I have never wanted to throw myself directly at the ground. Not once have I considered skydiving or bungee jumping. Being parallel with the ground is a different matter. I love ziplines and would paraglide in a heartbeat. And watersports are a definite winner. But throwing myself at the ground just seems foolhardy.
A few years ago, my kids and I took a the big “blowout” family holiday – the last chance we would have for one before my eldest became a fully-fledged grownup with the lousy vacation schedule that comes with a first job. We went on a Costa Rica adventure holiday that came with beach hikes, mountain walks, swimming, white water rafting, treetop trekking across suspension bridges high in the air, and a great zipline through the tops of the forest. We saw parrots and toucans, poison frogs and butterflies. We kayaked at sunset and played in the bio-luminescent waters. The forests were full of monkeys and my daughter’s all time favourite – sloths. I was not unhappy we missed the jaguars and pumas.
Zipline day was cool and a bit wet, but it didn’t dampen our enthusiasm. We paid the ridiculous extra money for a package of digital pictures of our ziplining adventure, and many of them are part of a collage that hangs in our home. Somehow, though, it escaped me that, we would have to get down from the heights that we zipped along. So when we got to the end, I was surprised to see a giant Tarzan rope. We were expected to hold on to this thing and throw ourselves at the ground, trusting it wouldn’t break or stretch or any manner of things I could imagine that would end with sudden impact with the cold hard earth.
Okay, there was an escape route. There were stairs. But I am (as I’ve been told) just as stubborn as my bull-headed middle child, and I’d kept up with them so far. If they could do this, then darn it, so could I. I watched them go one by one, with big grins on their faces. The held onto the rope and jumped. The boys let out Tarzan jungle calls. All three happily plummeted downwards, but my stomach lurched with each one. They whooped as they swung back and forth on the rope before guides at the bottom slowed them and the kids put their feet on solid ground. I listened to the couple behind me murmuring. Would they do it? Would they take the stairs? They weren’t sure.
Suddenly it was my turn. I listened to the guides tell me to hold on tight and put my feet above the knot. My palms got sweaty and I considered backing out as my heart raced and my stomach threatened to . They went into tourist banter about the guy who hadn’t listened properly, and, well….. It didn’t help. The kids waited at the bottom, encouraging me. I could do this. So I grabbed hold of the rope. There was no smile on my face, no jungle call. I closed my eyes tight and leaped. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God” was all that was going through my mind. And suddenly, the rope jerked and I began to swing back and forth. I enjoyed that part – much closer to being parallel to the ground. I was disappointed when the guides slowed me and helped me down.
The kids not only witnessed my feat, but congratulated me. I’m not sure they thought I would go through with it. But I did it (the couple behind me chickened out!) And now I never have to do it again. I just wish the photo package had included proof.
