Look Before You Leap...Or Don't
Sometimes it is critically important NOT to look before you leap. The danger, of course, is losing your nerve, and missing the experience. That is how I found myself plummeting 30 feet off a cliff, into a pool at the base of a waterfall, while my male adventure companions thoughtfully contemplated the distance.
My husband and I were both facing major career changes. He had left his job in broadcasting, and I was looking to enter the workforce again after 10 years of raising kids. We had decided to take 2 months of our retirement early, to travel around New Zealand, home-schooling our children, having adventures, leaping.
The natural beauty of New Zealand is astounding! It is exactly as if God had taken all of his greatest works, combined them into an area about the size of Colorado, and then plunked them down, on the underside of the world. There are miles of deserted beaches, soaring craggy mountains, ice blue glaciers and lakes, impossible waterfalls, fjords, rivers, hot springs, geysers. New Zealand is also the adventure capital of the world. Boasting the original bungee jump, zorbing, and a host of other ways to violently hurt yourself in all this splendor.
It was a bright, beautiful Tuesday in February, and we were to go canyoning. As it was explained to me, canyoning meant climbing up a small mountain, and descending through a dozen or so waterfalls. Sometimes you rappelled with ropes and harness, sometimes you slid, waterslide style, on your backside, and sometimes you jumped into the pool at the bottom of the falls. Occasionally, but hopefully most infrequently, you fell to your death.
Our guide, Mick, of Wanaka Canyoning Expeditions, helped us suit up. Wearing only swimming suits, tennis shoes, and a backpack, we began our ascent. Now, I am no athlete. In fact, my 3 children (bless their hearts) had EACH left me with an additional 10lbs – a memento if you will – of the time they spent in my body. I was closer in age to 50 than to 20, and our previous 4 weeks traveling had involved championship bouts of eating.
At first the climb seemed no more challenging than a stroll up a hill with a slight incline. “No problem” I thought, “but tomorrow, I will definitely start an exercise program.” The path began to change from “rapid breathing steep” to “scrambling on hands and feet, face like a tomato, gulping and gasping steep”. I was pouring sweat and seriously falling behind. The other members of my party, my husband and 3 younger men, were much more fit, and beginning to look back at me awkwardly, with concern.
I found some comfort in and silently cursing my husband – (i.e. naughty word, very naughty word, extremely naughty word,) – you get the picture. Suddenly, I found myself gaining on one of the men. A youngish, handsome-ish, gentleman, turned as I approached. He motioned for me to pass him on the narrow trail. “Are you tired?” I asked – he certainly didn’t look it. He glanced at his shoes, embarrassed. “No… …um……I’m a doctor”.
Ah, that’s it then. These men were afraid that I was about to go into cardiac failure and they would have to carry my lifeless, ample body back down the mountain. They had likely had a conversation to this effect, and this young doctor had been elected to watch me for signs of impending catastrophy. Nice. Humiliation, frustration, and physical exhaustion is a powerful cocktail. I rallied all my strength and finally reached the top.
Still burning with embarrassment, I donned my wetsuit, raingear, and helmet as the rest of the party peaked over the edge of the cliff to survey the first drop. Mick, captain of understatement and
confusing New Zealand-style English, said “I thought we’d have a bit of a jump off here, who’s the toppers?”
“I’ll go first” I heard a voice offer – barely aware that it was my own. The men turned; stunned to see this roundish, red-faced, middle-aged woman of outstandingly inadequate fitness, committing to a jump she hadn
’t even seen. They thought I was kidding of course, or maybe hoped so.
“All right then” said Mick. “Go ahead and have a go. Just remember to point your toes and tuck your elbows. Oh, and try to give that bunch of rocks on the left a bit of a miss” And so I leapt.
Here is where I am supposed to tell you that it was the most exhilarating, freeing, exciting experience of my life. But it wasn’t. Mostly it was terrifying and nauseating. My stomach felt every inch of that 30 foot free-fall. I had sufficient time to scream, inhale, scream. It was a LONG way down.
But the memory of it; looking up 30 feet at the astonished faces of my companions, these 3 young, fit, men; seeing their fear and embarrassment as they tried muster the courage to take the jump themselves; …….that was life changing.
