Abseiling is

Rappelling. We were going rappelling down a 25 meter waterfall. This one: 

Suddenly, the leeches were looking a little less terrifying. 

Here's how it looked from the top. You can see there is a "infinity pool" about midway down. Yeah, that's the half way point. 

But let me back up and set the stage for you. There must have been a dozen people all together heading out on this expedition. And when I say that our party of four really had no idea what we were doing, I am not exaggerating. We knew it was called "abseiling," and we knew it involved a waterfall. You might think that we would be curious and have asked a few questions, but you would be wrong. If there had been internet access easily available, I probably would have looked it up the night prior, but there wasn't and I didn't. 

In fact, my entire focus for this trip to hide my rapidly escalating terror of the leeches from the children. As a mom, it's my job to put on a brave face. In this case, the children had already been exposed to leeches and weren't terribly concerned about them. They were wearing shoes and socks (necessarily for "abseiling") and knew exactly what to expect and what to look for from their Dances with Leeches tour. On the other hand, I was still a leech virgin. While I had seen the blood dripping, I had never actually laid eyes on one of the beasts. As we hiked up to the top of the waterfall, I was terrified. 

Then we got to the top of the waterfall and I was still terrified, only now it wasn't because I was going to have to dig into the deep recess of someone's bits to retrieve a leech, it was because my children were about to rappel down a waterfall. 

Sister mercy. 

Here we all are at the top. Harnesses on, helmets on, at the ready. 

Given that we had two reasonably rambunctious children to deal with at the top of a 25-meter waterfall, the decision was made to send Jeff down first. I would make sure none of the children made an unplanned descent, we would send Tom down quickly after, then Hope and I would follow last. 

There's Jeff! I will say that the waterfall part was kind of cool. OK, once you got past the high pucker factor, the whole thing was fab. Jeff arrived safe and sound at the bottom, but messaged up that it was unlikely Hope would actually be able to physically handle the descent, and Jeff was none to sure about Tom. Apparently, the rope being used for this exercise was quite thick, making the descent slow and a bit of work. Easy enough for the grownups, but there wasn't much of a way to send in a rescue party if one of the children got stuck. 

Tom was quite keen to give it a go, though, so we decided to let him try. If he couldn't get past the first couple of meters, he could be hauled up and we'd work on other options. But, give the boy his due, he managed it. It was a very long, slow descent, as he had to haul himself down, managing on the rough footing and with the waterfall in his face. 

Well done!

There was a cool pool at the top, so Hope and I soaked ourselves, chatted a bit, and finally, at long last,  I laid eyes my first leech. One of the other children, who live in Sri Lanka and were about as blase about leeches as we would be about ants, found the blood sucker diving down between his toes and held it up for inspection.

You know what? They are tiny little things. I mean, these leeches, in the Sri Lankan jungle are tiny little things. One imagines (as one is wont to when one has the sort of imagination that doesn't think Loch Ness Monsters an impossibility) that they grow them bigger in other places in the world. But these leeches were really rather small. 

Shortly thereafter, one teeny little leech appeared on my calf. I inspected it as it slowly inched toward my sock, thinking its delicious blood sucking thoughts. I picked it up and flicked it away. And like that, the fear was gone. All that adrenaline, wasted. Besides, there were bigger things to worry about now, like that 25-meter waterfall. 

The decision was made to give Hope a go on her on, but it was no use. She was just too light and did not have the upper body strength to move down the rappelling line. She was disappointed, but Jeff and I were quite relieved to have her go down in the company of one of the guides. 

I went next, and because the photos so far really do make this appear sort of easy, I'll give you a hint. It's not really that easy. It was hard work moving down the line, and you had to stay perpendicular to the rock face (with the water splashing over you) or slip. Which I did a few times. We were securely harnessed in, of course, so it's not like we were going anywhere, but it was hard to get your feet back where they belonged once you were dangling and covered in rushing water. So, just sayin', not that easy. 

 At the bottom, fun was had by all.  

As we hiked back to camp, I asked the children what they thought of it. Their immediate reaction was "Glad we did it, never again!" Which made me kind of happy, because I was just wrung out. Between the leech adrenaline rush, hanging out at the top of a 25-meter waterfall with two children adrenaline rush and the actual abseiling adrenaline rush, I was thinking I could use a short break from "adventure." 

Within 24 hours, the tide turned. Tom was pretty philosophical about it. I'll paraphrase, but the conversation went something like this, "Well, when were done, I was exhausted. And it was pretty scary. But now? I think it's really cool. I would love to do it again!" 

There you have it. Time and perspective, bring on the abseiling! 

PS, When Jeff next accessed the Outside World, he googled "abseiling," and it's simply a German word that means rappelling. Isn't that awkward? It's even German. 

Comments

[Rodneyssaga.wordpress.com]

For those of us what never plan to do this, how does the upper body strength fit in? I would think gravity woud be on your side. The slipping & dangling I get. Brave BT!