More Adventures in Stupidity: Abseiling Sipi Falls

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  Sipi Falls, Mt. Elgon, Uganda
Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Dora's cousin Mike, from England, recently came for a visit to Uganda. Sometimes you just hit it off with a person (much to Dora's delight). A couple of weeks after he arrived, the two of us went to Sipi Falls here in Uganda for a few days of relaxing.

Sipi Falls is on the lower slopes of Mt. Elgon, one of the largest, sprawling mountains in Uganda. The falls are gorgeous. There are a series of falls, starting from an escarpment high up from the village of Sipi. The most spectacular of these falls is the last one, just outside of the village proper. Here the water shoots off a dead drop of 100 metres, cascading to a small pool, far, far, below.

In Sipi, you can take a lovely, if tiring, walk that takes you to the base of three different falls. You can get a plate of chips and a Coke at one of the lovely lodges overlooking the big falls and simply sit back and admire the view. You can also strap yourself into a little belt with a rope and step off the 100 metre drop to rappel down next to the huge mass of water hurling down to the ground at an enormous velocity. This we did. As you do.

Stupidity is a funny thing. I mean that both figuratively and literally. Often times I am surprised at how often both interpretations seem to apply to myself. Webster's online dictionary defines stupid as follows: "a: slow of mind : obtuse b: given to unintelligent decisions or acts : acting in an unintelligent or careless manner c: lacking intelligence or reason."

I suggest an addendum: "d: abseiling."

The placid Robert was our guide in this adventure. Robert had the voice and manner of a sloth on valium. While his voice would be coma inducing in a classroom, it was perfect for a man whose job it was to convince someone to step backward off a 100 metre cliff.

Mike and I were joined by Joey and Tami, a brother and sister from California. The four of us, along with Robert and two assistants, walked from our hostel to the top of the falls. There is no safety fence, and no signs warning of imminent death for the clumsy. Once there, Robert began (to my mind) a far too short, and far too relaxed explanation of how to hook ourselves into a little harness, attach ourselves to a little rope, and then lean backwards and step off a very big cliff. "It will take about eight minutes to get from the top to the bottom." Or about eight seconds if you screwed up.

As we stood on the top, Mike and I's enthusiasm for adventure seemed to wan somewhat. Our brother and sister went first, with Joey graciously carrying my camera down for me (any decent shoots of me dangling are thanks to him). As Tami went over the edge second, Mike and I began to talk about our feelings. This was not a help. Within a couple of minutes, our feelings were that this was clearly a stupid thing to do, and would we really be less manly for forgoing the experience?

Short answer? Yes.

Finally it was my turn. I checked to make sure the harness was tight (any tighter and there would have been a marked chance of no children in my future). As Robert called me over, my mind was playing over a fact that Mike had told me earlier in the day. He said that many sky diving companies, bungee companies, and other adrenaline sport companies often changed their names many times over their existence because it allowed them to claim they had no deaths or serious accidents in the history of the company. While fascinating, I question Mike's sense of timing. As I began to get roped in, I asked Robert "Say Robert, has your company always been called Rob's Rolling Rock Abseiling?" His puzzled look, and answer that yes, it had always been, was partially reassuring.

Robert roped me in, attaching both a safety rope and a control rope to my harness. He explained that once over the cliff, I would walk down the cliff, leaning backwards, slowing letting rope play through the metal figure eight in my right hand while feeding it with my left. After about 30 metres, he assured me the cliff dropped away, and I would dangle freely, gradually lowering myself to the bottom. Easy, but first I had to actually go over the edge.

He called me over to the edge. "Now turn around and step backwards to the lip of the cliff.'" This was not as easy as it should have been. I proceeded to take the smallest step of my life since learning to walk. Robert smiled his gentle smile, and said, "Ok. DJ. That's good. Now lean backwards, and step down over the cliff." I took an even smaller step. "Ok, DJ. You don't have to worry. We have the safety rope. You'll be fine. But you need to lean backwards over the cliff and step down."

"Ok, Robert. No problem." (Shut the fuck up Robert).

I proceeded to move my right foot backwards the approximate distance from the tip of your nose to the top of your lip.

"Ok DJ. That's great. But you have to step over the cliff, DJ. Take your foot and step off into the gaping void that threatens to swallow you up and send you screaming to your death." (Ok, so I might have misheard him on the last sentence.)

"Ok, Robert. No problem. I'm on it. Just give me a sec. I'm going. No problem." (SHUT THE FUCK UP ROBERT! I AM GOING TO CLAW MY WAY BACK UP THERE AND PUNCH YOU IN THE THROAT! I'M DOING IT, OK? JUST BACK OFF!!)

I'm a gentle soul. Really I am. Robert is a wonderful man. I wish him all the best for his future, and blessings on his house. But he was trying to kill me.

Finally, slowly, achingly, terrifyingly, I leaned backwards and stepped off the cliff.

One of the pieces of advice Robert had been repeated often. "Feed the rope with your left hand. Whatever you do, do not grab the rope and try to stop yourself from descending with your left hand. You will burn it. Do not do it." In airplane safety brochures, they claim in the case of cabin decompression, you are to calmly place the dangling oxygen mask over your face and breathe normally. I imagine this advice is followed about as often as Robert's. As I began to descend (plunge in my mind, but I know I wasn't really at plunging speed), I began to grip the rope in my left hand hard. I was convinced I could arrest my body weight from moving down. I was convinced that if I tried hard enough I could haul myself up the rope to the top of the cliff with one hand, grab Robert and his beatific smile and toss him off the top. I was wrong, and have the massive blisters and destroyed skin to prove it.

I'd like to tell you that once I was over the edge and on my way that I was transported by the breathtaking scenery, and had a nearly mystical experience as I descended, the waterfall a shimmering gossamer curtain of water sparkling through the air as it plunged to the pool below. I'd like to, but frankly, most of my time was spent trying to descend as fast as I could and making small, whimpering noises in the back of my throat. Don't get me wrong. It was beautiful. It was breath taking. I just didn't care.

Finally I touched down. And slippery, muddy ground never felt so good.

Don't' get me wrong. I don't think I'm a coward. It's just as I get older, doing things that can kill me seems to frighten me more. I'm working on it.

Post your own travel photos for friends and family Pictures

Abseiling1	Abseiling2	Abseiling3	Abseiling4
Abseiling5	Abseiling6	Abseiling7	Joey and Tami
Joey and the Waterfall	Sipi Falls	Sipi Falls2	Sipi Falls3
Sipi Falls4	Sipi Falls5	Sipi Falls6	Tami and the waterfall

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