Epic Day, Epic Bridge, Epic...

When does an adventure transform into an epic? 

This thought comes to me, as I begin to realize that the ascent trail we’ve chosen to climb up the canyon, the one the BASE jumpers use to scramble back up to the bridge, is looking more difficult than at first blush.  We’re half way up, the down climb will be tricky, but is going up likely to get worse?  We have no climbing gear, no ropes, no harnesses. This was supposed to be just a short scramble, which doesn’t seem to phase any of the jumpers.  Of course, they did just chuck themselves off a perfectly sound bridge.  We all have our own relationship with crazy.

In the parlance of the outdoor world, “epics” are when something unplanned happens, usually bad but not usually fatal.  They often go into the “lessons learned” category, as we walk away thinking, “what made me think that was a good idea?”  They find their way into evolving stories told over hand-crafted ales.  But in truth, while we seek out epic adventures, we do not wish our adventures to become “epics.”

We arrived in town knowing absolutely nothing about Twin Falls, Idaho, like many places we’ve encountered along our travels   We were just driving across central Idaho when we made a slight and incidental deviation.

What's there you ask? Not much more than the usual small city stuff, unless you consider a 500-foot-deep river canyon that opens up like a giant tear in the earth, worth something.  Other than the signs on the road there is nothing in the landscape that warns you about this big gash.  One second, you're driving through suburbia surrounded by lush and lightly rolling potato fields, and the next you're crossing a 1000-foot span above a lush green valley fenced in by sheer cliffs of volcanic rock.  

We pull into the I.B. Perrine Bridge Visitor Center parking lot.  It is one of the only bridges where you can BASE jump any day of the year without a permit.  Jumpers from all over the world come here to do just that.  We follow a group out to the bridge and take up a good photographic position.  

After watching them all safely return to the earth, we take off on our hike down the canyon road to the trails lining the river.  The winding path takes us past waterfalls and one of the more stunning golf courses I've ever seen.  We make it to the landing zone underneath the bridge just in time to watch the same 3 jumpers have another go.  

They once again descend gracefully and begin preparing for the hike back up. "Nice jump, y'all!" I say as we walk past, they smile and nod back their thanks. They probably get a lot of gawkers in their chosen sport, especially out here.  Since it's completely legal to jump off this bridge, they can take their time without having to make a hasty exit before the cops arrive.  But they don't seem to take their time hiking the long way back up the canyon, the way we came down.  No, their ascent trail is nearly a straight shot up along some exposed 4^th and 5^th class scrambling.  Only, we didn't know it was that difficult before we decided to give it a try.  We summit tall mountains all the time, how hard could this be?

About half way up, after a few sections of rocky scramble we stop, catch our breath, and have a chat about whether we should continue or turn around.  Shari’s leg is doing the Elvis bounce, and I can tell she’s nervous.  I’m thinking we’re about to have an epic, when our 3 BASE jumpers catch up.  

"Does it get any worse than what I can see just up around the corner?" I ask as they pause to take a breather.  "Do you all climb?"  Andrew asks, "it's about a 5.0, a little exposed, but there's good hands and feet everywhere, definitely sketchier to go down than up from here."

This is always the best / worst place you want to be in, we're half way into a scramble and it's either go up or go down -- and neither choice is looking very good.  Shari is not great with exposed heights, but certainly has more than enough strength to climb this.  Strength itself is one thing though, exposure and fear of falling has a way of robbing strength and energy.  I was more comfortable about the climb for myself as I’ve done a fair share of rock climbing, but feeling Shari's nerves had me a little rattled.  Plus, I am an Outdoor Educator with over 20 years of risk management experience, risk definitely not managed.  I feel like a complete amateur for being in this fix -- which didn't help.    

One of the jumpers, seems to sense that Shari was more than a bit nervous. Her bright, red, sweaty face and shaky voice is a dead give-a-way to anyone with empathy and a soul.  He could have just moved on and left us to our own devices, but instead, he gets involved and we are both so grateful for it.  During the more exposed sections of the ascent, he stood just above where Shari climbed, calmly giving advice as I followed issuing encouragement.  His calm presence, comfort in the moment, and knowledge of the trail, gave us enough support to continue through the four or five sketchier spots where a fall could have been fatal.

By working through things that scare the crap out of her, Shari is learning to focus that intense rush of adrenaline – legs and arms shaking, head spinning, heart pounding, and ears ringing.  She worked through this scramble methodically, listening to the coaching of the people trying to help, calmly asking questions, and even started laughing at herself occasionally.  She controlled her near panic attack by giving herself two jobs: 1. breathing and 2. not looking down (at least not too much).   

When we made it to the top, we high fived everyone and I gave him a big bro-hug.  He says in his New York accent, “let’s go see that toaster!” and we walk toward our rig to show off Hamlet. Now Hamlet has been called a lot of things -- gypsy wagon, passion palace, escape egg -- but never before a “toaster.”  Back on our halfway ledge, when we first met our three friends, we exchanged casual conversation that went beyond climbing and jumping.  We told them that we had our vintage rig, nearly everything we owned, parked in the lot.  One exclaimed, “You mean the toaster!?!  Wow, that’s so cool. How long have you lived in it?”  None of our new friends could believe that we pulled off 6.5 years in such a small space, let alone love it.  


Highlight of our day: A dude who just somersaulted off a 500-foot bridge over the Snake River with a parachute thinks WE are the crazy ones!

We all have our different perspectives on what is or isn’t crazy in our world.  Without knowing each other, without having a meaningful conversation and without the free exchange of help, when we clearly needed it, it would have been all too easy to think about these folks only in terms of their particular hobby.  Aren’t they all just adrenaline junkies needing a fix? Yeah, they are seeking a thrill that only comes from a few seconds of free fall arrested by a thin layer of nylon; but the way they were open to the experiences of others offering assistance and staving off own minor epic left a significant impact on us.  Though we are curious about their hobby, inspired by their courage, rest assured, we are not likely to jump off a bridge anytime soon.  

  

Later, we learned that two of the three were involved in one of the more epic BASE jumps of all time, the Freedom Tower in NYC.  This jump was way illegal, they were caught, charged, and went through the court process.  They paid for it, big time.  There were those who thought it in poor taste, to jump from the reconstructed WTC after so many perished on 9/11.  But I don’t think that disrespect was on their minds as they stood on top looking down into the lower Manhattan darkness at 3am.  Their jump was an expression of life, a life lived on their own terms with full acceptance of consequence, and this seems to me to be the very definition of freedom. I can think of few concepts more epic than that.