ACTION
Two figures stand alone on a cliff edge, silhouetted against the bleak, windswept landscape of the Aran Islands off Ireland’s west coast. Some 24m below them lies the Serpent’s Lair, a natural pool formed over centuries as rock bowed to the might of the churning Atlantic beneath it. One man raises his arms above him, takes a breath and launches forwards. Time seems to slow as his body morphs gracefully into a series of shapes, twisting and somersaulting, until he is dead straight, preparing for the impact that will decide his fate. His taut body disappears into white water with a splash that is barely audible. Inis Mór is known to some as ‘The End of the World’ and its stark beauty is a fitting backdrop for a sport in which grace belies brutality. Entering the water at speeds of more than 90kph is like hitting concrete, and cliff divers must prepare both body and mind to avoid disaster. Colombian Orlando Duque and Briton Gary Hunt are two of only a handful of competitive cliff divers in the world; a small community in search of the next high, training relentlessly to avoid the inherent perils of their sport. Divers accelerate to top speed in just 2.5 seconds and slow to zero in one second and just 3m of water, making cliff diving a niche activity. Few can stomach the dizzying heights, the mental weight of the potential for harm or the physical strain of the jarring impact.
1/ FEEL THE FEAR
F
rom an average height of 27m, cliff divers know that only a perfect execution of their tucks, pikes and somersaults will allow them to emerge from the heavy impact with the water’s surface unscathed. Yet they seek out this danger at every opportunity. “The way I’d summarise someone who takes part in this type of sport,” says Brian Germain, a psychologist, skydiving instructor and author of the book Transcending Fear, “is that they’re less afraid of dying than of not living.” Most divers don’t try to block out feelings of fear that consume them before a dive. “I do get scared,” says Orlando Duque. “You’re aware of the consequences of something going wrong. I actually try to use that to remind me of what I need to do. If I get too comfortable, I may overlook something, so I use the fear to help me concentrate so I have a safe dive.” Fear is a response intrinsically entwined with the adrenaline highs of a dive. “It’s amazing what goes on when you push yourself beyond your comfort zone,” says Rhonda Cohen, a Sports Psychologist at Middlesex University who specialises in extreme sports. “You have a whole emotion of fear, and your body produces chemicals such as adrenaline at that point we call ‘fight or flight’. But when it comes to the fear of danger and the adrenaline rush of a cliff dive, it would seem one can’t exist without the other. “When you’re standing on top before you dive, you feel anxious, you’re stressed and you’re scared; then, once you’re underwater, everything switches,” says Duque. “It’s like a 180-degree turn and you’re suddenly super-happy. Sometimes I come out of the water and I’m shaking because it’s such a difference in feelings.” Sports psychologists believe that this need for high risk in return for adrenaline develops in people who have a higher threshold for danger. In order to achieve the same thrill level most of us get from a rollercoaster, they need to engage in a riskier activity, and then harness the fear that comes with it. “If we decide to turn [anxiety] into positive energy, we will have a wonderful ride,” says Germain. “That’s the ultimate answer to fear: learning to embrace it.” Gary Hunt agrees with this theory. “I’m addicted to that feeling of fear; that adrenaline rush,” he says. “If it wasn’t scary, I probably wouldn’t do it.” 57