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Published: February 23rd 2005
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A Wan Smile
Scary grin, huh? Sick with fear, I was. Dearest Friends and Family,
I would like to talk about one thing today -- FEAR.
Yesterday I experienced this powerful sensation in its truest, rawest form. Nothing compared to this. Not public speaking or thinking a dark thief is breaking into my apartment or finals come close. Not even the dreaded piano recitals of my youth hope to touch this sort of fear. I went for a canyon swing. The "Shotover Canyon Swing" in Queenstown, adventure capital of the world, perhaps.
A swing? you think. That's kid's stuff! That's what they do at the Hilton on the "Ultimate Rush." Weeee!
No. no, no, no. People say this beat the fear factor of skydiving and bungee jumping combined.
The victims jump from a cliff mountain platform 109m/360ft above the Shotover River, then freefall 60m/200ft into the canyon before the ropes pendumlum the poor soul into a giant arc going hundreds of miles per hour.
It looked fun on the ingeniously designed brochure, I swear. I've always wanted to bungee jump, but Pop Star himself said: "Hell yeah, the Swing is the best damn thing to do in Queenstown. Don't bother with the kid's stuff."
And "Hell Yeah!" I thought to myself. I even talked a girl, Debbie, from the U.K. into it. And, I quote myself: "Fear is a mind killer. Do it! You live only once, don't let your fears stand in the way of being a complete person. Look it in the eye! Push yourself to the extreme. You'll love it..." blah blah, freakin' blah.
I admit that the idea scared the hell out of me. My palms sweat and my legs shook when I imagined myself sailing into the clear blue. Still, I wanted more than anything to do it.
We found ourselves being driven up a steep windy road on a beautiful afternoon and I was all about it. A total of five lunatic 20-somethings were in that van, one of whom was an adrenaline junky chick who'd been on 13 bungee jumps and was getting bored with them. Halfway there, though, I started giggling nervously, which was more like a cross between crying and maniacal laughter. Debbie turned even more pale.
"The toilets are over there," our driver said when we reached the top of the clip. "I suggest you use them now."
Hee-hee-hee!
Help!
I might be screaming here... Hee.
I'll skip the whole process of anxiety I was feeling as they weighed us, made us sign the disclaimer (yikes!) and harnessed us in. The death-wishing jumper has a myriad of choices as to how he wants to plummet to his near death: frontwards, backwards, flipping, upside down, hanging on like climbing a rope and letting go, with a trashcan on your head, hanging by your feet and having your harness held to the platform with thread that you cut one by one?
Since I like hawks, my plan was to take a running jump over the edge with my arms outstretched like I was flying. As big and bold as possible. Just like yoga class!
By this time, my mouth felt like cotton and my palms were dripping. The guys running the whole thing just smiled their little "we know all about this fear stuff" smiles and tried to make small talk. But all I could think about were comments the suvivors wrote in the sign-in book: "Even my shit was scared," "You don't realise how fast a lump of meat can fall until you have done this," "Hair raising....and I'm bald!"
Finally, I
Clutching to the rope.
Whatever, man, it's almost done! was strapped in. Against all my instincts of self-preservation, I walked to the platform VERY VERY reluctantly. I felt like I was being marched to the gallows. But much, much, much worse. Elvis, the crazy Kiwi up there, asked me how I wanted to go.
"Flying style, of course!" I said. The fear hadn't hit me fully in the face.
"Sweet as, mate!" Elvis said. "Go as hard as possible."
Then I stood at the edge of the platform and looked down at the roaring river below. And up and the flawless blue sky. And straight at the other side at the canyon.
I froze. With sheer terror I cannot describe. That open space yawning in front of me with my toes hanging over the edge...dear god!!!!! Absolutely nothing was below me. Inwardly, I started to panic.
"Look up at the camera!"
I looked up and forced myself to smile a sickly smile.
A million thoughts were running through my head as I tried to cook up a way to get out of that horrible predicament. Was the rope really attached? Will I be a complete person if I back out? Oh god,
Canyon Swing to scale
That white dot on the left is a human meat bomb. I want to die. It's such a long way down. Breathe DEEP, dammit, one, two, three. Meditate. Do it. What a lovely day it is. Oh shit, help me sweet Jesus and Buddha and whoever else is out there because I'm going to go to Hell. Everyone is watching. No one will respect me.
This was about ten seconds of thought. A tear slipped down my face. I stood there for another 60 seconds or so thinking these horrible things with my legs shaking. I didn't want to step into that gut wrenching void of oblivion in front of me.
"No!" I decided. VERY firmly. "There's no way I'm doing this," I told Elvis. "No way, no how, I've given up on myself. Undo me NOW!" Elvis, bless him, just talked and talked to me about how my imagination had taken over.
"Just take a step. You can do this."
It was almost too late for me. Thrill experts say that the first five seconds are crucial for jumpers. Just jump without thinking and you're good to go. Any time spent contemplating it after that just makes it exponentially harder per minute because the jumper psyches himself out and all is lost.
I stood at the edge of that platform for nine minutes. Nine of the longest minutes of my life. It was so quiet and peaceful.
But I did it. They cheered me on as I lifted my violently trembling leg to take that step: "She's gonna do it! You've got it. Have no..."
That jump was the most liberating and awful feeling EVER. My soul flew from my heart out of my mouth. I couldn't breathe and am sure that my heart skipped a few beats. And then....then the rope tighted and sent me sailing through the air in a huge arc of relief and joy. My laughter returned but was transformed from suffering to jubliation. Then I could stretch my arms out and fly.
When they pulled me back to the top, I was crying. What made me finally do it? Self-respect and pride, essentially. I imagined myself driving back down the road in that van, cursing my cowardice, eating my soaring bull$hit words about conquering fear and remembering the defeat every day for the rest of my life.
Maybe I'm laying on the drama to heavily, but I must say that it was the absolute pulling, scary, ripping-of-the-soul-and-mind SPIRITUAL decision that I've ever made, because at one point I know I made up my mind NOT to do it, but recovered my courage (or idiocy) and still did in the end. Some people do it as though it's no big deal, but I don't think they get as much out of the experience as the truly terrified.
Cliche: In that single experience, I ended up learnin a huge deal about myself. Would I do it again? Well, I'll give you an idea about how intense the ordeal really was. Every time I imagine standing there, the soles of my feet crackle with electricity that runs all the way up my legs to my temples. My palms are sweating as I type this. So, HELL YEAH!!!
Glad to be alive to write to my beloveds and to see you all in the future.
Cheers!
Diana
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anonymous
non-member comment
WHoa!
Okay, and there was no way I could talk you into going into cold water?! :) Good stuff - there is also a Bungee Jumping place that is similar to this and you jump into the canyon from a very tall bridge that is above it. So, I suppose sky diving is next - the free fall there is even longer: about 30 secs.... - Ameriski