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WESTFIELD -- There's something out of place in this land of discount tire stores and tobacco fields.

It's exotic.

It's adventurous.

And just because it's not native to Tarheel country doesn't mean it doesn't belong.

Robert Nickell lives in the shadow of Pilot Mountain, just off the road bearing his surname. This is where his three kids grew up, property he's owned since 1989.

And since the Fourth of July, it's where he has operated a business rooted in the rainforests of Costa Rica.

* * *

For the cost of a pair of binoculars, Nickell and a few helpers will take you swinging through the trees on a canopy tour of the North Carolina foothills.

A series of 12 wooden platforms and 11 steel cables stretch along 18 acres of the property. Guests buckle into harnesses and slide along the cables at speeds up to 50 miles per hour. The last line on the course is 1,100 feet long; it's the longest in the continental United States, Nickell says.

Canopy tours began in 1970s Costa Rica after scientists devised a system of ropes and pulleys to study plants, animals and bugs that make the forest canopy home.

It wasn't long before savvy entrepreneurs transformed the research method into a vacation activity.

Zipline tours often emphasize thrills, but Nickell wants visitors to take away more than a DVD of photos (his wife, Joanna Nickell, swings ahead and snaps away).

The trail to the first zipline snakes through woods once inhabited by the Sauras, a Native American tribe that lived in this area 400 years ago.

Nickell plans to recreate their village. He is also committed to the construction of a 90-foot rock climbing wall, and eventually a zipline that stretches 3,000 feet and is 280 feet off the ground.

He has grand plans.

He'll get to them.

After all, Carolina Ziplines hasn't even been around six months.

* * *

Nickell spends his waking hours, seven days a week, swinging in the trees with squealing groups of guests giddy -- and a bit scared -- to swing free of gravity.

Church groups come, so do school groups and a few weeks ago, a couple celebrating their 62nd wedding anniversary.

"The husband told me it was the most fun he's had -- outside of the bedroom -- in 50 years," Nickell says.

There are other canopy tours in the United States -- a tour in Austin sends riders cutting through the humid air of Texas hill country, and a Virginia adventure company sends guests careening down a cable for a mountain view.

"With the climate changing, it's going to be harder to ski around here," says Henry Soriana, a Carolina Ziplines guide. "I could see something like this in Boone."

Soriana joined Nickell's staff in early October after moving from Florida four years ago.

He met the Nickells when he came for a canopy tour. He hit it off with the couple and was so fond of the experience that now he works here.

"It's in their nature to work with children, to get them active and moving," he says.

* * *

"Remember, don't look down or you'll puke!"

That's Madison Caesar's sage advice. The 8-year-old is here for a Thursday morning field trip with Brittain Academy, a private school in Thomasville.

Nickell meets them in the field below his house, fresh out of the shower but one cup of coffee shy of his morning ritual.

His wife is already in a trailer helping the kids with helmets and gloves. In a few months, the couple will install a pavilion, but for now the trailer is base camp. Gear costs $300 per person.

After the six students and two instructors suit up, Nickell and the guides go over safety instructions.

One gloved hand grips the harness, the other slides along the overhead cable, pulling down to brake.

"Stop -- they're not listening," Nickell calls out as some of the older kids cut up in the back.

Like a patient teacher -- and a seasoned parent -- he waits until the cigarette and piercing jokes stop.

"How much can you weigh and still do this?" one of the older students asks.

Weight isn't an issue -- the harnesses hold up to 2,000 pounds -- but tugging buckles and belts around a body that weighs more than 250 pounds can be tricky.

Likewise, riders need to weigh at least 45 pounds. A 3-year-old girl rode tandem with Joanna Nickell, and their youngest solo rider was 5, she says. Any younger than that, and it's hard for most kids to process directions.

They're at the first platform now. No one wants to lead off, but 12-year-old Sloan Gilley reluctantly volunteers.

"Oh, God," Caesar giggles.

Nickell clips Gilley to the cable, and he sits down, legs crossed at the ankles. A few seconds later, and --

False start.

He instinctively stands up. On the second try, Gilley gets it, and the other kids follow.

By the time they reach the fourth platform, the kids' stomachs are butterfly free -- they just want to make sure no one scoots past them in line.

Caesar squeals and laughs the whole time. From the ground, you can hear her giggles change pitch as she glides across the cables.

Eight platforms and seven ziplines later, the kids come zooming out of the woods.

They're ready to go again.

"This always happens," Nickell says. "By the time they relax and really get going, it's over."

* * *

Inside the trailer, Nickell grabs a sandwich and a handful of chips and is out the door in 10 minutes to greet the next group.

It's six adults this time.

He drops the dad routine.

Four are here to celebrate Clarke Carrick's 55th birthday. The other couple came for fun.

Like the kids, the adults are initially hesitant, but their nerves disappear by the second platform.

As the first three guests leave the fifth platform, Carrick leans against the steel cable.

Put a helmeted head to the cables and you'll hear whizzing and beeping that sounds like a "Star Trek" battle scene. When someone is gliding on them, it's even louder.

"Ugh, I hate it," Nickell says. "It sounds like a dentist drill, and there's nothing worse."

Joanna Nickell reclines in the field, snapping photos as guests swing by overhead.

"I guess this is the thing with Robert and I," she says. "We love the outdoors. Not that we don't go to the movies, but outside you really stay in touch with the environment and I don't think people get that anymore."

Nickell is the last one off the zipline. He reaches into his right pocket to find his cell phone shows six missed calls and three voicemails.

Business is good.

The phone buzzes all day.

Nickell likes it that way.

* * *

Nickell climbs into the trailer again. This time he has 15 minutes before the next 90-minute tour.

He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and explains why a Stokes County man decided to build a highway in the trees.

A 1985 trip to New Zealand tapped a love of ziplining in the 20-year construction industry veteran. An accident three years ago inspired him to turn that interest into a living.

The Nickells own American Gymnastics in King, but wanted to bring in more income. "So I thought, I'm a smart person, I can think of something to do in my own backyard," he says.

He traveled to Colombia, Puerto Vallarta, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Hawaii to perfect the vision.

"While all the other tourists took pictures of monkeys and flowers, I was taking pictures of the cables and construction," he says.

Back at home, Nickell tagged sturdy trees with ribbons and then connected the lines to see the emerging course. Obstructing trees were cut down.

Nickell worked for a year with his 15-year-old son, Sean, and his nephew, Henry Ash, to finish the project.

They climbed trees with hooks and ropes to drop cables that support the platforms.

Trial and error taught Nickell about stringing the ziplines. Some of the original angles were too steep, too fast or too slow. He worked until it was just right.

The zipline was a secret until his son slid down the last line during the family's annual Independence Day party.

Carolina Ziplines has been open every day since.

And that's it.

End of story.

Good timing.

The next group is here.

Nickell gets a quick kiss from his wife and the two youngest kids, who are just home from school.

Time to go back in the trees.

Contact Katie Reetz at 691-5091 or kreetz@news-record.com.