So there’s this thing at camp called the Pamper Pole.
It’s one of our high elements—literally a 32-foot-tall telephone pole standing upright next to the river. Metal staples are nailed up the side like a ladder, and at the very top, there’s a tiny round platform. Barely big enough for your feet.

Some camps call it Hi-5. That name makes more sense, honestly, because the goal is to jump off the top and slap a rope hanging in front of you midair.
But we call it the Pamper Pole. I don’t know why. We just do.

Here’s how it works:
You get clipped into a harness, go through a safety talk, and then start climbing. First the ladder, then the staples. And the higher you go, the more the pole sways under you. Not enough to fall, but just enough to make your brain say hey, maybe this was a bad idea.
And when you get to the top? You’re supposed to stand. All the way up. On a tiny platform that feels even smaller than it looked from the ground.

Then you jump.
Outward. Toward a white rope.
You don’t grab it—you just slap it like you’re giving it a high five. Your arms are supposed to stay crossed over your chest so the harness can catch you clean. If you grab the rope, you’ll burn your hands. Learned that one the hard way.

The whole thing is challenge by choice. You never have to go all the way. You can stop at the ladder. Halfway up. At the top. You decide how far you’re willing to go, and no one pushes you past that. That’s the rule. And we actually mean it.

I’ve watched kids sprint up the pole and jump like it’s nothing. Ten times in a row, laughing the whole time.
And I’ve watched kids freeze two steps up. I’ve stood on the ground for half an hour, gently talking a camper through panic, tears, and silence—until they either jumped or climbed back down.
And honestly? Both moments hit just as hard.

There’s something beautiful about the ones who keep coming back to it, who jump over and over again like they’ve found a kind of joy up there. But there’s also something sacred about the ones who are terrified and still try anyway. Or those who don’t make it to the top but still show up. Still clipped in. Still gave it a shot.

The Pamper Pole isn’t really about the rope. Or the jump.
It’s about choice.
It’s about learning what fear feels like in your body and realizing you get to decide how much power it holds.
It’s about standing 32 feet in the air, knees shaking, heart pounding, and saying, Okay. I’m scared. But I’m still going to try.

I’ve done this dozens of times. Set up the gear. Clipped kids in. Held the rope. Coached them up and down.
And I’m still in awe. Every single time.
Of the courage it takes to try. Of the power in deciding for yourself what “enough” looks like.

The truth is, fear doesn’t make you weak.
Sometimes, it just means you’re standing on the edge of something that matters.
And bravery?
It isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it looks like shaking hands. A single step.
Or saying, “Not today—but maybe tomorrow.”