Scaling the Fence Peak

My tape hammock gave me a solid night's rest, but waking up staring at the sky means only one thing: summit time! I scrambled up from the nail head, grabbing the grooved cedar grain with my curved hands. Right near the top rail, someone had left an old metal eye-screw rusted into the timber. Perfect grip! I hooked my left hand inside the loop, planted my rigid boots against a rough knot, and hauled myself all the way onto the horizontal ledge. The morning sun lit up the whole neighborhood runway—brick paths, rooftops, and open yards as far as I can see!