Spring Tide
That’s when the boys become men, they say.
The moonless night is so quiet I could just sit on the sand and watch the sky move. I don’t. I walk along the shore towards the cliff on the other end.
I pass the restaurant, it’s hardly visible with its lights off. They call it “The Viewpoint”, such a stupid name.
I see the shore retreating and feel a wave of warmth through my body. I’m not ashamed of the tears that roll down my face.
As I approach the cliff wall I hear Father’s voice telling me to show respect. I stop for a moment and bow my head. The cliff wall faces the other end of the beach, The Viewpoint.
I reach the rocky wall with water to my ankles. I thought there would be more people here, but I don’t see or hear anyone. Better so.
For the last four weeks, I have watched the moon grow from a thin line to it’s fullest, and then wane back. Yesterday’s old moon was the sign of the spring tides. Today, we have the lowest and the highest tides in the season. From now on, the days will be longer than the nights.
That’s when the boys become men, they say. I hope they’re right.
I go to my favourite place to start the climb. I reach up to find my grip. My body is suspended almost without effort.
I climb as I was taught, with my whole body, not only hands and feet. I try to blend in with the rock, my skin on her skin.
The first part of the climb is easy. I think of my sister as I approach the first plateau. She is so much braver than me, even at her young age. She climbs faster than me, too. In her first spring she didn’t even blink, she just flew off the edge to the perfect spot. Not even a splash.
A lot of girls have shown an interest in the cliff lately and most parents don’t seem to mind as they used to. When I was her age, girls were strictly not allowed. Things are changing fast in our world and my sister is proof that girls can be as good as boys in this. She is better than me, but I can’t tell her that.
I remember my first time. I was standing there, my knees were trembling. I heard my brother say “do you see the pool, down there?” I nodded. “Look carefully, you will see a spot where the water is still, more so than in the rest of the pool, that’s the deepest place.” I saw the place. “You have to get to the middle of that.” I nodded again and took a deep breath, “Don’t hold your breath”, he said, “Just fill your chest and let the air out very slowly as you go”. I somehow managed to bent my knees and jump.
“Not bad”, he said as he reached me in the pool, “but you have to spring like a cat, not jump up like a monkey.” He laughed and went up to show it to me, again.
The second plateau is much higher and the view is breathtaking. I just wanted to sit there and take it in. It was about a year after my first time and Father was with me. “Find the deep spot in the pool”, he said. It was the same pool as before, but it looked smaller from that distance. “You have to spring away from here, or you may hit the rock below”. I took a few deep breaths and sprung. Everything happened very slowly. My feet left the edge, I went up in the air, just a little, and I felt a push on the side. Then I fell into the pool. Father came after me, he seemed to float in the air before the fall and made almost no splash.
“I had to nudge you. You were going to hit the rock below.” That was all he said. We climbed back and I got it right the second time.
“Well done.” He said, with a smile, “let’s go home, it’s been a good day.”
About a month later, my sister sprang from the second plateau. Father and I were with her. She didn’t need help to get straight to the middle of the pool.
I think she could have done earlier, but she probably didn’t want to do it before I did.
There is a track to the top of the cliff. There’s also the project of building a road and a belvedere. I hope that never happens. That is no place for cars, beer, and noisy music. The view is fantastic, but one must earn the right to it by at least walking the track. It’s not even very steep or hard in any other way.
I could take the track to the top, but it doesn’t feel right to do that tonight.
The third plateau leads to a different pool on the other side of the wall. It faces the sunrise and the ocean. It’s higher, but it’s also a safer spring because there aren’t any rocks right below that you can hit. It’s pretty much a straight fall. At least, that’s what I remember my brother telling me.
After standing on the third plateau, there’s only one way to leave it. Climbing down would be much more dangerous than springing. I have never heard of anyone trying that.
As I approach the third plateau, I think it is possible to leave it by climbing all the way to the top instead of springing off. Nobody does that, though. For most people, climbing is not an end in itself, it is just a way to get to the plateaus. I like climbing the rock better than springing from it.
