No-No Song

Ol' Hoyt Axton wrote his No-No song many years ago. And sometimes it makes me think not of things that I have done and sworn off, but things that I never did and never will do.

Some of my pals are into technical climbing. That is, the types of mountain climbs that require ropes, carabiners, harnesses. helmets, cams, and other such nonsense. I can see where they get a thrill out of it, and sometimes I look with envy at the photos they take from summits that I will never reach.

But...it ain't for me. I have a healthy respect for Mr. Gravity and sketchy slopes. I'm not quite afraid of heights, but I realize what's at the end of a long plummet. Death. Bloody,  gory, maybe painful death. No, thanks.

The closest I have ever come to this kind of climbing is what's known as "Class III". You could, perhaps, get hurt doing Class III scrambles, but you'd almost have to try to do that. I have engaged in this kind of traveling in Maine, New Hampshire, West Virginia, and Tennessee. It's not dangerous,but it is the at the limits of what I am willing to do to reach a mountain peak. Some people consider Class III to still be "hiking" instead of scrambling. I don't argue such points. If I'm on all fours and it's almost as if I'm climbing a ladder...that's enough for me.

The end of the walking trail at Seneca Rock. From here on...you scramble.

The top of Seneca Rock. Fall off either side...and you're squished.

Yours truly, on the summit of Seneca Rock.

And here's what it looks like from the bottom.