The attap house of my youth “squatted” in the midst of a coconut plantation, surrounded left, right, front and back by flora of the towering kind.
Once a month or so, teams of climbers came round to harvest the nuts. Unlike the learned academic* who was brainy and chubby, these professionals were invariably brawny albeit skinny and could out-climb a monkey.
A kind of sarong-like cloth was bundled into a rope-like configuration and used as a tensioner between their two feet. That was all they needed to zip all the way up to the top where the nuts beckoned, “Come, get me !”
Of course, those plucky pros had to get picky. Only the mature nuts got to be man-handled — they would plucked and dropped to the ground, to be collected and sent for ripping apart.
* referring to the movie, “The Nutty Professor”