Did I mention that I’m afraid of heights? Not a crippling fear. I do not have acrophobia and do not want to diminish a very real anxiety disorder. Instead I have what I consider a reasonable fear — the fear of falling off high places. Since I have a history of fighting the urge to “fly” off bridges and cliffs, this fear relates to not only a reasonable fear for basic survival, but to a history of manic or hypomanic symptoms. “Stay on the bridge, Kitt, you cannot fly.” “Stay on the road, Kitt, you cannot fly. You are not driving Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.” Luckily, today I only felt the normal level of fear and had no manic desire to fly. Anyway, back to the prosaic…
Mammoth’s easiest trail, aside from their skill-building loop, requires taking an open air chair lift with no safety bar. (Postscript: My husband and son later showed me that there indeed was a safety bar. I didn’t see it because it was above my head, and I certainly wasn’t looking up any higher. Well, actually, I did enjoy a peak at the summit.) Did I mention that chair lifts freak me out? Well, while my more highly skilled man-boys (husband and teen son) took the gondola high into the clouds, I took the Discovery chair lift alone. So far, twice.
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