Jumping from the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere

It is Sunday afternoon.  At 192m above Auckland’s hard city pavement there isn’t even a breath of wind.  I can’t even hear any distant sounds of traffic from the streets below or the busy harbour port nearby.  That’s not because I’m behind thick plate glass in the observation deck on Auckland Tower.  I’m outside.

On the drop platform I am spreadeagled (like one of the lead characters at the pointy end of the Titanic) hanging on to handles left and right. My feet are pivoting on the edge as I lean out.

It’s a very long way down.  It really would have been better to not look because in that moment you start to re-evaluate the decision to participate at all.

There must be plenty of noises going on in this city but I can only hear the sound of the skyjump attendant.

“Just go mate, it’s the only way.  Jump.  OK, do you want me to count down again?”

In my mind I know I am going to jump.  It’s really just a question of how and when.  How will I let go?  When will I do it?

To jump 192 metres is exactly the opposite of what my instinct tells me to do right now.  Now I know in my head that I could not be safer.  I’ve already checked all that.  I’m wearing the attractive blue and lightning bolt yellow jump suit together with the groin-exaggerating-under-leg-over-shoulder harness.  I’m fully strapped to thick, tightly-bound stainless steel wire rope connected to a high-power motorised winch.

Jumping now is probably safer than driving to work or crossing a quiet street – they’ve thought of everything in terms of safety and safe process.  Even if I tripped or got pushed off now, nothing bad can happen because of the way they have strapped me in.  But my 35 years of successfully staying alive so far tells me that it makes absolutely no sense to now aim for that small set or concentric circle so far below that they call the landing.

I’m really scared.

(BTW that’s a mighty big poster advertising Mexican food over on that roof.)

“So are you going to do it?”

“Yeah”, I say.

“How?”, I think.

Then a really weird thing happens.  I suddenly learn that what’s happening right now has happened before and will most certainly happen again – perhaps often.  This is a matter of trust against better judgement.  I’m reminded of a lesson I learned many years ago as a kid.

There is the old story of Peter, who gets invited by the boss Jesus to step out of the boat and walk on the stormy waters.  Of course he hesitated but he did it – and it wasn’t till he stopped looking at the master and instead chose to focus on the peril around him that he started to sink.  I always thought Peter was a bit of a coward for having trouble stepping out and for losing his focus.  But would any of us have done any better, really?

I have to take a step of faith:  make a decision to do the difficult action - the alternative to which is more natural, easier but plain wrong.  I have to trust someone; follow the voice; step out in faith.  Step into thin air.  It’s the right thing to do!

So I jump.

I’m no hero for jumping.  And the photo that was taken on my way down (while the attendant put on the brakes, momentarily, 10m down) showing a happy, confident thumbs-up No Fear Fergie is a most deceiving photo.  In reality I was really terrified.

In case you’re interested, I don’t actually remember much about what happened for the rest of the descent!  It was just 11 seconds.  But I’ll never forget landing, the concentric circles looming large and fast.  I hit the target spot-on and, unplanned, jumped twice in the air, collapsed on the ground in relief, hugging the security of a safe place.

My travelling companions are laughing, taking pictures of the spectacle and congratulating me (they were unwilling to jump).  The ground crew member says that this was the best landing he’d seen. 

I later realised that for the next couple of hours I was in shock – shell shock.  Losing my camera twice, being less than coherent and when it came to calling home, misdialling twice!

So, like you, I’m only human.

All the more reason to trust something and someone bigger than me, through the good times, the bad times, the easily decisions and the difficult.