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(Go Back)Sittin' On Top of the World - USAir Magazine Article
 Tree Climbing is a Challenge for the Body and the Spirit.
By Sam Boykin
Courtesy of USAirways Magazine
'Knots are either 100 percent correct, or fatally wrong,' Bob Wray says as he checks my ropes and gear. We're standing at the foot of a towering poplar tree, and I've got a fancy-looking harness buckled around my waist with all kinds of ropes, bags, carabiners, and other climbing equipment attached. I may not know what I'm doing, but at least I look cool. I take a throw line — a little beanbag attached to a thin nylon line — and toss it over a branch about 30 feet up. We then attach a thicker, polyester rope to the throw line and pull it up and over the branch above, until both ends of the rope lay at our feet. Now, Wray attaches the rope to my harness with a series of complicated knots, which I certainly hope are 100 percent correct because, if not...well, you know.
Just how high will we climb, anyway? What if a rabid raccoon can scale trees? Is my health insurance up to date? Maybe I need to rethink…. Snap out of it, I tell myself. I'm already sweaty and nervous, and I haven't even left the ground. Wray is serene and tranquil, though, which helps calm my nerves. Satisfied that everything is properly rigged, we start to ascend.
Thankfully, I'm in good hands. Wray is owner of Blue Ridge Tree Climbing, and he teaches recreational tree climbing. Unlike the kind of tree climbing you may have done in the backyard as a kid, recreational tree climbing is a unique hybrid of rock climbing and arboriculture, as it uses similar equipment and techniques. It's also becoming an increasingly popular sport among outdoor enthusiasts, with schools opening around the country. Wray, a former Eagle Scout and a rock climber, took up recreational tree climbing about six years ago. He purchased a couple of arboriculture books and some climbing gear, and largely through trial and error he taught himself the basics. After a couple of years, he took some advanced classes, and, as his skills progressed, scaled bigger trees, including those in the rainforests of Panama and the redwoods in northern California.
'It's otherworldly,' Wray says of climbing the behemoth trees. In Panama, most of the trees he climbed were at least 150 feet tall with limbs two feet thick. 'They're like giant oak trees,' Wray says, 'with a big trunk and a huge canopy of leaves.' The redwoods in California dwarfed the trees in Panama, reaching heights of over 250 feet. 'Just being in their presence is like being in a European cathedral. You get up there and the wind starts to blow and the tree sways back and forth…there's nothing like it. It’s magic.'
Although these were unforgettable experiences, Wray says that scaling the giant trees was not very challenging. 'Once you reach the first limb, it's like climbing a ladder. The branches are close together and evenly spaced. It's not very technical. But it’s still incredible to sit in the top of a tree over 200 feet in the air.'
Wray teaches tree-climbing classes from his home, which is nestled among 40 picturesque acres off the Blue Ridge Parkway in Meadows of Dan, Virginia. When I first pulled into his driveway, two dogs waddled out in greeting, tails wagging happily. Named Big Foot and Brown Dog, they are lovable old strays Wray picked up along the parkway. Besides the dogs, Wray lives alone in a 1,300-square-foot house he built, mostly by himself. Inside there's climbing gear, snowshoes, kayaks, bikes, and other outdoor equipment scattered everywhere. Step onto his expansive back porch and there's nothing but lush green fields and forests. For a man who teaches tree climbing, he couldn't live in a more ideal spot. 'All I have to do is walk out to my yard,' he says. 'If I'm not teaching, I'm climbing. That's how much I enjoy it.'
While he's put a lot of time and effort into building his house, Wray prefers to sleep outside. After walking through his cluttered bachelor pad, we go a few hundred yards to a clearing in the woods where he's set up a campsite. About 50 feet up an oak tree along the edge of the campsite Wray has secured an 'econo-ledge,' where he often spends the night. 'I've had the best sleep in my life up there,' he says. 'Everything feels and sounds different.' Recently, he's been spending the night in his new 18-foot tepee, which can accommodate up to 10 people. Inside the tepee are a cot, a few folding chairs, a ring of rocks for a fi re, some cooking utensils, and, of course, two big pillows for Big Foot and Brown Dog.
We hike a little deeper into the woods. As we go, Wray notes the finer points of some of his favorite climbing trees, which he's marked with pink and red ribbons. We come to a twisting poplar at the edge of the woods next to a meadow. Once I get the rope secured on the branch above and attached to my harness, we start to climb. At least Wray does. At 58, he’s lean and fit, with sinewy, muscled forearms and an iron grip. He tucks his gray, shoulder-length hair under his helmet, and with practiced ease, scoots effortlessly up the rope.
There are two basic tree-climbing methods. One is called footlocking, in which you loop the rope around your foot, and, using that as an anchor, extend your leg, pushing upwards. As you move up the rope, you also slide up the Blake's hitch, a knot commonly used by arborists and tree climbers. The Blake's hitch essentially takes up the slack in the rope and allows the climber to ascend. This is how Wray starts climbing, and he makes it looks easy. I, on the other hand, flail around and get nowhere. 'Don’t worry about it,' Wray says to assuage my ego. 'It just takes practice.'
The second climbing method is hip-thrusting: While hanging horizontally from the rope, you plant your feet on the tree, thrust your hips upward, then slide the Blake's hitch up. I catch on to this method much more easily, and soon I'm inching my way upward. It's hard work, but gets easier once I relax, ease my death grip on the rope, and let my body hang loose in the harness — an utterly counterintuitive way of thinking.
Before long we reach the first limb, and I'm able to look around and enjoy the pastoral view. A soft, cool breeze blows through the trees, and except for Big Foot and Brown Dog wandering 30 feet below us, it's completely quiet. Wray says that when he started tree climbing he thought of it as mostly a technical and adventurous pursuit. But in recent years it's become more of a relaxing and therapeutic practice. In fact, the meditative aspects of the sport proved so strong, it inspired his company's logo — a blissed-out Buddha sitting in a tree.
'When you're climbing, you have to focus,' Wray says. 'You have to leave all your day-to-day worries behind. Once you get up in the trees, it's magic. Everything melts away. You should come into the woods with nothing but adrenaline and butterflies.'
I have plenty of both as we prepare to make the transition to the next highest limb. We basically repeat the process from earlier — toss a throw line over a branch, secure our climbing rope, make sure everything is locked into the right carabiners, and work our way up.
Up in the tree, time seems to stand still, and before I know it the sun is starting to set. From a height of about 50 feet we head back down. To rappel down, I use a cool little gadget called a mini-rack. It's basically a long 'U' bolt crossed with several metal bars. Through the bars I loop the rope, forming an 'S' shape, which increases friction and makes descending a breeze.
I'm not sure if it is because I am just glad to still be alive, but once I'm on solid ground again I feel serene, tranquil, and at peace — more so than I have in a long time. When I convey this to Wray, he gives me a knowing nod. Maybe he's right — there really is magic in the trees.
For starters, contact the following associations or visit their Web sites:
BLUE RIDGE TREE CLIMBING
Meadows of Dan, Virginia
276.398.2639
blueridgetreeclimbing.com
TREE CLIMBERS INTERNATIONAL
Atlanta, Georgia
404.377.3150
treeclimbing.com
TREE CLIMBING USA
Fayetteville, Georgia
770.487.6929
treeclimbingusa.com
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