Taking the Plunge, take II

It was the morning of my 29th birthday. The sun was shining. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. It was like the sky had been painted with one big paint stroke of royal blue paint. The phone rang: "Perfect day for skydiving, wouldn't you agree, McMullen?" my friend Mike asked.

"Damn straight, Mikers!" I answered gleefully.

"I'll be there in ten."

In those ten minutes before he arrived at my front door, I sweat profusely, I smiled uncontrollably, and I had nervous pee.

I hopped in his car, we picked up our other friend Numa, and headed to Abbotsford where, one hour later, we would eagerly toss ourselves out of an airplane at 11,500 ft.

The closer we came to Abbotsford, the more nervous I became.
My tongue was tingly; I had to pee; I was yawning uncontrollably. All the silly signs that my body emits when it fears something. It was like a big "danger danger!" warning. But I ignored it.

We walked into the "office" and were immediately given a waiver to sign. Nervously laughing at our stupidity, we signed our lives away, agreeing not to sue should the parachute "fail to open". Ah!

We walked over to the hangar and got geared up: I had a sassy black jumper with green stripes on the side, a leather helmet, and some yellow goggles. Very chic. We met our tandem jumpers. Mine was named Ky, a seriously hip and cool dude who was nearing his 1,000th jump. Incredible! Ky suited me up with my harness, checked things over, and gave Mike, Numa, and me a quick five minute lesson on how to skydive:
1. Get in the plane.
2. Get strapped on to your tandem jumper
3. Put your legs outside of the plane one at a time.
4. Cross your hands over your chest.
5. Jump!!!!
6. Extend your arms out like a bird.
7. Scream bloody murder!!!

Our plane was a single engine, propeller plane painted in brown camoflauge. It had no seats. So we sat on the floor.
The propeller started; I crossed my fingers and highfived my friends; and we took off along the runway (a field) and began to fly. Derrick, the skydiver whom I paid to video my jump was across from me and kept showing me his altitude gage. At 4,000 feet, Derrick, Ky, Mike, Numa, and the rest of the crew broke out into the best version of Happy Birthday EVER!

"A 4,000-foot brithday Kim," said Derrick. "What do you think?"

"Love love LOVE it!" I said, clapping, and smiling a smile that was bigger than my face!

Then, suddenly, we were 11,500ft up and Derrick opened the door and stepped outside of the plane. The video camera was on and I was the first jumper!
Ky yelled loudly over the force of the wind coming in the side of the plane (which, by the way, does NOT suck you out. I guess that only happens in the movies. It's just really loud and enormously frightening): "Ready?"

I nodded. But I was not ready. It was a lie. But there was no turning back now!

I put one leg out side of the plane. Took a breath. Then the other.
Ky counted down from three. And we LEAPT!! Then we FELL! (and fell, and fell some more!)

It was intensely frightening and overwhelming exhilirating!

Although we were, essentially, plummeting toward the earth, the force of the wind at that altitude makes you feel like you are soaring. The wind rushed up my nose not unlike water in a pool during a poorly executed dive. We fell for 35 seconds, then, at 5,000 ft, Ky pulled the parachute, and we floated like balloons in a gentle breeze back toward the earth.

The view from 11,500 ft is indescribable. We could see the peak of Mt. Rainer in Washington in the distance. The snow caps of the rockies. The green banks of the Fraser River. We could see the tiny homes in Abbotsford and the rows of vineyards in the valley. It took my breath away (or maybe the sheer terror did that, I'm not sure!)

Although I was afraid in the plane and before the jump and during the jump and during the parachute ride, the spectacular scenery and the sensational exhiliration of actually FLYING in the sky for just a moment was so very much worth the feelings of fear that preceded this crazy adventure.

As we floated downward, I thought: Holy Crap! I am flying. I am flying!!!

And I was.
For a split second, I was a bird in the sky.

It was one of the single most incredible experiences of my entire life!

As we descended and our landing target became clear, Ky prepared me for landing: "Put your feet up!" I did. But my legs are longer than Ky's, so my feet still hit before his, and we had a bit of a crash landing (it was soft though, so no new bruises to take pictures of!

We untangled from the parachute, laughed, and my videographer Derrick said: "How was that?"

I was breathing heavily, like I had just run a marathon. "Holy shit." I said.

"What do you have to say to the people at home?" he asked laughing, video camera in my face.

"Holy shit!" I repeated. "That was amazing. Just holy shit."

I was sure that i had left my heart and my brain in the plane after I jumped. I couldn't form sentences. My thought processes were hindered. I was on a skydiving high. Thinking to myself "What the heck just happened?"

Mike came in to land a few moments later, we hugged and high-fived. Numa came in third, a smile beaming on his face!

We took an "after" picture, all of our smiles too big for our faces.
And went out for a pint at a local pub, looked at each other, and asked: "Did we just do that?"
Then "Hey, when do you want to do it again?"

Happy birthday to me!

