Some things in life simply draw you in. I cannot resist the allure of the sense of a bit of danger. The cliff on Prince Regent Island is an impeccably dressed cliff, standing tall in its suit of solid grey granite, capped with a hat of brisk green conifer trees, standing in a deep aqua blue pool of shimmering crystal water.
My urge to share this treasure is equally as strong as my desire to jump from atop its crown. I try desperately not to be too pushy, but I find the experience so invigorating it is impossible not to implore others to take the plunge... especially when I can see the shimmer in their eyes and I know they're game.
Conor and Keith hopped in the boat with me. Keith drove out to the cliff. We circled around and hid in the cove so as not to be seen by the property owners. I accompanied Keith on a quick depth inspection and we quietly edged our way to the top while Conor manned the boat. We stood and stared out among the islands, the silhouettes of Cormorants tucked in the evening shadows. We hushed in whispered tones. I counted, 'one, two, three' and was sailing. Time slowed, and my arms spread in a primeval desire to fly before slowly retracting in vain, held close to my body as I plunged beneath the surface.
I stared up at Keith, his knees bent, and then in a flash he was airborne falling precipitously. He emerged awash in a giant grin. 'That was big.'
Conor climbed and I followed again, while this time Keith manned the helm. The same scenario played itself out again, a scenario as old as time itself - men standing at the edge of the abyss and hurling themselves off into the great unknown.
In those moments when you fall, it is only these and similar moments in life when the coin lands neither heads nor tails, but lands perched unwavering on its edge, in a moment perfectly balanced between chaos and order.
No comments:
Post a Comment