Conquering My Fear of Heights: A Thrilling Zip-Line Adventure in Whistler, Canada
I still vividly recall standing atop the Eiffel Tower, my knees weakening as I peered down. My heart raced across the swaying suspension bridge over New Mexico's Rio Grande Gorge last year.
One of the most unnerving moments was traversing the indoor balcony at Mexico City's Fine Arts Palace, where a mere balustrade separates visitors from a multi-story drop. Approaching it closely left me nearly hyperventilating. Even high-rise interiors stir unease in my stomach—not excitement, but a swarm of frantic ants. The story of the glass-floor cracking in Chicago's Willis Tower viewing boxes gave me instant sweaty palms.
During our last visit, friends crowded into that box, thrilled by the street far below, while I urged them to evacuate, drenched in sweat with a pounding heart.
My acrophobia borders on panic. The CN Tower's EdgeWalk in Toronto? A nightmare. Abseiling from La Paz's tallest building? Unthinkable. Narrow walkways over abysses? No way. Images of the world's tallest rope swing make me nauseous. Bungee jumping or skydiving? Never.
Yet there I stood on the lowest step of stairs leading into thin air, moments from leaping off—into nothingness. Hundreds of feet below (equivalent to a 20-story building), secured only by a snap hook on a thin rope attached to my harness, linked to a 2,000+ ft steel cable barely visible ahead. What was I thinking?
This wasn't my first zip-line. In 2007, Jess and I tried a short one in Cornwall over a beach—lowered gently after 20 seconds. On parallel platforms, we counted down repeatedly but froze. After 15 minutes, we jumped, terrified and regretting it. I felt ill all day.
Seven years later, facing parallel lines again in Whistler—this time hurtling between mountains at up to 90 km/h (55 mph), with four more to follow.
I wasn't there by choice; the Great Coast Road Trip team arranged it for us adventurous women. It sounded fun initially—now, not so much. Could I back out?
Watching the first two go, my heart sank. I urged Rease we go next—delaying would amplify my panic. As our turn neared, tears welled. Why do this? Rease buzzed with excitement. With a group awaiting thrills, chickening out would delay everyone.
Three, two, one… I released. Heart leaping, I accelerated into the void—other side invisible—rushing faster, chasm looming. Thoughts whirled: 'The rope will snap!' 'Is that a bear?' 'What am I doing?!'
After what felt eternal (likely 60 seconds), I arrived trembling, legs jelly, nearly fainting.
Four more times? This nightmare repeated fivefold. Insane!
The group reveled—faster the better, some upside down (shoutout Rease, the daredevil). For me, pure terror each ride:
*Click the speaker icon for my screams*
It never eased; each convinced me of doom. Yet I endured all five.
Horrible? Not the worst. Repeat? Unlikely. But I conquered it.
What's your biggest fear? Have you faced it?