Taking the plunge

Today I went bungee jumping.

It was exhilirating! Frightening! Thrilling! Terrifying! Adrenalin-rushing!

The most fantastic time.
I'm still not exactly sure what happened. I threw myself off of a bridge against every human instinct that was telling me not to jump and hurled toward the bottom of a canyon at a record speed. Three seconds later, I was bouncing on the end of a bungee cord, laughing, swearing, screaming WOOHOO.

The time of my life.

Here is how the events unfolded:

My best pal from high school, Jo, is here on holidays. We were looking for something exciting to do. She's a great sport and a thrill seeker. And we always have incredible times together. She's a fantastic and unwavering friend. So we mulled over a few options and had our hearts set on skydiving (don't tell her parents!). We were all set to go this morning, and then the rain began. And it kept raining. Solid. All day. No reprieve. The skydiving place said that it was pretty unlikely that we would get up today. We sat around, called every hour for weather reports, and by 1 PM realized that, on this last day of Jo's visit, we had two choices: (1) Wait and see (2) Do something.

We chose 2.

So we hopped in the car, drove to Whistler, and went Bungee Jumping.

It was raining. The day was miserable. We sang Pearl Jam tunes all the way there. We reminisced. It was grand.

As we neared the bridge, fear ensued.
Still, amid trepidation, we soldiered on.
We hiked up the bridge (some 160 feet above the turbulent rapids of the Cheakamus River).
There were maybe 10 people on the bridge. We thought they were jumpers at first. And were relieved to see a line up of other adventure crazies.

We found out soon after that they were adventure wannabes (far smarter than us) who were waiting for two poor suckers (like us) to show up and jump so they could take pictures. We had an audience. There was no way we could turn back.

We began to read the waivers. "Note: the bungee cord may break. The equipment may be faulty. You absolve Whistler Bungee of any responsibility in the event of injury or death."

Gulp.

One of the staffers asked: "what made you come bungee jumping on a day like this?"

"We were just driving around, looking for something to do." I replied coyly.

"Wow. Cool." he said.
"That's cool."

It was, of course, a lie. But it made us seem like tough and cool chicks, and for a moment we were able to fool them that we had no fear.

I signed the waiver.
Smiled.
And got suited up.

Our original plan was to Paper, Rock, Scissors to see who would jump first. But I was hurriedly rushed into my harness, clipped to the cord, and within five minutes was on the ledge. They moved really fast. Perhaps because if given the chance to rethink this decision, many people might realize the sheer insanity of throwing themselves off a bridge toward a tumultuous river canyon and chicken out.

(Here I am all geared up!)


"Stand on the edge and jump," were my instructions. "Can we talk about this?" I asked.
They urged me forward. Not addressing my fears. Jo looked on. Camera in hand. Fear for me in her eyes.

I moved to the edge gingerly and with nervous pee.

"Hang your heels off the end and we'll count you down."

Gulp.

Then the fastest 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 countdown came and went, with a crowd of eager onlookers screaming the numbers louder as they neared one.

I trusted my gut. Quelled my fear. And launched off that bridge with conviction!

The first second felt like floating. Peaceful. Nice.
Then the next three felt like my heart had been pushed into my throat as I plummeted to the river below. My heart pounded. When is this cord going to kick in?? I thought. I couldn't scream. My mouth was opwn but nothing came out!

Then the cord bounced back.

And I laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.

I woohooed.

I swore.

I giggled.

(Here I am at the bottom)


It was INCREDIBLE.
It's a feeling, actually, that I can't really describe.
Terror and glee rolled into one.
Happiness and fear intermixed.

When it was over, maybe only 10 seconds after my jump, I thought "what the heck just happened!"

They lowered another cord down to me as I swang laughing hysterically below, I clipped it to my harness, and they hauled me back up to the bridge.

"Holy shit," I said to Jo. "That was..." I couldn't find the words. My legs tremored. "Just holy shit!"
My smile was bigger than my face. My heart was pounding outside my chest. It was unreal.

Ever the sport, Jo followed the same 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 count down and launched herself off the bridge only a few moments after I had returned. Her form was graceful. Her screams were hysterical. She did AWESOME!

We hugged. We high-fived. We put on our Whistler Bungee trophy tees. And we quickly drove to a bar and cheersed ourselves and our bravery with some killer martinis.

Wow. What a wild time.


(Check out our cool souvenir tees!)

Summitting "The Chief"

Yesterday, I embarked on a challenging hike that I've been itching to do since I moved here. It's a series of three rock faces/peaks in Stawamus Chief Provincial Park, better known here as "the Chief".

I'm not sure how to describe the journey and the feeling of summiting better than I did in this entry (to follow) in my journal that I wrote while atop the Centre Peak (Peak 2) around 3:00 PM on Saturday, June 30.

--

I am on top of the world.
I am in my own personal Eden.
I am in paradise.
I am at a loss for words.

I wonder if I can describe this feeling, this view, this sensation, this beauty. I will try.

