Rock, Paper, Fire by Marni Jackson

Author:Marni Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Banff Centre Press
Published: 2013-08-14T04:00:00+00:00

Steve Swenson

THE TELEPHONE POLE

I HAD NEVER paid particular attention to the fifty-foot-high telephone pole that towered above me at the bottom of our driveway. It was an old pole, full of splits in the wood, and it had two wooden crossbars bolted to the top, with ceramic insulators that held overhead power and telephone lines. I was sixteen and had been climbing for a couple of years, and I had studied books on how to rock climb up cracks similar to those in the telephone pole. I desperately wanted to put my bookknowledge into action, but I couldn’t yet drive to real rock cliffs. So I started looking for things to climb in my neighbourhood, and there was the pole. I decided to climb it.

Just up the driveway from the pole was the house in Seattle that I shared with my parents and four siblings. My father worked as a mechanical engineer for Boeing and my mother managed the household. My parents were devout Catholics, and family activities revolved around their parish church and the Catholic schools we all attended. It was a healthy and loving environment, but I felt hemmed in. I was much more interested in exploring and having adventures in the natural world. I joined a local Boy Scout troop to hike and explore the Cascade Mountains. One of the dads in our troop, a climber, started taking a few of us on trips where we learned basic mountaineering skills. My earliest obsession was Mount Rainier, a peak that dominates the skyline south of Seattle. I reached its top with my Boy Scout group when I was fourteen, in an experience rich with excitement, fear, and wonder.

By the time I noticed the telephone pole, my friends and I had already started teaching ourselves the basics of technical rock climbing. My parents didn’t understand the dangers in what we were doing and, later on, when I’d drive away to go climbing, my mother would call, “Have fun hiking with the ropes!” To them it seemed like a wholesome outdoor activity that I would probably outgrow. So they let me pursue my climbing, so long as it didn’t interfere with Sunday churchgoing. They were more concerned with familiar issues, such as my brothers and sisters driving the family cars and dating—activities they saw as more dangerous, both physically and morally.

Around this time, a UPS truck appeared in our driveway, and the driver unloaded a heavy box addressed to me. I ran to the door so full of excitement I collided with my mother, almost knocking her over. Inside the box was a mound of different sized pitons, the metal spikes used for rock climbing. I signed for my new prized possessions, paid for with money I’d earned doing odd jobs. Now I was equipped for the telephone pole.

My plan was to climb the pole during the day, when my dad was at work and my mom was running errands. One afternoon during summer vacation, that moment arrived. I quickly called Gordy, one of my Rainier climbing partners, to come over and help.

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