jumping fences

This is what we found when me and Cheney [one of my three sistas] drove over 2 hours to Crossville to visit the Minister's Treehouse. We had heard it had been closed, but persevered nevertheless. It's on my "101 in 1001" List... whats a girl to do? This sign coupled with the pad lock compounded by the barbed wire wrapped around the top of the fence would have been enough to deter most people. But you should know... we're not most people.

We parked a distance away so it wouldn't be obvious we were on the property. We climbed over the fence, careful not to tear our leggings on the barbed wire. We crept silently up a windy gravel walkway closer and closer to the treehouse... not a soul in sight. About halfway there, we froze in our tracks when an angry and aggressive "WOOF" from an angry and aggressive dog pierced the silence of nature that surrounded us. It was obviously on the property with us, and nearer the treehouse than us, and protective of it's space. I moved enough to snap a picture and was ready to head back to the car.

However, my daredevil of a sister had other plans. She proceeded onward once the barking subsided, and I had no choice but to follow. We crept closer and were finally standing below the treehouse. It took us a minute to figure out how to get inside but we figured it out and let ourselves in. We tiptoed from room to room, up staircase after staircase, whispering quietly as we explored the uniquely manmade and massive structure, me growing paler and more intensely nervous every time a bird fluttered or a squirrel jumped trees around us. The treehouse was full of paintings and writings and drawings, as well as wooden furniture. There was a chapel build in the middle of the treehouse with a balcony full of old classroom desks. It was an interesting conglomeration of decor for sure.

 

 

We finally made it to the top of the treehouse... 5 or 6 stories in the air. We were admiring the view and I was just beginning to feel like we might make it home without getting arrested or shot, when my heart basically stopped in my chest. The unmistakable sound of a truck engine roared below, and then another followed. They stopped just beside the treehouse we were sneaking around in and a young guy and girl got out and started chatting it up on the ground. I let a few not-so-appropriate words slip out in a petrified whisper as we stood motionless trying to figure out how to get out of there. Mostly using our eyes and hands, we talked it out on the top floor and decided to try to sneak down and back to the car without being noticed. Cheney took the lead and we started descending, or so we thought.

 

We made it down about 3 stories and somehow ended up on a wrap around porch on the outside of the treehouse. After making a few circles, working hard to avoid the side of the house the trucks were parked below, obviously, we concluded we were no longer making downward progress. The only solution seemed to be to backtrack and go down exactly how we came up. This required us to cross through a huge clearing in the middle of the treehouse which would leave us visible to the strangers and their trucks for the 5 seconds it would take to cross over. Before we went for it, this was the plan we devised, and the conversation:

 

Cheney [super calm]: "what are we going to say if they see us?"

Me [super I'm-freaking-out-but-trying-to-be-your-big-sister]: "okay this is the plan [think, think, think,]... we will just say we didn't know it was closed."

Cheney [rolling her eyes]: "oh, since theres not a sign with a lock and barbed wire or anything?! Plus we are sneaking around whispering! That doesn't make sense. Lets just start talking like we think we're supposed to be here and walking normal, then it will seem like we didn't know."

Me [totally freaking out]: "NO! Thats a terrible idea! I don't think they'll see us anyway, come on just follow me."

 

I took the first step across the clearing and a loud male voic ripped through the quiet we had worked so hard to maintain: "WHO'S IN THE TREEHOUSE????" I looked at Cheney and let out a few more not-so-appropriate words. At this point I think we both decided we were basically done for, so we started walking regular and made our way down. Somewhere in there we realized we hadn't gotten a picture of us together yet so we snapped one really quick.



We were greeted at the bottom by two energetic pitbulls and a guy and a girl in camo and carhart jackets. There we stood in our sweater dresses, leggings, and boots, trying to look as innocent as possible knowing full well we were as guilty as they come. The guy asked what we were doing, I stumbled through a dramatic explanation about how I've always wanted to see the treehouse and we drove over two hours and we just wanted to see it one time and we're sorry, to which he replied "Oh, thats what I figured. [looks at girl]... I told you we didn't need to bring the gun. [looks back to us] Well, did you like it? Tell your friends how cool it is, just don't post pictures on facebook." We said thank you and they stood and watched as we walked quickly away, climbed back over the fence, and finally got back to our car.

When we were safely inside with the doors locked, we both released the built up stress and noise of being so silent and so scared: I opened my mouth and a loud yell came out,  and Cheney died laughing.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I completed #84: Go to the big tree house in Crossville on my "101 in 1001" List!