1965 - Ups And Downs

I pride myself in being able to learn from listening to the experiences of others or to pick up new science and technology advances from various periodicals. Sometimes I just seem to insist on learning by doing. This little adventure starts with my summer retreat with many boyhood friends on a 4-day outing to a Church-Camp in central Wisconson.

1965 – Ups and Downs

I looked down. The ground was far below and I was clinging to the side of a sheer rock cliff having free-climbed ¾ of the way up the mountain face boarding the east side of Devils’ Lake, Wisconsin. We had climbed higher than the tree line and the view from here was lovely. The lake was a beautiful shade of deep blue with the sky reflected in its surface. Reflected clouds moved in silent unison with the sky above. The trees were bright green under the early afternoon sun except where clouds darkened the green to a deep olive-color. I glanced up to see Robin a few feet above me scooting sideways along a rocky knife-edge-shelf that led to another hand-hold that would give us access to a crack in the wall, up which we could climb. I looked back down wondering if I pushed off hard enough could I make the treetop of the tall spruce 30 feet below. I certainly looked close enough to reach but I remembered when we climbed past the tree was a good 15-20 feet from the wall of the cliff. I don’t think I had the strength to cover that much area but it would be my only out if I made a mistake at this point. Further down was the large boulder field that extended maybe 50 feet up the wall and extended a good 100 feet out. It was a rocky hill of debris resulting from hundreds of years of falling rock. Most of the rocks and boulders were small, only a few inches across but there was no shortage of large boulders that were several feet across. I hoped nothing big decided to go for a tumble today. At that moment a spray of dust and small stones rained down on my naked head. I hugged the wall and hoped there was nothing big enough to knock me off my perch. A rock the size of my fist flew by my head, missing by a mere foot and the light dusting of dust and stones stopped. I Yelled “Hey! Watch it!” in Robin’s direction, although he had gotten a similar dusting from some unseen citizen standing at the top of the rise. They obviously had taken the path up to the top. A longer path that took much less time and wasn’t nearly as dangerous – or as much fun.

I reached the ledge upon which Robin had shuffled to the crack, or his next pathway up, but decided to find my own way when what appeared to be a clear path offered itself to my eyes and hands. I pulled with my hands and pushed with the one foot that still had an outcropping upon which to push. Stuffing my right hand entirely into a crack in the wall I stretched out with my foot to an outcropping that was a bare inch further than I could reach…if I could just…I felt my foot slip & I reached out for another purchase with my left hand not finding anything immediately. As my right hand took on more and more of the weight of my body I realized my balled fist, securely stuck in the crack was the only firm hold I had upon the wall. I was tempted to open the fist to grab an obvious handhold just beyond my current handhold that, until swinging free, I was unable to reach. Unable to find anything close to that spot to put feet or my other hand I quickly discarded that idea. My arm began to ache with the full weight of my body hanging from it. I heard Robin shout something to me but in my distracted state I only had one thought on my mind so I heard only sound, which didn’t register as words. Stretching with my left foot I pushed against a rock that jutted out of the wall-face, causing me to swing away from the foothold but which I was counting on to secure my place when I swung back. I felt skin abrade from the back of my hand where it contacted something sharp in the crevasse into which it was so securely held. The abrasion hurt but was, in fact, comforting as the pain informed me I was securely held until I could find purchase. My swing back brought my foot easily within the range of the outcropping but was I was unable to put any weight on it before my momentum swung me back. At the last second, I pushed off with my toes to increase my swing. My wedged hand slipped. It was only a hair-width but it was enough to scare the hell out of me as my life, or the plummet that would end it, passed before my eyes. When I swung back my foot reached out and secured my place. My left hand found a secure spot and my other leg found a steady spot. I stopped my swing and held on to the face of the wall like I was trying to be absorbed by its solidity. I was flat against the wall, breathing fairly heavy from the fright and feeling as though I was on solid support. I uncurled my right fist and it came loose from the crack it had held so dear. I had lost a couple of inches of skin but it was a shallow wound that would soon heal with no evidence it had ever been so abused.

I shuffled back over to the ledge Robin had so successfully navigated and headed back upwards. With only about 15 feet to go it was a relatively short climb to the top. As I wrestled my arms over the top ledge Robin pulled on my belt loops in an effort to help. It did. I lay exhausted on my back staring at the lovely clouds listening to Rob excitedly relate all of the bad things that went through his mind when he saw me dangling. As I lay recovering from my climb a group of campers walked casually by – having taken the path up (wimps!) which leisurely wound back and forth around the back-side of the mountain. It was long and uphill all the way so, for some unremembered reason, Robin & I decided the path would be take too much time and energy…like climbing the face didn’t take any energy. The amount of time we took for the climb was approximately the same amount of time to deal with switchbacks and u-turns as one climbed the “recommended” trail so we felt our trip was justified.

Ah, the insanity of youth.