Early this morning I packed my backpack with food, water, camera, TP, first aid equipment, and my map and headed Northwest, along the Sea to Sky highway toward Squamish, BC. This road hugs the ocean on one side, and the mountain on the other. I found it difficult to stay focused on the road, because the scenery was breathtaking. The funny thing is, I've driven this road a few times before. But still, this bit of nature never gets old.

An hour and a half later, I came upon Stawanus Chief, a sheer rock face jutting out of the mountain side. Its flat, looming face is a mecca for expert rock climbers. Its backside hike up is a draw for hikers like me.

The hike is beautiful. The terrain is rocky, of course. Some of the "steps" up are so high that I had to hold the roots (Yes! roots!) of the tree above me (yes above!) and hoist myself up. My quads have never worked so hard. But they have been good to me today. They are tired but they are strong.

About an hour into this hike I came upon a clearing, a sheer rock face, like a mini-peak, that looked out on mountains upon mountains upon mountains. Had this been the actual peak that I was hunting for, I would not have been disappointed. I sat back, enjoyed the view, and refueled on a granola bar.

An hour later, I was on top of the First Peak, the most visited peak. The climb up was far more difficult than I had expected; but the view was far more spectacular than expected.
You can see the first peak here (I took this picture from the second peak looking down). It's a flat rock face. No vegetation. Just a big rock in the sky. The view is extraordinary. Like nothing you can fathom and like nothing that these pictures can realistically portray. I gasped at first sight.

"Holy shit" I muttered as another hiker smiled at me.
"This is beautiful."

A half hour later, I set forth down from this peak and onwards to the second peak.

The trail to the second peak, where I am now, was strategically difficult. My hike morphed from a "hike" to a climbing expedition and I found myself encountering a number of new experiences. I was lucky enough to stumble across Rusty and Marcel, a couple who were also attempting to summit the second peak this afternoon. "We should hike together," said Rusty when she realized that I was alone. "This is really dangerous. You shouldn't be alone."

So I joined Rusty and Marcel and together we accomplished the most extraordinary and difficult of tasks: We shimmied between sky-high rockfaces in little crevasses so thin that had I weighed another 5 pounds I may have gotten stuck. This would be a bad time to have a bout with claustrophobia! We climbed hand over hand, fist over fist, step over step, up greasy wet tree roots and mossy rocks, slipping and sliding on our slow ascent up. We grabbed on to the chain bolted in the some of this rock's most treacherous and steep places to hoist ourselves up. In one place, my foot slipped and I dangled from the chains only. Frightening but exhilirating. We ascended up a rusty old ladder, caked with mud and moss. At the top, you have to swing, almost literally from a tree branch to get enough momentum to land on a part of the rock where you can keep your footing.

My heart, during all of this, was beating so fast I was sure I could see it rising and falling through my skin!

Two minutes from the top, we had to go on hands and knees to crest the final edge of the rock, before we could stand up right again.

And then, we arrived.
And I am here.
And there isn't anything more beautiful that I can remember having seen in my lifetime save for my nephew's bright eyes on the day he was born.


My feet are dangling some 3700 feet over Squamish BC. I am lookinng "down" on tree tops and "down" on an airplane. Cool!
I am, as I said, on top of the world.

In the distance are the snow-capped rockies as far as the eye can see. The ocean is a pearly-green. The trees are thick Pollock-inspired gobs of green that dot the horizon. The sun is shining. The breeze is cool. I am maybe 6 inches away from the edge of this cliff on one side and another 6 feet from the other. It is a tiny foundation of security. And it is beautiful.
Someone has made a rock cairn, and I sit next to it.

Am I in heaven?

--

After this entry and a few phone calls to the people i love from this little piece of paradise, I descended with Marcel and Rusty. I left them at the Peak 2 trail head and headed solo again to Peak 3. The peak three trail is unmarked and, as such, a little more frightening. My knees were starting to wobble from the stress of going steeply downhill and I was beginning to feel a little unsure. The terrain became increasingly difficult, like on the way to Peak 2, but I felt confident that I could scale this challenge too, if only I believed that I could.

Around this time, I almost quite literally "bumped" into Jason and Rick, two avid hikers who were swinging around one tall, twisty rock as I was pondering how to get by it.

"Are you hiking alone?" they asked.

"yes," I said.

"Well this is a pretty tough hike. Lots of slippery places. And a lot of tough pull-ups. We wouldn't recommend doing it alone. you'll need an extra hand for sure. In fact, we wouldn't ever do it alone. Too dangerous."

I gulped. I was getting tired. And although i really wanted to achieve all three summits, I didn't want to knowingly put my life at risk doing it.

"We come here almost every weekend," said Jason. "Just give us a call. The three of us can use each other to get to the top next time."

I took his number. Thanked them for their honesty. And followed them out.

When I got home, I slept for 12 hours.
Today, my legs feel like jelly, but ... man ... was it worth it.

Wow.