106 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | MAY 2018
THE DESTINATIONT
reading
along the wire mesh bridge towards the bungee jump
platform, I keep my strides firm and steady even though my
heart is beating like a drum. My thoughts race back to 2007
when my daughter Tarini had blithely jumped off South
Africa’s Bloukrans Bridge and I had chickened out despite a
‘50% Dad Discount.’ Eleven years later, I am back to dive off
the same 709-foot bridge, an architectural marvel in touristy
Garden Route, a 200-kilometre haven dotted with dense
forests, pristine beaches and hulking mountain ranges.
That this is the world’s highest bridge bungee becomes
doubly evident when I look down: a thickly forested valley
drops down sharply to the Bloukrans River; its surface
shimmering like a deadly black snake. With my pulse racing,
I approach the registration desk where my eyes dart in the
direction of a large sign in red-and-white lettering. ‘Fear is
Temporary, Regret is Permanent,’ it reads. But this time there
isn’t—and cannot be—any room for regrets. This time, at 60, I
am determined to take the leap.
***
As my photographer friend Sundeep and I step into
the small airfield at Plettenberg Bay, a seaside
town in Garden Route, we are thrilled to
notice a spotless blue sky—a perfect day to
dive. My instructor Mike is a lanky young man,
and his demeanour is as calm and reassuring as that of
a cowboy in a Western. That he has 15,000 jumps under his
belt somewhat puts me at ease. On the airfield, Mike straps
me into a full-body harness, checks the contact points and
gives a quick briefing before we clamber into the trusty old
Cessna. When we take off, the airfield starts to shrink in size.
We gradually and smoothly climb to altitude, heading out tothe Indian Ocean before looping back towards land. It is the
most spectacular day. Far below I can see the sparkle of the
giant breakers as they charge towards the sandy shores with
mighty green mountains rising inland. Mike calmly repeats
the instructions one more time into my ear, connects me to his
harness and hands me my goggles.
Anxious, I find myself humming the chorus from America’s
“Sandman” under my breath. But before I can complete the
lyrics the door opens and a gush of air and noise fills the cabin.
Mike swiftly manoeuvres us towards the exit. First to jump off
is Sundeep and his man, Jeff. With no time to think (a goodthing considering the task ahead), I place my feet on the door’s
edge, cross my arms and arch my body. And then with a great
heave, I take the leap, tumbling and falling as the sea, sky and
land spin around me like a 3D movie.
Plummeting down 10,000 feet, I am screaming at the top
of my lungs when Mike taps me on the shoulder, a message
to spread my arms; and then, like an eagle, I continue to dive
freely, swooping down at 200 feet per second. The goggles are
plastered to my face and the howling of the wind in my ears is
overwhelming. Thirty five seconds later we have already halved
the distance. That’s when Mike pulls the ripcord, and I am
instantly consumed by an enormous feeling of weightlessnessSkydiving 10,000
feet above
Plettenberg Bay