1 year ago
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
My son had taught me that it is always better to hop rock-to-rock when we've been out hiking in remote Arizona, than it is to try and place your feet between the rocks on shifting sand or loose gravel. So on my treks out to The Headlands of Dana Point and back, I've begun doing what I call "Coastal Parkour" - hopping from rock to rock, to make my way along the shore line.
It's a combination of Parkour, mountain climbing, and the child's game "hot lava", except in the case of the tide pools, the "lava" is sea water the closer you get to the ocean, or wet sand the closer you get to the cliffs. I give myself extra 'bonus points' if the rock onto which I am leaping is actively being splashed by an incoming wave. It's more than a kilometer each way, of rock hopping. And I look at it this way: someday I am going to be old and feeble, or blind or lame, and unable to attempt Coastal Parkour, so I might as well enjoy it now, while I can. My left knee's cartilage gets a little unhappy with me if I do too many extreme impacts where I land too hard or push off too forcefully, but over-all it is an exhilarating endeavour.
When there are young men around, I've started saying "Parkour!" when I jump, and several of the young lions try to mimic me or keep up, but mostly they just laugh at the old man jumping from rock to rock past them.