The Jump: Bungy in Queenstown

The fear set in when I was asked to fill out a form with my name and country of residence, only it wasn’t a typical release waiver, it was a TOE TAG. In other words, in case I die today, it would obviously be too much trouble for the folks at the bungy office to fill out this little form, so best I do it now, myself, to ensure I’m properly identified when my body turns up in the river a mile away. Great. That’s reassuring!

The ride to the bridge felt a lot like what I imagine an inmate riding to death row may feel like. My stomach started doing somersaults and I realized that the coffee and the terror weren’t really mixing very well. I decided to check in last to give myself ample time to watch the other lunatics jump and try to build my confidence.

I sat on a wood ledge atop the Kawarau Bridge while a man with a beard attached harnesses to bungy cord and tied my ankles together with thick rope. The chilly wind whipped straight through my clothing. Shaking, partially from the cold but mostly from fear, I wondered to myself, “Why am I doing this?” “What have I gotten myself into?” and “Can I really go through with this?”

Once all the knots were tied and leashes fastened, I stood up and hobbled onto the ledge, holding the metal railing behind me with all my might. “Don’t look down,” the bearded man said. So naturally, I looked down. 141 feet below me was the rushing Kawarau River, a yellow raft to find me after my descent and a lot of distance between me and the obliteration of my fear. The man with the beard said he would count down from 5 and that I should jump when he reached 1. He told me that the longer I stand there, the harder it gets, so best to jump right away without thinking. Easier said than done.

Bearded Man: 5-4-3-2-1.

Me: (still standing there looking out into the distance) I don’t think I can do this.

Bearded Man: That’s natural, just don’t think about. I’m going to count down again and when I get to 1, just jump. 5-4-3-2-1.

Me: Nope. Do it again.

Bearded Man: 5-4-3-2-1.

Me: Um. Hmm.

Bearded Man: Ok, let’s try this. Take your hands off the railing.

Me: I can’t.

Bearded Man then forced one of my hands off the railing.

Me: Oh my god!

Bearded Man: You can do this. Just take your other hand off the railing.

Me: I can’t.

Bearded Man: Yes you can. 5-4-3-2-1

I JUMP!

There are no words to describe the sensation of falling 141 feet, watching the size of the river beneath me grow larger with each passing second. I held my breath the whole way down and prayed to God, Allah, or whoever would listen, that the damn bungy cord wouldn’t fail. Just as I thought I might actually plunge into the frigid waters below, I was flung wildly back up into the air, dropped again, bounced back up, then down, then up and down one more time for good measure. When I finally stopped bouncing around, I began swaying side to side and was told by the men in the raft to grab hold of a long stick and pull myself aboard.

On solid ground again, the euphoria of what I had just accomplished began to set in. My head was light and walking felt weird. It’s like the rush that comes from surviving a potentially life-threatening jump makes all other actions seem trivial and pointless. Staring fear in the face and overcoming it in such a bold fashion makes you feel superhuman.

It’s been about 32 hours since that fated jump and I am still high from it. I play it over and over in mind to try to regain a piece of that feeling and understand how and the why I ever did it. Here’s what I’ve pieced together in my day or so of reflection.

The How

Somewhere between “I can’t do this” and the jump, something happened. It’s like a switch flipped in my mind and the part of me that was holding back finally gave way to the part of me that needed to do this. The battle waged in my mind was won by the stronger, braver version of me. It’s like I envisioned myself chickening out and walking off the bridge a sore loser and couldn’t accept that as reality. There was only one way off this bridge for me, and that was down.

The Why

I turned 30 this year. I do believe age is just a number, but there is something pivotal about turning 30. It’s like society thinks you can’t really mess around anymore. It’s time to get your shit together and be an adult. Well I’ve lost my job and I’m frivolously (though thriftily) gallivanting around the world. I’m basically giving the finger to the ubiquitous “THEY” who say that I should work hard, pay taxes, get married, have kids and be happy, or at least pretend to, until I die. Screw that! I want to live it to the fullest every minute of every day. I want to see the world through my own eyes, not just images in movies or someone else’s photos on Flickr. I want to do it my way.

But also, there was something very personal about overcoming fear behind my motivation to jump. I think I had to take that leap to prove to myself that I am more courageous than I give myself credit for. I’ve seen myself give into fear too many times, so making a bold statement that fear is like a little peanut in my hand that I can crush with one swift clutch of the fingers is something I needed to do. And in some intangible way, I do feel stronger, more self-assured, more fearless, because of that jump.

I can’t believe this journey through New Zealand has only lasted 19 days so far. I feel like I’ve done, learned, seen and grown so much in these short weeks that it must be longer. I have driven on the left side of the road. I have ridden in not one, but two helicopters. I have hiked glaciers, rafted rapids, skied mountains, zorbed, and of course, bungy jumped. I have made new friends and skyped with old ones. I’ve tasted fine wine and eaten my fair share of fish n’ chips. I have seen magnificent landscapes and reveled in their beauty. I have taken risks and grown stronger because of it. I have loved every minute.

It will be incredibly hard to say goodbye to New Zealand, but the clock is ticking and more adventures await. In a couple of days I fly to Melbourne, where I will throw a shrimp on the barbie and wrestle some crocs. Ok, maybe not, but it just sounded good. Till next time, g’day mate!