One night, in the winter of 1990, two of my son’s, Steve and Dave, “hit me up” with a request. They had an appointment in the middle of the Hite Marina bridge, in the morning, and they needed a ride. Now the little community of Hite sits at the end of Lake Powell about thirty miles below Hanksville, Utah. Hite’s principle function is to serve as an oasis in the middle of nowhere in the off season, and a boat launch in the summer. The Hite Marina bridge is impressive.
The bridge strattles a watery finger of Lake Powell some 130 feet in the air. Everywhere you look there is a post card view, but my two sons weren’t going to Hite for the view. They were going ” Bungee Jumping.”
Now Bungee Jumping is a special kind of madness. You find the largest crevasse you can find, hopefully with water in it, and a bridge across it, you tie a giant rubber band around your legs, tie the other end of this jumbo elastic to the bridge, and jump off. Needless to say, I was not keen on being a taxi driver to these two “Rocky Mountain High Kamikazes” and to make matters worse, they wanted to bring their friends. Now all of these “nuts” were legally able to do anything they wanted, and though we could argue the legality of throwing yourself off a bridge in southern Utah, they were bound and determined to go. The compulsion was the result of some kind of “blood oath” that had been made between them and their friends – a requirement of fellowship. All but three of their group had made the “leap of faith” and it was “belly up” or “Wimp Out” time. It was a “male bonding” thing, and though I know that excuse really doesn’t “wash”, I found myself driving south with a car full of “consenting adults.” Now don’t give me a bad time on this one. They were going. I kept having horrible visions of my sons floating, stunned, face down in the water. If nothing else, I could at least guarantee that their limp, “senseless,” let’s say that again “senseless” bodies could be pulled out of the drink and treated with respect.
The drive down was horrendous. They slept, but I felt like Abraham taking Isaac to the mountain. All too quickly, we arrived.
All hope of persuading was gone. My heart was pounding as this group of crazies walked out to the center of the bridge.
Steve, Mike P., Dave, James Bradshaw and his friend watching as the leaping equipment is checked
My best hope was that I might get some great photographs, and then it happened. They brought out the bungee jumping equipment. As I watched them prepare. I was told of the tests and practices they had gone through to make sure the risks would be manageable. They pointed out the multiple means of preventing any accidents. In a word, they convinced me it was “safe.” In fact, if I had not had the convenient excuse of “back trouble” I would have seen the underside of Hite Marina bridge, myself. The photographs are great. I’m so proud of these young men they are learning the art of life jumping. Finding the “Gotta Dance” in their lives.
Steve at the full extension of his leap of faith.
Now please understand, I’m not on some “stump” to promote bungee jumping. But there is something to be said for feeling the breeze in your face as you move in a direction that is worthy and thrills you. Such a
“leap” might include anything from running road races, to ballet class, going back to school or starting a small business, or maybe something really significant like repentance, rebooting your life. Bungee jumping is just an allegory for taking charge – reaching out and leaping into something wonderful.
This is my son David jumping from the bridge that day. Dave, as an artist, wanted to catch the essence of his experience and so he applied his skill and the second image is the was the result.
