As I clumsily ran off the red sandy rock below, launching myself into the fun but slightly unspectacular zip line, I was feeling pretty confident.
We were in Mendoza, our CEA crew once again exploring a new part of the country and alienating even more argentine hospitality workers. This time especially, the setting was spectacular. It reminded me a lot of Arizona with the desert landscape and varying shades of red and orange mountains. But what really got me was the water - it was an amazing turquoise, and ran the perimeter of where we were staying. We ended up rafting it, but I'll save that for later.
The guides had outfitted us in about 20 minutes with our gear and harnesses, and picked groups by saying "you here, you there." No orientation, boring talks, or signing waivers. Just getting right into it.
So as I zipped across the small canyon, I prepared myself for an amateur morning of baby-adventure. I'm not quite sure where this confidence came from seeing as how I have never repelled before...but even after the upward hike to the top, even after seeing each of my peers drop themselves more nervously each time off the side of the cliff - I was sure it would be a piece of cake.
At almost the same moment the guide grabbed my hip clip and attached me to the various ropes anchored on the mountain, I realized I had no clue what to do. He had given a quick show-and-tell kind of presentation in spanglish, but I was still feeling so confident, I'm not sure I listened closely enough. He tugged me forward, my goofy red helmet slumping a bit with the jerk. I stumbled forward, still OK and coordinated...I even grabbed the right rope and hooked my left hand around my harness like I had seen others do.
That’s when I saw the edge of the cliff. Woops. My already limited spanish went up about two octaves and shook as I asked if he was sure I was doing everything right. I have to say leaning backwards over the rocks and people below did a good blow to my temporary confidence. He ended up keeping me there for a bit, turning his back on me (and my potential fall to the jagged rocks below) to tell the group to look at my good form and technique thus far. Now normally I would like this kind of praise, however small, but I couldn't contain my look of sheer confusion after the statement.
All of a sudden he said, "bye-bye, adios!" and there I was...letting line out, pulling it in, step-step, down the side of the mountain. The only part I clearly remember is turning around to look down and seeing the guide below and a huge bulge in the rocks I was walking down in mid-air.
As my feet touched down in what felt was 30 min later, but was more like 5...I felt pretty good. And intact with a confident smile and incredibly shaky hands I went to join the rest of the group.
Pshhh we said, "that was a piece of cake."
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