The Tree at the Top of the World [Written Feb 6th, 2009]

The first major "overcoming-fear-and-affirming-self-confidence" experience I had in New Zealand was a feat to climb. More literally: a climb with my feet.

Up a tree.
A very tall tree. 

This particular tree reached for the sky at the top of Paul's property, the highest point of all the surrounding hills.

Let me begin with a little background story...
One or two of you might remember a time when I was 

conquered by a certain tree. This tree was a solitary-standing thorn-tree that planted its roots right in front of the River Forest Library, right next to Roosevelt Middle School (my junior-high). We were playing football, per our usual after-school routine, all of us 15 year-olds delaying the inevitable going home to the parents. I was on the defending team, chasing down my friend who was about to receive a pass. As a proper d-back following protocol, I kept my eyes on the ball, feeling out in front of me for the receiver in order to follow him (just kidding, I knew nothing about football at this point). Well, without making it seem unnecessarily heroic, I basically chased down the thorn-tree instead of the receiver. I'm pretty sure I knocked down the ball, but it cost me 9 stitches in the forehead.

The tree won, needless to say. 

But it wouldn't be long before I would have my revenge.

The day before leaving the Harris family, I had the sudden urge to climb as high as possible, bound by no safety equipment. Aka-free climb tallest nearby tree. I packed my camera up, threw the bag on my back and started up...

I went up...and UP. I never looked down. 

[Except for this picture, past the first part of the tree]

[The upper part of the three-limbed tree. Not three separate trees!]

[I'm in there]

I reached for the last few twigs at the canopy of pine-needles above my head. It was extremely dense with young branch networks, all fighting there way to the top for the glorious sun... 

I didn't come this far not to see what it was like above the tree... 

[Not sure what possessed me to throw out the heavy-metal sign at that particular moment, but this one's for you, Johnny]

I burst through the pine needles, wiped the webs and bark-dust from my eyes and experienced the first rush of spine-tingling chills I've had since first discovering the band The Mercury Program. The chills resonated throughout my limbs, tickling my cerebral cortex and rapidly focusing my pupils in and out. It lasted for quite an extended period of time. I took in the biggest breath I could, and absorbed as much of the 360 degrees of landscape as I could. I was holding on to a tiny stick with all my strength as the wind blew the tree back and forth, knocking me around. Eventually, I found myself numbed, completely in awe. I released some of the tension in my shoulder and arm muscles, feeling suddenly confident that I wouldn't fall. I lightened my weight and balanced myself using just the palms of my feet. All of a sudden, my body started shifting naturally with the tree, as opposed to a foreign object latched on. The tree accepted me, and I invested my trust in it. This agreement allowed me to perch up there for a full 40-minutes, observing all that was below. I saw miles and miles of rolling hills, dense with the tea-tree, clearings for pasture and regenerating bush. I saw the coast to the north and the east, the pine forest to the west and the native bush to the south. I looked as far as I could in every direction, appreciating every depth of field between my feet and the furthest tree I could make out. 

[There's Sarah, somewhere down there at the top of the hill]

Eventually, my eyes began to focus on the networks of spider-webs that have likely never been seen or affected by human presence before. These nets of silky fresh webs were constructed much like that of the volleyball variety, posted inbetween two of the highest little branches at the top of this section of the tree. It caught and launched balls of air much like a sling shot, if you could imagine it going back and forth. This was prime real estate for the little eight-legged mutants at the top of the world. 

As I suspect will be the case for many of my experiences here, no picture could ever depict the visual  stimulation I had in the tree.

It wasn't until I heard the call for my final dinner here I started my rapid descent...