Vancouver: The land of no Summer

Including the incredible story of when I fell 40 metres and survived

Day 1 to 4 (14 June to 17 June 2007): Vancouver, Canada

Despite all the odds, I have arrived in Canada. I was grilled by the Customs official, who requested to see proof of my onward flights out of Canada. After I said I’m not sure I had any, he started fishing around his rubber glove drawer for an unused set while I hastily found the crumpled web receipt for Calgary to New York I’d printed out as an afterthought. As I handed the bundle to him, I dropped my Canadian Working Visa, which I didn’t want yet activated as it is only valid for one year. Fortunately his eyes were busy looking over my flight details seeking an excuse to not let me in to the country and so it went unnoticed. A few more questions about my intentions in Canada with the friend I was meeting, and I was through. Once again I’d managed to deceive another Customs official.

I’d left the Taiwan adventure boys behind at baggage claim after a few manly hugs, and wandered into the Arrivals lounge. Yvonne, a friend I’d made last year in Greece, was flying in on an earlier flight from Calgary to meet me when I landed. A moment of panic went through me as I looked around the lounge without seeing her. Has she tricked me and was going to leave me to fend for myself in a strange foreign land? Or had I walked right past her and completely forgotten how she looked? I grabbed out the phone and called her number, with no response. It was official, she wasn’t going to meet me. Cursing her, and all her traitorous country folk I saw Anthony wandering over to the bar. He pissed himself when I told him I’d been betrayed, and then got me my first Canadian beer, a pint of Kokanee. It was 9am in Vancouver, we were surprisingly not the only ones in the bar, but we were on Taiwan time, which was 1am the next day. As I sipped a flattish, but pleasant tasting beer, I saw a girl checking her phone matching the vague description I had in my mind of my friend. I gave Yvonne a call on the mobile, and the girl answered. I waved and she came over. My lift had arrived. I no longer hated Canada.

I spent the day eating, drinking and walking around Vancouver. It’s a real pretty place. Nice green gardens and well kept houses, with snow capped mountains on the horizon, all with an ocean view. I later found out that the reason it’s all so green is that it never stops raining, except for a brief period when planes fly in from Taiwan. I also spent the day looking like a had a small mental problem. People didn’t understand what I was saying, I had trouble ordering food as they kept asking me questions about what dressing I wanted, how I wanted my potatoes, and other food options (this was all translated for me by Yvonne), and I kept tipping all wrong. I’d tip too much, then not enough, tip when I wasn’t suppose to (apparently you don’t tip at Starbucks) and then getting in trouble for tipping with change. I’ve decided I’ll just play up the dumb aussie routine until I work it all out.

When I fell 40 metres and lived to tell the tale

I’m a fearful man. When there is a large change of death (such as flying - I don’t really believe in it) I get scared. As well as being a fearful man, I believe in facing my fears. Because of all this, I never want to go bungee jumping, but have always wanted to do it and tick it off the list of life. There’s many things on this metaphorical list, but bungee jumping has been right at the top for some time.

Yvonne had scouted out a bungee jump on Vancouver Island, only a half hour walk, hour bus ride and then a two hour ferry ride away. From there, the bungee jump was only another half an hour away. It was going to be an all day trip if we were going to do it. Four hours later I was standing in the rain overlooking a raging river 40 metres below.

Yvonne had wanted to go first. I figured that if the rope was going to break, it was going to break for the first person, so I readily agreed. From when she walked out onto the platform, with the bungee cord around her ankles, it was another 15 minutes until she decided she wouldn’t do it. I’m not sure what happened next, she claims she jumped (more accurately let herself fall off) or whether the operator pushed her, but she was falling, eerily silent towards the water. Her eyes were squeezed tight and she was falling like how I imagine a roll of carpet would fall if it was pushed off a bridge. It was strange to watch. But then the cord snapped tight and she bounced back up. It had worked. I guess I was up next.

I had always thought there would be back-up ropes and all kinds of harnesses with bungee jumping. I was wrong. A towel was loosely wrapped around my ankles, and a strap was equally loosely wrapped around. To that was connected the bungee cord. I had waddled my way out to the edge of the platform and looked over the edge. The idea of free falling, with nothing slowing me down until the cord pulled tight scared the shit out of me. The looseness of the strap around my ankles worried me a little. It had loosened up on the walk out, and I felt like my foot could slide out of it. I was about to question the operator about it when he started the countdown.

Three! Two! One! Bungee! Not wanted to look soft I jumped, falling headfirst so I would get the extra length I was told I needed to hit the water before bouncing up. The first 30 metres were fucked. I was the most scared I’d ever been in my life. The cord began to catch. I didn’t hear a snap, and the fear was gone. I splashed down into the water up to my chest before bouncing back up. This was awesome!

After I’d finished my jump, I realized I should have taken off my shirt. I can’t believe I wasted an opportunity! Worse still, I was to be wet and cold for the four hour trip back. But I didn’t care. It was awesome, and it was a BIG tick off my list.

The weather didn’t improve while I was in Vancouver. I did some sight seeing, drunk a few drinks and a good time was had. But now, it was time to travel inland.