There is something serene, slightly dangerous and utterly compelling about sitting in the crown of large old or strong young tree. They have to be strong these days as I am slightly heavier than when I was a child, though compared to a mighty Yew or ancient Oak we are never anything but children. Some of the deepest memories I have before I was thirteen have to do with climbing up into trees and sitting, scared to fall down, looking out over other people’s gardens, roads and hills or down at the sea.
No matter how well you know an area the change in height and aspect will show you something new, and the tree itself will respond to your pulls and shifts of weight with parental good will. The ground always looks dizzy from above but the idea that squirrels are looking at you quizzically and birds are hovering waiting for the idiot to go away, amuses me. Being out of one’s normal environment is always a humbling experience but being in a tree has something of the Robin Hood and something of the monkey mixed in with a rarity value now that so many trees have been wiped from the face of the planet.
I don’t know what it is like to have to use climbing gear in the rainforest’s but I intend to have a go at it as soon as I am able and hug the trunk afterwards to say thank you.