Don't be afraid to step off the platform

Once you take control of your life, you might find something new that thrills you.

By ROBERT N. JENKINS
Published December 19, 2006

Jorge, a slim, young man, tried to move quickly, but the nylon webbing of the harness he had me step into was snagging against my blue jeans. Finally, he pulled hard enough to hike the straps to the tops of my thighs, and then he wrapped around my waist a webbed belt already sewn to the leg straps.

Everywhere he could, Jorge cinched these straps past "snug."

Hanging from the waistband were a couple of nylon ropes ending in metal D clamps that have a spring-loaded bar across the flat side.

You've seen these D clamps in hardware stores, or noticed them hanging off backpacks, where they tether miniature teddy bears or other trinkets for the daily trek to school.

More adventuresome sorts pass ropes through the loop of the clamp to provide some security while they climb mountains.

I had nothing that daring in mind.

Instead, three days after my 63rd birthday in October, I was ready to try something for the first time. All it would take is a little willpower, which is the theme of this month's issue of Life Times: taking control of your life.

What goes up

My little life change was taking place on a hillside in the rainforest of the Lakes District of Chile. I was about to go "ziplining," or gliding, 2,800 feet through the treetops.

I would be hanging from a third metal object attached to the middle of my webbed waistband. This clamp was formidable: Much thicker and larger than the D clamps, it was roughly triangular.

This was the trolley, explained Jorge, in his Spanish-accented English.

I strained to discern each syllable he uttered as he gave a safety lesson to me and seven other Americans, all gusseted for our zipline experience.

We only had to crane our necks to see where this would take place: Our final destination was a platform circling a nearby tree trunk. That platform, Jorge said, was about 45 feet above us.

I squinted through my trifocals and could just make out the wire cable that would be our trolleys' track. The cable didn't look very large, nor strong.

The time to back out was now.

Instead, I sucked it up physically, I was getting a lot of help from my girdle of webbed outerwear and followed Jorge and his acrobat-sized co-workers up the hillside.

This was to be the most demanding part of my ziplining, for to glide down the wire, we first had to go up.

That meant climbing to gain a few hundred feet elevation. The path we trod was trampled amid the ferns, bushes and trees. The ground was wet and uneven, the distance between rough steps cut into the hillside quite high.

As we approached a waterfall and a sharp left-hand turn in the trail, Jorge paused to let stragglers catch up. While others admired the waterfall, I gasped for air.

Finally, we reached the initial wooden platform; gravity and the trolley would take us to eight more. Jorge now explained that all that was required of us was to step off the planks and into space.

"So, Mr. How Hard Could It Be," I thought, "do you have an excuse ready?"

The moment of truth

We had to wait a few minutes while three of Jorge's colleagues clamped their safety lines onto the cable, then hopped onto tiptoes to clamp their trolleys onto the wire.

Off each one sailed, every now and then twirling in a circle to show off. Ultimately, one of these fellows would be at each platform, waiting for us as we glided toward him.

This guide would gauge our speed as we slid down the cable, hanging by the trolley. If we were coming in too fast, the guide would signal us to slow down. That meant we were to reach up to the cable behind the trolley - "Always behind!" Jorge warned - and grab it with our hand, encased in a half glove of leather.

That glove and our arm strength were our brakes.

Jorge signaled for the first of us to step forward.

There was just one person in front of me, so I had a good view as he was fastened to the cable and then sailed off the platform. As I watched, I lost my fear of heights, and the even-larger trepidation at trying something so very different from my usual life.

When it was my turn, Jorge motioned to me to step to the edge of the platform. My two safety clamps were attached, then I stood as high on my tiptoes as I could so the guides could latch my trolley to the cable.

Then I awkwardly stepped off the platform, and I was gli-i-i-d-ding, the trees whipping by.

"Neat!" I thought. Or maybe I shouted it.

I could feel I was going faster, but I tried to stare only at Jorge's look-alike assistant on the second platform, waiting for his signal to grab the cable.

He did, I did, and I managed not only to slow down well but also to lift my legs high enough so my feet didn't hit the padding on the edges of the platform. The guide reached out and easily grabbed me around the waist, pulling me up and stopping my forward motion.

We would sail on to seven more platforms. I loved the experience. It called to mind all the times my boyhood pals and I had imitated Tarzan by grabbing a thick vine hanging from a tree in our neighborhood and swinging a few feet above a ditch.

That was more than a half-century ago, I realized. Have I used all those years wisely, taking control of my life often enough?

Or have I become afraid to step off the platform to try something new?

Robert N. Jenkins can be reached at (727) 893-8496 or bjenkins@sptimes.com.

[Last modified December 19, 2006, 11:05:18]