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It’s been a long road to the edge of this
cliff, sheer and coursing with cold, tumbling water. First, together with a
small group of fellow jumpers, we piled onto benches in the back of a hardy
four-wheel-drive truck, bumping through the rainforest near the flanks of a
green, steaming, active volcano. Then, my heart pounding increasingly hard, we
were fitted for helmets and harnesses in a wooden structure, set in the centre
of a slot canyon.
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| By Tim Johnson |
“The first one is the highest—a waterfall,
165 feet, and then you’ll proceed to the monkey drop,” a guide briefs us,
noting that, on the latter, we will hang for a few moments before staff drops
us into a controlled free-fall, into a pool. “Be careful to close your mouth,
even if you’re screaming, so you don’t get a mouthful of water,” he continues,
seriously.
Soon, I’m at the edge. With the primary and
secondary lines clipped in, there’s nothing left to think about. I swing
around, feet precariously perched on the rim of the platform, the rest of my body
separated from the jungle floor—far below—by nothing but thin air, some mist
from a massive waterfall, and thin air. Drawing a deep breath, I begin the drop.
I’m rappelling and canyoning in Costa Rica,
near the town of La Fortuna and the Arenal Volcano, whose summit forms a
perfect cone—almost as if drawn by a child, or moulded out of play-dough for a
class project on lava, complete with baking soda. It’s the first stop on a road
trip with a small group through the heart of this famously eco-friendly country.
Well-known for zip lines, this journey will take me to adventures (and
destinations) well beyond that, exceeding and transcending activities typically
experienced by tourists.
By Tim Johnson
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