Nick Sanders

If Everyone Jumped Off a Cliff, Would You?

I grew up surrounded by a family of crazy people. I am not talking about mentally unstable or even reckless people, just fearless. Even my godparents are serious adventure seekers: skydivers, cave divers, and scuba divers. They are an interesting bunch - all physicians and all very serious about safety. They wouldn’t dream about allowing me to ride a bike without a helmet or not being appropriately restrained in a car, but trampoline bungee jumping at 3 years old or snorkeling in Crystal River with alligators at five years old was acceptable. My childhood is a mix of overprotectiveness and outrageous adventure. 

Every night before bed, my mom would read books to me, but Harry Potter had nothing on my mom. The stories about her adventures with her best friend, my godmother, put J.K. Rowling to shame. 

In one of my favorite stories, my mom tells about one of her scuba diving trips with my godmother who is an avid underwater photographer. They were diving alone off the coast of Belize when they stumbled upon a shiver of sharks sleeping in a den. Now, any normal person would slowly back away and swim back to the boat, but not my godmother and not my mom. They circled the coral ledge several times taking pictures of the sharks until one shark became agitated, wiggled his way out of the den, and swam to another ledge. Without hesitation, my godmother used hand signals to my mom that she intended to swim after the shark and chase the shark back toward my mom. My mom’s job was simply to take a picture of the 6-foot-long shark swimming straight toward her. She laughs as she tells the story saying that as she was floating above a den full of sharks in the dead quiet ocean with a visibility of fewer than 5 feet in front of her, waiting to take a picture of an aggravated shark being chased by her friend, she was thinking, “This is not a good idea. It is going to be embarrassing if I get bitten by a reef shark.” Needless to say, they did not sustain any shark bites and my mother got the picture. In addition to tales of scuba adventures, her stories about hiking up erupting volcanoes stepping over small veins of lava flow, and white water rafting through crocodile-infested waters in the rainforest filled my mind with wonderful adventures. 

Growing up surrounded by these fearless people, I assumed that I would inherit my father’s love for skydiving and my mother’s love for underwater adventure. Instead, I inherited my father’s fear of scuba diving and my mother’s fear of heights. Despite these fears, my father still scuba dives because he loves my mom and her first love is diving. And my mother’s fear of heights did not stop her from bungee jumping in New Zealand. I am the complete opposite. I am a worrier! I think of every possible bad outcome of anything I do, including death. These constant thoughts lead to mild phobias, particularly of heights. I have successfully overcome my fear of the open water, allowing me to embrace scuba diving as a hobby. When my family went to Hawaii for our first dive trip, I felt confident in my ability to embrace adventure with them. 

Our trip started with a drive along the road to Hana on the island of Maui. We all piled into an SUV along with our suitcases and dive gear. The road to Hana epitomized the saying, “It is the journey, not the destination.” The views were breathtaking. We were winding along a barely paved road with a sheer drop off of hundreds of feet to a rocky shore of the ocean on my side of the car and lush green vegetation so thick and close to the car on my sister’s side that it threatened to engulf the entire SUV at any moment. Needless to say, as we inched along this treacherous journey my fear of heights was not improving. When my dad pulled onto a narrow patch of gravel on my sister’s less intimidating side of the road, I was relieved. My mom then explained that we were going to hike to a waterfall. This was an adventure that I could be on board with. I love hiking. I love waterfalls. Nothing could sound more relaxing than escaping from reality into a rainforest. Walking along the well-worn path through the thick green landscape with an abundance of blooming tropical flowers was an escape to another world - so much so that I kept expecting to round the corner and see a brachiosaurus quietly munching on the top of a tree. No dinosaur sightings, but we did spy a bright green and red parakeet. About an hour into our hike, we could hear the faint roar of the waterfall followed by a mossy smell of water. Finally, we turned the corner, and there was a beautiful waterfall of shiny black rock stretching 40 feet up. After trekking through several ice-cold streams in our bare feet, we arrive at the edge of the blue-green pool at the base of the waterfall and plop down in the refreshing water. As we are sitting here alone but together in paradise, all is right in the world. We take sips from our water bottles and my mom passes around fresh fruit from her backpack. Soon we are joined by another group of people. They are locals celebrating a day off from work and school. The peaceful atmosphere is replaced with laughter and lively chatter. I watch the locals swim across the blue-green pool and start to climb up what initially appeared to be a sheer ledge beside the waterfall. Now, I can see well-worn rock juttings making a ladder to the top. One by one they climb to the top, stretch their arms up, smile, and dive off the waterfall into the pool below. 

After several minutes of watching, my parents are told by the locals that the pool is quite deep and is very safe for cliff diving. My fearless sister and father are the first to swim across, effortlessly climb the ledge, and happily jump into the water. My mother and I look at each other with apprehension. We share the fear of heights and our determination not to be outdone by our family members. After my dad and sister make several trips up and down the waterfall - we must save face! We only take a couple of steps into the water before the shore drops off into deeper water. We slowly start to swim across the cool pool. As we near the steep wall of rock forming the waterfall, it seems to reach the sky. The rocks are slick with water and wear. The locals had made the climb look effortless, but it was not. I climb one step at a time all the while willing myself to not look down. At last, we reach the top of the precipice. A local is standing off to the side telling us how to avoid injury. “HOW TO AVOID INJURY!” my mind is screaming at me. Why am I doing this? Should I try to climb back down? As if reading my mind, the local explains that climbing back down is too dangerous and not an option. How did I get myself into this? I hesitantly creep my way forward until my toes are hanging slightly over the edge. The local warns, “You must jump forward to avoid hitting the rocks of the waterfall’s wall.” I am trembling with fear, and I hope that my fearless family does not notice. I stand there for a moment, trying to work up my courage and soaking in the moment - the fresh but slightly musty smell of the water, the fragrance of the birds of paradise growing nearby, the purr of the waterfall hitting the pool below, and the contrast of the brisk water running over my feet and the warm sun on my face. 

I have a decision. I can join the ranks of my fearless family, or I can let fear control me. I lift my arms toward the sky half in a silent prayer, half in a sign of triumph. Just like my first jump into the ocean from the dive boat, I jump from the cliff into the cold water welcoming me below.