. Do my best to learn what I can about packing a parachute, gain as much skydiving knowledge as possible. Despite the moments of unease felt less than a hundred feet off the ground climbing, I’m still overcome with excitement about riding into the sky and jumping into the void. Unable to really imagine the sensation, I simply must experience it. Questions asked, the flight-obsessed wheels start turning, the skydive scheming begins.
Heading back towards the house, I grin at the serendipity of it all. I don’t normally stay at campgrounds, yet the night I did I happened to meet Daniel as he happened to be passing by to talk firewood business with the owners. I thought I’d be at the beach right now, wandering the sandy shores with Baylor, but the decision to accept an apple pressing invitation lead to new friendships, lessons and opportunities. Tiny decisions unlocking troves of possibility. As Paulo Coehlo writes in The Alchemist,
Making a decision was only the beginning of things. When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision.
Settling next to the fire, I can’t help but agree. I never could’ve planned this, but I’m grateful. For the current and wild ride I’ve been given thus far.
Though nerves sometimes get the best of me, I’m filled with excitement. For the yet-to-be-made decisions, the unknown places on the horizon.
130 days down. Many to come.
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