River Jumpers


Somewhere east of Reno (the exact location cannot be disclosed for reasons of protecting natural resources and keeping secret swimming holes secret) our whimsical wagon of wild west whoopee made a detour off of Interstate-80.  Leaving the bright yellow big rig safely camouflaged in the sagebrush, Dan and I hiked a half-mile alongside debris-strewn railroad tracks, cut through a rattlesnake-infested riverbed, and clambered up a treacherous volcanic cliff to reach a rendezvous with danger and adrenalin.  By the time we arrived at the cliff known only to a few brave souls, there was no turning back.  We had crossed the Rubicon.  Five brave Nevada teenagers, led by Bree – the only girl and the most daring of the bunch – provided us a security briefing on the dangers and adrenalin rush associated with this leap of faith from a ledge high above the raging Truckee River.  Dan went first, and…

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