Bungee Jumping on a Milestone Birthday

I wake up from a deep overnight sleep with the foggy realization that I’ve just turned 60 years old. How in the world have six decades of life passed the way that they have?

As I consider this, MK and I ready ourselves in the pre-dawn darkness and arrive at the bus stop for our trip out of Queenstown, New Zealand to the Kawarau Bridge off of which I will bungee jump from a height of 125-150 feet. It is here that commercial bungee jumping got its start in the 1970s. Native islanders from Pacific nations first started the practice, jumping from very tall trees using only vines to break their fall. But it was the founders of the AJ Hackett Company, the one I’ve chosen for my jump, that started this worldwide thrill-seeking sport with a fledgling operation at this bridge.

The rain falls, heavy at first, when I arrive. It backs off a bit to a steady sprinkle as I walk half way across the bridge to the jump spot. Others are leaping off as I approach. Right behind them are more people waiting their turn, getting fitted with harnesses and ropes. They too will soon be leaping.

A crew member takes my card and asks that I again step on the scale to double check my weight off of what was written on the card and on my hand when I first weighed myself back at the office in town. 102 kilos.  This is a lot of meat on the hoof. It looks like I may have gained a few since leaving home. But, this is the number used to set the tension on the bungee rope that will arrest my fall.

“Ok, you’re up mate.” Another crew member motions me to lower platform. I take a seat while a safety harness is strapped around my thighs and waste.  They then bind my ankles and feet together with a thick towel wrapped with various nylon ropes and straps. The carabiner on one end of the rope awaits the clip from the bungee line.

More instruction is given. “The best thing to do is to not hesitate at the edge,” I’m told. “The longer you take to jump, the more likely you’ll begin to second guess the wisdom of what you’re about to do.”  I nod my head, I notice that I’m beginning to shake a bit.

“Any questions?”  I ask if I will be able to do a “water touch” where my fingertips can pierce the river water far below me. He looks again at my card. “102 kilos....hmm...  I think we can make that work.”  Apparently, the heavier you are the better the chances of a water touch. “But,” he continues, “a lot depends on how well you jump and if you pick up enough speed on the way down.” He tells me a good push off and a swan-type dive with arms first off of my side then straight over my head is the best way to do the leap.

“Ok, up you go.”  I rise to my bound feet and waddle toward the edge of the platform. I know now how sailors of old felt as they walked the plank. I look down. The churning rapids of the river are far below, farther than what it first looked like before crossing the bridge. Up until this point, I’ve been fairly calm. But now, my heart is racing and I feel my stomach tightening up (or is it my sphincter?). Two words come to mind. “Oh” and “Shit”. Both end in exclamation points.

I’m told to look into several video cameras and wave. I paid a little extra to have this professionally videoed. MK is off to the side on the viewing platform. I wave to her as well She is also videoing this event.

“Ok mate, on the count of three. One....two....THREE!” I leap just like I was told. A perfect swan dive. Good form, I must say, as the video later shows.

My body, initially horizontal from the push off of the platform now becomes vertical. The rush is like no other. The river below quickly approaches. I don’t think I ever take a breath on the way down.

As the rope tightens, my fall begins to slow, I reach overhead. I come to a stop just as my fingers enter the river water. Success!  Whoa! What the!...the bungee line stretched to its max begins its recoil. I shoot back skywards. I feel the rush of blood into my head and bulging eyeballs. Up and down I go, then up and down some more.

Finally, my rebounding slows. A boat moves under my position. I reach for a long pole held by one of the crew members in the boat. I’m safely aboard. I’m still shaking and quivering as they detach my harnesses and bindings.

At shore, I stagger off of the boat and begin the long climb up the zigzag trail to the viewing platform where MK greets me.

I’m so glad I did this. But, would I ever do it again? Probably not. It might just have to be one of those “one-and -done” type of things.

The complete video can be seen at the following link: