Well, yes I did survive the zip line. Once off the edge, I couldn't slow down, lest I get stalled somewhere in the middle, and I dare not look down, so I just kept my eyes on the rapidly approaching landing pad. I'd estimate I was going about 30 miles an hour across 1/4 mile zip line. About half-way through the experience, I could feel my body start to twist, and only then did real panic set it, last thing I wanted was not to see where I was going, that would be almost as bad as seeing where I was going. But I remembered the training on how to twist back, and ever so slowly I righted myself.
And all too quickly, it was over. I was caught on the other side, inches from a tree, and unhooked from the line, to make way for the others. Lots of screaming going on from the other tourists (or at least I think it was them, might have been me still screaming, not sure) but soon enough we were trekking to our next zip line platform, Shorter and more inclined, but I was ready for that one. By our last zip line I was able to look down and see the trees, people and pool beneath me.
After we landed, it was a quick change from the zip line gear into the cave tubing gear (well, we carried an inner tube with us.) Along the path to the cave, there were many others heading in the opposite direction, completely soaked and grinning from ear to ear.
"How's the water?" I asked.
"Refreshing!" or "Brisk!"
Translation: Freezing cold.
No matter, I'd ensure I was on top of the tube, and not get that wet.
Wrong. By the time the adventure was over, I'd be completely soaked, head to toe in crystal clear water that I"m certain was pumped in from the Arctic Ocean. Brisk and Refreshing were an understatements. I'm pretty sure I saw the Titanic hit yet another iceberg throughout the journey underground. The cave has been there for tens of millions of years, slowly gathering water that filtered in from the ceiling, forming stalagmites and stalactites in all kinds of fascinating shapes. Small bats hung from the ceiling, fast asleep, waiting for the tourists to leave before taking flight to feast off the insects that fluttered about at dusk.
We wore small mining helmets with feeble headlamps while we floated in this alien world, the weak rays only serving to enhance the shadows that were omnipresent. The sense of claustrophobia was enormous. Fortunately I love tight enclosed spaces so it allowed me a chance to explore with my hands and eyes.
Tiny currents moved us gently toward the end, aided by our flailing about (seriously, ever tried to steer an inner tube while you are sitting on your back? It's a heck of a lot harder than it sounds, and you look ridiculous in the process.)
Just as I'm managed to thaw my extremities, the tour guide brought us on land to show us around and guide us to the next lake. By the time we'd reached the lake, I'd warmed up again and hitting that water froze me solid. Fortunately the lake was smaller, and we could free swim in it is we wanted to.
I was never so glad to get the sun's rays on my body as I had after that experience. I think by now I'm finally warm enough to dump all the layers of clothing I've been wearing since then!
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