I used to have nightmares about falling. It wasn't a fear of heights, just falling -- the distance wasn't significant. It could be four feet off the roof of a dog house or from the top of the tallest building imaginable (never mind that there were no buildings that tall). It was the only true fear that I was born with (I think, but maybe my mom dropped me on my head as an infant, which might explain some other things that I'll not approach in this post ). I hated the fear, and I really hated the bad dreams.

About 14 years ago, some friends showed me a brochure about bungee jumping from a hot air balloon. They were going to go give it a try, and asked me if I wanted to go. Maybe, but just to watch. There was no way in hell I could ever do that. I went with them for the first jump attempt. The jump spot was on a farmland airstrip -- basically a flat piece of land that a farmer used for take-off and landing his crop duster, weeds and a windsock. The jump sign-ups started before dawn and they started the jumps just after sunrise, because the that was the calmest and coolest (temperature wise) time of day, the best time to launch a hot air balloon and want it to do nothing but go up and down. The first time, by the time my friends' were supposed to jump, the wind had started to blow (8 knots was their cut-off point, just a breeze most of the time), and they couldn't jump that morning. But, all was not lost on that attempt, at least not for me. They did get about 15 people up in the balloon (one at a time) and into the air before they pulled the plug. I had to re-think my fear. We agreed to go back the following weekend to try again.

That time, I signed up to jump. I was the last in our group to jump. When the balloon reached an acceptable altitude, I stepped onto the launch platform with my double-middle-body-harnesses attached to the four-cord bungee. The launch platform was about the size of a license plate. By then, my legs were moving like two sewing machines, shaking so badly that I could barely stand. I was never so frightened in my entire life as I was at that moment. A good bungee jump is much like a swan dive. My first jump, I did what had been the source of my previous nightmares. I fell forward off the platform. It was ugly. I got cord burns on both arms and a cheek, but I lived! And before anyone asks, I had an extra pair of pants and underwear in the car, just in case. ...didn't need it. I was so scared, every orifice was puckered up, nothing was going to squeeze out of anywhere!

They video taped every jump as part of the experience. When I got home and looked at the tape, all I could think was, I can do better than that. We went up again the next weekend. My second jump, I was still a little nervous, but not anywhere near the level I was for the first. I did a perfect swan dive, got great air time, a good recoil (weightlessness is a wonderful feeling ), and the weather was cooperating to the point where we could take another jump that morning. We all signed up for another jump, and we all opted for a double-jump. The single jumps we did were 110 free-falls. A double-jump was 2 sets of cords connected together for a 220-foot free-fall. I wanted to go first. When I got in the balloon, I wanted to climb out on the jump platform before we reached a high enough altitude. All I wanted was air! The fear was completely gone. Not only did I do another perfect swan dive, my hat flew off on the launch, and I almost caught it on the first recoil! The second recoil on a double-jump is longer than the first, so you actually get pretty close to the balloon basket. After missing the hat catch (I did touch it), I was going to try to clamp onto the bottom of the basket, but I was short by about 6 feet.

The fear was erased when I confronted it. The nightmares stopped, I haven't had one since.

I don't know if this will help you Mike, but I do hope in some way that it does.

Bob