Things That Happen Out There

[paleoman]

#5432

I had a dormant memory surface last night that I thought might prod some other good stories. One opening morning, probably in the 70’s, it was raining in 10 gallon buckets and the local stream crossing was overflowing. Crossing the old log stringer bridge in blue skies was a woodsman’s ballet of stepping over and around the rotted old barn board decking. I got 1/2 way across and out from under me went the deck. Up to my neck in the river. I was young and strong and pulled myself up and out soaked to the bone. It wasn’t that cold yet so I said the hell with it and kept going until it got ridiculous and wouldn’t stop down pouring. Not like this was an epic story but a memory those not baptised in the ways of the wilds would not know. Those things make life richer. What have you?

[Stephen Graf]

#45844

I like it!

I was 16 and skipping school with a couple friends for the first day of trout season. We were fishing the north fork of the Tye river, like half of the state it seemed…

There was a beautiful pool that nobody had fished because getting to it was impossible. The flow into and out of the pool was impossible to walk. The banks on both sides were sheer cliffs 100 feet high. Right in the middle of all that impossibility was a clear glassy pool that stretched 100 feet and seemed to cry to be fished…

Half way up the cliff on the inside bank was a shelf 6 inches wide that ran at an angle down to within 5 feet of the sand bank that surely no man had stood on for 1000 years.

So after talking amongst our teenage selves we resolved to walk that ledge to fishing paradise.

about 10 yards into this face-against-the-wall, arms stretched out, hands holding fishing pole and tackle box and still scrabbling for a hold, things almost went south.

Somehow I ended up leaning back over the void looking into the wide eyes of one of my buds. Nothing between me and the rocks below but my heels on the ledge.

And somehow, against the laws of physics it seems, I leaned back into the rock and reattached myself to the wall.

That’s the closest I’ve come to winking out, that I recall.

The rest of the shuffle was uneventful. We fished that pool for an hour and got not a bite. We floated down stream rather than return by the wall. 🙄

[paleoman]

#48301

Great story Steve! I knew that feeling. I never really liked heights. I got hyper extended once with an old climber – where you pulled yourself up by the seat and your toes were in the toe loop on the platform…well the platform slipped it’s grip and I got stretched out with the climbing seat I was grabbing with my finger tips way over my head and the platform dangling from my toes. Of course, back in those days you were lucky if you even had clothesline rope or any kind of fall protection.I did not. Thinking back I believe it did have a short tie line between the seat and platform but it hobbled going up more than helped I thought at the time (accident root cause if I’d broken my neck!) I couldn’t get a bit of leverage to move for a good while and thought I may just have to let go and take a fall. Somehow I wormed out of it but it was a funny feeling being locked up and unable to move 20′ up a tree.

[David Coulter]

#48570

On a boy scout canoe trip we ran a rapid called Skinners Falls on the upper Delaware. One of the canoes flipped and capped on a rock in the middle of the rapids. No one was hurt, but the canoe was stranded. I grabbed a rope and ran upstream, jumped in the river to float down to the canoe. Dang if the rope didn’t float and swarm all around. I missed the canoe by a foot, but the rope caught between the canoe and the rock and wrapped around one of my ankles. The current the rope tight with me head downstream underwater. I’ll always remember how beautiful, peaceful, serene it seemed under there with all the bubbles swarming around me. At some point, probably a lot quicker than I remember, it occurred that I needed to get up on the canoe to get some air. I was able to reach up and not get a hold of much, but a hand grabbed me and helped me up. To this day I don’t remember who that was, but I’m very grateful to a hand when I really needed it. dwc

[Charles Ek]

#49296

Steve Graf wrote:

Somehow I ended up leaning back over the void looking into the wide eyes of one of my buds. Nothing between me and the rocks below but my heels on the ledge.

And somehow, against the laws of physics it seems, I leaned back into the rock and reattached myself to the wall.

Been there, done that. On a rock face outside Bergen, Norway, that I had no business being on. Alone. Without protection. Without a soul in the world knowing where I was, and an ocean plus half a continent between me and the next person who would have cared about the outcome. Thirty-nine years later, I’m still convinced that the only reason my hands came back into contact with the rock was that I tilted my head forward.

[grumpy]

#51693

This could be long. I have had numerous imminent death experiences.

At 4 I the current pulled me off a drop off, and carried me downstream. I still remember rolling along, the light, the colors, the rocks, the bubbles. I went down the tunnel, and saw the light. It was my Dad that pulled me out, took me to the shore, where I suddenly barfed water, opened me eyes, and started breathing. Parents were overjoyed and scared shit less (Methodist). They never talked about it, wouldn’t answer my questions. All I know is what I remember.

While checking traps at 14 I went thru the ice, over my waders. Don’t know how I got out. I ran thru the woods and across the corn field to get home. Burst thru the back door, and took off the waders (filled with ice) in the kitchen. Think I didn’t freeze because I did that panicked run home.

Twelve years ago I was desperate to finish a slate roof, as I was late for a fishing trip on the Battenkill (and other rivers that are secret). I got dehydrated. Which means dumb and clumsy. I didn’t fasten the safety line right (dumb), and tripped (clumsy). Slate repair is just short of technical climbing. Same harness, ropes, beaners, assender, etc. I was working on a 3 story home. The last thought before I went over the sill was “I guess my kids don’t need me anymore.” On the ground I realized I was still alive, and I said Ali is going to call. Bernie and Bob, the guys I was supposed to meet on the Battenkill, assumed I got a better offer from somebody. I shattered my left heel bone, 4 months in a cast. Ali did call 3 months later, that is when I got Arwen she was 8 months old.

Also there are car accidents, couple other times I was pulled out of the water, etc.

To be continued…

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