Cliff Hanger

June 1994 was a busy time for me, I had just started my first year at St Francis Xavier High and was enthusiastically trying to create a niche for myself in the ‘cool’ group. I had shown myself as a capable sports person as well as a snazzy dresser best exemplified on uniform free days when I had the opportunity to show off my slouch jeans. For those of you not in the know, slouch jeans came ridiculously oversized and in garish colours. The colour I’d regretfully chosen was bright purple...

Anyhow, on a brisk Sunday afternoon, I along with my sister and her squeeze at the time decided we should go abseiling at the local forest reserve ‘Ginninderra Falls’. ‘Falls’ was an appropriate title as many adventurers had fallen arse over tit on their travels to the recreational mecha.  

Abseiling is an adventure sport where people with more money than sense throw themselves ass backwards down a cliff face supported only by a ludicrously overpriced sliver of rope for fun (think Bear Grylls without the limited cuisine). I had some experience at the endeavour as my nutty next door neighbour at the time loved nothing more than putting his life in harm’s way in order for a cheap thrill.  Begrudgingly he lent me his harness for the day and told me to take care of it otherwise I would be reimbursing him for a replacement.

I had previously ‘seiled’ the cliff face and it was a pretty easy face for beginners... that is of course is if you have the right amount of rope. My sister’s boyfriend an outdoor adventure expert in the army, was keen to show off his prowess by abseiling a 50 metre drop with a 45 metre piece of rope!! After descending to a small cliff face he unclipped from the rope before unleashing a series of manoeuvres across sheer rock face before climbing up the mountainside impressed with his own work.

Upon his arrival back at the mountain top he reassured us of our safety claiming we were in ‘good hands’, although I had the distinct feeling he was only trying to put those good hands to use on my sister and I was just a pawn in his game. Carefully we made our way down the cliff face to ledge where ‘Bear’ would plan his next move in our journey, all very well to trapeze across the rocks when it’s your job, now you’ve got a 12 year old boy and his sister to take care of.

As our self confessed super hero navigated a way for us the rest of the way down the cliff we stayed perched on the ledge five metres from solid ground. ‘Bear’ went to lift himself up the edge when the boulder he bore weight on removed itself from the rest of the wall and headed directly towards him. Knowing he had no chance of surviving the impact he leapt off the ledge and fell five metres towards a steeply declining mountain floor collecting tree branches, shrubs and gravel along the way. ‘He’s fucking dead’ I cried into my sister’s shoulder. ‘It was my idea, I’ve fucking killed him.’ Although the idea of him sleazing onto my sister repulsed me, manslaughter wasn’t yet on my agenda!!

Anxiously we waited for any signs of life peering down the hill, after a 10 minute wait finally we heard rustling from below. Suffering severe lacerations to his head and body and with a broken arm ‘Bear’ threw it into a sling before putting it in his mouth and trudging bravely up a 45 degree angled hill, Ok I guess he was a tough bastard after all.

Back on the ledge my sister decided to leap a two metre gap to the other side of the hill, beneath which was a 10 metre drop onto rugged terrain.. in hindsight the idea was mental but relying on her 10 years of long jump experience from a childhood full of little athletics, she cleared the drop and then some... scrambling her way up the mountain. ‘Stay here, Ill go get help’ she said... ‘I’m not going ANYWHERE’ I thought.

After a 20 minute wait I was joined by a Park Ranger who was sent down to inform me the police were on their way and to keep me conversed and avoid any temptation of jumping off the cliff.

An hour went by and I was joined by another expert conversationalist this time from the police department, a friendly officer who looked like he had enjoyed the perks of a life time of free donuts joined me for a three hour chat. He did a good job and we shared the odd joke while I waited for the Police Rescue to do their thing. At one stage during the afternoon we were joined by a pesky news camera which was filming me from a distant vantage point in anticipation of some action. The only action that was going to occur was the explosion of my bladder, after 3 hours dying for a slash I told the officer I was ‘busting, but I’m not going while the camera is on 'cos he will put it on the tele.’ The officer made the camera man turn away while I attended to my urgent call of nature back teeth nearly floating before returning to my ledge a much relieved and relaxed little camper.

With the sun setting the Police Rescue finally made its way towards me after what seemed like an eternity. My hero, who didn’t resemble Gary Sweet in the slightest collected me and took me down the rest of the journey. My dignity was shelved for the time being as I clung on for dear life down to the mountain floor. With a huge sigh of relief we hit solid foundations and worked our way back up the hill, upon arrival I was rushed by a camera crew with the reporter leading the way with microphone in hand. The crew was briefly thrown aside as a mad woman pushed them aside before swooping me in her arms.

Mum was obviously caught up in the moment and after cramping my style in front of what I guestimated would be a 20’000 strong viewing audience, I dusted myself off in order to make myself presentable for the camera by cow licking my fringe. The journalist questioned my mother on her feelings throughout the ordeal before questioning me, I spat out some mindless dribble more concerned about the appearance of my New Kids on the Block style hair cut than what was coming out of my mouth.

Next down was my usual partner in crime the next door neighbour, I was impressed that he was so concerned for my safety he was the next down after my mother. His first question was ‘Is my harness ok!?’.... ‘Yes, your harness is fucking fine.. Im ok too by the way!!’ I replied before handing it over, after giving it a thorough inspection for any damage he turned to me and muttered something along the lines of 'that’s good then.’

We made our way back home me sheepishly tucked up in the back seat eager for a hot chocolate and some dinner, normally I couldn’t stand the grub mum dished up on a nightly basis but this time I was much more appreciative.

The local news flashed at 6pm, with the host highlighting the story of ‘Man falls off a cliff while boy left stranded’. We watched and I could see the amusing side to it all knowing everyone was alive and well, I could even stomach being hugged by my mum on the tele. Just as I was about to change channels after the local news I caught a glimpse of the national highlights.... there I was again in all my glory happy pants and all in the clutches of my panic stricken mother!!

It was too much to bear... the phone started ringing as nosey family members who hadn’t been heard from in decades checked in.

‘Everyone gets there fifteen minutes of fame’ my father consoled. ‘Great’ I thought ‘everyone gets there fifteen minutes and there’s mine at the age of 12 cutting a lone figure, taking a leak five metres off the ground before being rescued by a policeman and mauled by my mother in front of a national audience...Fucking Brilliant!!’

I woke up the following day telling mum I was too sick to go to school (is embarrassment an illness!?) Normally taking days off school was harder to come by than a friendly lesbian but mum let it slide on this occasion. I went and visited ‘Bear’ in the hospital and was reminded that I got off lightly, he was literally being held together by staples, stiches and bandages, he lay there motionless while the morphine worked overtime to keep him pain free.

On the Tuesday I decided I couldn’t milk anymore days off school so I made my way to the bus stop on Petterd St. where long time friend Celeste greeted me. I thought I may have slipped under the radar after five minutes of silence before she questioned ‘where you on the news the other night!?’ ..avoiding her question I stepped onto the bus which was eerily quiet and after swiping my card I walked down the aisle to a standing ovation!!

Whilst embarrassed I must say I quietly enjoyed the extra attention throughout the day. For my fifth and favourite class of the day we had P.E. playing a game of soccer, contesting a ball with a fellow classmate I won the battle for the ball while he lay frustrated on the turf ‘Fuck you, you fucken.... you fucken Cliff Hanger!!’....and so it was for the next 18 months whenever I pissed someone off they had a ready made retort!!

One more reason to hate Sylvester Stallone and his shithouse movies!!