It was
not the picture that I had held in my imagination. Perhaps overly
influenced by photos of Dean Potter solo high-lining above Yosemite,
the picture I held had me looking cool, thrillingly poised, yet in
control and making delicately deliberate progress across the line to
the other side. Orange cliffs behind me, black water below.
I'd been
slacklining only about three months. From the moment I was first
introduced to it, in a Banff festival film, I knew I wanted to step
onto the line to feel the taught and delicate balancing sway of the
tape under my bare feet, and to experience that beautiful coming
together in movement, of body and mind.
