People take pictures of the Summer, just in case someone thought they had missed it, and to prove that it really existed.
~Ray Davies
~Ray Davies
Note: This post comes a bit late and out of order chronologically. In the midst of packing and preparing for my trip, twice my nearly finished draft of this post failed to save (it nearly didn't save again yesterday), and eventually I had to set it aside. Life is settling down now that I'm back, and I would feel remiss not to share, even out of order, at least something of nine waterlining sessions worth of memories, events, photos, and fun, so here goes...final draft take 3.5.
A lovely summer has flown by and another season of waterlining has ended. The chill nights and warm days of autumn make the mountain river water arctic rather than merely frigid. In the midst of the lovely cool, I'm also holding on to my warm summer memories. I most definitely have the pictures to prove they existed.
In terms of balance, conquering my first waterline last year was momentous. This year, by the end of nine waterlining sessions, getting across without getting wet was no longer a surprise; in fact as long as I stuck with a simple straight-across walk, I generally crossed without falling. I did make some progress minimizing how much I wobbled into starfish position and got plenty of practice doing Chongo mounts in preparation for highlining. Turns and tricks significantly increased the likelihood of falling, and so I pushed myself, even working to add another trick or two to my repertoire on this line...which made frequent dunking basically inevitable.
Ah yes, those frequent falls... My photographer friends, having thoroughly documented my steady, balanced moments, decided to capture those other, less than graceful moments. Yes, I will share:
In the end, after many, many delightfully awkward falls, I did come very close to doing “human origami”/“sideways buddah.” Getting back up without falling will be an accomplishment for next year.
While the small progresses in balance skill were rewarding, it was the people who made waterlining so memorable. First of all the friends who came so faithfully, some of whom have yet to experience regular slacklining (“grass-lining”?), and whose personal records are counted still in steps. The camaraderie they provided was priceless: we cheered each other on, laughed at ourselves, took turns lending a helping hand, and chatted while enjoying summer sunshine.
At our very last session for the summer, it finally occurred to me to bring a kayak for photographers to sit in rather than stand in the middle of the river for perspectives. (I have been forgiven for not thinking of it sooner, thankfully.) It was then that those dear friends had the hilarious idea of using the kayak paddle as a balance pole. When mounting with a paddle in hand turned out to be too difficult, my friend Stacie volunteered to hand it to me once I'd mounted. Impressively, by some serious double handed back splashing, my now paddle-less friend managed not to be swept under the slackline, and I managed not to fall into the kayak either. Good times...though now we know that kayak paddles do not have the requisite weight or length to be effective balance aids.
There were also new friends: the strangers who stopped along the bridge to watch and even more those who stopped by to try themselves. Given the location of the line—a park and reservoir—we never lacked spectators and volunteers. In fact, for one family we became the entertainment not once but twice: one afternoon as I crossed the bridge to set up my line, I passed a woman who had been there the week before. I had rather liked her on the previous occasion because she'd made an effort learn my name. She was on her phone, and as I passed I overheard her say, 'The girl, I told you about, [Guinevere], is here again. Hurry and come over and you’ll get a chance to try it too!' This reunion was for the other side of her family, who had jealously heard about the previous week's entertainment. Thanks to lucky timing, they would get their turn as well.
Last, but certainly not least, the kids. Yes, kids are kind of my favorite. On so many occasions throughout the summer the air resounded satisfyingly with laughter of fright and delight. Max, the son of one of my friends, at the end of his first waterline session turned pleading and glowingly enthusiastic eyes toward me and asked if he could have the waterline set up for his birthday. I’m quite sure I couldn’t have said no, but because of conflicting schedules we had to settle for the family’s Fourth of July picnic instead. Another little boy, Tristan, must have spent as much time at the reservoir with his family as I and my friends did: he found his way over to us at least three times. By the last time, he could bounce across the line sitting down in a matter of minutes. He was also confidently instructing first time visitors on the rules of the waterline.
Those are a few memories in words. Now for the pictures—those beautiful pictures that prove that summer existed.
Yep, summer slackers made a splash, and it was spectacular. Here's to summer memories.
A lovely summer has flown by and another season of waterlining has ended. The chill nights and warm days of autumn make the mountain river water arctic rather than merely frigid. In the midst of the lovely cool, I'm also holding on to my warm summer memories. I most definitely have the pictures to prove they existed.
In terms of balance, conquering my first waterline last year was momentous. This year, by the end of nine waterlining sessions, getting across without getting wet was no longer a surprise; in fact as long as I stuck with a simple straight-across walk, I generally crossed without falling. I did make some progress minimizing how much I wobbled into starfish position and got plenty of practice doing Chongo mounts in preparation for highlining. Turns and tricks significantly increased the likelihood of falling, and so I pushed myself, even working to add another trick or two to my repertoire on this line...which made frequent dunking basically inevitable.
Ah yes, those frequent falls... My photographer friends, having thoroughly documented my steady, balanced moments, decided to capture those other, less than graceful moments. Yes, I will share:
In the end, after many, many delightfully awkward falls, I did come very close to doing “human origami”/“sideways buddah.” Getting back up without falling will be an accomplishment for next year.
While the small progresses in balance skill were rewarding, it was the people who made waterlining so memorable. First of all the friends who came so faithfully, some of whom have yet to experience regular slacklining (“grass-lining”?), and whose personal records are counted still in steps. The camaraderie they provided was priceless: we cheered each other on, laughed at ourselves, took turns lending a helping hand, and chatted while enjoying summer sunshine.
At our very last session for the summer, it finally occurred to me to bring a kayak for photographers to sit in rather than stand in the middle of the river for perspectives. (I have been forgiven for not thinking of it sooner, thankfully.) It was then that those dear friends had the hilarious idea of using the kayak paddle as a balance pole. When mounting with a paddle in hand turned out to be too difficult, my friend Stacie volunteered to hand it to me once I'd mounted. Impressively, by some serious double handed back splashing, my now paddle-less friend managed not to be swept under the slackline, and I managed not to fall into the kayak either. Good times...though now we know that kayak paddles do not have the requisite weight or length to be effective balance aids.There were also new friends: the strangers who stopped along the bridge to watch and even more those who stopped by to try themselves. Given the location of the line—a park and reservoir—we never lacked spectators and volunteers. In fact, for one family we became the entertainment not once but twice: one afternoon as I crossed the bridge to set up my line, I passed a woman who had been there the week before. I had rather liked her on the previous occasion because she'd made an effort learn my name. She was on her phone, and as I passed I overheard her say, 'The girl, I told you about, [Guinevere], is here again. Hurry and come over and you’ll get a chance to try it too!' This reunion was for the other side of her family, who had jealously heard about the previous week's entertainment. Thanks to lucky timing, they would get their turn as well.
Last, but certainly not least, the kids. Yes, kids are kind of my favorite. On so many occasions throughout the summer the air resounded satisfyingly with laughter of fright and delight. Max, the son of one of my friends, at the end of his first waterline session turned pleading and glowingly enthusiastic eyes toward me and asked if he could have the waterline set up for his birthday. I’m quite sure I couldn’t have said no, but because of conflicting schedules we had to settle for the family’s Fourth of July picnic instead. Another little boy, Tristan, must have spent as much time at the reservoir with his family as I and my friends did: he found his way over to us at least three times. By the last time, he could bounce across the line sitting down in a matter of minutes. He was also confidently instructing first time visitors on the rules of the waterline.
Those are a few memories in words. Now for the pictures—those beautiful pictures that prove that summer existed.
Yep, summer slackers made a splash, and it was spectacular. Here's to summer memories.
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