Adrenaline Surprise — The Biggest Swing I’ve Ever Seen
How I turned “no you can’t zipline” into “ok, then I’ll jump off a bridge”
On a recent trip to New Zealand for a friend’s wedding, I think I may have accidentally turned from an adventure-seeker to a thrill seeker. This was not my first time to New Zealand and I am well aware that this country is THE PLACE to go for extreme adventure sports. But, I tend to enjoy the tamer adventures. I’ll happily spend days visiting local markets and museums, taking cultural and culinary tours, going hiking or kayaking, or occasionally zip-lining or jet-boating.
Truth be told, I’ll almost always find a way to get in or on the water wherever I go. Ocean, river, lake, or spa — I’m not picky!
Following my friend’s beautiful wedding, my husband and I had planned an extended stay farther south in Wanaka, near Queenstown. If you are not familiar with Queenstown, they call themselves “the home of adventure” and “the thrill-seeker capital of the world.” It’s no small wonder they are called this since Queenstown is home to the original bungee jump.
I’ve seen people jump from that original bridge, but with my weight and arthritic back caused by injuries, it was not something I wanted to do. But, I did want to try the new zip-line they had just installed over the same canyon!
We had reserved our tickets in advance and had checked all weight and fitness requirements — according to the website, we were both good to go.
The day arrives and we excitedly wait to check in at the gorgeous facility with glass walls overlooking the bungee jumpers and zip-liners. Excitement quickly turned to tears as they tell us their website is wrong — I’m too heavy to zip-line.
I was devastated.
It wasn’t only because I couldn’t go on the adventure I so desperately wanted to and was excited to go one, but also because of my own shame of being overweight. I carry that shame even when no one is actively judging me for it. To be weighed publicly and then told I can’t go on the adventure I had planned, was soul-crushing. I’ve struggled with weight my entire life and here it was once again — this time stopping me from doing what I love.
I went to the bathroom and I cried.
Transforming “no” to “yes”
Somewhere between the tears I realized I came here for an adventure. If I couldn’t do what I planned, maybe I could do something else!
With puffy eyes, I went back to the desk and the staff was already ready with other options. They were all so kind and really wanted to make it right for me. So, I couldn’t zip-line, but maybe I wanted to bungee jump? Or go to their Nevis playground and do the Catapult? Or the Canyon Swing?
The bungee was not what I wanted to do and the Catapult sounded a little too far out of my comfort zone…but surely a canyon swing would be fun! I asked about any concerns for my back injuries and they said no. Great! I signed up and signed all the waivers. I wasn’t even nervous until the bungee instructor came over and said, “Oh, the Nevis Swing? I won’t even do that! You are so brave!”
Wait.
What?
I had been thinking I signed up for a nice swing across the canyon. Yes, I’m expecting a little excitement or thrill but nothing too harrowing.
They write some numbers on the backs of my hands as my ticket so I don’t lose it during my swing. Because of the website error and my disappointment, they give my husband a viewing ticket — also written on the back of his hand — and tell us to wait for our bus to take us to the Nevis Playground.
As we wait, buses come and go and the stop fills with a few more people who all look quite nervous. My husband looks up the swing and says he’ll tell me more about it once we are on the bus and I can’t change my mind.
We finally think our bus has arrived but no, not that one. A larger one follows, but nope, not that one either. Finally, a gigantic bus with monstrous wheels and an angrily loud engine pulls up — yup, that’s the bus! I later learned it was specially made to handle the steep off-roading it takes to reach the Nevis Playground.
On the way, the bus is playing videos of the different types of adventures — no…thrills — you can find at the Nevis Playground. And I finally catch a glimpse of the so-called swing. Apparently, before you swing, you drop off a platform and plummet over five-hundred feet before swinging over a thousand feet across the canyon!
As we step off the bus, I realize I’m glad I didn’t have longer to think about it or I may not have gone through with it. Well, if I had really known what I was getting in to, I may not have chosen to go at all.
They checked my hand “tickets” and told me to check my pockets for anything I wanted to keep and then showed me where to go. No big deal, just go down the steps and across the swinging bridge out to the floating platform. The instructors will meet you there and get you geared up for your swing.
The Adventure Itself
The next part felt unreal. Without really saying anything, I started across the swinging bridge but refused to look down. Somewhere behind my I hear my husband whisper, “woah…that’s a loooooong way down.” I keep staring straight across the canyon as I walk.
Once on the floating platform, the safety instructors are playing upbeat and fun music. I watch a pair of canyon swing adventurers get into their gear and get dropped into the canyon. I’m really not sure how those first people got back up on the platform — I only remember the instructors strapping me into my harness and my heart starting to pound.
Attached to the platform by a single safety line, they walked me to the edge to get strapped in to the swing. They ask how I want to swing. Hmm… I consider that I really don’t want to see myself fall so I say I want my back to the canyon, facing into the platform. She tells me to sit back over the canyon and let my feet come off the platform.
I’m dangling over the canyon now and I feel almost too calm, except for my pounding heart.
The instructor asks me one more question, “do you want a countdown? Or nah?” I barely got out the words “no, I don’t think so” before she hits the button and I’m at gravity’s mercy plummeting head first toward the canyon floor below.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t gasp. Honestly, I’m not sure I even breathed!
Seconds later I’m being taken on this massive arc — swinging across this gorgeous canyon with a swift-running river running through it. I put my arms out and I feel like I’m flying.
It’s so quiet except for the wind rushing over my ears as my swinging gets smaller and smaller and I’m just barely swaying in the wind. They start to pull me up and I just feel so alive. And proud. Who would have thought someone like me could have done something like this?
They pulled me back on the platform and I noticed my heart wasn’t pounding anymore — I don’t think it had been pounding since the initial drop.
Jumping off a bridge (voluntarily) taught me a few things: 1) even when someone tells you “no” you can always find another way; 2) sometimes it’s better not to know so you can’t overthink; 3) facing a fear can be quite liberating; and 4) when you jump off a bridge, suddenly the rest of your worries and fears seem pretty small.
Even now when faced with a challenge or I’m scared to try something new, I remind myself that if I can jump off a bridge and survive, then this — whatever it is — is going to be just fine.
Leana’s an avid world traveler who has been to over 40 countries and will be venturing to her 7th continent in 2022. She believes in ubuntu and that adventures make life worth living. To follow her journey as a plus-sized woman with unquenchable wanderlust as she continues to seek out all that the world has to offer, you can check out The Overweight Adventurer.
