CAVE JUNCTION, ORE. — I had heard of this place hidden among the tall firs in the remote backwoods of Southern Oregon. Somehow, though, despite a number of visits to my home state, I had never made it here, partly, I suppose, because you are not going to accidentally trip upon it. No, you have to specifically set out to find it, and even then it’s likely to be a challenge.

I’m speaking of the “Out’n’About Treehouse Ziplines,” buried deep in a pristine Northwest forest, which, given the name, is where you’d expect to find them.

Prior to coming here, I’d never been on a zipline or even wanted to be on a zipline, though some of the online videos of the more dramatic descents around the world are intriguing.

The Redheaded Girl of My Dreams installed a backyard zipline for the kids with her own bare hands several years ago, but if you weigh more than 80 pounds you’re going to drag your butt on the ground, ruin your Levis and trigger non-stop fits of laughter in your offspring.

The whole backyard extravaganza cost about a hundred bucks, so we made sure each of our four little ones rode it 100 times apiece on the first day, just to bring the ever important “cost per ride” down to a quarter. Since that opening day, it’s been ridden so many thousands of times by family, friends and neighbors that it’s easily the best entertainment investment we’ve ever made.

As for exercise, participants do have to climb a short series of makeshift steps to reach the top of our backyard zipline, hold on for dear life while sailing toward the other end of the yard, then test the muscles in their little legs as they race back to the starting platform screaming “My turn, my turn, I’m next.” Sure beats playing the Wii all day.

All that said, here at Out’n’About on a warm Oregon September day, you’re not dealing with your mama’s backyard zipline.

No, these are real trees from which you zip at truly breathtaking speeds, not the backyard mulberry that sprang from the ground unplanted and uninvited a dozen years ago.

And while there are weight limits here in the forest, even XL-sized adults can zip to their heart’s content, if, of course, their heart can take it.

They did, embarrassingly, ask me to step on a scale before allowing me into the trees and onto the lines, but whether that was for safety reasons or simple curiosity over what such a finely tuned physical specimen (see photo above) might weigh was unclear.

They even made special provisions for our little Mick, all of six years old and never the first to volunteer for anything, save for ice cream. When he balked during the mandatory training session at the whole concept of sailing through the air on a thin cable 70 feet above solid ground, they worked up a special tethering system that allowed him to roar along the same ziplines as mom and dad and his older sisters, but didn’t require him to follow the explicitly detailed instructions designed to prevent a serious mishap.

In his yellow miner’s helmet and 22-point harness, Mick looked for all the world like a junior Wichita Lineman, scampering up trees to keep the power flowing in this remote jewel of the world.

The initial run of six zip lines ($45 no matter your weight) takes about 90 minutes start to finish given the amount of hiking and climbing involved and the fact that only one person at a time can ride the line. But there’s never really any down time.

At one point, you’re zipping from tree to tree Tarzan-style, landing on a smallish platform supported by a sturdy Douglas fir branch 70 feet above the ground.

The longest ride is 650 feet and the shortest just 300, but the latter is much more terrifying because you’re landing among the tree tops, not at ground level.

At speeds up to 40 mph, I realized that given my weight, even a chance collision with a mosquito could be fatal. At least for the mosquito. Fortunately, that did not happen, though our worthy guide did remind me in no uncertain terms that when he yells “brake,” I’m supposed to brake, no matter how much I’m enjoying the ride.

One time I braked so hard — simply by squeezing the overhead cable with my fist — that I burned a hole through my heavy-duty glove and momentarily doubled the temperature on the surface of my index finger.

The staff at “Out’n’About” is extremely well-trained and conscientious and never forgets that while this is everyday stuff for them, it’s a special moment for you.

Which is probably why, as dusk set in and we drove back to our rented cabin in the woods, almost in unison our four young ones declared: “That was more fun than Disneyland.”

Cheaper, too.

— Reach Bob Dunning at [email protected]. Comment on this column at www.davisenterprise.net

Comments

comments