Hanging Out 3-21-2005

If a Backcountry Zipline Adventure guide tells your clients to “be the ball,” they darn well better be the ball. Otherwise, they might find themselves suspended safely above waterfalls, streams and tropical terrain until someone pulls them back to terra firma.

Run by Kauai Backcountry Adventures, the zipline tour propels clients back and forth along a series of heavy-duty cables high above a rain forest. Our guide Christy was in charge of sending us across each line, while Milo stood on each receiving platform, ready to catch us one by one. Guide number three, the lanky Lindsey, ran interference.

After a thorough safety briefing, we donned elaborate harnesses and sturdy helmets as Christy explained the routine.
“I’m going to check you carefully to make sure you’re ready, then I’ll tell each of you how to hold your body for the best zip across the canyon,” she said. “When the winds blow really strong, like they are today, or if you have a smaller build, you need to tuck your legs up to your chest, in the cannonball position, so there’s minimum drag.”

First up was Nick, a beefy quarterback of a guy who looked like he would have no trouble picking up speed, since each zipline runs slightly downhill.

“Don’t tuck, just go for it,” Christy told him.

Nick jumped off the platform, zipped about halfway across the cable, then slowed down when the wind started pushing him back. Large as he was, his weight couldn’t carry him to the other side.

That’s when Milo swung into action. He tied one end of a rope to the receiving platform, held onto the other end, hooked his own harness onto the cable and pulled himself along the line to Nick. Grabbing Nick around the waist, he used the rope to pull the two of them back to the far platform.

Nick looked chagrined. The rest of us cheered heartily.

Let me state emphatically that on any zipline tour, clients should always follow directions, but when it was my turn, I bent the rules so I could be rescued. When Christy connected my harness to the cable, eyeballed my build and cried, “Okay Marty, tuck. Be the ball,” I kept my legs looser than necessary. Sure enough, halfway across the run, my zip lost its zest and I stopped.

Others might be afraid, hanging from the middle of the line, held only by a harness connected to a cable. But earlier, during our 25-minute ride from KBA’s headquarters to the top of the zipline course, I had listened carefully as Christy described the measures that were taken to make this trip a safe one. Now I put my faith in the equipment and enjoyed the view. Above me towered Waialeale, central Kauai’s 5,148-foot pinnacle and one of the wettest places in the world. Below were irrigation tunnels built by hand in 1864, and the streams of the Waiahi Valley. I heard nothing but the wind in my ears. I felt free as a bird.

Sure enough, Milo went into his Sir Galahad act, tying the rope, shimmying out to retrieve me and pulling me back to the other side, while chatting happily about the perks of his job. I couldn’t have been happier. Over the remaining six ziplines, I tucked on command and zipped effortlessly along, even across the longest run of 950 feet, the length of three football fields.

Christy, Milo and Lindsey rewarded us for our courage by setting out a picnic lunch of wraps, chips, cookies and water, enjoyed in a private bamboo grove by a swimming hole. A few hearty souls jumped into the icy mountain water. I preferred to chat a bit longer with the guides and learned some fun facts about the tour. The oldest person they’ve taken out so far was 77 years old, they said. The trail crosses land owned by America Online founder Steve Case. It took three months to build the course, during which all the materials were brought in on foot or by air.

For the ride back to headquarters, dirty and proud of our feat, we felt like a band of brothers brought back down to earth.