Free as a Bird

It’s 7:00 p.m. on Tuesday, May 17, 2016, and I just finished reading through an old personality test that I took back in 2009. According to the data, my top two behavioral strengths are innovation and adventure. The commentary goes onto say that I am comfortable with activities that involve risk—sometimes even unnecessary risks—kind of like those I took this past weekend when I visited my second-favorite state of Colorado.

(Note to self: when planning a future action-adventure weekend, do yourself a favor and avoid scheduling any high-risk activities on Friday the 13th. You will spare yourself of a lot of unnecessary anxiety in the process.)

My brother, Justin, and I met our rock-climbing guide named Dan at the Gregory Canyon Trailhead in Boulder, home of the Flatiron Mountains. We grabbed our climbing shoes, harnesses and helmets and began hiking the Amphitheatre Trail until we reached two rock faces rising more than 100 feet in the air, appropriately named the First and Second Pinnacles.

After a quick tutorial by Dan about proper climbing technique, I checked my carabiners one last time and proceeded to scale the West Bench connecting the two pinnacles. With my palms coated in chalk, I used the cracks in the rock as hand holds to hoist myself from one precarious position to another.

I eventually reached the north face of the West Bench and continued to the top of the First Pinnacle, where I was welcomed by winds in excess of 20 miles per hour. As a precaution, I clipped into a second safety line before taking in the panoramic views of Boulder, all the while hoping that the high winds would not force us to cancel our second activity of the day.

We arrived at the Mile-Hi Skydiving Center located 15 miles north of Boulder at our scheduled time only to learn that the plane was grounded all morning due to the high wind gusts. We were then told to have a seat outside in the hangar while the crew monitored the weather and made sure it was safe to jump.

In the meantime, Justin and I met our tandem instructors, slid into our jumpsuits and waited…long enough for me remember that the day was Friday the 13th. Honestly, I have never been a fan of this particular day. Even now, whenever it’s mentioned, I immediately think about the hockey mask-wearing, machete-wielding Jason Voorhees—the result of a cruel prank our uncle played on us as kids.

I shook the idea out of my mind and looked over at Justin. I knew he didn’t want to be there. While my personality test scored high on risk, Justin’s most certainly did not. But he hid his anxiety behind a feigned smile and said a few words to the cameramen assigned to film our skydiving experience.

We were one of the last few to board the plane, which meant we would be the first to jump. As the plane ascended to seven thousand feet, the door rolled up, prompting the first skydiver to wave goodbye to us before falling backward into the sky’s blue abyss.

I felt my instructor inch closer and connect my harness to his. As we approached 13,500 feet, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was ready. I gave him a quick thumbs up and lowered my goggles over my eyes. I calmly walked to the lip of the door, took a deep breath and let go, plummeting 130 mph toward the ground in an adrenaline-laced freefall.

I don’t remember being scared. Falling through the sky, I felt as free as a bird. All of the years that I have spent writing Maven’s story had culminated in an experience that helped me better understand what the characters of my book must feel whenever they are flying through the air.

The skies were clear with 10 miles of visibility in all directions, and I had a true birds-eye-view of the wrinkled Colorado landscape. Pulling the ripcord on my excitement, however, the instructor deployed our parachute after an all-too-brief minute, jolting me back to reality as we sailed through the sky and back to solid ground.

The rest of the weekend was more of the same with a visit to the Clear Creek in Idaho Springs to raft class III and IV rapids, including one notorious class IV named the “Terminator” that ejected me out of the raft and into the chilly waters. Fortunately for me, I made it back into the raft safely before being swept away by the current. I went to Colorado in search of adventure, and adventure is exactly what I found.

I have made it a priority in my life to escape the city from time to time, even if only for a weekend. It’s good for the soul. Currently, more than 50% of people live in urban areas, and this number is expected to increase to 70% by 2050. A recent study by Stanford researchers even goes as far as to suggest that “decreased nature experience may help to explain the link between urbanization and mental illness.” So, for all of you who read this story and think I’m crazy, make sure you go and spend some time outside before it’s too late!

Follow me on Instagram at @Joshua_Maven or @HonchotheVan, on Twitter @MaventheRaven or Facebook at Facebook/TheLastImperial.