Lucky Trapeze

Yesterday was a career day for me. A day to get back on track and ramble and walk and talk and hike with my hubby and try to figure out just where the ^%$#%% I think I am going with this crazy life. Hiking makes me pant, so I can't feel too sorry for myself and I breathe through fear. I also get about a mile to just talk about other things, before I dive into revealing the deep meaty dreamy parts of my soul. And while I am hiking single file I can't see anyone's face. I just hear Jonathan grunting behind me. Usually with encouragement. At least that is what I imagine.

Our tradition is to go to Santa Barbara, but yesterday was an abbreviated day, so we headed to Fryman Canyon, off Mulholland Drive. It is a beautiful trail in the Santa Monica Mountains, and yesterday was clear and perfect. As soon as we got on the muddy trail I felt my spirits lift, though I have been feeling blue.

We hiked down under the oaks, past a jeep that rolled hundreds of feet down an embankment from a curve in Mulholland Drive above--now full of dirt. We got views of the Valley, and even snow-capped mountains. We had no idea where we were going or where we would end up, which is always a great feeling on a hike.

We rounded a curve and there was a trapeze, hanging in the forest. It was connected by chain, then rope, covered with a plastic sleeve, to a big oak branch, about thirty feet up. The tree was on the side of the trail, which dropped off steeply into a ravine on the right. We were hiking down the side of a mountain. This meant that you could pull the trapeze in with a rope, stand on your tip toes and grab the trapeze, and then swing out so you were waving about thirty feet in the air above a ravine. It looked scary--and irresistable. There was no water. If you couldn't hold on you would crash down into the mud and roots of the ravine and break an ankle, if not two legs.

It had been awhile since I had held onto anything to see if I could really hold myself up. But I could not resist. Jonathan did not say a word. He just put out his hand to hold my sunglasses.

"Just catch me when I come back," I said. If you do not get off on the trip back in, you will still be left hanging over the ravine.

I grabbed on, adjusted my hands. I was scared.

I got up on my toes, then let go.

"WHEEEEEEEEE!"

Terrifying.

I swear, I had not had that much fun in a million years. At least not since we swung into Bass Lake last summer at Point Reyes.

My shoulders felt OK. My hands didn't slip. I grabbed and did it again. Oh, that feeling, to soar out and up and up and up. It is the best!!! All 43-year-olds should do it! It just changes your life!

I got off, Jonathan handed me my glasses, and he gave it a swing. He whooped from fear and joy. He did not break his legs either. We hiked to the bottom of the mountain, then came back up and did it again.

I highly recommend it for anyone who needs a jolt, some joy, or who has forgotten what freedom feels like.

I went to sleep last night replaying that feeling in my head--of swinging out, out out into space--free, kicking or in free fall, turning or not.

For 10 seconds, I was the daring young girl on the flying trapeze. I miss her so much.