Baptized by the Island

Sometimes in life, you find yourself in unexpected places, like on a small Pacific island, all by yourself.

Though I was, for all intents and purposes, standing in paradise, I had a few goals while I was there. These included purposely doing things I had never done before and seeking out activities that scared me. It was because of these goals that one beautiful day, I found myself driving out of town (or as fas as one can get from town on an island) and into the vibrantly green and mysterious rainforest.

Leaving the pavement behind, I turned onto a dirt road that was barely more than a path into the jungle. With nothing more than the markers of a painted rock and a small sticker on a post with the group’s name, I trusted that I was going the right way. A dense forest and vegetation immediately lined either side of the car, continuously narrowing in closer and closer, soon leaving only mere inches of clearance on either side. The ground underneath the car was about as smooth as a rumble strip.

Eventually, the vegetation opened up to a small, dirt parking area with a few cars and an unlabeled tent at the far end. I was utterly mesmerized by the area that engulfed me. Lush green fields covered the slowly rising hills, with plants that danced peacefully in the passing breeze. In the distance, cloud-topped mountains loomed with an untouchable presence. I was standing in a movie set, transported to a fantasy land.

Walking towards the tent, which housed a couple of bins of supplies and a few picnic tables, I met the four other brave adventurers with whom I would be spending the next many hours, in addition to our two wonderful and knowledgeable guides. It was pleasant chatting with everyone, two other women and two men, and learning where they were from and what brought them to also be standing under a tent in the jungle. With that note in the air, the guides were ready to begin our preparation.

Step One: Put on our specialized footwear.
Step Two: Securely put on our harness and helmet.
Step Three: Learn how to properly rappel because within the hours, we would be rappelling down a 30’ and 60’ waterfall.

Each of us had a trial run on dry ground where we learned how to lower ourselves at the right speed and angle — feet too low could mean slipping off the wall, but feet too high could mean flipping over. Not to mention, it was incredibly important that we each understood how and where to hold onto the rope in order to lower ourselves at a safe speed while also not tangling our fingers in the hardware.

With each of us taking our turn and receiving encouragement and guidance from the others, in no time, we were all given two thumbs up and the go-ahead from our guides. Awkwardly with gear in tow, we began our hike down into the valley, moving along our narrow dirt trail underneath thick branches, around trees, and continuously deeper into the jungle. Thoroughly enjoying the hike, I was in no rush to find our first waterfall, but nevertheless wasn’t disappointed in the least when we stumbled upon the hidden oasis. About as wide as it was tall, these falls gracefully poured into a small pool, which was surrounded by large gray rocks and towering bamboo. No matter where we looked, we were given such spectacular views to enjoy — nature all around.

As the five of us walked around our little clearing, fully immersed in the scene, one of our guides hiked further up the trail to the top of the falls to set up our rope. Our other guide made her way out into the shallow water below, and soon a call came out.

“Who wants to go first?”

The five of us, helmeted and goofy-booted up amateurs, each looked at one another with an unspoken, yet understood look in our eyes. Silently, we each tried to weigh our choices, though one way or another, everyone would be descending the falls sooner or later. Thankfully, half the group spoke up and decided to be the brave ones, while the rest of us took over photography and videography roles.

Settling onto one of the larger jagged rocks at the rim of the pool, I watched with great excitement and a bit of nervousness as our first group member walked out into the water to meet our guide and be clipped into the rope. Following the instructions we’d just been taught, he backed up towards the edge of the falls, keeping his legs stiff, and he began lowering himself into a sitting position with his rear end hanging into the open air above the pool. Slowly, he shuffled his left foot down, then his right, and loosened up the rope again to lower his torso. Again, he repeated the steps: shuffle, shuffle, sit, shuffle, shuffle, sit. Always careful not to lower his feet or torso too low. Though before my tutorial, I wouldn’t have known what to look out for, now I followed along with more calculating eyes, noticing that when he lowered his torso to a near 90 degrees, it must have meant that the rock behind the falls would be sheer and straight, not ragged and angled. Continuing downward with his experienced effortlessness (he had previously mentioned that he’d been in the armed services earlier in life), he reached the pool and our other guide in no time.

I took a deep breath, relieved that if he could do it, so could I, right? Next was one of the women. She also walked out into the rushing water, was hooked up to the ropes, and began testing her newly learned rappelling knowledge. Though she moved much more cautiously and with a slower pace, she did wonderfully, at least until she reached the sheer wall. Between the angled rock disappearing and her not lowering her torso enough, in the blink of an eye, her feet slipped out from the wall, and she swung forward. Thankfully, her quick reflexes kicked in, and she instantly held out her arms, pushing herself back out. With a quick recovery, she finished the falls in no time, was unhooked from her harness, and waded out of the shallow pool towards her husband. Now with a slightly banged-up knee, she didn’t seem quite as excited about the adventure anymore.

She was still a good sport and kindly offered to capture my rappel, but I found myself a bit more hesitant after watching her experience. Gulping down my nerves, I handed my phone over and made my way up the trail to find the other guide. Reaching the top of the falls, I walked out into the moving water, was hooked up to the rope, and sent on my merry way. Though I was no doubt excited, I wasn’t quite ready for how unnatural it felt, walking backwards towards the edge of the falls. And if I found that odd, it was nothing compared to the feeling of going over the edge. With no more ground behind me, my feet teetered, and I began leaning back into the open air, slowly lowering bit by bit, trusting myself and the techniques I was just taught.

