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how it works

TITLE: Hanging By A Thread | Previous Challenge Entry
By darlene thompson
01/06/14
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I grew up in the shadows of the massive 1,000 feet of Tuscarora quartzite known as Seneca Rocks. The Rocks were used for trade wars by the Seneca Nations. Later, they were a base for training World War II soldiers. Today, they are renowned as a climbing mecca for the eastern United States. The rocks are gained by a hiking trail, climbing ropes, or on horse-back.

Everyone in our family had climbed them but me. Even my parents had their first date on the top of the Rocks. Now it was my turn. The sun danced against the jagged gray cliffs. I jogged across the footbridge and paused to look at the churning white water of the Seneca River.

I plowed upward on the dusty path. My feet shot out pebbles, stones, and broken branches into the brush. Birds darted about with their sweet melodious calls and peeps of spring. May Apples and trilliums dotted the landscape in layers of pink and white. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon cascaded from the nearby restaurant and waffled among the pine and spruce.

Red salamanders and centipedes crawled out of the rocks toward unknown journeys. Squirrels darted and some scalded me as an invader. The trail cut back and forth through rocks and cliffs. My legs throbbed against the steady incline. Every step was planned carefully. Near the top, I was greeted by the shrill of a bald eagle. It soared and landed high on a cliff. I saw the nest with two small eaglets. They poked out their hungry heads for mother to feed them. I was amazed by their presence.

Suddenly, a rustle among the bushes broke my concentration. Out bounded a white-tail deer with its flag tail waving me a good-bye. A few more feet brought me to the viewing platform. I saw the small village of Seneca Rocks, Seneca River, the rolling farms of the Harman Hills, and distant mountains.

Several warning signs announced "Do not go beyond platform" unless you are an experienced climber. Off to my left arose the "gendarme." Gendarme is French for sentinel. The gendarme stood 30-40 feet high between the two great sandstone cliffs. Later, it would fall and its remains would be placed in the Visitors' Center.

I was too near the top to stop. Yes, I fully understood the warning and knew several people had fallen to their deaths. I eased my way out along the razor-thin fins. It was overwhelming to see the valley floor and the fragile sandstone. Palpitations and sweat on my brow were nothing compared to feeling like a real mountain climber. I crawled on my knees and hands along a four to five foot fin. My hands and knees oozed with spots of blood as I looked full face into the massive formation.

I took numerous photographs and relished in the serenity of the Rocks. After several hours, I descended. Back on solid ground, my nose caught the spicy aroma of vegetarian pizza on wheat bread from the Front Porch Restaurant. As the day sank into the last of the sunset, I munched down the pizza and drank in the joys of my adventure. I knew this would not be my last climb up Seneca Rocks. Already, my heart pined for the exhilaration of hanging by a thread above the earth.

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