Taking the plunge...

So once I got on the topic of whales with this person, the next question I would ask them is…Have you ever jumped off a cliff into the ocean in the middle of winter in Wales?

When I was studying at Syracuse University, I had the opportunity during my junior year to study for a semester in London, England. Once again, I had no interest in this second “life changing experience” but I had the college mentality that all my friends were doing it so I should go too.

I filled out all of the necessary paperwork, got my passport, said goodbye to my parents and I was on my way. I went to London with a suitcase and backpack, found a place to live when I got there, and spent four of the best months of my life wandering through the amazing streets of London and traveling to different countries. I spent St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland, I saw the Mona Lisa in Paris, I went for a boat ride on a search for the Lochness monster in Scotland, I saw the Pope on Palm Sunday in Italy, and I went cliff jumping in Wales.

Seeing that I am probably the worst swimmer in the world, I sometimes wonder myself what possessed me to go “cliff jumping,” whatever this term may mean. I signed up for an “Adventure Weekend” with my friends, and the only instructions were to bring a pair of sneakers with you. It sounded pretty easy to me, so I thought what could possibly go wrong?

In February of 2004, we flew from London to Wales and stayed in a small cabin with ten other international students. I shared a room with five of my friends and we slept in bunk beds. There was barely enough space in our room to move and you can imagine how the room smelled after we all took off our soaking wet clothing and sneakers in the middle of winter. I think the heat thermostat may have been broken too because you could feel and hear the heat blasting into our tiny room the entire night while we tried to sleep.

After a restless night we woke up early, ate a quick breakfast and then were told to go outside where we were given our wetsuits. There is nothing more uncomfortable in the world than trying to put on a wetsuit, but it was so cold out so I knew we had no other choice! We rode in a small bus along the bumpy roads of Wales to the ocean. Our instructor gave us brief instructions on how to stay safe and he sent us on our way. We climbed along the rocky coast of the ocean (this is where the sneakers came into play) until we got to an opening in the rocks. We climbed to the top, and we all took our turns jumping into the freezing cold, sparkling water. I was so scared and the only reason I jumped was because if I didn’t jump, everyone else I was with wasn’t allowed to take their second turn until I went.

A lot went through my mind while I was standing on the edge of the cliff before it was my turn to jump. Did I remember how to jump correctly so I didn’t do a belly flop? Was I about to die? Why did I sign up for this trip again? Finally, I just opened my eyes, pushed off with my feet and jumped into the ocean. It was an exhilarating feeling as I was deep in the water swimming furiously so I could get to the top and breathe again. The feeling of accomplishment and the feeling of the cold air blowing against my face as I made it to the top is something I will always remember. I bet the people who continue to ask me why I live in Sauquoit never jumped off a cliff in Wales before….