Fear of Heights Strikes Again (RE-POST FROM 7/25/15)

This blog post was originally published on July 25, 2015. Enjoy your rereading experience! 

I have an issue with heights. Most of you know this already. My husband, Dan, is aware of this as well, but he still tricks me into situations that involve heights from time to time. In fact, Dan lured me into one of these predicaments over July 4th weekend.

"There's this cool waterfall past Trail Creek Summit. It's only a mile hike, and it has wheelchair access. It would be a nice leisurely trail before we head back to Boise. We should go," Dan said from our hotel room in Sun Valley.

Little did I know that "past Trail Creek Summit" meant driving a winding gravel road, over one thousand feet in elevation, with no railings protecting the sides. On the way up, I started to dread our return. I knew I would be the one dangling over the edge of the cliff that I could see out the driver's window as we crept up the mountain.

I was right. Coming back down was horrifying. During the times I dared peek out from between my fingers, it looked as though there was not even a lip of road protecting me from falling into the green and golden depths below.

As we drove down the gravel road, my meltdown started with me covering my eyes.

"Look at how pretty it is though," Dan said.

Pretty soon, my face was buried in my hands.

Dan had a difficult time hiding his amusement.

A few moments later, I turned my body away from the window and started bawling.

By this time, he was a little more sympathetic, "Oh no, Becky, don't cry," but he couldn't completely hide his amused grin.

Cars drove by us in the opposite direction. Each time, Dan had to pull over closer to the edge in order to let them pass us on the narrow road.

Once, we stopped by a group of motorcyclists, who were enjoying the view at one of the scenic overlooks and who didn't look at all bothered by the fact that they could easily stumble into the valley below. They did take a moment to stare at me though, the crazy passenger crying in the 4Runner driving past them.

"Oh no, this is embarrassing!" I moaned through my fingers.

I can't prove how horrendous this experience was because I have no pictures from the actual drive. All of our pictures during that trip were taken on flat land at the waterfall.

Later, Dan told me with a sigh, "I wish we could have stopped and gotten a picture, but that would have really sent you over the edge."

Asking myself, "Is the waterfall worth it?"

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