Today was my first real day of vacation in … I’m not going to count, it’s been too long. And I’ll be honest, I feel a bit guilty about it. That maybe why I agreed to go to WildPlay.
WildPlay, if you’ve never heard of it, is best described as an arboreal obstacle course. Basically: you climb up a tree, then engage in a series of challenges while suspended 5-10 metres above the ground.
Of course, I didn’t know this yet. But I would learn.
Choo Choo didn’t want to come. The last time she’d been to WildPlay (a few years ago), they inadvertently ended up on the Extreme course, she’d nearly frozen with fear, and had a bit of a trauma ever since. (For the record, the age limit is 5+; it was neither an age nor height issue to let her onto the course.)
As it turned out, it was Monkey, Asinkwe, and myself. We were due to arrive around 9 am, but we barely left the house at 9, then discovered that through miscommunication, Asinkwe was at a different hotel than we thought. We didn’t arrive at WildPlay until nearly 10:30.
Nestled in tall pines and firs, WildPlay sits in a bend of the Alouette River, one of the tributaries of the Pitt River (which itself flows into the Fraser). We signed up for three people (Alex wisely bowed out, knowing what was to come) and we waited for our 10:55 start time.
Monkey and I have both worn the harnesses before, having done the Mineral Mountain Zipline at Fairmont Hot Springs, and Monkey had done WildPlay before (along with another zipline in Oyama). We were prepped and ready in short time.
We were signed up for the Classic route, which is in three segments, allowing a break in between. (Previously, Monkey and Choo had done the Extreme, which I would only see above me.) The first segment was a “demo” section, where you learned to use your carabiner with their safety system, latch onto the zip line, and coast over a short section. It’s the basics to get you going.
The neat thing about their entire setup is how the carabiner works with the safety line. Every section has a thick orange-clad steel cable that you carabiner never leaves. In fact, it’s impossible to remove it. Unlike the ones with a hinged clip, these carabiners are static, with a 1/8" gap that is machined to be the same width as a plate at the start, over which you slide your carabiner. Once slid in, it can’t be removed until you reach the other side; even the transitions between different challenges requires you to slide through a plate that connects one section of safety line to another.
I won’t recount the entire thing in detail, in part because I don’t remember every step. But there are a few I do recall. And I do remember that it got increasingly difficult as you went.
- Some required balancing on a single log (or even a bare steel cable) to cross a distance
- Zip lines connected across gaps, often over paths below
- Ladders had safety line with black stoppers that prevented a hard fall if you slipped
- Some sections were suspended from above, so you had to hang onto the suspending ropes or the board or log underneath you would swing away
Two parts I remember best. The first was a rather devious little trick on the third (and hardest) segment, where a narrow gap was spanned with two large balls (no joke) with iron rods through them, allowing them to spin freely. Stepping on the balls was impossible, you’d literally fall through. The trick was to take one big step over them to the other side. People with shorter strides must have to jump.
The other was the highest challenge: a pair of steel cables with boards bolted to the top. Fairly simple, just walk right across, right?
For the first few steps, it’s not an issue, it’s just going forward. But I made a major mistake almost halfway across, when my foot ended up too far from the middle of the board, and at that distance, the whole thing was easily twisted to one side, risking me slipping off.
Now, logically, I knew I was safe. I was in a proper climbing harness. I was carabinered into a heavy safety cable. I could have jumped and the worst that would happen is I would have bounced off the boards. This is how I sprinted through most of the challenges: I knew there was no risk.
Until this point I was convinced I had a fear of unsafe heights: So long as I knew I was firmly attached to something, I had no fear. This was the first time it was put to the test. And as it turned out, Fight or Flight will completely override logic. I froze. I couldn’t move.
My logic did battle with my amygdala, desperately trying to move my foot further to the centre to restore balance and allow my ForF to calm down. It took considerably more effort than I could have imagined to slide my foot a mere five centimeters, but that was all that I needed to stop the wobble and get me moving forward again.
After that, I took a moment to breathe. In that moment, I recalled Choo Choo’s experience. I wasn’t there for her high wire act, but I did hear about it afterwards. And I remarked that she was immensely brave to continue forward despite the mental challenge. I made her to tell her that, too.
Completing the course, finally, Choo Choo and I found Asinkwe waiting for us (she opted not to do the third segment). Alex came back a few minutes later and we headed for lunch.
Again, amazingly, my shoulder didn’t hurt. Not as much as I expected, anyway. I consider this another win, my arm feeling better with every day. I suppose I need to continue with these kinds of exercises to bring back my motion.
Though I might not do so 10 metres above the ground again any time soon.
