I was about 50 feet up when I started to freak out. I had agreed to come to this Oregon forest and climb a very tall, very old tree with my mom, because it seemed like a nice mother-daughter bonding experience. Now I was approximately one-fifth of the way up a Douglas fir named Sophia, and all I could think about was her nickname, “the Meltdown Tree.”
As he’d helped us suit up with harnesses and helmets, Jason Seppa, our friendly and very patient guide, had chuckled a little as he recounted how the tree had acquired this sobriquet after a particularly trying outing with some other clients. His unspoken assumption was that neither Mom nor me was in danger of melting down. I wanted to prove him right. Continue reading