The Jumpoff

The Jumpoff. Easy to see why it is so named: There is a compelling urge to go jumpoff the rocks. That's partly because it’s the easiest way back down. The last few hundred yards through high grass is claustrophobic and can heighten the blood pressure even if you don’t happen to think about snakes. So when you finally break out on top of the cliff you get a soaring feeling, and as you get closer to the edge you suddenly see that the back side of this cliff really isn’t there and you get the feeling that you may already have gone too far, so at least you get urge to jumpback and maybe that’s what the place really should be named. But you definitely get the feeling that you ought to jump somewhere!

The view is far-away and long-ago, and you can’t help but pick up that feeling, too. It’s a form of immortality, that's for sure, but it’s hard to feel immortal when your body is hot and mosquitoes are biting and you are afraid you might fall (or jump) off a cliff. And then there are great hollow, echoing, booming peals of thunder cascading down the canyons, rolling out into the valleys and soaring up, sweeping the peaks and cliffs with resounding acoustical energy. It sounds like a great giant is bounding across the mountains hunting humans and zapping them in twos and threes, and roaring with every kill. (And he’s hoarse!) But we’re immortal now, remember? Ah, but along with that feeling come swift reminders that the non-immortal part of you is about to get wet again. Then, clouds blot out the view and transform your spacious world of soaring sky into a spooky realm of dark rocks and tree shapes. Immortality is probably going to entail more changes than we can handle. Maybe we’ll get used to it.

Choosing the coward’s way back off the Jumpoff, we wrest and tug our way through waist- and chest-high grass, wet now in places, and occasionally stumble through water. About thirty minutes into this new eternity we’re back on the beautiful trail and the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the cool Smoky Mountain breeze has transformed the human body into an abode of summer delight. Great rasping peals of laughter reverberate from the Jumpoff as the storm giant, no coward he, leaps into the abyss.

© John Womack, 2006. All Rights Reserved.