Rock climbing on Mohonk Mountain, Bill Reynolds’ 14-year-old son helped him get past the Lemon Squeeze.
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It’s been six years since I moved out, but I live only a mile away and share custody of my son. I’m an attentive father and a dedicated if imperfect mentor. Being a single parent isn’t easy but it’s who I’d become: the dad who makes sure my kid’s OK and growing up to be a healthy, happy and good man. Above all, I want him to reach his full potential and believe in himself.
When teachers or coaches call about Sean’s progress, they have my full attention. Like when the JV soccer coach called just a few days before the start of Sean’s high school career: “he’s got great skill but needs to work on his stamina!”
“Tomorrow we’re running stairs at the stadium or biking to New Paltz,” I said. “Pick.” He chose neither – but counter offered: “Let’s hike through the rocks at Mohonk Mountain.”
I hesitated. Wasn’t sure about this. I hate heights and don’t know why people climb through caves. But how could I say no? It’s my job to encourage him, right?
“The Labyrinth
To The Crevice & The Sky Top Tower”
This sign brings you to a boulder-strewn mountainside formation that eventually takes you to this devil’s den called the Lemon Squeeze. “Here we go!” Sean announced cheerily. I wasn’t happy. I’d never done this before. But there was no turning back.
If I fell short, it was a ten-foot drop. If I overshot? That’s probably good for a swan dive into a rock pile.
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Five minutes in we got to a stone the size of a box truck, which slanted steeply to the left. I needed to jump onto that boulder from the one I was standing on. If I fell short, it was a ten-foot drop. If I overshot? That’s probably good for a swan dive into a rock pile. I didn’t like my odds.
He was already beyond the box truck. This is how the “hike” went all day. From my fear and hesitation to his scampering from stone to stone with a spider’s ease. I didn’t like feeling so unsure – and wondered why I agreed to this.
For hours we climbed over and under stones. Climbed ladders. Crossed catwalks. I never looked down.
“These ladders are nothing compared to what’s at the end,” he announced as if we were on a Six Flags roller coaster. Those words hung in the air with the humidity that made breathing hard and sweating effortless. But it wasn’t long before the air cooled and clouds drifted into place. Finally, we rounded a corner to the foot of a gray cliff whose face was all I could see between the sky and me. And then rain droplets fell.
Red hand-painted directional arrows on the stones were supposed to guide me but sometimes they pointed two ways or three. I was getting lost.
And where the hell was Sean?
“DAD! Where are you?”
“No idea! Where are you?”
“At the Lemon Squeeze!”
“I don’t know where to go!” I didn’t want to know.
And then, as if three feet away, he murmured: “Dad, here.” He was perched 10 feet above me, a grinning Cheshire cat who couldn’t wait to disappear into the mountain crack they call the Lemon Squeeze. I followed his voice and found my way in.
But once inside I couldn’t see him. It was damp and dark. The skylight was countless stories above and seemed to mock me.
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But once inside I couldn’t see him. It was damp and dark. The skylight was countless stories above and seemed to mock me. “Ah yes, life up here is grand while you, weak little man, are hopeless down there in that hole.”
“Dad!” Yelled Sean from brown and black ahead. “You should know the ladder is a little sketchy!”
“But it’s steady,” said a disembodied voice from somewhere up …where? “You’ll be fine!”
Was that God?
The ladders are made of hard wood and steel, screwed into the stone. I thought my hands slippery with sweat would lose grip and I’d plummet to my grave. Laboring lungs and my heartbeat was all I could hear. My feet couldn’t find the rungs. I kept shaking my head. I began to understand what “shitting my pants” truly meant. Fretting, I crept upward, looking straight ahead at the wall, inches from my face. And then I climbed onto another ladder that leaned to the left. It was built inside a diagonal cut in the wall.
How do I get up this thing? I was so tired.
“Just lean against the rock as you climb,” my son called down. I did as instructed. It worked.
But now I was just afraid of death. Period. And my charge was somewhere in the murk, detaching and leaving me behind.
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God, I was scared. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Until that moment, my fear of death was about leaving my son. Above anything else, I was Sean’s father. His protector. But now I was just afraid of death. Period. And my charge was somewhere in the murk, detaching and leaving me behind.
I got to the top of the last ladder. I thought I was home free. But what I saw next was a vertical wall, about 12 feet tall, with no ladder. Then raindrops the size of marbles began soaking the wall.
How the hell am I getting up this?
“Just come up, it’s fine. I’ll show you where to go.” He was already done, looking down. Bemused.
I put my right foot up and barely lodged it into a notch in the rain-slickened wall. I was completely out of breath and had no upper body strength left.
I tried to put my left foot up but couldn’t. And I was afraid if I thrust my leg too hard I’d lose my grip and my other foot would slip.
I looked down panting with fear. And yeah, shame. My son had conquered this monstrosity and I was still firmly in its grip.
“I can’t do this.” I was shaking my head. My fear of those ladders was nothing compared to this. Breeeeathe, I told myself.
“I’m gonna fall. I can’t.” I really hate that phrase. How many times did I lecture him about that? “Yes you can,” said Sean. “You can do this.”
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“Yes you can,” said Sean. “You can do this.”
“I’m gonna fall. I can’t.” I really hate that phrase. How many times did I lecture him about that? I thought about backtracking, but what waited for me back there? The Balrog? To pull me into the fires of hell? Oh my GOD, what am I going to do?!
The answer came quick enough.
“Dad, just put your foot there and there and come up,” Sean said, pointing to invisible toe-holds in the wall.
I shook my head but it was all or nothing. Not going down, not going back. I’m going up, and getting out.
I put my feet “there and there” as instructed, and pulled up. And his hand was there, floating in the air above me. He lifted me from the pit. I was out of the Lemon Squeeze and out of the Labyrinth.
I collapsed onto my back in a puddle and stared at the clouds that danced against a brightening sky. I was sucking in sweet, clean mountain air like I’d breathed for the first time. Rainwater fell into my mouth, cooled my body. I was alive!
He helped me up and we sat on a wooden hand-hewn bench at the base of the lookout tower. The Hudson Valley sparkled below us.
We sat for a while. Didn’t say much. But I thought: How did a day of routine exercise become this? My son forced me to face and discard fears that had lived in my core. Now they were down there, somewhere underground.
And something else happened. When he pulled me up, he also took the baton from me, didn’t he? The boy was becoming a man. Wow.
“Wow, what?” he said, breaking my reverie.
My son forced me to face and discard fears that had lived in my core. Now they were down there, somewhere underground.
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I had to think. I couldn’t give him any wise father talk. Well maybe I could, just a different kind. “I can’t remember,” I stammered, “when I was that scared. I wanted to turn back but didn’t. Somehow, you helped me face horrifying fears and let them go. And…my feet are killing me but…I feel stronger now. And … you gave that to me. What a gift… I’m so grateful.” I hugged him.
“Really?” He said.
“Really. And thank you.”
He smiled: “You’re welcome.”
But there was one thing bothering me: “Weren’t you worried about me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I always knew you could do it.” And then he said: “What’s for dinner?”
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