It's the screaming I notice first. Not horrormovie-type screaming, just random shrieks of exhilaration coming from the forest.
"Are you nervous?" inquires one of the guides.
"A little," I admit.
"Don't worry, these ziplines can support 9,000 pounds and they're designed by the best engineers," she says.
"I once spent an hour stuck on my roof, too scared to climb down a ladder," I think about telling her, but we've only just met so I don't.
The people who run Superfly Ziplines at Cougar Mountain just north of Whistler are probably used to nervous grownups. After all, this is home to Canada's longest, fastest, highest ziplines, where speeds of more than 100 kilometres per hour are made possible by runs well over a kilometre long, 200 metres off the ground.
On the base camp stereo, Bobby McFerrin is singing "Don't worry, be happy" and I wonder if Superfly's engineers are the same engineers who suspended a Volkswagen Beetle from the Lion's Gate Bridge. I wouldn't mind. That feat always impressed me.
My wife Leah and I are instructed on how to suit up in our helmets and paragliding-style harnesses. We're each handed trolley rigs, which will eventually mount half an inch of galvanized steel with us hanging underneath, secured by straps and carabiners.
Moments later we're on a bus to the first of six ziplines, this one just a few hundred metres in length to get our feet wet. Anticipation replaces nerves and Leah and I are first in line when our attendant asks, "who's next?" We edge our way to the front of the wooden platform and are clipped into our trolleys, which are attached to the parallel zipline cables. Leaning back, our harnesses feel more like La-Z-Boy chairs and our arms and legs dangle.
I make a conscious effort to appreciate the view and I notice the clouds are parting over Mount Wedge where there's still a little snow. Then our attendant releases a lever, gravity kicks in and treetops are rushing towards us. Midscream I catch a bug in my mouth so I stop. Seconds later we jolt to a halt via an automatic braking system atop another platform. Ziplining is actually pretty easy, I decide. Aside from assuming a braking position called the starfish (arms out, knees up and apart) towards the end of the line, there are no other judgment calls to be made. Just sit back and enjoy the fast-moving view.
The next run is a little longer and features ziplines close enough together for Leah and I to hold hands. How romantic, I think. "I don't want you slowing me down," says Leah.
So we race. I follow the attendant's advice to "be a pencil," keeping feet together and arms in. He counts down from three and releases us simultaneously. The extra slice of cheesecake last night ensures I win a photo finish. (Heavier means faster.) The torpedo style is well suited for blustery days like today.
The winds gusting through the valley separating Cougar and Rainbow mountains can occasionally be strong enough to halt the progress of younger, lighter zipliners. Attendants are well practiced at retrieving the occasional rider who stops a few feet short of the platform.
Another shuttle bus takes us higher to the first of two new ziplines added this summer. At 1.2 kilometres and 1.3 kilometres long, the lines are the longest in Canada and come closest to fulfilling Superfly's invitation to be a bird for the day. Yes, the speed makes both runs feel like a bungee jump with a destination, but what really thrills is the length of time in flight. Unlike an amusement park ride, there's time to appreciate the trees, cliffs and mountains while shouting at your wife and adjusting your sunglasses. I even considered calling the office mid-flight so they could hear me scream.
The penultimate zipline, nicknamed Godzilla, is shorter but just as fast because it features the steepest descent. By now I've refined my torpedo style, braking only into the starfish position at the last moment before a loud but cushioned landing. Two and a half hours after we began, we cruise into a solid landing on the sixth and final zipline. I've forgotten my initial doubts about trusting carabiners, thin steel threads and the effectiveness of a helmet in such conditions.
"Whoa, that's some serious speed," says the attendant while unhooking me from the final zipline. He may say that to everyone, but it beats "are you nervous?" If you fly: The Superfly Zipline Tour is open year-round, lasts about three hours and runs every 30 minutes all day. It costs $129. Minimum age is seven; minimum weight 60 pounds, maximum weight is 250 pounds.
Superfly also runs Treetop Adventures at the same location. Suspended bridges, Tarzan swings, monkey bars and tightropes make up more than 70 challenges set up in the forest canopy. Price $59.
For more information, visit superflyziplines. com/.
The Westin Resort and Spa in Whistler offers a Superfly package, including overnight accommodation and one zipline ticket per person, from $266. Call 866-716-8101 or visit westin. com/Whistler.
