Boulder Creek Water Line

The sweltering heat placed me on the cusp of insanity on this warm July day. Scott and I marched into Eben G Fine to scantily clad boys and girls escaping the summer warmth by way of the Boulder Creek. With gear in hand, we arrived at our designated slack spot to the dismay of the rope swing crowd. We did not carry threatening intentions, but merely wanted to share the art of movement. Quickly rigging the line, many friends came and joined our session.

My turn to approach the line had come. I felt so excited anxiousness took over my body. I longed to be on top of the line, and could not remove my shoes fast enough. The water raged beneath me as I weighed the line on my hands. From this perspective a few feet over the water surface, the outline of rocks could be seen by the whitewater washing over them rapidly. The swiftness and movement was unnerving. This is not the usual experience, I felt hard pressed to find my point of reference, and dizziness came over me. Conscious of the crowd watching, my mind exploring all the wrong areas, I moved into position.

Wet and weary I pulled myself out of Boulder Creek. Humbled by the line, I rose up, pulled myself together, and gave it another go.

Scott Dominating.

The Crew.