Like a Math Problem

 

A Christmas whim, spawned from hikes up in the Gunks with my dad last fall: why not get the girls rock climbing lessons?  A long shot, certainly but I’m no stranger to parenting Hail-Mary’s that were caught and spiked in the end zone.  So just before the pot-latch frenzy of the season was complete last December I dropped a gratuitous sum with Alpine Endeavors, hoping not only that the girls would reluctantly acquiesce but that the random weekend I chose in April wouldn’t rain either. 

 

It did.  But the folks at Alpine Endeavors (AE) were reasonable.  They called us ahead of time and suggested we reschedule.  They had even found me a female instructor, Jennifer who had children my own daughter’s age.  This sounded preferable to some wild-eyed male enthusiast, with the demeanor of a football coach.  “Climb harder!"  "Reach for it, damn it!"    AE wrote me last night to say that Jennifer might not be available, which was depressing.  I resisted the urge to complain though, and let it play out.  This morning I got the note that we were on with Jennifer and across, up to the Gunks a fine looking day was taking shape.

Poor Jennifer asked my daughter’s, with innocent brio, “How are you feeling about today?  Are you excited?”  The older one said: “Well?”  The younger one grunted.  It’s important to be honest, certainly, and though they weren’t exactly ‘psyched’ they had each other and Jennifer had a nice touch, I noticed, as she suited them up with a harness, helmets and hiking slippers.  We listened to the soundtrack to “A Hard Day’s Night” on the drive up to the Peter’s Kill parking lot, with everyone singing along to “I Should Have Known Better” which seemed to take the edge off. 

Well, as it turns out Jenn was masterful and they were so incredibly brave.  I had somehow imagined that I’d drop them off and return, but after a long wait just to get into the parking lot it was clear that I should probably stay, and why not, as it is astoundingly beautiful there, beneath the cliffs, amidst the pitch pines, but for the fact that I had a call at ten thirty with a good friend in Tel Aviv, whom I’d already cancelled on, once before.  But things would have to wrong some other day.  Remarkably I had coverage, did my call, which went well and as it ended I looked back to see my little one nearly at the top of the cliff face.  Up they went, and down them came, musing aloud that each move was like a math problem and that the solitude and degree of concentration it took, progressing up was unique. 

 

 

 

Saturday, 04/17/21