Word Count: 827
Julene Nolan
jules@julesnolan.com
http://www.julesnolan.com/
http://www.takethekidswith.com/
For more information and pictures of this adventure go to www.nolanonline.com
My husband and I were both facing major career changes. He had left his job in broadcasting, and I was looking to enter the workforce again after 10 years of raising kids. We had decided to take 2 months of our retirement early, to travel around New Zealand, home-schooling our children, having adventures, leaping.
The natural beauty of New Zealand is astounding! It is exactly as if God had taken all of his greatest works, combined them into an area about the size of Colorado, and then plunked them down, on the underside of the world. There are miles of deserted beaches, soaring craggy mountains, ice blue glaciers and lakes, impossible waterfalls, fjords, rivers, hot springs, geysers. New Zealand is also the adventure capital of the world. Boasting the original bungee jump, zorbing, and a host of other ways to violently hurt yourself in all this splendor.
It was a bright, beautiful Tuesday in February, and we were to go canyoning. As it was explained to me, canyoning meant climbing up a small mountain, and descending through a dozen or so waterfalls. Sometimes you rappelled with ropes and harness, sometimes you slid, waterslide style, on your backside, and sometimes you jumped into the pool at the bottom of the falls. Occasionally, but hopefully most infrequently, you fell to your death.
Our guide, Mick, of Wanaka Canyoning Expeditions, helped us suit up. Wearing only swimming suits, tennis shoes, and a backpack, we began our ascent. Now, I am no athlete. In fact, my 3 children (bless their hearts) had EACH left me with an additional 10lbs – a memento if you will – of the time they spent in my body. I was closer in age to 50 than to 20, and our previous 4 weeks traveling had involved championship bouts of eating.
At first the climb seemed no more challenging than a stroll up a hill with a slight incline. “No problem” I thought, “but tomorrow, I will definitely start an exercise program.” The path began to change from “rapid breathing steep” to “scrambling on hands and feet, face like a tomato, gulping and gasping steep”. I was pouring sweat and seriously falling behind. The other members of my party, my husband and 3 younger men, were much more fit, and beginning to look back at me awkwardly, with concern.
I found some comfort in and silently cursing my husband – (i.e. naughty word, very naughty word, extremely naughty word,) – you get the picture. Suddenly, I found myself gaining on one of the men. A youngish, handsome-ish, gentleman, turned as I approached. He motioned for me to pass him on the narrow trail. “Are you tired?” I asked – he certainly didn’t look it. He glanced at his shoes, embarrassed. “No… …um……I’m a doctor”.
Ah, that’s it then. These men were afraid that I was about to go into cardiac failure and they would have to carry my lifeless, ample body back down the mountain. They had likely had a conversation to this effect, and this young doctor had been elected to watch me for signs of impending catastrophy. Nice. Humiliation, frustration, and physical exhaustion is a powerful cocktail. I rallied all my strength and finally reached the top.
Still burning with embarrassment, I donned my wetsuit, raingear, and helmet as the rest of the party peaked over the edge of the cliff to survey the first drop. Mick, captain of understatement and
confusing New Zealand-style English, said “I thought we’d have a bit of a jump off here, who’s the toppers?”“I’ll go first” I heard a voice offer – barely aware that it was my own. The men turned; stunned to see this roundish, red-faced, middle-aged woman of outstandingly inadequate fitness, committing to a jump she hadn
’t even seen. They thought I was kidding of course, or maybe hoped so.“All right then” said Mick. “Go ahead and have a go. Just remember to point your toes and tuck your elbows. Oh, and try to give that bunch of rocks on the left a bit of a miss” And so I leapt.
Here is where I am supposed to tell you that it was the most exhilarating, freeing, exciting experience of my life. But it wasn’t. Mostly it was terrifying and nauseating. My stomach felt every inch of that 30 foot free-fall. I had sufficient time to scream, inhale, scream. It was a LONG way down.
But the memory of it; looking up 30 feet at the astonished faces of my companions, these 3 young, fit, men; seeing their fear and embarrassment as they tried muster the courage to take the jump themselves; …….that was life changing.
Word Count: 827
Julene Nolan
jules@julesnolan.com
http://www.julesnolan.com/
http://www.takethekidswith.com/
For more information and pictures of this adventure go to www.nolanonline.com
posted by jules @ 11:36 AM
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