Bouldering for 1963

Bouldering is a type of rock climbing. The climbs are usually fairly close to the ground, technical and require some sort of padding to protect you from potential falls (though checkout these highball problems - for pros/mad people only). Boulder mats do the trick and these are essentially small mattresses with rucksack straps sewn in for easy maneuvering to the crag. Bemused looks and comments such as 'Are you going for a nap?' are not uncommon when trudging along to a climb. I rarely go to the effort of getting the boulder mat out for a tree climb, not least because you look marginally (/very) mental to passers by, but a beech tree at Warleigh Point was deserving of the effort.

I’d found it a couple of days previously on a bicycle soiree chasing the sunset. The sky had looked like a swirled mix of moody ocean and exploding candy floss as I meandered down a woodland trail. Old gnarled oak trees hugged the river, knotted roots hung down the cliffs and old fissured branches reached out above the dappled water, pink hues reflecting off the painted sky. As darkness was falling I headed back towards the path but found myself in a slight clearing. Here, a grand old beech stood proudly, much older than the surrounding oaks. I'd been to the woodland before but had never seen this tree. Arboglyphs - initials engraved in the bark - could just be made out in the fading light but it didn't look like an easy climb up. With the sun nearly setting I headed home with my bike, making note to return with a bouldering mat in tow. I wanted to climb up and read those engravings!

The base of the tree was starting to hollow but running up the bottom of the trunk were three perfectly placed footholds - little foot sized stumps growing out from the bark. A tiny bit of purchase could be gained from a slight crevice in the trunk for the right hand, and an interesting growth lent itself to a high foot up. Both hands could be matched on the base of a branch lip whilst lifting a leg high above the head and over a horizontal branch. Having your head upside down with a leg reaching up above you is a committing move to say the least but after a shimmy and shifting of weight up and over, I was in. Here the arboglyphs could be seen up close, 'JC & RD 1963', sprawled across the trunk and several branches.

1963. The year Martin Luther King delivered his iconic speech. The year of JF Kennedys assassination, the release of the Beatles first album and the first woman - Valentina Tereshkova - entering space. Something happened for JC and RD that year too. What was their story? Was this a declaration of love by a couple? Or a memorial etched in more recent times? I wouldn't ever etch into the bark of a tree myself but I do love coming across arboglyphs. They make me think about others that have climbed these branches before. Those moments in time captured for future tree seekers to come. Ah, the stories these trees would hold, if only they could tell them.

Have you ever etched into the bark of a tree? Or imagined the stories behind the arboglphys you've found?