I was paralyzed with fear. I was only six-feet above the ice-cold waters on a cliff, but it felt like a thousand feet.
After a short climb to a ledge on the foot of a mountain, I soon realized a line of other thrill-seekers blocked my way from backtracking to ground level.
"Come on, just put one foot out and take a hop," I told myself. "It'll be over in a matter of seconds."
Then the left side of my brain piped up and suggested to make sure I jump ahead far enough so I don't hit my head or crash back into the cliff as I plunged into the water.
At that thought, I hesitated about potentially prematurely ending my life.
"What's taking her so long?" I heard one voice ask halfway down the growing line.
I had to remind myself of how I ended up on this cliff. It wasn't part of the original plan!
When my friend Sharon suggested a bunch of us go white-water rafting, I thought it was a fun and dangerous idea. She assured me that we would wear life jackets and helmets. Before we began the trip, we signed waivers saying the tour guide company wouldn't take responsibility for any of our accidental deaths.
That waiver should have twigged some common sense in my head.
Anyhow, we managed to make it halfway through the day trip with no problems.
Then we stopped for a while by this cliff. The tour guide, Blair, asked if anyone wanted to go cliff diving. At first, I didn't want to go. But when I saw an eight-year-old boy venture up the cliff, I thought I could try it too.
There I was staring down the cliff. The more I stared, the worse the jump seemed to be.
Finally, I took a deep breath, clipped my nose tight with my thumb and index finger and jumped feet first.
I barely remember the jump. It was like a vertical drop on an amusement park ride, but much faster and without any safety reinforcements. I plummeted deep into the waters and quickly looked to surface. Gasping, I dog paddled my way back to shore where my white water rafting buddies cheered at my accomplishment.
"I can't believe you cliff dove!" Said Sharon. "But I got you jumping on film as proof," she said as she gestured to her automatic 35 mm camera.
As I waddled back into the boat, I saw the eight-year-old boy head back to the cliff for another turn. I just breathed a sigh of relief and waited until the rest of the crew finished fulfilling their dives.
But I'm glad I took that risk. Whenever I tell people I cliff dove, they look at me in amazement and say in an incredulous tone, "You did what?" For such a safe and conservative girl like me, this activity seems inconsistent with my character. But I see it as taking a leap of faith.
Florence has no regrets about doing this adventure trip but has not been caught since doing it again in the flatlands of the Saskatchewan prairies. Used with permission of author.
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