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Text
by
Walter
Glaser,
photos
by
Cherie
Glaser
Standing
on
a
wooden
platform
85
feet
above
the
ground
in
a
Costa
Rican
tropical
rainforest,
I
looked
down
at
the
jungle
floor
and
wondered
what
I
was
doing.
In
front
of
me
a
disturbingly
thin-looking
wire
stretched
into
the
forest
canopy.
Before
I
could
really
start
to
let
apprehension
turn
into
fear,
I
felt
a
tap
on
the
shoulder.
This
was
not
the
time
for
contemplation.
The
others
on
the
platform
were
all
looking
at
me.
Time
to
launch!
It
only
takes
a
split
second
to
leave
the
security
of
the
platform
and
head
for
the
unknown,
whizzing
down
the
wire
into
the
canopy
ahead.
The
minute
my
toes
lost
contact
with
the
sturdy
timber
boards
and
I
found
myself
suspended
over
the
jungle,
the
adrenalin
started
to
flow.
This
was
adventure
indeed!
When
we
booked
our
Costa
Rican
cruise
on
the
Wind
Song,
a
high-tech
sailing-cruise-ship,
we
had
not
expected
adventure
travel.
Luxury?
Yes.
This
ship
has
won
award
after
award
for
outstanding
cruising
in
great
style.
Being
small
(only
150
passengers
maximum)
cruising
on
the
Wind
Song
more
like
traveling
on
a
stylish
private
yacht,
and
its
size
enables
it
to
get
into
small
ports
and
bays
that
cannot
handle
larger
ships.
Costa
Rica
also
has
an
enviable
reputation
for
its
flora
and
fauna
with
a
very
forward-looking
conservationist
policy,
and
we
anticipated
exploring
the
tropical
coastline
in
style.
But
then
we
saw
an
irresistible
adventure
among
the
many
shore
excursions
being
offered
by
the
ship—the
tree-top
canopy
tour
in
the
Rincon
de
la
Vieja
National
Park.
As
we
came
ashore
the
morning
of
the
tour,
our
bus
was
waiting.
It
was
a
very
warm
day
along
the
coast
when
we
departed
for
the
ride
inland
and
up
into
the
tropical
rainforest.
Climbing
higher
and
higher,
we
drove
along
the
road,
which
varied
from
reasonably
good
in
some
parts
to
bone-rattling
in
others.
Soon,
the
banana
plantations
of
the
coastal
areas
gave
way
to
cattle
and
coffee,
and
eventually
we
could
see
the
rainforest
covering
the
mountains
above
us.
Still
further
up
the
mountain
we
entered
the
forest,
arriving
at
a
small
hostel
that
was
the
base
for
all
those
who
planned
to
experience
this
adventure.
Here
we
were
taken
over
by
our
‘minders’,
a
group
of
extremely
well
built
young
Costa
Ricans
who
proceeded
to
fit
us
out
with
the
same
type
of
harness
worn
by
rock
climbers.
We
were
told
to
leave
behind
anything
that
could
fall
out
of
our
pockets,
our
jackets,
our
hats
and
our
sunglasses.
We
started
by
climbing
up
a
mountain
track
at
a
pace
more
suited
to
young
army
trainees
than
this
normally
sedate
adventurer,
who
was
twice
the
age
of
many
of
the
participants.
Occasionally
we
would
stop
at
a
particularly
interesting
tree
while
our
guide
explained
its
importance
to
the
local
ecology.
As
we
went
deeper,
the
trees
became
taller.
First
60
feet,
then
80,
then
120,
as
the
narrow,
tortuous
path
led
us
further
into
the
green
jungle.
And
then
we
saw
it—a
tree
that
must
have
been
200
feet
tall,
a
ladder
attached
to
its
trunk
and
a
platform
80
feet
above
the
jungle
floor.
"Who
wants
to
go
first?"
our
guide
inquired.
Nobody
responded.
"OK
then!
You—that
group
of
eight
over
there
can
lead
the
way!"
I
was
trapped!
A
strong
rope
was
looped
through
the
harness
of
the
first
member
of
our
group.
"It's
a
long
way
up
to
the
platform,"
said
our
guide,
"and
just
in
case
you
should
topple
off
the
ladder,
we
want
to
make
sure
that
you
don’t
get
hurt.
We
haven’t
had
any
accidents
here,
and
don't
want
to
start
with
you."
Now
it
was
my
turn,
and
I
started
to
climb.
All
eyes
were
on
me.
I
thought
I
could
read
their
minds.
Could
this
geriatric
old
idiot
make
it?
By
the
time
I
was
halfway
up
the
ladder,
the
same
question
was
crossing
my
mind.
Onward
and
upward,
onward
and
upward!
My
arms
were
starting
to
feel
tired.
This
was
fine
for
the
others.
They
were
young
and
fit.
But
the
only
exercise
I
had
excelled
in
recently
was
lifting
a
fork
to
my
mouth.
How
would
I
manage
once
I
was
up
there?
After
what
seemed
to
be
an
eternity,
I
reached
the
platform
and
managed
to
lift
myself
up
onto
it.
Soon
others
were
standing
alongside.
One
of
the
tour
leaders
was
now
clipping
his
pulley
onto
the
fine
braided
steel
cable
tied
around
our
tree
and
running
horizontally
into
the
distant
jungle
canopy.
"Tilt
back
and
balance
your
weight
in
such
a
way
that
you
are
always
feet-first
as
you
travel
along
the
wire,”
instructed
the
guide.
“And
make
sure
that
you
don't
start
to
spin
or
you
may
hit
a
tree
as
you
pass.
"Now
it’s
time
to
put
on
those
heavy
leather
gloves
we
gave
you.
They
are
for
braking.
If
you
find
yourself
going
too
fast,
there’s
a
danger
of
coming
into
the
tree
at
the
other
end
at
too
much
speed.
So
slow
yourself
down
by
lightly
rubbing
your
glove
against
the
wire.
But
don't
grab
it
too
hard.
I’ll
be
at
the
other
end
waiting
for
you.
My
buddy
will
see
you
off."
The
sentence
barely
over,
he
pushed
off
the
platform
and
went
whizzing
down
the
wire
at
break-neck
speed.
His
buddy
pointed
to
me,
gesturing
to
hook
my
pulley
on
to
the
wire.
For
a
split
second
I
thought
my
knees
would
turn
to
jelly.
I
was
next!
Could
I
cope?
Fortunately,
there
was
no
time
to
think.
The
pulley
was
clicked
on,
and
I
did
not
dare
let
the
wave
of
panic
that
was
threatening
me
be
seen
by
the
others
on
the
platform.
Before
I
knew
what
I
was
doing,
I
had
pushed
off
and
was
racing
down
the
wire
at
an
unexpected
speed.
Continued
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