On the way home after a perfect day, Peter mentioned that Dunbar, my Otter Bar instructor in 1996, had suffered a terrible accident. While shooting commercial video in Ecuador last winter, he attempted a run down a 50-foot waterfall and broke his back. 

Dunbar is one of those athletes who combine grace with individuality, so that ordinary gestures become signature moves. I will always aspire to the polish and glide of his forward stroke.  

When Peter said, “we’re hoping Dunbar will walk without pain by September,” it broke my heart.

Dunbar was someone I totally trusted in decisions about what to run. Did he make a mistake for himself that he would never have made for me? Did he set the “peak” for peak adventure that crossed the line into disaster? Did he put aside feelings of apprehension that probably came to him as he looked over the lip?

Just as some people can handle the dizziness of a “tilt-a-whirl” ride at a carnival, I can handle the anxious moment when I put in my first stroke above the Ikes, despite my pounding heart. Dunbar could handle more—maybe too much, but his skills are also far greater.

Should hearing about his accident make me more cautious, or is his situation vastly different from mine? Somewhere between the bear, the Ikes, and the waterfall, lies a balance to experience, between safety and peak adventure.

Like the river, it keeps changing on me.

Marion can be reached at:   marionf@omsoft.com  


 

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