The Hip Hold | by Lisa Ballard

There are many accidental inventions of consequence. Take the water balloon, the result of a scientist, Edgar Ellington, in 1950, who was trying to create a waterproof sock. When he confidently filled his painstaking prototype with water and it leaked, he threw it against the wall in frustration. Mischief makers have soaked innocent trick-or-treaters on Halloween ever since.

I can now lay claim to a similar silly yet effective invention, the result of a tight spot while descending a rock chimney on Pitchoff Mountain in New York’s Adirondack Park. Pitchoff is a well-known rock climbing destination in that area, but I wasn’t roped up. I was hiking with my friend Helena, her daughter and her goldendoodle.

Most hikers that tackle Pitchoff head to a broad, bald shoulder of the mountain, where several large boulders sit atop an impressive cliff. The boulders, known as the Balanced Rocks, were deposited on their precarious perch as the continental ice sheets receded, 10,000 years ago. It’s a fine place to eat lunch and take in a glorious view.

From the Balanced Rocks, some people continue to the treed summit of Pitchoff, mainly to say they bagged it. Very few hikers continue past the summit because it requires a second car to get from the other trailhead back to where you started. Yet, each of Pitchoff’s five subpeaks beyond the true summit rewards with ever-changing views of the Adirondack High Peaks and later, Vermont’s Green Mountains across Lake Champlain. We had two cars and planned to go the entire way.

All went well until we reached a particularly tall, vertical rock outcropping. Surveying the situation, I started down the right side, eying a crack in the rock that might give me some purchase. Without warning, my feet gave way. I started to slide down the wall only to have my hips jam in the crack. Now what? I was stuck, back to the rock, feet dangling four feet above the ground.

“Are you okay,” yelled Helena from above, seeing me slip but not my predicament.

“I’m stuck,” I hollered back, as I reached for a tree about three feet in front of me to stabilize myself. To my surprise, my wedged hips released!

I let my weight continue forward until I was free of the rock. Bracing against the tree with one foot and the rock with the other, I then made it to the ground.

“Nice move,” deadpanned Helena.

“It’s a hip hold,” I giggled. “Give it a try.”

Helena followed, wedging her hips in the same spot, on purpose, then leaning forward to the tree. Within a minute she was down. Emma followed using the same technique.

Afterward, as we continued our descent, we commended ourselves on getting through that particularly dicey spot in such an inventive way. I doubt professional rock climbers would embrace it, but my hip hold worked well in a tricky spot during an otherwise treat of a hike. Happy Halloween!

Photos courtesy of LOWA Ambassador Lisa Ballard.