Tuesday, 10 May 2005

Flying Like A Bird with No Wings!


      I couldn't tell you what made me do it. I mean, I wanted to do it. I'd been saying so for months. It's one of the only things I had planned ahead of time to do when I got to New Zealand. But nonetheless, I've spent the past two days trying to talk myself out of doing the 134 meter Nevis Highwire Bungy jump outside of Queenstown. I talked myself out of doing the one in Cairns, Australia because I knew I was coming to NZ. And if I was going to do something as silly as throw myself out into space with nothing more than an industrial strength rubber band tied around my ankles, I was going to do it from the highest land-based site in the world. That way I would only have to do it once. As they say in New Zealand, "Go Hard." I was pumped. I'm a tough guy! None of those little 50 and 60 meter bungy jumps for me! That's what I had been saying all the way through the north island, and Fiji, and most of the south island as well!
      But now that the time had come, actually going through with it and putting my money where my mouth was turned out to be harder than I had anticipated. You see, apparently my brain chose this time to remind me that I'm actually afraid of heights. And apparently that fear is almost more potent when I'm standing on the ground creating it in my mind rather than actually plummeting through the air towards a shallow river. Everytime I crossed the street, I would look down past my feet on the curb and imagine that the trickle of water running down the gutter was actually the river that I would soon be falling towards. And it looked like a loooong way down from where my eyeballs were. I was having a hard time convincing myself I could actually go through with it, and had I been on my own, I may have conveniently "forgotten" about it altogether.
      Thankfully, my girlfriend Amy has joined me on my travels for three weeks. We must have walked in and then right back out of the bungy center in town at least three times before Amy finally did all the talking for me and handed the girl behind the counter my credit card as I stood there trying not to look scared, but unable to speak. It was like...I don't know what it was like. But my heart was racing and I was breathing fast, and I was just scared, dammit! But there was no turning back now. Yet somehow, the 45 minute bus ride to the actual bungy site seemed to calm my nerves. But my blood pressure shot right back up again when we arrived.
      A small hut on a cliffside served as the office and editing bay for the DVDs of the jumps that they sold. And what looked like a small metal ski hut hung out over the center of the canyon suspended by two hefty cables. And those two things are all that make up one of the most popular adreneline destinations in New Zealand.
      After our safety briefing we were given our last chance to back out. We would be given a full refund minus the cost of transport. And the rest of the refund would be given in the form of a voucher redeemable at...the AJ Hackett Bungy center where you could purchase any one of the fine selection of AJ Hackett t-shirts, stickers, hats, sweatshirts, or mugs. Or you could use your remaining money to jump from one of the smaller jump sites. I asked my hand to throw itself into the air and volunteer for the refund option. I asked it so politely. But my hand and arm just sat there quietly at my sides. Both arms at both sides. And there went my last chance to back out. In fact, no one in our group of 13 jumpers took the refund option. We had all resigned ourselves to our fates, as if we all had our own sins to repent for, and this was our path to forgivness. You could tell by the same glazed look in everyone's eyes that seemed to say, "If this is the end, then so be it."
      We were harnessed up in a rock-climber's style harness and transferred to what I will call the "jump pod" in about three groups by way of a small cable car/gondola. I tried to shake the feeling that I was on my way to some sort of retro-futuristic execution ceremony, but that's what I felt. Like I was on my way to be sacrificed to the river Gods to keep the river from flooding.
      I had paid an extra fee to have Amy come along as moral support and documentary camera girl. A small price to pay to have her smiling face by my side should these be my last minutes on Earth. It was going to be nice to have a last kiss just before my jump. And it was going to be nice to have a celebratory return kiss should I have a triumphant return to celebrate.
      There was a plexiglass window in the floor of the pod so that you could watch all the others jump, and fall, and bounce safely on their cables before you jumped yourself. And to be honest, it looked worse than it was. But I didn't know that yet. All I knew was that it looked bad. It looked very very scary. I watched, and tried not to watch, as about half of the jumpers went before me. Some went twice! That was another option we were given. If you came back up and wanted to do it again, it only cost an extra $79. One showoff jackass [with really bad teeth and an adolescent mohawk haircut (out of place on his 40+ year old body)] jumped off the roof of the pod. "Wow!" we all thought sarcastically, "He got an extra 8 feet of freefall! I'll bet that makes a huge difference when you're talking about 134 meters!" But everyone came back with smiles on their faces. More importantly, everyone came back. Period.
      And then it was my turn. That blank, distant stare had cemented itself to my face as my name was called and a technician began strapping large blue pads tightly around my ankles as I waited for the jumper in front of me to jump. I walked to the "on deck" chair (getting my last kiss from Amy along the way) to have my legs bound and that industrial strength rubber band strapped to my feet. Turns out it was actually strapped to my waist, but ran between my ankles in a way that would allow me to bounce twice upside down, and then be hauled back up to the pod in a sitting position after I pulled the release. I was assured that it was not at all possible for me to release myself from the bungy cord entirely. I could only release my ankles and put myself into a more comfortable sitting position.
      I was ready. As least as far as logistics were concerned. I had paid. I had been weighed. I was harnessed. I had been safety-briefed. I was attached to a bungy cord. It was my turn to go and there were people waiting.
