Honeymoon |
Leap of Faith
Monday, 1 March 1999
•
Bungy
Jumping
•
Whitewater
Rafting
In what was supposed to be a moment of bravado, I stood stupidly paralysed.
It had been agreed that I would jump at the count of three, yet moments after the voice behind me had cried "1-2-3!", I was still rooted to the wooden platform, my face a deadly shade of white.
There was a brief second of silence, only the high-altitude wind sweeping past and a descending sense of shame. Four hundred metres below, a vast terrain of ragged rocks and jagged pine stumps stared back. I was supposed to have taken the plunge, flying towards them, yet the only thing that has taken flight was my manhood.
Suddenly, a reassuring voice dispensed a few words of encouragement. Apparently, the bungy jump professionals at AJ Hackett's "The Ledge" were used to the sight of cowardly men.
Composure regained, strength returned to my wobbly legs, enough to take a step forward . . . into nothing.
Words cannot describe that few seconds of pure adrenalin, but
Panic was a constant companion all the way down. Even as the scenery rushed
past in a blur, I remembered nothing that I had put on a little extra weight
this honeymoon, and suddenly the cord that held my feet seemed inadequately
slim and worn. It also occured to me that the strap on my ankles were rather
loose. Will it hold when the cord tugs? Did I fill out my insurance forms
properly? How does crushing bones and squished organs sound like?
Suffice to say, I screamed like a lady who had just found a hive of snakes
in her panties.
Far
away, the spectators including my wife, were oblivious to my unheroic antics
and they said I looked like a true bungy jumper.
Then it was Yvonne's turn.
I had made it seemed like I had gone first in order to "test" the security
of the cord for her safety. Now as she stood at the edge of the platform
in the air, I was mentally composing a consolation speech for her. Of course
she would take one look at the sheer height, be filled with the same sort
of terror that enveloped me, and declined to make the jump. Then, her husband,
in a rare display of understanding, would console her and tell her not to
worry even though it costs NZD$95.00 per person.
She took off without hesitation.
Arms spread a V-shape, she hovered for a second, face lifted to the heavens,
then the descent in accelerating velocity, the tightening of the cord in
a snap, a few bounces in mid air and it was over.
I watched, dumbfounded but without fear. There was a sense of wonder,
a realisation of the little marvel that is my wife.
There must be a hefty dose of blind faith for those who embark
on this crazy stunt called Bungy Jump. To pawn one's life in the hands of
strangers, on a little elastic cord for a little thrill - it defies rational
thought.
I knew that I did it just to prove that I could do it - a man thing, if you
must. But I also know why Yvonne did it. To accompany me. To be my equal
half.
She had that faith when she jumped without doubt or fear. I also imagined
that she had that faith in me when she took the plunge to marry me,
to entrust her happiness to me.
Our relationship together can be like the bungy cord – possibly stretched
but never broken.
* * *
Contact Yvonne & Adrian at
acek@pc.jaring.my
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