After a successful visit to Kwandwe, where we saw three of the big five (historically the most dangerous big-game animals to hunt: lion, leopard, elephant, rhino, and buffalo) we piled into the cars to continue on with our trip. Along the way to our next destination, the Tsala Treetops lodge, lies the world’s tallest commercial bungee jump. Unfortunately, the 216 meter jump off of Bloukrans Bridge was closed that evening (for some obscure technical difficulty) so we made plans to return the following day.
The unfortunate part about Tsala Treetops was not that the accommodations weren’t top notch (they were) it was that we arrived too late to actually enjoy them. In total we probably stayed less than 15 hours at this luxury, elevated hotel. I spent most of those 15 hours recuperating from our action-packed game drives and mentally preparing to hurl myself off of the highest single span arch bridge in the world.
Of the eight Notre Dame students brave enough to travel to South Africa for the summer, only two others (Dag and Luke) were crazy enough to entrust our lives to an elastic cord, some concrete, and a dose of crafty engineering (Suvrat, who had decided against jumping, was official MVP of the day as he was our designated photographer). As an example of the level of staff professionalism, during the registration process some names were mixed up and I had to explain that I was actually the 75k Collin, not the 60k Amber. As we made our way along the catwalk to the jump-off point I couldn’t help but glance at the gaping void beneath me and think this was the craziest/stupidest idea of my life. However, once we got out there the music was blasting, people were dancing, and it was almost difficult to contemplate the impending plunge. All you could do was enjoy it.
Luke jumped. I was joking with a group of Canadians. Dag jumped. I watched him swan-dive from the TV screen broadcasting the jumps. A piece of elastic was wrapped around my legs. I was staring down into a whole lot of nature. I jumped. 216 meters below the Bloukrans River roared. For a brief moment I knew I had been right; this was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. But nothing I could do would change the fact that I had just jumped off a bridge and there was no turning back. All I could do was enjoy the ride.
After the jump we decompressed at the on-site bar by enjoying a well-deserved lunch and watching the other jumpers launch off the bridge. I was reminded of lemmings jumping off cliffs in droves. After the excitement had died down enough to get back on the road, we drove back along the Garden Route to our final destination, Knysna.
That night was the finals for the Confederation Cup: USA v Brazil. The final was played in Johannesburg. If we would have known the United States was playing, we would have changed around our trip for a stop in Jo-burg. The fact that we made it this far was exciting enough. We watched the game at a local Knysnan pub. After every US goal the whole bar (led by us) erupted in a chorus of “Yes We Can!” Unfortunately we lost to Brazil 3 – 2. Hopefully the international community will take US soccer more seriously now.
The next day we visited a wild-cat park where big cats (cheetahs, leopards, etc.) are rehabilitated and eventually released into the wild. We also visited an elephant sanctuary and got to walk hand-in-trunk with elephants. I also learned why we couldn’t find any elephants on our safari. They can sense vibrations up to 2 kilometers away and probably just hid when they heard us coming. Anyway, after we ha checked off the last two remaining animals of the big five it was time for the inevitable return to Cape Town. Our vacation was over and we had to get back to work in the morning. We got back to the flats around 10pm and I immediately passed out, fully dressed, on my bed.
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