JUMPING THROUGH FEAR
When my husband Bud and I traveled to New Zealand in 2004, we knew the trip would include stunning scenery and fun adventures. We traveled with Overseas Adventure Travel, a company we’d used before that does an excellent job of exploring the more famous highlights as well as lesser-known marvels. What we didn’t expect was that my husband would have the opportunity to make the jump of his life.
We just happened to arrive in Auckland on Bud’s birthday. Having most of the day free to explore the city, we were intrigued by the SkyTower, an intimidating spire that was, at the time, the tallest building in the southern hemisphere. When he found out they offered wired freefall jumps from the top of it, he was cautiously excited. He loved skydiving, zip lining and para-sailing, so this seemed like the ultimate thrill, but our time here was limited. Would it be possible to schedule a jump within our time frame? I called the SkyTower; the answer was yes.
I, conversely, have a paralyzing fear of heights. Jumping off anything higher than an upturned apple crate fills me with dread. My role, therefore, falls to being the photographer and family chronicler, something I can happily do with both feet on the ground.
After a brisk walk to the tower, Bud was led away to choose his jumpsuit and get his 15 minutes of training. I was led outside to the landing site, a 15’x15’ area with a big red target painted in the middle. Suited up and ready to go, Bud was taken to the top of the Tower and led out on a narrow 25’ pulpit that thrust out over 630 feet of open air. At that point, he was hooked up to the wire that would control his trajectory and provide the brake for his landing, and he was told he could jump anytime he was ready.
They didn’t have to tell him twice. When I first saw him leave the pulpit, his form was breathtakingly tiny, just a speck beside the sheer sides of the Tower, but growing quickly. He sped down the wire toward me, arms and legs out, face split with a huge grin. When the braking mechanism deposited him lightly in the middle of the target, he was beaming with adrenalin-fueled joy. I was snapping pictures like crazy, and glad of it, because it seemed to only last the blink of an eye.
“How’d you like it?” his handler asked as she unbuckled his harness.
“That was fabulous!” he crowed.
“Great,” she said. “Think you might like to do it again?”
He hesitated. Both our time and funds were limited; we still had a lot of New Zealand to see. “Maybe,” he said, “if we get back this way and if we have any money left.”
“How about right now?” she asked. “For free. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
Still slightly incredulous, he quickly agreed. The second jump went as smoothly as the first, and that will be one birthday, and one trip, he will never forget. I won’t either. I will never do such a stunt (they’d have to break my fingers to get me to let go of the pulpit railing), but I find my husband’s willingness to take on new adventures to be incredibly inspiring. He may harbor some fear, some trepidation (wouldn’t anyone?), but he pushes right through it and has the time of his life.
And isn’t that what it’s all about?
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