Demon Facing

When something scares you, a series of reactions occur that prepares your body for dealing with the threat. This is called the “fight-or-flight” response. A part of the brain called the hypothalamus activates the sympathetic nervous system and the adrenal-cortical system, releasing a flood of adrenaline, noradrenaline, and dozens of other hormones into the body. These cause a number of reactions: breathing speeds up to feed the muscles with oxygen; your heart rate increases to deliver the oxygen; stored sugar is released providing energy; digestion is inhibited reducing unnecessary blood flow; muscles tighten; sweat glands activate; and your pupils dilate allowing as much light as possible to enter and increasing your sensory awareness. You become a coiled cobra poised to strike, and remain in this state until the danger has passed. However, should the threat linger, then the body is placed under tremendous stress by attempting to maintain this position of action. If the threat is not immediate, and is only based on an idea of what is in the future, then the fear can be diminished with denial and a concentrated change of subject. However, fears that are not faced are placed deep in the subconscious where they fester and grow in strength every time the thought of the threat returns. These fears become a person’s demons.

I witnessed my first bungy jump when holidaying in Greece as a kid. A crane had been erected on the main beach providing a platform for any would be dare-devils and a stage for others to watch. In the space of two weeks, I watched 10s of people take the plunge. Each scream cut deeper into my mind and I felt a terrifying connection with every person that couldn’t jump. But I couldn’t look away; I was fascinated. Why were some people able to jump and others not? What compels someone to leap from safety & trust a latex cord? Was it something missing from their mind or missing from their life?

Over the years, my fear gained in strength, but it wasn't until I left the UK to start travelling that the official countdown began. I knew that New Zealand, being the bungy capital of the world, would be most appropriate field on which to battle my demon, and it would only be a matter of time before I arrived. Meanwhile, every traveller’s tale I read about bungy jumping caused the same reactions of “fight-or-flight”. I’d have to put an article down intermittently when reading it, to let my heart beat ease, and my breathing return to normal. I felt sick just thinking about it. Whether you can say it had developed into a fully fletched phobia by this point is arguable. My only strength was that I knew my imagination was far more terrifying than anything real. When I was a kid, standing at the bottom of the Eifel Tower, I became nauseous just thinking about climbing it, and yet when I reached the top, I was completely comfortable leaning over the edge. In fact I felt compelled to jump. I’ve always felt this desire when being at great heights - telling myself that “I could make it; it would be OK”. Then when the urge becomes really strong, base fear of survival kicks in and I physically pull myself back from the edge and breathe. This is a form of acrophobia – it is the fear of jumping, not the fear of the height itself.

Ordinarily, the best way to face a fear is on impulse - a spontaneous action with the minimum amount of time to think about it beforehand. However, thanks to the seemingly inexplicable popularity of this type of venture, advance bookings are essential. There was no mobile reception in the protection of Fjordland National Park, but I knew this wouldn't last long on the journey back to Queenstown. For that reason, I handled my mobile phone like a remote detonator, knowing that it would be activated at any moment and I'd have to make the call. Booking this early should guarantee it being possible to jump, but it would also provide around 15 hours of agonising mental torture beforehand.

- When someone commits suicide by jumping from a height, it’s not usually the impact that kills them; it’s the heart-attack in the fall -

When that moment arrived, the polite greeting of the agent sounded like sinister mockery of my tortured mind. This messenger of Beelzebub, then explained that there were no jumps tomorrow morning due to training (“Why do they need further training? What's happened?”), so the earliest was at 12:00. An extra 3 hours had been added to my sentence. I dabbled with the temptation of using this as justification of not going through with it but I was tired of running from this. The longer it was, the weaker I became, and the stronger the fear. And so, it was booked. By reading out my credit card numbers like a prisoner ID, I'd confirmed Lucie and I would be leaping into nothing, sometime after high-noon. That's right, despite having no real desire to do it, and thus less motivation to face this fear, somewhere along the road to perdition, Lucie conceded to love or lunacy and agreed to join me.

