I found myself irritated by the smell of a wet dog and raw, burning skin in the creases of my legs because I had just walked a mile through the rain to and from the site of this year’s ITCC at the National Arboretum in Washington, D.C.

It was canceled for the day. Postponed until the next. And again, rain in the forecast.

As I sat in my truck and waited for my cell phone to charge from a dead battery, I was completely helpless. I had to get to the party graciously hosted by the Coates’ at their family farm, and I even knew the address, but without my phone, which houses a GPS app that tells me how to get everywhere, I was stuck watching my windshield get rained on and fogged over. Then the dog farted.

Our whole lives are governed by devices. Especially as arborists. The list is long and very technical. Small devices and large devices, mechanical, electronic, textile, bio-mechanical, bio-chemical, bio-sensational. Port-a-wraps, resist-o-graphs, saddle straps, cable lags, treatment tags, wild beetle bags.

Of course, with many devices come standards and manufacturer’s recommendations and best management practices and a very, very powerful microscope and some large rolls of red tape. And also charging chords. How we use our devices shapes our personal character and our public image and our safety record and our bank accounts.

In some very real sense, our devices provide life support. As climbers and consultants and contractors. They put food on the table and smiles on the client’s faces. So what happens when they fail? What happens if they are poorly prepared or cared for, what happens if they are misunderstood, or improperly assembled? What if we forget one, what if the clutch on the chipper breaks, what if we don’t have enough cable or enough threaded rod or enough imidicloprid, what if I didn’t charge it last night…

My phone finally turned on and I unlocked the screen with the passcode and entered the address into the GPS unit and I was on my way to the farm. Twenty two miles of absolute relief and undeniable guilt in my lack of self sufficiency. And also a steady rain.

This year the competition suffered some very wet weather, like mother nature icing the kicker. It definitely didn’t affect James Kilpatrick or Chrissy Spence, both defending their title, and adding even further to the majesty of New Zealand’s reign over the international tree climbing competition community.

I must make mention of the limb walk station of the work climb tree, which there are whispers that it was a Southern Red Oak, also known as Spanish Oak otherwise. The device acting as gauge for the plumb bob station points was masterfully crafted from throwline, duct tape, rebar, some throw bags and two pulleys in the corners of the square rebar framing to carry the load of the throw bags and make the right angles of the throw line’s path and frame in the sponsorship sign. Instead of the the gauge moving only in one direction, vertically, as it typically does, the gauge was calibrated to move in two directions, horizontally, much like a level acts, demanding from all the climbers a state of complete balance worth up to six points. The level. A masterful device, and properly characterizing a community where rain obviously doesn’t wash away vigor, virtue or creativity.

Hark! Open Ascent! A new event that roused the crowds of onlookers and boiled the blood of some connoisseurs in the ancient art of tree climbing. The purists and the passionates. The kickers and slappers of hives. It was no doubt an event of devices! Cams were clicking and ropes were flicking and, low and freakin’ behold, even some footlocks were thrusting about! There was new and there was old, and better yet, the bell was hung higher. What’s that old saying, “Jingle it more than once and you’re playing with it”?

I say third time’s a charm.

And how about our own device. Whatever that is. The internal tending of the prussic. The internal balancing of the bob. Moving on to Plan B, moving on, unwavering, to a different route of problem solving. Unlike many devices, our own is more adaptable, more universal, more fluid and organic. Electrical even, like lighting, because it comes from the mind and from the heart. Our own device is constantly beating.

Our own device, unlike a candle, doesn’t flicker in the wind. And unlike a throwline, never gets hung up on a sucker or a stub. And unlike a tree, doesn’t need sunshine to make sugar.

Which reminds me, I had better plug my phone in.