Leaping from logic

June 24, 2007
by Jake Johnson

Standing on the guardrail of a bridge looking down at the 600 foot drop to the rocky canyon below, many logical things should be crossing your mind. Perhaps "be careful" or "get down" or even "why?"

When I found myself in this situation, I discovered a flaw in my logic. It could have been the irony, in that the guardrail that was put there for safety had now become a platform for such a perceivably unsafe act, which helped blind my logical judgment or I could have just been caught up in the moment. Either way, a number of different factors, with curiosity heading the pack, lead to my decision.

The bridge on which my lapse of logic took place is Pont de l'Artuby inProvence, France. Many of my classmates had been very excited about being able to jump from Europe's tallest bungee bridge for the days leading up to jump, including myself. But upon arriving at the site after a four-hour car ride through the tight winding roads of the Gorges de Verdon my excitement quickly turned into anxiety.

As soon as my pen started to fill out the registration and liability forms my hand began to shake. I had to stop a few times to compose myself. The workers at the site spoke broken English, so instructions were by demonstration only. The body harness was the first to go on, followed by a few adjustments and a tug. After that the legs were next, the ankle brace like contraptions were tightened onto each leg. I made sure that they were uncomfortably tight, as they would later be the only things stopping my freefall.

By this point there was no turning back, or at least that was what I was telling myself. My mouth was dry and my stomach was churning. My focus turned to the mental tug of war going on between my logic telling me that jumping off a bridge is not very safe and my curiosity of what it is like to jump off that unsafe bridge. This was the most difficult part of the whole jump, and I was standing in line behind three people so I had plenty of time to flip between the two.

My name was called, and I walked over from the tent where I had been pacing. I was strapped onto the bungee while I was still on the safe side of the guardrail. Logic kicked in, trying to convince the rest of me to turn around. I muted it out and started to climb the stepladder leading to the edge of the rail.

Time froze and seconds became years, I was standing on the top of the guardrail with my toes hanging over and my legs shaking. My brain was being bombarded with the last chance plea from all things logic. But I blocked the attack, took a gasping breath and jumped as far as I could.

An hour after the jump the adrenaline was still pumping as my curiosity laughed in the face of my logic. After the hike back up to the bridge my face was plastered with a smile, like a ten-year-old opening birthday presents. Standing next to the tent where I had just jumped from I watched a few others jump, in awe. I could not believe what I had just done and while I might not have the courage to do it again, it will sure make for a great story to tell my friends.