What would you call it?

Picture this: We drive an hour and a half to reach … a salmon spawning farm. In their parking lot, we don wet suits (though don’t pull them over our tops yet), walk past their security guards and janitors topless (not to mentioned bottomed in wet suits), and head across their campus to a trail that leaves from the other side. We walk, for half an hour, through the forest, in wet suits, sweating with every step.

Now picture us arriving at a crystal clear blue green pond with a beautiful cascade of water leading into it and ten feet high cliffs on either side. Now picture me jumping off the cliff into the pool. Then picture Theresa sliding headfist and backward down the cascade. Picture us crawling “alligator-style” down the flatter regions, headfirst and guiding ourselves over small, smooth boulders and down narrow chutes of water to the next pool. This pool is a whirlpool, without any effort, you would move in circles for eternity.  But with a few well timed strokes we are carried over the next falls, sliding into the next pool.

Picture me running along the wall to this pool completely horizontal before gravity interrupts my fun and sends me crashing into the pool. I try multiple times, each time lasting a step longer than the time before. Picture us careening off a perfect launchpad of a slide to a pool fifteen feet below. Many more jumps and chutes follow.

Picture this trip culminating with a rapel down a 90 foot waterfall, water spraying around us the whole way down. And picture the final jump, a 20 foot leap from behind the waterfall out into its thundering impact.

Now, what would you call this sport/activity?  I have yet to come up with anything better than canyoning (its official name), but a better name is needed.  It just doesn’t do justice to the experience. You guys got any good suggestions?

6 Replies to “What would you call it?”

  1. Wow, that sounds amazing! A natural waterpark … I love it! If you have any pictures of this awesomeness, I’d love to see (as well as info on where this all happened).

  2. Unfortunately, we don’t have pictures since we were in the water the entire time and don’t have a camera equipped to handle complete submersion and getting banged up against rocks. I keep thinking we should have gotten that waterproof Olympus point and shoot. It’s not the best camera in the world but it’s waterproof and drop-proof so it makes up for it in that regard.

    Anyhow, we were in Puerto Varas, Chile on the Rio Blanco River. We organized our trip through Pachamagua (www.pachamagua.com) and would definitely recommend them. If you go to their website you can photos and even video. I can, however, only get the Spanish language page to work, but it’s pretty evident where to go even if you don’t know Spanish.

  3. Seems you definitely could use that/a waterproof camera. What’s that twice now we’ve been left photo deprived?

    On the other hand, I’d argue the other side (as it is Saturday and I’m not at school, I need to find a debate somewhere).

    Reasons you should be glad you don’t have the waterproof camera:

    1. You don’t have to take pictures of everything. Do you really want your vacation to be like that mom who puts her camera in her kids face every 6 seconds? Not everything needs to be recorded. Amazingly, as advanced biological creations, we have this amazing gift called memory (although “Junior’s” may still be in development).

    2. Shooting pictures, from my experience, changes how you experience events, situation, things. That’s not to say people should not take photos, merely that recording events changes how we act during such events.

    3. And the best reason: You can say to people, “Well, I don’t have any pictures. You are just going to have to go do it yourself.” You get to be a little selfish and you motivate people at the same time.

    The lack of pictures also challenges the writer’s descriptive skills and the reader’s imagination. Good exercise for the brain.

  4. The same arguments are made about photography of architecture. You can take as many pictures of architecture (facades, interiors, details) but until you actually experience the space there is no way to understand the spaces, let alone know if everything that may look “cool” in a photographs creates a quality space.

    I think photographs are more to help trigger memories that may not be remembered on the surface but recalled seeing a particular image. If something is memorable enough its “photographed” by your memory and no photograph is necessary (i.e. collapse of WTC).

    Hmm, sounds like I may be doing a thesis on memory and architecture.

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