I got into a cat cradle made of belts and harness buckles that need to fit around the groin and middle. It's not a great look. I got closer to the precipice I was going to jump from, but absurdly, in my hyperadrenalized state, all I could think was: does my butt look big in this?
Ten years ago, this thought alone would have held me back: my embarrassment would have prevented me from seeking adventure or exciting experiences. Although the feeling obviously hadn't entirely dissipated, I focused on controlling my breathing and staying in the present moment.
It was a 350 foot drop, the longest rappel in the world. I could barely make out the white horses of the wild and endless Cape coast, with the trace of Robben Island and Lions Head in my eyes. Every fiber of my being wondered what had compelled me, at the reasonable age of 54, to sign up for abseiling. Cape TownIs it Table Mountain? Vertigo is not just a fear heights, but a desire to throw yourself. This was my chance to do something I had waited my whole life for.
I obeyed the command and counted down from five, leaning back into the blue void. I was tethered to planet Earth with a single rope and pulley system. I took the last step, released the hook and slid smoothly down the rock face, before a snag from above suddenly propelled me upward, dangling above from the abyss. I tried to focus on what I could see, desperate to take it all in: I spotted a rock hyrax running across a ledge, the sun bouncing off Camps Bay.
Time loses all meaning when we hover in space. I felt dizzy and laughed. I didn't expect a jump to stir up the feeling of exhilaration that had eluded me since my adolescence; the smile that couldn't be wiped off my face. I said to myself, this is the pinnacle of liberation; this feeling of detachment. It's a bit like falling in love: you feel so alive that your heart could burst out of your chest and expand to fill the entire horizon.