- News Headline: Traveller dies whilst girlfriend and parents look on -

From the moment of hanging up the phone, to noon the next day, bursts of fear crept over my skin like an army of spiders. Temporary moments of blissful daydreaming were obliterated with remembrance of my impending doom and the feeling of sickness returned. The beers at dinner had helped kill some of those thoughts, but the effect of alcohol wears off if not replenished. When morning arrived, I was exhausted through living the moment of jumping again and again in my sleep. Lucie was holding up better than me and had only really shown signs of fear during the night when darkness and the nightmares took over. I’d been running hyper on adrenaline for 14 hours now and felt completely drained of life-force. At breakfast, I’d barely been able to eat. I had to coax my stomach into working again with tiny portions of food before it could handle a decent bite. I put 8 sugars in my tea to supply easily digestible energy and then moved onto the canned energy drinks. I’d become a tortured hostage to my own ambition.

We persuaded our bodies to actually get on the bus to the jump-site by reasoning that we didn’t have to jump at any point; this was our decision. Besides, we’d get most of the money back if we didn’t do it, so there was no reason not to go. On the way, we both had moments of clarity when we realised we were actually on the way to doing it.

The minibus slowed as we passed the Kawarau Bungy Jump – the first commercial jump-site in the world and no slouch at 43 metres in height. The driver allowed us all gasp at the thought, and then told us we would be jumping from nearly 3 times this elevation. “I want to go home.”

Our journey was delayed on-route by some explosives clearing an overhang above one stretch of road – it seems everyone wanted the build-up to last as long as possible. The only way to the ‘Nevis’ site is along a private road that winds around the hills and takes you further and further from safety. When the road opens out and the jump-pod first comes into view, it’s like stumbling onto a James Bond villain’s lair. No sane person would conceive such a thing. A garage suspended on wires 134 metres (440 feet) above a raging river. To quote Mr. John Patrick McEnroe Jr, “You cannot be serious”.

Suited and booted, harnesses on, and liability signed away, we all made our way out to the jump pop courtesy of a shopping trolley on a pulley system. My ass-hole could’ve made diamonds of coal at this point.

The first thing the instructor said upon my arrival was, “How are you feeling?” There was no point in lying, my emotions couldn’t be any clearer unless they were running down my trouser legs. “I’m f*****g terrified!” To which he replied, “Good, the more scared you are, the better the rush will be.” Well, that’s it, in that case, I’m about to embark on a trip to the moon.

- Bungy jumping has been successfully used to keep heroin users clean from their habit -

Stepping into the pod was like entering a new world. I couldn’t believe the buzz in the air as everyone was in different stages of either getting ready to jump, or buzzing from their experience. A blend of punk rock and new metal was screaming from a stereo and feeding the electricity in the air. Instead of feeling sick, now, as the adrenaline was pumping, I felt exited. I knew I would jump. I was actually never afraid of jumping; I was petrified that I physically wouldn’t be able to jump - afraid of failing myself. The order was determined by weight so being about average, I was set to jump about halfway. Ankle straps were secured in place and then I made my way through the gate, into the jump area, and then into ‘the chair.’ Sitting in the chair is when most people give in to panic and pull out. It’s too much to be that close and not being able to jump straight away. This is the moment when they point out you are being filmed and ask you to smile for the camera. I always was good at smiling when nervous. I was then ushered to the edge, taking penguins steps forward due to the ankle straps, and forever paranoid of tripping and falling ahead of schedule into the abyss. The fact you have to position yourself with toes just over the edge makes it impossible not to look down. One last look at Lucie for a good bye photo and the countdown begins. I don’t remember hearing it, but I remember the moment of jumping. Looking straight ahead, I lent forward (so there was no going back), bent my legs and pushed myself out in the most elegant swan dive I could muster. And then, silence. Falling so quickly and none of it seemed real. A flood of endorphins, opiates, & dopamine were released into the blood and brought about euphoria. After 8 and a half seconds of freefall the bounce comes. There is no sudden jerk like you’d expect. In fact, it’s not even noticeable that you’re slowing down, until you realise you are going back up again. And then the relief intensifies “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I f*cking did it.”

As soon as I got back to the top, Lucie was there with open arms. “It’s incredible. You’re going to love it” were some of my first words. Soon after that it was her turn. She wasn’t blessed with the nervous smile that did me so proud. Actually, I’ve never seen anyone looking so scared in my life, but she jumped without hesitation when the moment came, and gave the loudest scream I’d ever heard. When she returned to the pod, we must have looked like two loved up drug fiends; nervous hand movements, lots of hugs and kisses, huge grins, and both full to the brim with chemicals – it’s a lot harder getting the high when it’s natural, and it doesn’t get much harder than this. The ‘Nevis Highwire’ is the 2nd highest bungy jump in the world. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.