Jumping off Bloukrans Bridge was easily one of the most stressful experiences of my life, and also one of the biggest adrenaline rushes. I’m not sure what was worse, throwing myself off the bridge or walking the crazy, gated pathway to get there.
In either event, I had hoped it would cure my fear of falling. It did not. In fact, it may have made it worse. It did, however, bestow a serious sense of pride and significant bragging rights for months to come, and I figured if I’m going to do something slightly life-threatening, I might as well go big (with a place that has an excellent safety record).
It was also great that they filmed the jump (which I can’t help feeling might also be for insurance purposes), as my brain seemed quite ready to black out the incident until I was watching myself on the television (at which point I remembered the actual jump). I did, however, without televised assistance, remember the hills.
I will never forget the spectacular view while hanging upside down at the end of the jump, or the curious sensation of being detached from everything (the ground especially). As I waited for the worker to come get me, the hills took on that dusty, silent feeling like they have in the first five minutes of The Sound of Music. It was probably the adrenaline rush, but by the time I was back on the bridge I felt like a veritable Fräulein Maria, ready to exclaim to the world, “my he
art wants to sing…every song…it hears...”
But that’s as far as the musical analogy goes. In terms of falling, it didn’t ‘solve the problem,’ and I can’t say it was one of ‘my favorite things,’ but I can confirm it was definitely ‘something good.’