Eventually I make my way up to the edge, bit by bit. Seeing as how my ankles are strapped tightly together (thankfully), walking is replaced by a sort of hop. But hopping right next to a 216m drop is a bit more daunting than it might seem. Sure, there's a big rope attached to my feet, but... still. I'm taking pictures and trying to get in all the sights when someone grabs the camera out of my hands and I notice they're counting down and nearing 1 at a fast pace. Next thing I know, I lean forward and bend my knees slightly, then jump out into the great unknown. In my best swan dive I jut my chin down to the shallow river 200m, 175m, 150m below, eyes fixed on the horizon that is quickly overtaken by the rising canyon walls. Then tension on my feet increases and my head drops further into a vertical dive, when the g's kick in. First a little, then a lot, my head is filled with every drop of blood in my entire body. By the time I reach the full extent of my fall, an indeterminate distance over the gor...
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