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Freefall at Fremont

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Zak Sonntag Casper Star-Tribune Via Wyoming News Exchange

Bungee jumping raises legal, moral concerns

 

By Zak Sonntag

Casper Star-Tribune

Via Wyoming News Exchange

 

CASPER — Standing on the beam edge of the Fremont Canyon Bridge, overlooking the meandering river 112 feet below, Dave See’s nerves were jumping — as you might expect of a person about to Superman into a ravine. 

“It looks a lot higher from up here,” he said, breathing heavily. 

He’s wearing a Ninja Turtles T-shirt and has a forearm tattoo that feels uniquely pertinent to the moment: It says “Don’t Die” — fitting body art for the type of man obliged to leap from a bridge, as though he needs a daily reminder that life requires caution. 

In this case, he likes his chances. 

He takes a deep breath and lunges over the edge, shirt sleeves rippling fiercely as he falls. The bungee tightens and yanks him back up like a yo-yo, then bounces him in massive arcs back and forth under the bridge.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all my life,” he told the Star-Tribune afterward. 

See is among a growing number of Wyomingites who have fallen in love with the adrenal-rich experience of bungee jumping, which enthusiasts say stands apart from other extreme thrills. 

 

Better than skydiving? 

 

While the Fremont Bridge doesn’t allow for the biggest freefall or bounce, its tight canyon walls provide an experience that is found in few other places. 

“Here you get this peripheral experience and an amazing sensation of the ground rushing right at you,” said Eric Lyman, proprietor of Over the Edge, the outfitter who organized the Fremont jump. 

He explains how the sport’s combination of freefall, bounce and spatial relationship to the ground allow for physical sensations unavailable by any other means. 

“The freefall in bungee is 100 times more exciting than the freefall you get in skydiving. In skydiving it’s hardly noticed. There’s wind, you’re already going a hundred miles an hour and you only get the sensation of changing directions from horizontal to vertical,” he said. “You get sensations with bungee jumping that you don’t get with other sports. You get the toss, that feeling of zero gravity at the height of the bounce, you don’t get that with anything else.” 

The sport is said to have begun in 1979 when English thrill-seekers jumped off the Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol, England. Since then the natural progression has been toward higher structures, longer ropes and bigger bounces. 

Although experts believe that progression is tapped out: Bigger isn’t necessarily better. 

Lyman’s demeanor is calm and authoritative, which seems to ease his client’s jitters ahead of the jump. His authority comes from both personal experience and technical training. 

He’s made hundreds of jumps himself, including from Royal Gorge in Colorado and out of helicopters above the Grand Canyon. 

He also brings knowledge from his background as a civil engineer, a role that saw him leading projects for the Idaho National Laboratory, and as superintendent on the Denver Broncos Mile High Stadium expansion in the 1990s. All the while he was jumping and experimenting with bungee materials – testing elasticity, for instance, by tying ropes to his Volkswagen bus and pulling them until they snap. 

 

Safety? 

 

Lyman’s experience comes at a premium in a sector with few industry standards or regulations. 

He believes the sport remains unregulated because it’s inherently safe, with fewer than a dozen fatalities in its history, most of which occurred in the sport’s early years. 

“There’s very few variables. We’re anchored to a bridge. We’re anchored to the body. We don’t just use one cord, we use three or four or five. And there are multiple attachment points to the body. We know all the specs and variables. It’s very safe and the community keeps it that way,” he said. 

 

Illegal? 

 

It may be safe, but that doesn’t necessarily make it legal. The Natrona County Roads and Bridges Department, which administers the Fremont Canyon Bridge, states in its Rules and Regulation policy: “Bungee jumping or the launching of rope swings from Natrona County bridges or rock faces is prohibited.” 

But rules and operating policy have different enforcement standards than legislative law, which creates enough gray space for bungee outfits to operate. 

Natrona County Sheriff’s Office could not be reached for comment. 

Road and Bridge Superintendent Mike Haigler told the Star-Tribune in an email, “As far as I’m concerned, it ought to be illegal.” 

 

Disrespectful? 

 

For some community members, the concern is not the legality, but the legacy, as the Fremont Canyon Bridge is the site of one of Wyoming’s most notorious crimes. 

On Sept. 24, 1973, Casper residents and sisters Amy and Becky Burridge were raped and thrown from the bridge. Amy died; Becky survived and lived another 20 years until the night she returned to the bridge and jumped or fell — this time fatally. 

Their story is told in the book “The Darkest Night,” and to this day their tragic fates elicits strong emotion among the community. 

“The fact you guys are doing it in the first place at this location is disrespectful…there are plenty of bridges here to jump off of. Leave Fremont bridge alone,” commented Casper-raised Mandy Jones on the Over the Edge Facebook page, a sentiment that was shared by other commenters. 

 

Life changing 

 

Jumpers, however, see it differently. 

Jumping this bridge was “an amazing and meaningful experience,” one man told the Star-Tribune afterward, asking not to be named. “It’s giving people a life-changing opportunity. I don’t see what’s disrespectful about that.”

Samantha Rayan, Casper resident and proprietor of the Forbidden Forest tattoo parlor, was among the day’s first-time jumpers. 

She said the experience was life changing and produced in her an intensity of present moment awareness she’s rarely felt before.

 “Your head is just totally clear. You’re not thinking about anything — it’s hard to explain,” she said. 

The courage curve is steep, but addictive: What began with trembling legs and short breaths transformed in freefall to exuberant laughter. Even before she was back on her feet, she was jonesing to jump again. 

“You can’t think. You just gotta send it,” she said.

 

This story was published on September 24, 2024. 

 

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