Hello Dear Readers!
I promise I haven’t died- I’ve just been really busy. (As per the usual).
So, where did we leave off? I’m pretty sure I had just told you guys all about traveling to the Miraval Resort with my sister, Jill. Like I said, redeeming the points was a no-brainer, and we had an absolutely awesome time.
In addition to all sorts of wellness classes, (like yoga, meditation, and spiritual healing), the resort also had challenge courses. Of course Jill and I signed up to go ziplining.
Now, I’ve ziplined once before. I was on a cruise and one of the shore excursions in Dominica was this crazy rope walk through the trees with ziplining. The issue there was that, well, it was Dominica, which meant there were zero safety codes. Which is how I found myself zooming towards a tree on a duct-taped cable with no brakes and a mattress at the other end.
Suffice to say that my first time was a little scary. However, since this was in the good old US of A, I had high hopes as to the safety standards of our course.
And yes, it was safe, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Like I said, this was considered a ‘challenge course,’ which meant apparently that in order to get to the zipline, you had to scale a fifty foot telephone pole.
Like, with your hands. And your feet. There was no nifty basket to haul my carcass up there.
I’m not that bad with heights, really, but the last time I tried crawling up a sheer surface with my bare hands I got so scared that I straight fell off.
Jill, also, has a horrific time with this concept.
So it was with no little amount of trepidation that we watched the first couple people scale this pole, looking like monkeys as they hopped from rung to rung. I told Jill I’d go first, so I wouldn’t have time to psyche myself out, and began climbing as soon as I was told.
It wasn’t so bad, at first. Really. But right at about twenty feet, I realized the ground was really far away, and the rungs were super tiny, and also ohmygod what am I doing.
Ohgod ohgod ohgod
I didn’t fall, at least, but I panicked and raced the entire rest of the way up to the platform, arriving and nearly collapsing with relief.
Just kidding. I was hanging onto the pole for dear life. The employee eventually had to pry me off, assuring me that I was securely connected to the cables hanging around the platform.
Then it was Jill’s turn.
It started simply enough. Here comes Jill, crawling up this pole, with all the rest of us shouting encouragement and urging her to come up. I stood at the top and berated her, as any good older sister does.
And there she was, a mere two rungs from arriving at the platform. Her head was even peeking over- all she needed to do was grab this rung.
It was at this point that she looked down. And oh, the panic was real.
It was like a movie. She hung there, hyperventilating, convincing herself she couldn’t do it.
There we all were, calling, calling, encouraging her to reach, just one more, and there she went- one arm outstretched- grasping for the rung.
She caught it with the tips of her fingers, and in slow-motion they slipped, her petrified face dropping out of view as she fell.
The air stopped moving but for her terrified yelp as- thwack- with a stretch, her rope caught her and she swung back around to the pole, clinging to the rungs and sobbing.
She was back several feet down and as red as a tomato, (she’s a ginger, you know), trying to gain control of herself and overcome her panic.
And she did. Scarcely a minute later, she began climbing again, this time her face filled with resolve as rose up.
Finally, she crawled up over the platform, and we all cheered wildly, congratulating her on making it.
After that, the zipline was cake.
-Carissa “Badass” Rawson