      Mentally, I had gone to a different place. I took baby steps as I walked out to the edge of a two-foot-long by one-foot-wide diving board. Steps even more baby then were necessary considering my legs were bound together 1/3 of the way up my shins. A cool breeze drafted through the pod as I reached out to my sides for something to grab onto. There was nothing. The pod had been cleverly designed so as to offer the jumper NOTHING to hold onto when they change their mind halfway through the motion of the jump. During our safety briefing, we were told to look out to the horizon where the canyon turned the corner, and find that lone tree which sits there at eye level (there was only one). Focus on that tree, and when you jump...try to grab that tree. The tree was easily a quarter of a mile away. I looked down. I didn't allow myself to see past the tip of my toes. I felt the weight of the bungy cord as it hung, dangling in space below me, as if tugging me out after it. I was vaguely aware of the reassuring weight of the jump technician's hand holding onto the straps of the harness which criss-crossed my back so I wouldn't fall out before I was ready to jump. I refocused my sight on that tree. Oh, friendly tree. Giver of Life. Come to me, friendly Tree.
      Off in the distance I heard a voice. "5-4-3-2-1 BUNGY!" I flinched, but my legs didn't jump. "Oh, sorry" said the voice behind me in the distance. "I wasn't ready."
      And I stood there with my toes hanging over a 134 meter (approx. 402 feet) expanse, focusing on that tree on the horizon. I tried not to think of the jinx that had been laid upon me when the guy who strapped the blue pads to my ankles asked if I was accident prone. I tried not to think about how even with all of this heavy equipment and thick bungy cord, and nylon straps, and titanium carribeaners along the way, the whole device seemed to lead back to a 1/2 inch thick bolt running through a small eyelet at the top of the pod cabin. And somehow I managed to put out of my head the fact that it was the very jump technician who had just strapped me to the bungy cord who had just told me that HE wasn't ready! He's just joking, I thought to myself as I looked down at my toes again. This time I caught a glimpse of the river down below. So far down below. Back to my friend, the tree.
      I couldn't tell you what made me do it, but when that voice right behind me in the great distance counted down again, "5-4-3-2-1 BUNGY!" I sprang as hard as I could for that tree on the horizon. And you know what? I almost got it. I would've grabbed it too, if it wasn't for that pesky enemy of flight which has plagued land-based man throughout history. Gravity.
      Gravity immediately took over and had its way with me. I was in the midst of the most graceful swandive of my life. I was flying. Flying like a bird with no wings when Gravity said to me "Come 'ere, Bitch! Get down here where you belong!" There was a split second when my stomach and the rest of my organs tried to stay in the pod where it was safe. But soon they joined me in my plummet downward. I quickly lost the feeling of flight, and had it replaced with the feeling of FALLING. Falling very quickly, as it turns out. Falling towards a rather shallow looking, narrow river. I no longer felt like a bird with no wings. I felt like a bowling ball which had been tarred and feathered and executed for crimes he did not commit!
      About halfway down, I heard a noise chasing me and realized that I was actually screaming. Not like that little girl ear-piercing oh-my-God-I've-just-seen-a-mouse scream that I used the first time I got my teeth drilled. But a much more mature AAAAAaaaaaaahhhhh!!! sound like when Luke Skywalker found out that Vader was his Father and fell through the exhaust port in Empire Strikes Back (his was more of a NNNnnnnnooooooo!! sound, but it was the same manly scream. And that's all I'm sayin'.) Other than that, the whole thing is mostly a blur to me. I remember the river which had seemed so far below me suddenly seeming close enough to touch. And I remember a fantastic feeling of relief and a release of adreneline as the bungy cord gently pulled taught and bounced me back up the same as everyone I had watched before me. And I laughed uncontrolably. Scary part over. The whole initial freefall took less than three seconds.
     I bounced again. At the top of the second bounce I reached for the release strap next to my left shin and gave the red handle a smart tug. And I bounced again. Upside down. I tried it again at the top of the third bounce. Nothing. It was stuck. I briefly wondered how much of a complication this was going to be, but eventually I gave up and just rode back up to the pod feet first. I was pulled into the pod hanging upside down like a piece of meat. A P.O.W. from the dark ages. Or (to stay with a theme) like Luke Skywalker when he was captured by the Ice Monster on the remote Ice-Planet of Hoth and he was hung upside down with his feet frozen in ice and his trusty Light-Saber just out of reach.
     To my somewhat relief, the release handle really was stuck. It wasn't just that I was too weak to pull it, or did it incorrectly or anything as embarasing as that. It took a rather concerted tug from TWO technicians (one to hold me still and the other to pull the handle) before I swung down into that long awaited more-comfortable sitting position. Of course, it was such an abrupt transition from upside-down world to right-side-up world that I got disorriented adn nearly fell out of the pod again! Luckily I was still strapped in. They're pretty good about making sure you're strapped into SOMETHING at all times. Amy was strapped in the whole time, and she wasn't even jumping.
      The first thing I did when I was safely back in the pod was go for that celebratory triumphant return kiss from Amy. Twice. :) And then it was back on the cable car to solid ground where I took the oportunity to go and clean the adreneline out of my shorts.
      It took a little encouragment, but I got it done. And yeah, I would probably do it again in the right circumstances. Because nothing could possibly be as scary as jumping from that height. And next time, I'll be less scared and more excited. Or maybe more scared and more excited at the same time, if that's possible. Damn...now I want to go do it again!

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving
safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming 'Wow - what a ride!'"
~
Peter Sage
Props to my Peeps, and Peace on the Mothership,
Chris