So I have a little bit of a fear of heights. As the thought of near death runs through my mind, I get nervous, very nervous. My heart starts to beat faster and I start to sweat. I start to envision my funeral, and then snap back to reality just in time to feel my stomach acting funny. It not so much of a fear of heights, as it is a fear of a long fall, to rocks far below me, most likely to kill me.
Despite my fear, six years ago I found myself climbing to the top of a high place. A few summers in a row, my friend and I would go to Watkins Glen for a weekend. Our main reason for going is for the several professional car races at the Watkins Glen International Speedway. A year prior to this, when we were getting ready to head back home, we heard of the waterfalls near the track, that we knew we would have to come back and check out.
The following year, we come back for the races. We get there a day early, to set up the camper and be there for the early Friday qualifying. After finishing what we needed, we decide to head to the falls while there is still sunlight.
There are nineteen waterfalls along one path, ranging in various heights. The main waterfall, called Watkins Glen Rainbow, is 75 feet high. It flows ever so easily, into a beautiful series of cascades call Pluto Falls. I walk up to the bottom of the cliff of the waterfall, and couldn’t imagine wanting to scale this giant mound of rock, with giant cracks, looking as if it could crumble down at any moment. Parts looked like it couldn’t support a bird, rather yet trying to support my weight. But my good ole pale, Jay, didn’t see a problem with it, as he jumps on the side of the cliff and starts to climb. My heart had to of been beating 150 times a minute just watching him.
He gets about 15 feet up to the first ledge where he could stand on and turn around, and starts to hell down to me, “Hey dude, I knew it would be okay to climb, come on up.”
Now I think to myself, well he did climb it so it has...
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