Kow-a-bungee, dudes.

New Zealand is the birth place of bungee jumping. We stopped at the Kawarau bridge, the birthplace of the commercial (legal) jump, infact. Now entrusted to the AJ Hackett Bungy company, the bridge is a fantastic tourist destination where one can watch while listening to good 90's alternative, and, if suddenly inspired by the good 90's alternative music, can take the plunge, bounce, and plunge. Once upon a time, one could bungee for free if one did it naked. Unfortunately, this fad caught on, and while clothes are not compulsory, the lack thereof does not qualify one for a discount. We were suddenly inspired, but the mere 43m weren't enough to suit our need for the extreme.

Instead, we opted for the highest jump in New Zealand (and third highest in the world, the others being somewhere in China, and I think the Phillipenes, but I'm not sure on that), the Nevis Jump at 134m. We had come all this way, and if we were going to die, we were going to die doing something really ridiculous.

We made our way out there the morning of February 10th--a day that shall live in infamy, well, probably not, but it sounds cool. The bus ride wasn't nearly as harrowing as the bus ride to the rafting site, but it was kind of spooky through the early (9am) morning fog. Once we arrived, we were shuttled out to the platform via a tiny gondola that was fairly subject to the breezes whistling through the canyon, though once we made it to the platform everything seeme pretty stable. Jumping at this time was our select crew, a mom and daughter pair from England (the mom was just there to take pictures) and a young couple from elsewhere in New Zealand.

Frank was the first to jump, and we all held our breaths. He lived! and even made it back up to the platform! Side note, I hadn't thought about how I'd actually get off of the line. I was a little alarmed to realize that it would be by being hauled back up the way I went down. Frank came up positively beaming and couldn't come up with anything to say other than, "It's awesome. It's so awesome!" Slowly the number of people who jumped increased, and it was my turn.

Someone came and put binders around my ankles. This is where I started getting nervous--I was actually going to do it. Then I had to sit in the chair where they attached the actual cord to me. I shuffled to the edge and muttered some profanities. This was much different than skydiving. I actually had to jump, I couldn't just let myself be ripped from an airplane wing.

They counted down, and I jumped.

I am told that I immediately curled into a ball as I freefell at speeds, again I'm told, in excess of 60 miles an hour. I remember going down and not being able to catch my breath enough to scream. After what seemed like an hour, I relaxed into the fall and enjoyed the freedom that such an experience brings, enjoyed being wholly in that moment with all other anxieties, grudges, and thoughts really, suspended.

The cord snapped, and I was snapped back into the real world. It wasn't close to as violent as I imagined it would be. It was more like a stretch, a return to gravity. I bounced, and reached up to pull the cord that would re-orient my feet for the ride back up. I yanked, grabbed, and pulled as hard as I could, but I couldn't get the caribeaner to open. Finally, with probably about 30 meters to go back to the platform, I gave up and took a good look at the inverted valley surrounding me. It was pretty spectacular. The fog and mist had started to lift and everything was bathed in an eerily beautiful sunlight--like the picture on a card you'd give to someone whose mom has just died.

At last, and far too soon in my mind, I reached the top. I am told that I looked very much like a disoriented bat, and was chastised by the operators, "What have you done Samantha?! Oh you've broken it!" They were kidding of course and said that in about one in ten jumps the caribeaner doesn't open and it's no big deal. They helped me down and I beamed.

I beamed in the, "I just cheated death" way, I beamed in the way that let everyone else know that for that moment I was invincible. Once I was on something solid again, my knees shook. It was a good morning.