Jumping Off a Cliff

There is something about running full speed off a 1500 foot cliff that, well, will pretty much scare the $%^# out of you. Especially if you are me. I don’t like heights generally. It may be that I went crashing to my death in a previous life or it could be just common sense. Could be a bit of both. In any event, running off a cliff is exactly what I did recently in Brazil, when my 18-year-old daughter cajoled me into taking her hang gliding.

A note to fathers – never casually mention an idea to your adventurous daughters (or sons) unless you are prepared to go through with it. Ten seconds after the words are out of your mouth you’re a goner.

Elizabeth and I drove with our hang gliding pilot up to the top of a steep peak overlooking Rio de Janeiro. Before he finished the question, “Who first?” I blurted out “Me, me.” It is one thing to jump off a cliff and another to stand around on a cliff for a long time thinking about it. As I peered nervously over the edge of the wooden platform off of which I would soon have to leap, two thoughts came to mind. One was that if a lot of people died doing this surely I would have heard about it. The second was that I wished I could have reinforced what little courage I had with a stiff drink.

For a moment I thought of chickening out, but the fear of looking like a geek in my daughter’s eyes surpassed my fear of being named “Splat.”

So I ran off a cliff and for ten minutes or so soared like a bird over Brazil’s amazing seascape, landing on a quiet beach to the stares of sunbathers. Elly took her turn as well, as fearless as she was leaping into a swimming pool when she was five.

We filmed each other taking our jumps and copied the little videos onto our computer. A half dozen times per day my two-year-old daughter, Mariana, comes striding into my office at home and demands “Elly Bird!” She is obsessed with the fact that her big sister flew. “Daddy Bird” does not seem to be as much of a draw.

Happily, bungee jumping hasn’t made it to Bolivia yet.