The plunge
The line for this water slide isn't too long. I'm guessing we'll be able to go in about five minutes. I look at the sign for the ride: "Cliffhanger." It used to be called "Shotgun Falls" before Raging Waters was taken over by Seven Peaks and renamed all the rides along with renaming the whole water park. Eldest is asking me about that name change as we stand in line. I'm barely listening, instead focusing on the mountains in the distance and the incredible knot that has built in my stomach.
Some of you know this and some don't: I was seriously afraid of water when I was younger. I didn't learn how to swim until my 20s, and I didn't develop the confidence to swim in deep water until the last few years. And it's not that much confidence: Every time I jump into deep water, I need to psych myself up a little and remind myself that I will surface, I will be able to swim back to the side, and even if I can't, the lifeguard will jump in and help. I can do that in a controlled situation like jumping off a diving board. A water slide dropping me into a deep pool is another story ...
We get to the short staircase that leads up to the platform. I look for Wife and Littlest on the other side of pool and slide complex that Cliffhanger overlooks, and find them sitting wrapped in their towels in an effort to warm up Littlest, whose lips are blue from the cold water. The line is moving, not slow. I tell Eldest I'm going to take the left slide, because if I freak out after splashing down, the side of the pool is closer than swimming across by a few yards. I'm already thinking about my escape route.
There are a few last frontiers in overcoming my fear of water. I won't ever not be nervous in deep water, but I have come a long way. I've jumped off a diving board, I've swam across a deep end of a pool, and I can stand next to the deep end and not fear I'll fall in and drown. Though I'm never going to do an open-water swim, jump off a cliff or even tread in a wide-open lake without a flotation device, I do want to eventually be able to jump off a 3-meter board (not a 10-meter, let's not introduce my fear of heights to my fear of water), feel comfortable treading in a deeper pool for more than a few seconds, try tubing on a lake (not water skiing), take a tube to the deep end of a wave pool, and be able to ride water slides that end in deep water. On Saturday, I took a giant step on that last goal.
Eldest and I get to the top of the stairs. For the first time, I get a view of the slide from the top, after previously only viewing others' splashdowns from below. Wife and Littlest have walked over and see us on the platform. It's only a matter of time now ...
A couple years ago, I went on a toilet bowl body slide that drops you into a small, 8-foot pool. I had to psych myself up for that, but it was fun, even if I didn't control how I entered the deep water. I quickly swam to the side, pleased with what I accomplished.
Shotgun Falls, now Cliffhanger, is different. The drop into the water is from higher up, the water is a little deeper, and the water in this pool is colder (at least Saturday, it was). Here is someone's YouTube of this ride (not mine, the last thing I was going to attempt was video):
We've been to this water park before, and we've had passes all summer, but I hadn't got the courage to ride this slide, no matter how much I wanted to. Summer is coming to an end, I was running out of time.
Only a few people are ahead of us before our turn. The lifeguard notices a smaller kid waiting in line and tells him he can't ride. We were going to let Littlest try this before we saw the 48-inch height requirement. He's 47 inches, and though I still think they might not have measured him and let him on, we decided not to get his hopes up. At age 5, I'm convinced he would have been fine on it and loved it, even if it took him a few extra seconds to swim to the slide. The people in front of us are just about to slide. We're next.
This is one of Eldest's favorite slides in the park, but he hasn't been able to ride it much because of Littlest and me. With Wife joining us on this water park trip, he was able to ride it twice. The first time, he and Wife splashed down. They got out of the top pool, and after we slid down to the lower, shallow part of the cold pool, Wife suggested I take Eldest again. She knew I wanted to summon enough courage to try Cliffhanger, and also knew that if she suggested it, I'd be less likely to come up with an excuse not to. Eldest and I started walking back up top to the stairs, with me feeling I'm headed for the gallows.
It's our turn. I sit down on the pink slide, put my hands on the bars that will help propel me down the slide, and wait for the lifeguard to give us the OK. Uh-oh.
It's funny how adults reach milestones and accomplishments that they should have reached in their childhoods. I missed a lot of fun times because I wouldn't go near water. On vacation when I was 13, we went to Disney World's River Country, and instead of enjoying the water park, I found a nature trail where I read Foundation and listened to "Paradise Theater" on my Walkman. I wanted to overcome this fear so much, though now I realize I never will completely. But I've found a happy medium: I thoroughly enjoy the water with my family. Trying this water slide for most people is not a big deal. It was for me, even if it was just a small milestone.
I pull on the bars and get myself moving. I speed up on the small downhill part of the slide, let out a little "whoa!", close my eyes (Seven Peaks won't let you wear goggles on this ride, and I'm wearing contact lenses), and find myself holding my nose. Since I learned how to swim, it's been hammered not to hold my nose, to breathe out as you enter the water. But being already nervous about inhaling/swallowing water when I splash down, the hand came to the nose.
In an instant, I hit the water at an angle that seemed like chest first, but I know I entered feet first. The water doesn't seem as cold as it did before, maybe because Littlest and I slid down the stone slope into the shallower pool so many times. Keeping my eyes closed, I take one or two kicks to surface and open my eyes. I see the ladder to get out ahead. I put my face in the water and start freestyling to the side. In a few strokes, I'm there, ahead of Eldest. I climb out of the pool, wait for Eldest, we slide into the lower pool to greet Wife and Eldest.
I did it.
The funny thing is, I'm not sure if I enjoyed it. I bruised my ribs on a roller coaster a couple weeks ago, and it still hurts a little (especially when I'm sleeping); hitting the water re-aggravated the injury. Aside from that, I didn't dislike the ride, either. Maybe I need to try it again, this time without holding my nose, closing my eyes (contacts be damned, they are daily disposables, I can just put another pair in) or being so nervous, to form more of an opinion than the one I did Saturday:
I did it.