“Don’t look down when you’re climbing.” I hear Father’s voice saying. “If you do, you’ll get stuck or fall.” That is a familiar feeling. “One day you will look down and feel you have climbed above the world. Then, you will never be afraid again. But don’t look forward to it. It’ll just happen and then you’ll know.”
Cliff springing has been a tradition in our community as far back as we can remember. In the past, it was done for fun and also as a rite of passage for boys. Nobody was forced to do it, although you’d gain respect if you did.
(We don’t say “cliff jumping” because it gives the wrong idea. It’s also the way strangers refer to it. Then, we just don’t say it that way.)
Father was one of the best, he could almost fly. He was also a great fisherman and he taught fishing to anyone willing to learn.
After the restaurant opened, they started paying people to perform in “cliff jumping shows” at specific times. After a jump, the performer just passes by the restaurant and collects an incentive from the owner. Some tourists also pay performers for pictures with them.
Tourists don’t know us, they don’t know who was in the show. Some boys just get wet and offer to take selfies, for a small incentive.
Father never liked any of that, but the extra cash was welcome. For some time, with him and my brother performing, we started saving for my sister and me to go to college. My brother preferred to follow our father’s steps, to “be wise, not schooled”, as he said. But he still had to go to school, like everybody else.
There is a problem with shows at fixed times: the tide does not come in at the same time every day. We are taught never to spring in the low tide. It’s stupid to take unnecessary risks. Everyone knows that, but the restaurant owner doesn’t care. He only pays for shows at the times he sets.
Since the restaurant opened, many people have been killed or crippled in accidents in the low tide. The incentive for shows in the low tide is bigger because there are fewer people willing to perform.
We soon learned that extra cash quickly becomes necessary cash.
One morning, Father was home, he had the flu and had not been to the cliff or out fishing that week. He got a message from the restaurant saying they had a special event and there would be a special bonus, plus a crowd of people asking for selfies. My brother was there, but there was no bonus for performances from the third plateau. Father sent the messenger back saying he was grateful, but he was ill and had to decline the invitation. The second message came with a vial of pills, asking him to take them, feel better and be there for the late afternoon show.
He felt better and went. He climbed to the top of the cliff, got ready and sprang. He may have slipped a foot on the edge or something, people later said it was not a good spring. He missed the deep spot. It could have been all right in the high tide. But it wasn’t the high tide.
The tourists did not see the accident, the rocks he hit were under the water. He was taken out and carried to our house. The following day, the bonus money was sent to us.
I get to the third plateau. I am not tired.
Tears blur my sight. I close my eyes an they roll down my face. I can see better now than before. “Don’t look down.”
My brother took over Father’s duties. He was good at them, but he had lost his joy. He never smiled anymore, and he would only go to the cliff for the shows. He also promoted himself to the top of the cliff. That was supposed to be important, but he didn’t seem to care. He sent Father’s fishing students to an old fisherman and dedicated more time to fishing. I started fishing with him, so I could help.
Mother never smiled anymore either. She told us to never go back to the cliff, but we need the cash. She then had us promise to be very careful and never, ever, spring in the low tide.
Near the top, I get to the place where my brother slipped. I don’t know how it happened, there’s nothing especially difficult here. I cling to the rock when I feel I’m about to start sobbing.
I look down to the rock where his head was cracked open. “Like an eggshell”, I heard someone say. The stain of dried blood is still there, it’s hardly visible now. It will disappear soon, the rainy season is coming. I close and open my eyes a few times and the tears are gone. I take a deep breath and then another one. The night smells good.
I look up and climb the rest of the way to the top. Then I lie on the hard rock and look at the sky above. For a moment, it’s like time has stopped.
There has never been a night so beautiful.
I stand up and walk to the edge. The breeze is soft up here.
I look down, the water mirrors the sky. There is a spot where the twinkle of the stars looks just a little stiller. I take control of my breath and feel myself smile.
I have climbed above the world, Father.
I spring to the stars below.
