1 The guide to adventure, travel and writing - www.colleenfriesen.com/blog - Part 2

Blog Archives

Plunging into the African Abyss

 

I still can’t believe I did this.

Trussed up and connected to a long cable and quivering on the edge of Lehr’s Falls, I was poised to jump into South Africa’s Oribi Gorge. Moments before I had filled out the indemnity form that required my next of kin’s contact info. I whispered a silent apology to Kevin as I filled in his name and phone number.

At my request Richard checked my harness one more time and said, “I will count three-two-one and then you jump, alright?”

I inched forward, positioned my feet on the shoe prints painted at the very edge of the abyss and asked myself for the zillionth time why I thought it necessary to fling myself into a 300 metre deep gorge while tethered onto a 100 m rope.
“Three…two…one.”
I backed away from the cliff not sure if I was going to throw up.
“I’m too afraid.”

There was no way. I couldn’t do it. My heart seemed to be visible as it flung itself like an insane rabbit against my ribcage. “I can’t do it,” I said, “this is crazy.”

I took another deep breath and looked deep into Richard’s Coca-Cola eyes. “Richard, I know I said that you shouldn’t push me, but I don’t think I’m going to do this any other way. “

It should be noted that high adrenalin creates a strange intimacy because what I said next came from out of the blue. I immediately pretended to be kidding but I also knew that I needed it to be true. “I love you Richard, do you love me?”

Poor Richard. Who knew what sort of confessions he’d heard at the edge of this cliff.  I’d met him only moments before, but still he assured me that he really, really loved me too, that I would be thrilled to have done this, and to just jump. Later I realized I must have wanted ‘I love you’ to be my last words before I jumped off the equivalent of a 30-story building into a gorge that was three times that deep.

I inched back again to the safety of the rock face. “What if I die of a heart attack Richard?”

“I promise you won’t die. Don’t think about it. Just jump,“ his voice was strangely soothing and hypnotic, especially considering he was telling me to jump off a cliff.

“Three…two…one.”

And then.

I flew.

Time Travel

 

For some reason I am finding it harder and harder to drag myself away from my life to go on a trip…any trip at all.

Please note too, that this blog is supposedly about traveling. To that end, the above statement could prove to be problematic.

I spent the last few days before my departure doing some major inner whinging about why I should stay home. We have, after all, listed our apartment for sale and are actively looking at downsizing and changing our lives in a not-insubstantial way. That involves a little editing and some consideration. I also keep talking about doing some serious writing…but I never seem to stick around long enough to get into  a routine to make it happen. For these reasons and others I couldn’t think of, I was sure I should just cancel this trip and, in fact, any and all trips.

Even while I was waiting at my gate in the Vancouver airport, I was feeling resistant to the whole plan. Then I entered that queer wrinkle in time and there was no more time to think. Instead, I was in that airspace purgatory where clocks spin backward and melt, Dali-like, into strange configurations that cease to have any meaning.

clock melting clocks

By the time I landed in New York, after a brief stop in Toronto, and then hung suspended and dozing over the Atlantic until Johannesburg, and then, finally, once I’d changed to the final plane and found myself deposited in the lucsious greenness of the Durban landscape, then and only then, did I remember;  I love traveling.

I have that slightly dopey-drunk feeling from a body that isn’t quite sure what happened in the last 48 (?) hours. I am writing this post while ensconsed in a crisp blue and white shuttered room that hangs over the beach. There is a white and red lighthouse directly to my left. The surf is crashing in that infinitely relaxing way that only ocean waves can, and I am happy to be here in the beautiful Oyster Box Hotel.  The whole place is exquisite.

Red & White - Colleen Friesen

Red & White – Colleen Friesen

So why on earth was it so hard to imagine a different possibility than the one I was living?

I need to remember this.

I need to remember that there is always a much different world outside of whatever I am currently inhabiting and that these worlds don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I can live a little of this new life, and still come home and deal with whatever needs to be done.

Life is meant to be a little messy, to have that lived-in look. It is not meant to be perpetually packed up and tidily organized. Shifting perspective is a good thing.

I am going to walk on the beach now. In South Africa. I traveled a long long time to get here…just long enough to change my thinking.

 

Enhanced by Zemanta