Scaling great heights

Yesterday afternoon, we went to the open house at the Y camp (Camp
Widjiwagan) where Eva will spend 4 weeks this summer (at day camp). Because we had been there before for an HCA employee picnic, I knew my way around, and
sensing my daughter's growing impatience with the "formal" tour and her
desire to ride on the "roofless" bus, we hopped on the bus and went to a
particular part of the camp. We happened to get off the bus at the foot
of the very high Alpine Tower. Eva immediately wanted to give it a go.

After strapping on the harness and helmet and standing in line for quite
a while, Eva essentially ran up the first part, which consisted of a number of steps cut into a fairly steep piece of wood. That is where many
children stopped, sat down on a platform and were lowered down by the
rope. Not Eva; no the Gusto Girl continued up the rock wall on a nearly
vertical log, which led to a V where she needed to use hand
and footholds on both sides. Then she had to work her way up to a rope
ladder, which she climbed the hard way -- i.e., on the back side of the
slant versus the front. She then had to work her way to the other side
of it and onto the top platform. There was one moment when she got
scared and had to get herself reversed where she cried, but she managed
to recapture her cool, watch the counselors and me demonstrate what she
needed to do and do it. She was by far the youngest/smallest we saw who
made it to the top. Wow, was I proud of her.

She came sailing down and loved receiving the cheers of support and
congratulations. We then walked around the camp and no big surprise
came back to the Alpine Tower at the end. She did it one more time in
no time at all and again was thrilled with herself.

So, the photo at the top of this entry is a drawing she made today. It
says (and I'll forgo the phonetic way of spelling that she used), "I
went to Widjiwagan. It was fun." She drew herself at the top of the
tower and said, "Foof. I made it." And at the bottom is one of the
counselors (dressed in red and navy, just as the real counselor was)
saying, "Keep on going."