3 2 1 Bungeeee!

You hear of people boosted by feats of unbelievable dexterity or power when driven by terror. An inquisitive white shark can turn a tubby punter into a gold medal swimmer. Adrenaline apparently enables superhuman power.

They call it “hysterical strength”. An angry lion loping at speed towards a little old lady can turn her into a world class sprinter. There are stories of mothers lifting vehicles to rescue their kids.

This time, however, the gently percolating gut-curdle was self-induced, and having the opposite effect. The mildly pervasive terror that seeped through my veins was slow poison. Hobbled by it, I couldn’t have run if I tried. The choke had been left on. The motor was flooded, awash in adrenaline.

I recalled standing at the counter of Face Adrenaline (up on stable terra firma) an hour before. Now I was about to throw myself off a bridge and plunge 713 feet (216m) towards the Bloukrans river that snakes through the forests of Tsitsikamma between Plettenberg Bay and Port Elizabeth.

The original plan had been to merely watch my son Tyler jump for his 19th birthday present. Then my wife Janet kindly suggested I took a hike and jump off the bridge. My birthday was a week away, she said.

No thanks, I said firmly, but thanks for the kind thought.

Now I was wading in slow motion, walking in gulps along an endless rickety tunnel made of wire mesh stretched taut to steel ribs bolted beneath a concrete overhang dangling across an impossibly vast abyss.

As each footstep sagged into the mesh, I fought a creeping, insistent vertiginous lure to look down. Someone had warned us not to do that as we worked our way out to the middle of the Bloukrans Bridge. That dizzying sight could send you over the edge … or not. You might chicken out of your jump, and become the 1-in-5 people who allegedly abort their mission (no-one in our group of 20 did).

So I didn’t look down. But it was hard. The bridge spans the gorge for 451 metres from edge to edge. For a quarter of a kilometre, you must walk on this soft mushy mesh, and it feels like you're walking on putty. You have to supress your instinct to spot any holes you might fall through. I stumbled frequently, focus fused to the concrete above my head.

I had driven over the bridge on the N2 many times in the last decade without knowing about that wire tunnel. I had never known what lay at the zenith of the bridge's giant span. I had no interest in ever doing the bungee. It's not that I had ever made a conscious decision. I just never thought about it.

As you near the end of your long walk to feardom, the "doof doof doof" of music drifts towards you. After climbing up steel steps, I discovered what lay under the Bloukrans bridge. It's a wind-blown concrete slab maybe 25 metres wide. On the left, there is a full-on DJ in a glass box belting out the beats. There are T-shirted staffers in red bustling about, busy in their quest to distract you from what you’re about to do.

There are ropes and cables and mesh and signs and people milling about smilingly nervous, some gyrating to the beat. Others stare into space like Marie Antoinette before the guillotine.

There is something quite persuasive about two burly guys gently wrestling you to the edge of a 900 foot chasm. You don’t feel the need to question their firm instruction to “3. 2. 1. Bungeee!”

After not looking down, you look down. You look down a lot as you drop like a stone. You overdose on down. Down is the new up.

I will never forget the rapid transition from chaos and house music and chatter and vibe to a vast whistling silence. You hear distant screams. A muffled commentator warns you about something. It's you. That's your voice screeching blue murder far away.

I will never forget that warp speed blast of emptiness that shoots through you like an electric shock, followed by the twisting slow mo procession of green trees, coca cola water and granite. Colours are richer, senses heightened to sweet distraction.

You feel intensely solitary as the bottom of the ravine careens rapidly towards you. Then it recedes. Then it comes back at you. The earth is breathing. Your soul soars. You’re flying.

The world’s biggest bridge bungy was never on the bucket list.

It is now, and ticked with a shaking hand.

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