If there is a fear of falling, the only safety is deliberately jumping.
1983: The Big Fall
I was in bed for six weeks and in a walking cast for another six. Baby Rachel is off to my left.
1993: On Top of Masada
The cable car up to Masada
Once we exited the tram car at the top of Masada, we had to make our final ascent on
a metal grated staircase. Don't let the smile fool you; I was full of the collywobbles.
I was quite worried about people falling off the top of the fortress.
2006: Arriving Home from Austin, Texas
My father, who was 77 at the time, and I took the metro from National Airport to Braddock Road.
That's my building in the background.
My dad went tumbling down this escalator with his luggage right behind him.
Luckily, someone stopped his fall at the bottom.
2007: Grand Canyon
Neither my father nor I felt very safe along the unguarded side of the Grand Canyon.
The Skywalk on the West Rim of the Grand Canyon.
Neither of us were brave enough to walk the glass-bottom skywalk.
It wasn't until we were planted on benches for lunch that we both felt safe from falling.
2010 - 2016: Niagara Falls
I traveled to Niagara Falls twice a year for six years as part of my tours. I never failed to warn about falling.
The falls are enticing, but please do not climb over the railing.
2012: LimeRock Inn
Susan took quite a spill in the shower, resulting in a concussion and a free room for the night.
When we got back to the LimeRock Inn, PJ and Frank -- that's Frank in the photo --
served us blueberry muffins, poached eggs, maple bacon, and grilled potatoes.
Horseback Riding Excursion to the Maras Salt Mines
I had not been on a horse in decades: I already had the
collywobbles before we started up the mountain.
Susan and I took a ride up a mountain in the Sacred Valley.
Both of us were scared of falling off the cliff!
Maras Salt Mines
2015: Plitvice National Park
A walk along the crystal lakes on a wooden pathway included placing a walking stick
into a space between wooden planks, plunging me into the water.
2018: South Africa
My ankle gave out on a Sunday afternoon on a quiet street in Cape Town.
Rachel and I eventually made it back to Kloof Street to catch a taxi.
When I returned home, I scheduled my ankle replacement for March 2018,
35 years after my fall down the stairs.