Some of you know this and some don't: I was seriously afraid of water when I was younger. I didn't learn how to swim until my 20s, and I didn't develop the confidence to swim in deep water until the last few years. And it's not that much confidence: Every time I jump into deep water, I need to psych myself up a little and remind myself that I will surface, I will be able to swim back to the side, and even if I can't, the lifeguard will jump in and help. I can do that in a controlled situation like jumping off a diving board. A water slide dropping me into a deep pool is another story ...
We get to the short staircase that leads up to the platform. I look for Wife and Littlest on the other side of pool and slide complex that Cliffhanger overlooks, and find them sitting wrapped in their towels in an effort to warm up Littlest, whose lips are blue from the cold water. The line is moving, not slow. I tell Eldest I'm going to take the left slide, because if I freak out after splashing down, the side of the pool is closer than swimming across by a few yards. I'm already thinking about my escape route.
There are a few last frontiers in overcoming my fear of water. I won't ever not be nervous in deep water, but I have come a long way. I've jumped off a diving board, I've swam across a deep end of a pool, and I can stand next to the deep end and not fear I'll fall in and drown. Though I'm never going to do an open-water swim, jump off a cliff or even tread in a wide-open lake without a flotation device, I do want to eventually be able to jump off a 3-meter board (not a 10-meter, let's not introduce my fear of heights to my fear of water), feel comfortable treading in a deeper pool for more than a few seconds, try tubing on a lake (not water skiing), take a tube to the deep end of a wave pool, and be able to ride water slides that end in deep water. On Saturday, I took a giant step on that last goal.
Eldest and I get to the top of the stairs. For the first time, I get a view of the slide from the top, after previously only viewing others' splashdowns from below. Wife and Littlest have walked over and see us on the platform. It's only a matter of time now ...
A couple years ago, I went on a toilet bowl body slide that drops you into a small, 8-foot pool. I had to psych myself up for that, but it was fun, even if I didn't control how I entered the deep water. I quickly swam to the side, pleased with what I accomplished.
Shotgun Falls, now Cliffhanger, is different. The drop into the water is from higher up, the water is a little deeper, and the water in this pool is colder (at least Saturday, it was). Here is someone's YouTube of this ride (not mine, the last thing I was going to attempt was video):
We've been to this water park before, and we've had passes all summer, but I hadn't got the courage to ride this slide, no matter how much I wanted to. Summer is coming to an end, I was running out of time.
Only a few people are ahead of us before our turn. The lifeguard notices a smaller kid waiting in line and tells him he can't ride. We were going to let Littlest try this before we saw the 48-inch height requirement. He's 47 inches, and though I still think they might not have measured him and let him on, we decided not to get his hopes up. At age 5, I'm convinced he would have been fine on it and loved it, even if it took him a few extra seconds to swim to the slide. The people in front of us are just about to slide. We're next.
This is one of Eldest's favorite slides in the park, but he hasn't been able to ride it much because of Littlest and me. With Wife joining us on this water park trip, he was able to ride it twice. The first time, he and Wife splashed down. They got out of the top pool, and after we slid down to the lower, shallow part of the cold pool, Wife suggested I take Eldest again. She knew I wanted to summon enough courage to try Cliffhanger, and also knew that if she suggested it, I'd be less likely to come up with an excuse not to. Eldest and I started walking back up top to the stairs, with me feeling I'm headed for the gallows.
It's our turn. I sit down on the pink slide, put my hands on the bars that will help propel me down the slide, and wait for the lifeguard to give us the OK. Uh-oh.
It's funny how adults reach milestones and accomplishments that they should have reached in their childhoods. I missed a lot of fun times because I wouldn't go near water. On vacation when I was 13, we went to Disney World's River Country, and instead of enjoying the water park, I found a nature trail where I read Foundation and listened to "Paradise Theater" on my Walkman. I wanted to overcome this fear so much, though now I realize I never will completely. But I've found a happy medium: I thoroughly enjoy the water with my family. Trying this water slide for most people is not a big deal. It was for me, even if it was just a small milestone.
I pull on the bars and get myself moving. I speed up on the small downhill part of the slide, let out a little "whoa!", close my eyes (Seven Peaks won't let you wear goggles on this ride, and I'm wearing contact lenses), and find myself holding my nose. Since I learned how to swim, it's been hammered not to hold my nose, to breathe out as you enter the water. But being already nervous about inhaling/swallowing water when I splash down, the hand came to the nose.
In an instant, I hit the water at an angle that seemed like chest first, but I know I entered feet first. The water doesn't seem as cold as it did before, maybe because Littlest and I slid down the stone slope into the shallower pool so many times. Keeping my eyes closed, I take one or two kicks to surface and open my eyes. I see the ladder to get out ahead. I put my face in the water and start freestyling to the side. In a few strokes, I'm there, ahead of Eldest. I climb out of the pool, wait for Eldest, we slide into the lower pool to greet Wife and Eldest.
I did it.
The funny thing is, I'm not sure if I enjoyed it. I bruised my ribs on a roller coaster a couple weeks ago, and it still hurts a little (especially when I'm sleeping); hitting the water re-aggravated the injury. Aside from that, I didn't dislike the ride, either. Maybe I need to try it again, this time without holding my nose, closing my eyes (contacts be damned, they are daily disposables, I can just put another pair in) or being so nervous, to form more of an opinion than the one I did Saturday:
I did it.
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