Careful There, Spiderboy

This picture was taken in a spot above short bluff 30 feet above a paved trail in the Beautiful Santa Monica Mountains. I took my dog up there yesterday, but he found his way home. Ha ha ha. But really, as I stood up there preparing to snap a photo of the day my hat blew off to about 12 feet below the edge. I ordered the dog to get the hat seeing as he gets up and down all of the steepest inclines with the ease of a goat. I’m no slouch either, once getting the nickname Spiderboy for my agility among the flatirons in Boulder, Colorado, thank-you very much.

On this day I wanted the dog to have all the glory. I wanted to be able to have something where I could brag like Hank Hill: “Today the old boy scampered down a sandy cliff to fetch my hat like it was an escaped prisoner.” Instead the dog looked at me then walked off in the opposite direction. So I lowered myself about five feet down the near 90 degree slope just as three young hikers were rounding the bend on the path below.

“Look, someone’s coming down.”

“Great” I thought. “They see me.” And just then the mound of loose soil that was supporting my butt began sifting away like it was being pulled into the bottom of an hourglass. Then sloooooooooowly I began to slip downward with my arms and legs extended out like Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man in hopes that one of my limbs would catch a non-crumbling surface. But it was like a mountain of brown sugar; anything that seemed solid would just break off in my hand. Thinking quickly I asked myself what would Bear Grylls do and immediately I was able to answer that question. Bear Grylls would be doing exactly what I was doing – falling downward.

I dropped for a terrifying non-stop three feet or so when I slowed and came to a stop about five feet up and three feet over from the hat. Now all three ladies were looking up at me. To let them know everything was A-OK I yelled over the wind “Just getting’ my hat!” I lifted my right hand off the side of the bluff to point to the hat. The momentum of that gesture was enough to put my body back in motion and I slid another three feet to where I was in range to reach the cap with just the right application of dexterity and a little luck.

“Are you alright?” one of the ladies hollered up. “Just gettin’ my hat” I yelled again to assured her as I nimbly crossed my left arm over and down to retrieve one black youbet.com baseball cap with chewed visor and wave it in the air to let her know I was making an ass out of myself for a reason. I rehatted as my dog who was with me every slide of the way down but as sure-footed as he was on flat ground tried to lick my face. I crankily rebuffed his attempt to now play adoring pet.

I scooched down a couple feet further to where I could easily stand and ride the remaining scree on my feet. When I got down to the pavement I looked up and wondered why I had so much trouble negotiating such an unintimidating face. It was steep. I gave myself that but from the ground it looked more like it was about fifteen feet high, twenty tops. “How pathetic” I thought. “So much for Spiderboy.” Then I remembered, the name Spiderboy came from my ability to scramble up inclines, not down. For a second I considered spidering back up the side to redeem myself. I was almost certain I had scaled this one place before, but not after so much rain. The risk of falling upwards was not worth the loss of a little pride from falling downwards. I got my snapshots for the day. I called it and went home.