Dave Partack has always loved to climb trees.
As a teen-ager on canoe trips, he'd stop to scale a sycamore towering over the banks of the Little Miami River. When he had climbed high enough to impress a friend, he'd dive off a branch into the water. The devil-may-care days of his youth may be behind him, but Mr. Partack still regularly goes out on a limb. Because that's what arborists do.
In June, the 32-year-old Mount Washington resident won his third consecutive Ohio Tree Climbing Championship. He will vie for the International Tree Climbing Championship Sunday in Birmingham, England.
"I've never had a fear of heights," says Mr. Partack, a crew chief for Madison Tree Service who left for England Tuesday with his wife, Julie.
More to the point, he's never had a fear of falling. Ten years ago, when he was getting started in the business as a new Madison employee, he concerned himself not with the ground below but with "being able to position myself right, knowing where to distribute my weight, where to hold on. Things you learn through experience." He has taken his skills to the Ohio competition for nine years, finishing second three years in a row before his string of three straight championships. Last month, after narrowly beating out Mike Fasig, who also works for Madison Tree Service, Mr. Partack received several plaques and a $100 gift certificate from an arborist supply company.
Some $10,000 in cash and prizes will be awarded at the international competition. The International Society of Arboriculture's (ISA), Ohio chapter is paying most of Mr. Partack's expenses, and Madison Tree Service is chipping in, too.
Mr. Partack has the rugged, muscular look of someone who climbs trees for a living. But climbing also gives the brain a workout. "You can't win (the competition) with just brute strength," says Alan Siewert, president of the Ohio chapter of the ISA, which sponsors the event. "There's some psychology, there's planning, there's strategy involved."
And there is mental toughness.
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TREES STRESSED
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Mother Nature is keeping arborists busy.
Four years of "terrible weather" -- wet, cool springs followed by hot, dry summers -- has stressed a number of trees, says Ron Trenkamp, a certified arborist with Natorp's Inc. Sometimes it takes several years for trees to begin showing their displeasure.
When soils remain saturated in spring, root problems can develop. As a result, "The disease anthracnose is more prevalent now," says Scott Boyles, a certified arborist and owner of Arbor Design. The fungal disease has affected maples, sycamores and dogwoods, he says.
Although generally not fatal, the disease causes leaves to brown and can lead to stress that makes a tree more susceptible to damage from insects.
Arborists also get deluged with calls every time a storm -- such as the one that blew through Greater Cincinnati July 19-20 -- downs trees and limbs. Mr. Boyles says Arbor Design received triple the usual number of calls the day after the stormbut managed to keep pace.
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Most people can walk a 4-inch-wide line on a sidewalk. But when that four inches is a branch, 80 feet up, it's different. And when you are walking backward on that branch, and you feel it bending under your weight, and you have a razor-sharp saw in one hand, it's very different.
The competition consists of five events that simulate the work arborists do.
The throw ball: A pouch, resembling a bean bag, has a 150-foot line attached. Standing on the ground, an arborist throws the pouch into a crotch of a tree. Then a half-inch climbing rope is attached to the line, and pulled through the crotch.
Aerial rescue: An unconscious partner (in this case, a 175-pound dummy) is 30 feet up in a tree. The climber races the clock as he checks for injuries and brings the dummy safely to the ground.
Foot-lock climb: The climber is timed ascending a rope 40 feet. Belayed speed climb: The climber, in a harness, is timed as he climbs 40 feet up a tree while a ground worker pulls slack out of the rope's trailing end.
Work climb: Safely tied in to the top of a tree, an arborist is timed as he maneuvers to four stations around the tree.
Competitors from 37 ISA chapters in the United States and around the world will participate in the championships in England. Mr. Partack's highest finish in international competition was seventh in 1997 at Salt Lake City.
He approaches the competition the way he does his job: safety first. Much of an arborist's equipment mirrors that used by mountain climbers: carabiners, which are oval metal rings with a snap link, used to fasten rope; climbing boots; helmet; safety glasses.
"I've only fallen out of a tree once," he says. That was six years ago. "The whole top was dead, and I didn't realize it. It was covered in grapevine, and when I tied in to it and was moving around a little bit to try to get up into a larger tree, it broke out.
"I only fell about 15 feet, straight onto my back, which just knocked the wind out of me. I was fortunate."
He immediately called his wife, Julie, and told her. She is a diamond buyer and says she didn't always want to watch him climb trees. But, "I know how safe he is about his job. I trust the techniques they've been using all these years. Now I look at him, and it's actually kind of awesome."
They have a 10-year-old daughter, Erin, and a 7-year-old son, David, who practice climbing on a rope their father has attached to a tree in their back yard.
Mr. Partack hopes the climbing competitions help promote a better image for arborists.
People without the proper training often mutilate trees, he says. He passed a difficult test to become an ISA-certified arborist, and he knows how, when and what to prune. He can identify plant diseases and pest insects.
On a recent weekday, he stood in a client's back yard in East Walnut Hills, where he had pruned a half-dozen burr oaks. These are his favorite trees because of their age -- the oldest are perhaps 250 years old -- and size, which reaches 100 feet.
"They're enormous," he says. "It's more of a challenge. I like that.
"I don't consider myself a tree hugger. But in a way, I am. I respect these things. They've been here three to four times as long as we'll ever live. If I can help preserve them and make them look the way they do, I mean, I'm proud of this. I don't feel it gets any prettier than this."
Sunlight is glancing through the green canopy of leaves overhead. "You could lay in a hammock for days," he says, "and just stare up."
