Zip-line Sequoia Root Cipes

From the age of five, I've had an irrational fear of heights. Maybe because, as a short child, everything seemed to tower over me. Or maybe because, as a Floridian, I had not known any height above sea-level until later in my life. As a boy, my fear of heights was a constant source of regret each time I found myself in a place above a young Floridian's natural elevation. That all changed, however, when I shot through Northern California's redwoods hundreds of feet in the air.

Paying the fare. Strapping on the harness. Hiking to the top of a cliff. Crossing a makeshift bridge that connected the edge of the mountain to the nearest redwood. Supported only by a thin wire attached to the broad branches overhead, I stood on a wooden platform that was far too small, staring into a void that extended one hundred and fifty feet below. At this point, all thoughts of it being my dad's birthday abandoned me - and I was overcome with anxiety. My fear exploded when the tour guide lead me to the edge of the platform, attached my harness to the zip-line, and told me to get a running start. I swallowed and, to the coaxing of my family, reluctantly complied. Running forward, the crisp morning air whipping against my face, I leaped. That terrible...