What’s it really like to bungee jump?

Bungee jumping is not solely for the clinically insane…

Life for a Country Life contributor is mostly a tranquil affair. We amble passively through our days, visiting tearooms in rural settings, and as long as we take photos and notes along the way we can justify our self-indulgent existence by calling it work.

On rare instances though, when an assignment takes us on a rugged coastal hike or (God forbid) atop a mountain bike, then we have been known to break out in a sweat. But it’s a good sort of sweat. A robust and honest perspiration, born from pleasant exertion.

Today I am once again on assignment for Country Life, and I am sweating. But, alas, the beads atop my lip and the dank rivulets filtering through my shirt are not derived from physical exertion or sunny weather. They are derived from fear. Cold, hard and clammy.

Allow me to elaborate. Today, on this bright and cheery morning, I am perched on the edge of the Tsitsikamma Bloukrans Bridge, toes wiggling over a void which terminates some 216 metres below. This in itself is bad enough. I don’t like heights, and I like edges and voids even less. But the fact that I am about to leap off said ledge from said height into said void is almost more than I can take.

A staff member readies a ‘victim’for his jump with safety harnesses and leg holds.

Taking the Jump

A river rumbles by below my feet – a thin ribbon of churning water that seems, from my lofty vantage point, to be at least several kilometres straight down. The verdant forests through which it snakes have taken on the appearance of broccoli on a supermarket shelf. Gosh, its all so very … high.

When I wrote to the editor of Country Life with a number of ideas for stories (coffee shop reviews, llama-wool furniture comfort rating test, wine tasting and bungee jumping) guess which one she picked? And now, here I am, scared half to death, waiting for the 10 second countdown that will signify it is time for me to dive out into empty space with a great big elastic band attached to my legs.

“Ten, nine, eight…” The instructors for Face Adrenalin‘s Bungee Jump begin their synchronised chant, and somehow I feel I have made a rather terrible mistake.

“Seven, six…” I have no fear of spiders. Aeroplanes – no problem! Moths, snakes, dark rooms, thunderstorms, confined spaces, commitment and the mother-in-law, I laugh at them heartily. But tall things with edges that you could fall off make my legs go all wobbly. In fact, my knees should be knocking right now, but rubber makes no sound.

“Five, four…” What on earth was I thinking when I suggested this story? And then, in an instance of utter cowardice, I make a decision – I’m not going to do it. Could I live with myself for the rest of my life knowing that I had no spine? Of course I could. So I ask for the countdown to be postponed while I make a quick call to my editor. “Hello, Nita. Sorry, I can’t do the bungee story. We have a small son and daughter and my wife is worried about my doing this.”

I can fly

“She’s there?”

“Um, yes!”

“Put her on.”

That’s when I hear my nearest and dearest telling the editor that she has no problem whatsoever with her husband jumping off a bridge; the double-crossing, no-good traitor! The phone is handed back – there is no one on the other end. Bugger! Well, that’s it then, I guess. No way out now. I am not pregnant, I am not prone to heart attacks (yet), nor do I weigh as much as an elephant seal, so it is perfectly safe for me to jump. In fact, a 93-year-old gent stood exactly where I am standing right now and, without so much as a flinch, leapt off into the abyss. A week later; an 85-year-old lady did the same.

The jump instructors look to my wife for guidance. She nods her head and the countdown recommences. My bowels feel heavy now; my brain has begun to freeze over like winter puddles. Time slows, and almost comes to a standstill. Oh dear; oh dear; oh dear! What have I done?

“Don’t look down,” a voice from behind me shouts – and of course, that’s exactly what I do, Gosh, everything looks so very far away, the river, the broccoli and the rocks. Oh dear; oh dear; oh dear!

The moment is upon me like an owl upon a vole…

“Three, two …” I focus straight ahead and there I see a beautiful blue sky full of pretty little birds flitting hither and thither. They seem so carefree and happy out there amongst the deadly openness, bless them! And then my mind goes completely blank (have I reached Nirvana?) and all I am aware of is the thudding of my heart. The moment is upon me like an owl upon a vole.

“One … BUNGeeeeeeeeeeeee!

“Little children have leapt, old people have leapt, folk in wheelchairs have leapt, so, leaving a little puff of bad-smelling wind behind, I leap too.

The wind rushes by with a roar like a jet engine. The river and the broccoli hurry up at me at an alarming velocity. My every sense is heightened to the point of breaking, along with my teeth, which are being clenched tighter than a metal vice. And then, after what feels like an hour or so, my descent starts to slow and, finally, comes to a gentle halt.

Wow! I am not dead. I have not been dashed upon the rocks, and my poor heart has not exploded. I am alive and feeling very good about it. I hold onto this moment of joyous rapture for around three seconds and then the elastic upon my ankles retracts and pulls me upwards like a rocket ship.That’s when I lose my composure and scream like a little girl at the horror movies.

The bouncing continues, up and down, up and down, until the inertia is lost and I am left swinging gently back and forth, upside down, looking once again at the river rapids below.

The scenery close to bungee site is almost as thrilling as the jump itself.

The instructors pull me back up and ask me how I feel, but I am unable to respond. I am trembling as if I have just downed a pint of espresso coffee. But the trembling is no longer due to fear This is pure adrenalin. Life’s natural ‘feel-good’ elixir have never felt anything comparable to this before, not even when a previous editor forced me to jump out of an aeroplane. It really does feel quite extraordinarily wonderful.

I can now recommend taking a bungee jump to anybody who has the slightest inkling to do such a thing; as it really does give you the most refreshing outlook on life, even if only for a few seconds.

The Bloukrans bridge is a fun-and very high-place to jump from.

Bungee jumping is not solely for the clinically insane, it’s for everyone, and it’s an experience which leaves you feeling exhilarated and high for the rest of the day (if not the whole week).

Of course, I am still scared of heights, and no doubt always will be, but that isn’t unusual. I bet, you to some degree are also somewhat scared of heights. After all, without a rational respect for gravity the entire human race would probably have plummeted, lemming-like, over the edge of existence a long, long time ago. Bungee jumping is a bit like committing suicide but without the long-term side-effects. Fear thrills us and that’s what makes it such a fun thing to do.

Text and pictures by Dale Morris. This article appears courtesy of the July2010 edition of Country Life.