Shuffle, shuffle, sit, shuffle, shuffle, sit. I repeated my new favorite mantra over and over in my head as I maneuvered my way down the falls. My feet, hidden behind the rushing water, blindly felt their way around, from smooth and slippery rock to jagged edges and good footing positions. Before I knew it, I was already halfway there, nearly to the straight wall where everyone seemed to be having difficulties. Preemptively running through the processes again, I knew what to do. When I hit the smooth rock, I would need to drop my angle to a near 90 degrees to create the most direct force for my feet to have traction on the wall. I took a deep breath and reassured myself.

As I shuffled my feet again, I felt the change in wall texture and knew I was there. Slowly and meticulously, I followed through step by step to carefully drop myself to the correct angle. A few inches at a time, I was almost where I wanted to be, when all of a sudden the rope slipped through my hand faster than I’d intended. Before I knew it, I dropped past my 90-degree angle, my feet slipped up the wall, above my head, and left the rock entirely. I was completely flipped upside down with the waterfall now pounding my face. Disoriented, I couldn’t get myself upright.

There I hung, in a comically and very unideal angle, with water pouring onto my face. In no time, my wonderful guide came over and flipped me upright. As it would turn out, I was only mere feet from the bottom of the falls. Chuckling the entire time she unclipped me from the ropes, she called out, “You were baptized by the island!”

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Waterlogged with one ear completely flooded, our group began the trek to the next falls. Sitting twice as high as the last, they were a roaring beauty, surrounded by towering trees. These falls had a grand pool leading from the base to the large rocks and path where we stood.

My emotions and nerves were like a jumbled knot: half confidant that I already achieved one waterfall, half afraid that I would make a bigger, sillier mistake this time around. I once again waited below the falls, cheering on my group as they each successfully made it down the wall. One of the other women, the one who banged up her knee, sat next to me.

She explained that, though she was rooting for her husband the whole time, she was done for the day. No big waterfall for her. The idea popped into my mind. Should I sit this one out? Relief instantly washed over me, a sense that I no longer had to do something that I was becoming ever more nervous to do. I flopped back and forth and found that, even as I was asked if I was going, I didn’t even know for sure.

I continued to sit with my thoughts, peered at the unbelievable scene around me, and genuinely debated my decision as the time for action ticked closer. Thankfully, a small voice deep inside knocked some sense into me.

You got yourself here. You’re thousands of miles away, on an island, in the middle of the jungle, with an opportunity right at your fingertips, literally, and you aren’t going to do it? No. Not a good enough excuse, you’ll regret not trying. You need to do this.

Still hesitant, but now much more motivated, I made my way across the small bridge, through the river, and onto the other side, where my muddy, slippery, and steep path led me to the top of the falls. One of my guides stood out in the middle of the rushing water, hooked to his own safety line. Catching sight of me, he made his way over and secured me into the first rope, as we both made our way to the middle. As we reached the middle of the falls and he switched over the ropes with quick precision, he looked me in the eyes and asked, “Are you scared?”

“Yes,” I replied truthfully, knowing there was no hiding that fact.

A big grin spread across his face, “That’s good!” The only other direction he offered was a thumbs-up and the sign that I was good to go. I don’t know if his unexpected answer made me feel better or worse, but it did at least get me to chuckle as I began backing my way closer and closer to the edge of the falls.

Slowly shuffling my feet until the ground fell away. My eyes darted from my feet back to the guide, who was still all smiles and positive energy. I took a deep breath and began the scariest transition of switching from standing to leaning out over the open air. I focused on my breathing, I methodically went through the skills I just learned, and I tried my best not to think about where I was (on the precipice of a 60-foot drop), while simultaneously appreciating where I was (on the edge of a waterfall)!

Step by step, I made my way down the falls, water pouring over my hidden feet and occasionally pounding onto my head. I was doing it! Before I knew it, the stresses washed away, and I began appreciating more of what I got myself into — I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Gaining my confidence, I felt more prepared as I reached the overhanging shelf section of the falls. Located about two-thirds of the way down, this area indented far enough that your feet couldn’t touch the rock, but instead would be hanging in the air as you rappelled yourself down to the rock below. Before I knew it, I had made it through the shelf section without any issues, down the remaining bits of wall, and reached the rocky bottom of the falls, where the other guide unclipped me.

Embracing my victory, I jumped into the pool below and began a leisurely swim back to my group, who clapped and let out a few hollers and cheers to celebrate my victory with me. As I swam, I flipped onto my back and peacefully continued to float, peering once more at the falls. I did it and I’m so proud of myself. I laughed again, feeling a massive sense of accomplishment as a smile settled onto my face. Though I was thoroughly enjoying every moment of the present, my thoughts couldn’t help but wander to what I had planned for the end of the week. An activity that scared me far more than rappelling, I attempted to reassure myself that I just rappelled down two waterfalls, and only flipped over once, so what’s the worst that could happen? Right?