A Summertime Swing at Thornewood
8 AUGUST, 2001

  
FINDING THE TRAIL WAS TRICKY. The directions in the guidebook were poor, and the sign had long been hidden by a faded brick wall.  No doubt the wall had been built there to proclaim the addresses of the private residences and mask the fact that a county park actually existed. We must've driven past the entrance three times before we finally ventured onto the beaten, single-lane road.  But a small, empty parking area hinted that the hike would be quiet and people-free.

      At the trail head the obligatory map indicated that the hike to the pond was only 0.7 miles. Harumph. Perhaps a quick jaunt to the pond, then we would try for one of the other nearby trails for more glorious adventures and exercise.  Cristina snapped a picture of me in front of the park sign to mark the beginning of our adventure.

     It was a gorgeous day, and the hike was gentle, with lightly wooded trees to provide shade.  The pond was small and filled with algae, which made it pretty, but not palatable to a swim (although a couple of dogs did not agree with that assessment). Where we thought the hike ended, at a bench facing the pond, it really just began.  Apparently the park had recently acquired more land beyond the pond. A small gate stood open, beckoning us to venture further.  Since it was a little early for lunch, we figured we could hike a bit more, then turn back to the bench when we grew hungry.

     After perhaps a half mile, and some diddling on a fallen log over a dry creek bed, we discovered the rope swing.  Somehow someone had tied a rope at least fifty feet up a slanting evergreen.  The rope was thick and hung out from the hill's slope over the dry creek bed.  Was it safe to swing on?  Would the rotten rope snap, plunging the hapless victim to the rocks and fallen logs below?
    Nope!  The rope was sturdy and the swinging was grand!  First you stuck your foot in a little loop, then you took a breath and swung out into the open air.  You rushed out over the void, standing on nothing but air.  All you heard was the wind whispering, then silence as you hovered for a moment before flying back to land.  Grand indeed!

     Cristina was afraid at first, but seeing me do it made her want to try. And after her first run, I could not get her to stop. She would swing out, then ask for a push to loop out again and again. Arms tired, she would hop off and politely ask if I wanted to go.  Sometimes, if I did not answer fast enough, she was off for another triple-loop.  It took several runs to tire us out enough to make us want to leave the rope and return to the pond for lunch (and some cooling down). There we watched a family throw sticks in the water and shout at their dog to retrieve the wood. I quietly wondered if they knew about the secret rope and whether they would dare a summertime swing.