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!)