We took the easy way down via the well-worn path. It was a casual walk, that meandered back and forth offering beautiful views which we could enjoy with a great deal more leisure.

The Devils’ Lake community included, of course, a lake. It was relatively small and shallow with the shoreline keeping shallow for several hundred feet into the lake. 10’ Lifeguard Towers were set along the shoreline just offshore in about 3’ of water. Robin and I, taking pride in our diving ability practiced diving off these towers into the 3’ of water. Robin scrubbed skin off his nose during his first dive and I did the same thing to my chest, but we were both able to perfect the “shallow-dive” mom had shown me years before. Mom was not a good swimmer and was deathly afraid of deep water but, still, as a youngster had learned the basics of diving and swimming. She was the brunt of many a joke as her diving style appeared to be a “bounce” off the surface.

As a little girl she, too, had attended a church camp where there was a lake. Unfortunately a thick layer of mud bottomed her lake. She had somehow become tangled in weeds and mud at one point panicking her to the point she was thereafter deathly afraid of shallow lakes. It was this event that caused her to learn to “bounce” off the surface. This was in no way a “belly flop” but an extremely shallow dive that indeed did submerge our bodies maybe a couple of feet underwater but arching our backs it almost immediately popped us back to the surface.

The previous year I had an experience similar to moms’ and, although it didn’t increase my fear of water, it did warn me to be a bit safer when playing in this medium. I had gone on vacation with my best boyhood friend, Bobby. Our freshman year his family had moved to Long Lake, Wisconsin where they had purchased a small resort complete with cabins, boathouses and swimming and boating docks. The lake itself was around 20 miles long with our little cove being only around half-a-mile across. Bobby and I had taken to swimming this mile every morning before breakfast. The third day, as we got within 100’ or so from the dock on our return trip and still full of energy Bobby and I began diving deep and swimming as much as possible of the last hundred feet or so underwater. As the bottom got shallower I was able to swim in and out of the lake-weed growing up from the bottom. It was during one of these dives that my feet somehow became tangled in these lake-weeds as I struck for the surface. I was, of course, heading for the surface because my held breath was near the end of its capacity and my body was beginning to ask for fresh air. My hands broke the surface but my feet had somehow become entangled in the weed. My tangled feet held my head some 6” or so underwater. My hands thrashed at the surface trying to move enough water-mass to force my legs loose. Simultaneously my feet tried unsuccessfully to kick loose from the tight hold of the lake-weed. No such luck.

My lungs ached terribly and, as I was already low on air, I could feel my limbs weaken within a few seconds, a function of low oxygen and sustained energetic effort. I could see the surface bare inches above me as I looked up. My lungs hurt horribly. I took a breath. It felt so good to stop holding my breath. The water flowing into my lungs was a consideration somewhere in my head but in many ways only a distraction as the importance of relief from the pain eventually overcame every other consideration for survival and any concern I had about breathing water. As my struggles lessened, the surface became less turbulent and when I dropped my arms the dappled surface quickly turned crystal clear as my struggles stopped completely and I began to relax. The sun sparkling across the surface of the water was lovely. As I observed my actions from inside my head my vision began to narrow with black closing in from the edges. As my field of vision narrowed the still-lit part brightened and I got the sensation of rushing toward the light. I noticed, as the light grew brighter my head began to hurt like one long, extended throb as from a pulsating headache. I saw no relatives, no wise voices, no flashing of my past, and no warnings about the future. Just calm. Everlasting, quiet, and a feeling of acceptance I offered myself into the Hands of Fate. As I passed out my feet and legs relaxed. I drifted loose from my entanglement and traveled the few inches up where Bobby spotted me floating face-up on the surface.

Bobby dove off the dock and reached me in only a few strokes, as I wasn’t far from the dock. Neither had, at that point, attended any lifesaving courses so he did what came naturally: Grabbing my head by the hair he held my body up then, quickly submerging, and standing on the bottom only 6 ½ feet below, tossed me over his head toward the dock. He repeated this twice until I was in shallow enough water that he could stand on the bottom and hold me in place. He lifted me a few inches out of the water and smacked me hard on the back…and again! I coughed and my eyes fluttered open. I had an enormous headache! Bobby held onto me as we wadded to the dock and I hefted myself up. I lay on my back trying to get my breath but soon turned on my side when I couldn’t seem to get a full lung of air. Turning on my side I began to cough water…more water than I thought I could hold…onto the dock.

We lay there side by side talking about the experience until I had regained my strength. Bobby seemed to still be worried but I was pretty much recovered – what the hell – I survived didn’t I? So what’s the big deal? Of course at this point in my life I clearly understand the big deal but then my attitude was…whoopdee-do. By the time we finished breakfast the incident was forgotten and I believe unspoken until now. I’m not sure we ever told an adult about this incident, as we didn’t want to wind up restricted from our morning swim. We continued these early AM swims until the day I left for home. But as for this day, we jumped up…

…And headed to the house for breakfast.