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AUSTIN — “You’re not afraid of heights. You’re afraid of falling.” Cortnie Jones, our 20-something leader, was geared up in a helmet and halter, hefty ropes slung over her shoulder and a cheerful, confident aura around her petite frame. Behind her, a huge fishing net stretched like a spider web to the top of a small platform 35 feet up. Beyond it, wood stepping stones with a lot of air between them (the “Indiana Jones bridge”) stretched to another tall platform. Then came logs in a V pattern, highwires and finally – the way down – a brief zipline. Six of us were taking the Prickly Pear Challenge Course at Travaasa Austin, the resort formerly known as the Crossings, nestled against the Balcones Canyonland Preserve above Lake Travis. I get dizzy just thinking about heights even less than 35 feet. Growing up, I jumped from the high dive at the local swimming pool maybe twice, and I still get the heebie-jeebies remembering a diving board at the pool frequented by my daredevil cousins near Dallas. For the challenge, Jones and her small team of equally fearless instructors would tether us with harnesses clamped onto a safety wire. But it didn’t matter exactly what I feared – heights or falling. The thing still loomed. Before I could change my mind, Jones had us pair up and tell our partners three things about ourselves, which they would then relay to the group. So we learned that Brandi and Koshik were celebrating their first anniversary. That Jayme has a 20-pound chihuahua. That Amy’s husband was probably out on Lake Travis just then with their twin daughters. (She looked suspiciously buff and athletic.) You don’t really want to stand on a 35-foot high platform without knowing the people who are going ahead of you and coming behind. But the game also provided some mental distraction. Our gear was lined up on blankets on the ground. The instructors tightened our helmets and halters, then sent us over to a low wire to practice clamping and unclamping our ropes – dexterity we’d need to get up the web. A year ago, this resort was the kind of place you might take your guru from India: seriously spiritual. You can still stir your soul in the beautiful meditation chapel and garden. But when you get to the spa now, you might really deserve it. Its name riffs on the Sanskrit pravaasa, or “memorable journey.” Travaasa Austin is the first of several planned “experiential” resorts from new owners Green Tea LLC, who took over in April; another opens this month in Maui. The concept was the brainchild of founder Joy Berry, who wrote a thesis on it, took it to Wall Street and got funding, general manager Tim Thuell said. Travaasa aims to distinguish itself by combining wellness, adventure, cultural and culinary activities in ways that encourage self-discovery. You don’t come here just to change your body or your eating habits. “We hope we’ll start a trend,” Thuell said. On the May weekend I visited, climbing, hiking, horse whispering, culinary demos, drawing, journaling, harmonica basics, yoga and exercise classes filled the schedule. Journaling is important, Thuell said, so guests can remember later what it felt like to be standing 35 feet in the air, cold and scared, on the ropes course. A 50-something gentleman, Thuell took his first steps across the Prickly Pear course right behind me – and he looked just as terrified. The platforms swayed in the wind, which picked up just as we got to the top. Nothing I’ve done in years – hiking cliffs or rafting or passing cars on two-lane roads in the middle of nowhere – prepared me for the first step. I waved nervously to my husband, Don, who stayed on the ground, insisting he wasn’t wearing the right clothes to take the course. There was about a 2-foot gap between the platform and the first step of the “bridge.” Amy, laughing, tried the backward walking trick that Jones demonstrated. Jayme, looking determined, let go of the ropes and stuck her hands out in the air. When I finally went for it, the wood wobbled wildly beneath me, and my body with it. Something told me to relax and put my weight down to steady it, but I couldn’t listen. I got to the next platform on arm strength, clinging to the ropes above. If I felt elated by that first leg, it quickly dissolved as I faced the log walk. “Stop when you’re half-way across and enjoy the scenery,” Jones recommended. Right. There were treetops below, and the greens of a nearby golf course, and a distant highway. With a lot of open sky above and hard ground below. I tried to imagine where I’d be later that day – safe somewhere on the ground, maybe curled up in our room’s fluffy bed or blissed out on a massage table. As it turned out, a “bull fitness” class awaited in the Travaasa fitness center. Here was another surreal environment: a furry mechanical bull floated above an inflatable cushion about the size of a jet wheel’s inner tube. With the clean walls and weight machines, it wasn’t exactly Gilley’s. But C&W music played in the background and the gaggle of new friends were laughing hysterically. (Not surprisingly, Amy was the champ who couldn’t be pitched off the silly beast.) The next morning, the equestrian experience began, like the climbing challenge, with a round of “getting to know you” talk. Cowboy Keith Moon looked tougher than he sounded. “I like to think it’s therapeutic to be here, but my main goal is to make sure we enjoy ourselves in a safe manner and maybe learn a little bit about ourselves in the process,” he said calmly before asking if any of us were afraid of horses. Two of Travaasa’s six horses rolled on the ground like dogs in something smelly while Moon gave us a little 101 on horse psychology. They live in the moment and don’t hold grudges, he said. (Hint: You could learn to do that, too.) Then each of us got a horse – not to ride, but to brush. I cozied up to Jasper, a gorgeous, spirited bay. He smelled like the dusty earth. Stroking a horse’s muscles, you sense both his power and his vulnerability. Jasper seemed not to mind the attention, but he didn’t want to move away from the fence, so I had to muster the nerve to push him hard, near his strong back legs. Then we got into a small ring together, and he ran in circles, crazy-fast and hitting the iron, while I tried to control his direction and speed by cracking a whip on the ground. All at once, miraculously, he stopped; my cue to approach. And, just like Moon had said he would, Jasper – all 1,000 pounds or so of him – suddenly decided I was the boss and followed me around the ring without a lead. That felt almost as good as the moment I finally let go on the Prickly Pear course’s zip line, letting gravity take me where it wanted. I didn’t fall. I think I’d even do it again, and I might even be able to enjoy the view. © http://www.golfonline.jp/ . All Rights Reserved. (???????) GolfOnline???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? RBZ ?????????,rbz?????????
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