Flying High

"Clip". "Clach". "Whenever you're ready," Ricky said. I leapt off the platform which could be conceived as toothpicks. My stomach sprung in to my lungs, stopping the life-giving necessity of air. After I realized that I was perfectly fine, I started to breathe again. When I unclipped from the zip line my guide, Ricky said, "that was the beginner one, we just have you do that so we know if you are going to freak out or not."

My family and I pulled into Princeville Ranch in our terrestrial rental car. We dared to come and attemptÐ'...Ð'..... ZIP LINING, for we were adrenaline hunters. We checked in and received a day pack, a black water bottle, and a white water bottle. The white water bottle was their gift to us, but believe me , we paid for it; the black water bottle was for filling up our new white ones, but not to drink out of. We read a required safety debriefing, hanging on a hook with an attractive ring, binding the three pages together. The nine tourists which included my family, self-effacingly gathered collectively towards our probable zip line guides. There was a man and a woman. The man, a native Hawaiian of the island of Kauai, retained a short, but ripped body. He also worked as a licensed captain who navigates ships back and forth between Chicago and Hawaii. His name, Ricky, explained his personality as a funny, strong accented guy with an age (33). The woman contained about thirty-two years, and her name, Lora, radiated her personality outward. Her athletic build revealed her childhood; a strong fragile girl with an American flag always above. They talked to us regarding the safety regulations which we had already read, and then it was time to suit up into the tight, painful, nefarious harnesses, which molded my lanky body like a piece of clay. The harness separated you from

the cable and you, your only lifeline; moreover, the only thing between life or a 600 foot plunge into a sharp rocky ravine (sure death).

Suddenly an odd looking truck, I guess you would call it, pulled into the parking lot. I found out later that it, an Armenian army truck used to carry 12 troops around; it contains six wheels, and it can drive in two-wheel drive, four-wheel drive, or even six wheel drive! We left the ranch on the army truck to drive three miles down the road, then about 4 miles up into the heart of the ranch. On our way, we encountered hundreds of cows; Ricky said that you can buy the steaks at the local gas station, and they're "pretty good". Everybody plopped out of the truck like lemmings, one after another. Lora handed out the last and most important piece of equipment, the pulley. The first zip line was called "kiki" which means baby or small. "Clip". "Clach". "Whenever you're ready," Ricky said. I made it through the first cable, it was so exciting. It's like the first time you ride a roller coaster or like the first time you jump off a cliff. You just want to do it again and again because you overcome fear, and enjoy physical sensations that have never been obtained.

We hiked to the next cable with anxiety, one and all, wondering if it would be high, long, or similar to the last one. It turned out to be 200 yards long, and I caught speeds up to 30 miles per hour. To turn when you're on a zip line is baffling because you turn it the same way as you're spinning to come out straight. The first few times I tried to straighten