Taking the Plunge ... Off a Cliff

That isn't me, but this is the cliff I jumped off today.

You almost didn't get to read this.

That's not a cute way of saying I almost leaped off a cliff to my death today. I didn't, though I did leap off a cliff. How else to entertain a pair of teenagers? No, you almost didn't get to read this because it has been an exhausting vacation. Not for me.

My cousins are in town. Yes, those cousins. They're 13 and almost 16 (which is freaky, as I was living in Florida with my aunt when the 16-year-old was born). But that's another story.

The great part, as always, about visitors is I get to be a tourist in my own town. We do the favorites, like bacon fries and buffalo wings. We try a few new things, like giant sky swings, water parks and aquariums.

You won't be bored with the day-by-day ins and outs here. Nobody cares, I figure. Let's skip straight to the good stuff: Cliff diving.

The spot was off a rock in Sebago Lake, known as Frye's Leap. It's so well-known, there's even a beer named after it. The thing is, it's illegal to jump off the rock. Sort of. The Leap is located on private land, where "no trespassing" signs abound.

The cousins and I piled into my stinky car with my stinky dog and drove for an hour to reach the Frye Island Ferry, which would take us to where The Leap was located. Or so I thought. Classic Jim moment ahead.

We paid our $30 to take our car to the island. We floated out into the lake. I looked back at the ferry landing and noticed, about a quarter mile from the ferry dock, was Frye's Leap. Back there. On the mainland that we were going away from.

Sigh.

We made the best of it, visiting one of the small island's myriad beaches. Daisy swam. I enjoyed the view of the lake, with mountains in the background. Then we pulled back onto the ferry.

It took some finding to get to The Leap. We parked on a dirt road next to a little hut owned by the phone company (we know that because it was stamped with the logo of "Fairpoint Communications").

The cousins and I trekked through the woods and, for the first time, got smart. I noticed a giant "no trespassing" sign. Well, I figured, we should probably head that direction. Why would they post the sign over there if that was NOT where The Leap is?

We followed that strategy a couple of times before arriving promptly at the top of The Leap.

And I had an audience. There were a pair of boats below with about a dozen people hanging out, swimming or just watching, waiting for a doofus like me to show up atop the rock. The dog was sent down below with the youngest cousin, who was having doubts about the entire endeavor. The eldest cousin kept saying, "It doesn't look that high."

Then we arrived at the jumping point. Younger cousin's eyes, which are normally quite wide and round, got even bigger. "There's no way I'm doing that!"

I didn't argue with her. I just told her my strategy, talking and not thinking. You have to jump away from the rock we were standing on, I told her. Nothing else mattered. Stare at the spot you want to jump from. Make sure you hit it with your jumping foot. Make sure you push away from the rock.

It's amazing how much time you have to think on the way down a 40-foot fall. "Oh my God. Did I actually just jump? I hope this doesn't hurt. Remember to point your toes into the water. I hope I don't hit any rocks. The water sure could be co ..."

Splash.

The water was around 80 degrees. I hit it with my toes pointed, but legs slightly in front of my body. That led to a solid but unspectacular ass slap against the water as I entered. It was very satisfying as I ran my check under the water. Anything hurting? Nope. The water's kinda nice, actually.

I surfaced to applause from the boats. Not that the jump was all that spectacular but that I did it with little hesitation.

"I wonder if my car key is still in my shorts," I thought, feeling for the key. It was there. Good.

A little coaxing and a countdown later, eldest cousin made a solid entry into the water. We laughed, enjoying the surge of relief and excitement that came from the fall. We swam to shore and I relieved youngest cousin from her dog-watching duties.

As the girls headed up, Daisy and I made our way into the lake. She didn't know what to do with me, literally swimming circles around me. Occasionally, I would hold her by her chest to give her a chance to cough out the water in her lungs. Then she continued to swim circles.

Youngest required a little coaxing as well but took the leap, hitting the water at a slightly awkward angle but was none the worse for wear. It was the final act of an adrenaline-filled vacation. Giant sky swings, freefall rides and roller-coasters were nice. But it was cliff diving that got me excited to be alive. Well, that and the bacon-dusted fries.