I remember the first time that I climbed the slippery wooden ladder. I stood up there on that platform with quaking legs and a death grip on the rope. I had been taken to the rope swing by a friend who had helped build it. At the beginning it was still a secret. The loss of the old rope swing that once perched below the bridge still loomed in our minds. A section of that tree still sits on the Ledyard porch as a reminder of what was once a part of summer at Dartmouth. You didn't talk about the rope swing in front of others that you didn't know. You didn't blitz out directions. The first rule of the rope swing was that you didn't talk about the rope swing.
That first trip up, we scanned the shoreline looking for the faint outline of the steps leading up from the water. Branches had been nailed together to form a ladder so that the hundreds of feet that were to come would not erode the bank. Scrambling up the slippery rungs that were once parts of trees themselves, I look in awe at the towering pine that seemed tethered to the shore only by the thin line I held in my hand. The tree perched over the water, yearning to enter the river as much as we did on that muggy September day. Thoughts flashed though my head. Would the rope hold? Would I hit that tree that seemed to be in the way? Was I strong enough to hold on? Would my pants be ripped off as I plunged into the water?
I've known those who have gone, and those that turned back. But the moment of standing on that platform was a poignant one for all those that made the trek. I always chose to go by boat, to this day I'm still not sure how to get there by land. I've been there in racing canoes and in kayaks, alone and with groups of 10. I've gone off the upper triangle of death. I've had perfect dives and careening belly flopping wrecks. No matter how many times I've been off of the rope swing I always hesitated before that final step off. There was a little voice that asked me if it was a good idea, a little voice that was quickly drowned out by the delighted screams of the rest of my brain as I arced down and down and then up and up and down into the blue-green paradise of the river.
We live in a world that is increasingly secure and sterilized. We lock our doors, wear our safety belts, sign waivers before going hiking. We drink hot coffee that isn't too hot because courts have determined what that ideal temperature should be.
The rope swing stood against that tide of bland security. You could let go of the rope, you could drag your feel on the water and fall off. You could slip on the ladder and plunge to your doom. That was the point, that was what made it scary and thrilling and something that no one who went off it will ever forget. The makers of the rope swing winked at this idea of insecurity, as did those who flocked to that platform. The sign on the tree proudly proclaimed that the lifeguard on duty was Charles Darwin.
I live at the Ledyard Canoe Club. Not a day has gone by this summer when someone hasn't asked how to get to the rope swing. And never have I failed to see those same people more alive on their return than on their departure .
In the College's quest to safeguard Dartmouth from itself, one of the greatest moments of a Dartmouth summer that one can have was destroyed early Tuesday morning. I mourn the loss of the rope swing as I would the departure of a friend. Even days that I didn't go off the rope swing, that I just drove or paddled by, it made me happy to know that the challenge was there waiting for me.
We learn to drive cars, use knives, ski, fall in love, kayak and other silly things that are dangerous. Dealing with risk in a responsible fashion and accepting the possible consequences is a mark of true adulthood. The rope swing was a chance to deal with risk and make a decision of whether or not to step off that platform. That experience is something that we need. It is clear by the way that rope swings continue to be built as fast as the College can cut them down that there is something necessary and pure about confronting one's fears. The sweet, thrilling reward of falling though the air to the cool, inviting river will motivate those that dare to seek out new rope swings, new adventures. For others, the memory of a summer afternoon spent watching friends leap into the unknown will be reward enough.
