I Came, I Parked, I Chickened Out

You ever hype yourself up so much for something that by the time it arrives, your courage has packed its bags and moved to another country? Yeah. That was me, standing in the dusty parking lot at Bloukrans Bridge, staring down the jump I swore I was ready for, and I chickened out.

The Plan: Legendary or Nothing

It was my idea. Completely mine. I pitched it to my wife like it was the ultimate bucket list moment: “Let’s bungee jump off the highest bridge in Africa!” She looked at me like I’d just said, “Let’s lick a power socket,” but being the supportive legend she is, she came along anyway.

For weeks, I pictured the moment. The countdown. The wind rushing past. The triumphant yell mid-air. The epic slow-mo GoPro footage. I imagined walking away from it feeling invincible, like I’d just stared fear in the face and body-slammed it into the gorge below.

We played AC/DC on the drive up. I wore my lucky shirt. I even practiced the scream I was going to let out mid-jump. It was going to be raw. Wild. Unforgettable.

And then I saw the first guy jump.

The Snap That Snapped My Nerve

From the parking area, you can actually see people leap off the bridge. Which, in hindsight, is poor design for anyone whose bravery is directly tied to imagination.

The guy ahead of us barely hesitated. He shuffled forward, nodded at the crew, and just… dropped. No scream. No hesitation. Just a body falling into nothing.

Then came the sound. That split-second silence before the cord caught him. SNAP. That unnatural bounce. The whoosh of wind. My stomach folded in on itself like bad origami.

“Nope,” I said.

My wife looked at me. “You okay?”

“Nope,” I repeated, already backpedaling. “Let’s go.”

The Long Walk Backward

I didn’t even make it to the reception. Nope. We parked, saw the jump, and I executed the cleanest emotional U-turn of my adult life.

There was no shame. Just logic. That bridge is 216 meters high. That’s not bungee jumping. That’s bungee falling with taxes.

My wife laughed. Hard. Not in a mean way. More like, “I knew you were bluffing but I let you find out on your own.”

She admitted she wouldn’t have done it either. She was just along for the ride and probably the inevitable back-out.

“I thought you were serious,” she said, smirking.

“I was,” I said, staring at my feet. “Until that guy jumped. Then I remembered I like living.”

From GoPro Dreams to GoHome Reality

For someone who’d once skydived without blinking, this shook me. I’d expected adrenaline, sure. Maybe even some pre-jump butterflies. But not this. Not the visceral, gut-twisting panic.

There’s something uniquely terrifying about watching a human drop off a bridge with only a cord saving them from doom. It doesn’t look controlled. It looks like physics is out on lunch.

And unlike skydiving, where you’re high enough not to feel it, bungee jumping looks close. Too close. Like you could count the trees as you fall past them.

I went from “I was born for this” to “Take me home” in less than three seconds.

No Shame in Survival Mode

Here’s the thing: backing out didn’t make me feel weak. Weirdly, it made me feel aware. Like my brain finally caught up with my ego and yelled, “You there! Stop trying to die!”

We live in a world that loves boldness. Brave is sexy. Fear is failure. But sometimes, the bravest thing is saying, “Actually, I’m not doing this today.”

And maybe that’s the adventure. The messy, unpredictable dance between the you who talks big… and the you who stares 216 meters down and says, “Yeah, no.”

I didn’t jump. But I laughed. I lived. And I didn’t puke from fear.

A View, a Laugh, and a Memory

We ended up drinking something nearby.

“One day,” I muttered, sipping my drink. “One day I’ll do it.”

My wife looked at me sideways. “Sure. I’ll pack the popcorn.”

It was a good day. Not the one I planned, but the one I needed. And if nothing else, I’ll always have that image of the guy disappearing off the edge like a sock in a washing machine.

The One That Got Away

Every time I tell the story, people expect some dramatic twist. Like I changed my mind last-minute. Like I nearly jumped.

Nope.

I didn’t even make it to the harness.

And that’s okay. Not every trip needs a leap. Some just need a laugh, a learning, and the humility to admit your bravery was mostly marketing.

And hey, at least I didn’t try and fail. I never tried. That’s…something, right?

Still On the List

Here’s the kicker: I still want to do it. Not to prove anything to anyone else. Just to me.

Now that I’ve jumped out of a plane, I feel like I owe bungee a rematch. No pressure. Just a quiet, personal moment of redemption. Preferably with no parking-lot views next time.

I know the fear will be there again. But so will the curiosity. The itch. The voice whispering, “You didn’t come all this way to stand still.”

Final Thoughts: It’s Still a Story

Not every adventure ends with a leap. Some end in a parking lot with your pride in the glove box and your wife laughing next to you.

And yet, it’s still a story.

A ridiculous, honest, human story.

According to this BBC Travel piece, thrill-seekers aren’t just chasing adrenaline. They’re chasing meaning. Growth. A sense of control in chaos. Maybe that’s why I still want to go back, not to scare myself, but to meet the part of me that didn’t run.

But for now, I’ll wear my non-jumper badge with a smile. I came, I parked, I chickened out. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly the story I needed to live.