Bungee Jumping

Bungee Jumping

Bungee Jumping

Bungee Jumping

Bungee Jumping

Bungee Jumping in BC Canada – 4 Ways To Spit In The Face of Death”I’m about to throw myself off a bridge.” These are the only words that come to mind while standing on the precipice of Whistler Bungee’s gleaming metallic bridge, stretched over a massive canyon in Whistler Resort Valley. Your clammy hands are clutching the metal gate, your knees shivering like tubes of jelly. You’re possibly wondering why you would risk death by throwing yourself off this precipice, right in the middle of winter, right before spring thaws in May waterfall. “I’m about to…” สล๊อตเว็บตรงแตกง่าย You continue your failed attempt to explain why you need to die. You know that it is inevitable. The seconds keep ticking, the wind is increasing, the churning river is about to lose its bed, and there is not one person in sight. You can feel the approaching storm, and as the seconds count to three, the pounding on the bridge gets faster, the wind is louder, and the churning water is wildly rapid. Bungee Jumping With each breath you take, with each heart skipped, you realize that you are closer to the dramatic finish line than you think, and with each second it seems that you will never escape. I can feel the rising panic, and fear that it will catch up with me. I’m trying to hold it back, to dive underneath and grasp at the Fitz. But it’s impossible, the tide is lapping at the bridge, and I am swept over the edge. I make it to the last row of seats, and collapse in the wet. I stay conscious, trying to remember my Dad telling me to stay calm even when my stomach is in danger, and make no noise. I stay calm as the storm outside calms down, and I eventually hear the waves dying down. After a few minutes it’s over, and I begin to relax. For a few minutes I feel as if I have been shot, but more impress the beauty of the moment. I collapse to the beach, arms full of beachclothes, and stars glittering behind tired eyes. I feel my body slow down, and notice the fine sand rubbing against my skin. My flip flops are soaking wet, and I have one foot in the creek at the base of the rock pier. I am safe, but appreciate the warning. I scramble up to the darkened entrance of the pier, and wonder at the sight of the white-painted Sentinel, its enormous saw coated in paint, and massive exterior doors. I wonder what it used to be like inside, when it was known by many people. Of course, it no longer is. A ride on the park’s steamers is one way to see the place, but I am afraid I’ll get tossed off if I’m too near the wheels. Bungee Jumping I back out the way the park used to be, down the hill and into the real world. raided a nearby antique shop for a pair of painted canvas snaffle feet, but lugged them home wanting to make lasting purchases. fashioned myself a pair of leather shoulder bags, and found myself carrying more than I should with me. Once again I buy myself dinner (ichi-hebi) so that I’ll have something to wear when I arrive at the airport in the morning to fly home. It’s past noon, and as I pass by the food court a vendor sprinkles some fresh buns, and calls out a prayer for our group. I respond, “Amen! We should eat soon.” They’re not into it, but offer anyway. I order aenta — one of the special menu items atmi — and a tiny cup of shoyu tasu (fluffy, fried noodles). It is very tasty, and I remain full throughout my meal. Bungee Jumping I walk away wishing I could have had more of it. It makes me feel good to know that I haven’t damaged my body or caused any painkillers to run out. But I’ve got some days here to handle the pain, the whole being burned to the ground, nothing I can do about that now.
Bungee Jumping