Get Up (20 ft.) Off The Ground

For a while now, May and I have talked about making a return trip to “The Adventure Park,” which, despite the name, is not a single place but rather a chain of ziplining and climbing courses around the states, I think mainly in the north and east. May had been telling one of her coworkers, Katie, about this, and Katie lit up like a “Press Your Luck” gameboard. Apparently, Katie was already planning on taking her son, Cooper (about seven or so), to the park, as well.

And thus, May and Katie forged a dark pact of planned outdoor family quality time.

The plan was for all of us to meet there on a Thursday morning at 10 AM for a three-hour reservation (and, as a child of syndicated TV in the 80s, nothing says safety like “a three-hour tour….”). While this would be my family’s third time to the park, and second time on the actual tree courses, Katie and Cooper would be getting their first taste of high-powered, high-wire treetop fun.

At first, there was a moment of concern when we arrived at the Park, and the guy at the entrance wanted to turn us away because we were just the lowlife riff-raff and not the elite moneyed members of society who had paid for summer camp. But May just showed him the dark pact and he melted like a Nazi seeing the Ark of the Covenant opened.

Well, she showed him the reservations and he politely waved us through, but still. Just trying to add some drama, here.

Katie and Cooper arrived shortly thereafter and we all gathered near the sign-in hut. Cooper made perhaps the most astute observation: “It’s like an Ewok village!”

I was delighted at the reference and kicked myself for not thinking of it, myself. Game respects game, Cooper.

I was fully decked out for physical, daring adventure, garbed in a t-shirt, baseball cap, and of course, thick blue jeans. The pants were carefully chosen; yes, it was going to be a hot day with high humidity and I would likely be sweating a walking waterfall, but it was all worth it as the jeans were an unbreachable barrier against the bugs that would no doubt be out in force. Even so, I slathered up with bug repellent across every square inch of my exposed skin.

Katie, Cooper, and Gracie all bought some climbing gloves (May decided to stay on terra firma and be the cameraperson documenting our exploits), but not I. For I am a man of the wild. A man of raw nature and (inverse) swarthiness. A man who bravely pushes an EV lawn mower around the yard, set to mulch, so I don’t have to be bothered in picking up the grass trimmings.

I also didn’t want to spend the extra money.

The park has about 14 tree courses, ranging from twenty feet off the ground to maybe up to 100. The lowest level ones are marked with a yellow circle (which, you know, I am sure is just a coincidence that they use the color of cowardice for those) while hardest ones are marked by black diamonds, which apparently is a universal symbol for difficulty. I should start marking some of the tasks I did on my resume with those – maybe I’ll actually start getting some callbacks?

“Yes, I was impressed with your resume. Could you please tell me about the Black Diamond project planning meetings you had to do?”

“I could, but then I would have to kill you.”

Ahem. Anyways.

Given that this was Cooper and Katie’s first trip here, and I was never entirely sure if I would be able to climb the stairs without pulling a hamstring, we started on a Yellow Circle course called “Sunflower.”

And I gotta say, even on these lowest-level courses, you are still a good 20 feet off the ground, if not more. You are hooked on the safety lines at all times, and the switching between the lines with your clips is straightforward and set-up so that you always have one clip attached. But still, for some people that have trouble with heights, this might not be a real big reassurance.

We fell into a pattern of Gracie taking the lead, followed by me, then Cooper, and Katie bringing up the rear. This way there was always an adult (well, if you exaggerate and call me that) at each platform to assist Cooper.

Gracie, on the other hand, was off like she was training for Navy Seals. She was just, no pun intended, zipping ahead. This was only her second time on any trail, but she was clipping and swapping her safety lines so effortlessly it was like had been scaling Mt. Everest in her downtime this summer. Eventually, she slowed down to wait for the rest of us, but I would love to see how quickly she makes her way through these things on her own sometime.

Cooper was an inspiration as the kid showed no fear on any of the elements (the areas between the platforms). He bravely took to each one without hesitation or concern. In fact, the only concern he seemed to show was about when we were having lunch. He needed some help with swapping his safety clips between lines, but otherwise we hit a solid rhythm of me waiting at the platform for him to arrive, swapping his clips over, and then waiting for Katie to make her way over. Once she arrived, I set off on my own.

Also, I was deeply proud of Gracie when she reached the ziplines. The last time, on her first zipline she got her hand pinched between the zip trolley and the base of the line, and the poor thing still had to finish the rest of the course and even do one last zipline, which took a lot of cajoling and reassurances from me and May. This time? Hah! She breezed through that first zipline (after taking some extra time to be extra sure her hands were properly placed, of course) without a hitch, and barreled on through the course.

When we completed Sunflower, we settled over on the picnic benches, and I found myself exhausted. Like, exhausted in a way that I haven’t experienced in a long time. Like, “Wow. I must be at level three exhaustion in D&D 5th edition rules!” (2024, mind you, not the 2014 rule variant.)

I was worried that maybe my SVT was politely checking in after a sabbatical, but it didn’t feel the same. I think it was just the sad truth that this was the first full-body workout I had had since running the Touch Mudder, and my body had forgotten where it put the oxygen reserves.

But, an apple and some tasty powdered fruit-flavored water, and I was ready hit the next Yellow course, "Goldfinch.”

And here is where things started to shift.

First, this time Gracie morphed into Cooper's legally appointed morale officer, cheering him on with vigor, gusto, and a volume of about 100 decibels. People from around the park had to stop and look around as Gracie called out things like, “That’s it Cooper, you can do this!” and “Way to go Cooper! You got this!” and, after Cooper accidentally got bumped in the eye from his mother’s glove, “It’s okay Cooper! You still have one good eye left!”

I’m pretty sure that by the time we left the park, everyone knew Cooper’s name.

Secondly, I was much more aware of my windedness this time around. On the climbing elements, I was fine – locked in, moving steady, joints creaking but not breaking (yet) – but on the platforms, my brain realized that I was all good and decided that would be a good time to pass out some lightheadedness. Just a touch. For funsies.

Nevertheless, I knew this was just a matter of pacing myself, and focused on my breathing, getting a lot of oxygen in. And sure enough, near the end of the course I was much better. A bit shocked at how out of shape I was, but still. Sad, though. You would think that all the energy I burn lifting donuts to my mouth would have helped prep me for this, but no!

After Cooper finished the last zipline he instantly stated his thoughts on the whole day so far: “What about lunch?”

Cooper, you are a genius. One hundred percent agree.

We got through two courses over about three hours, and it felt like the perfect time to head out. Our appointment was almost up, lunch was beckoning, and I was glad to be at lower altitudes (all 20 feet) where the oxygen was denser.

I hope to go back again, but cripes, I need to practice more. Maybe I can set up something in the backyard with the trees there, some clothing lines, and bungee cords? Sounds OSHA compliant, right?