Good End for Wallenda

Last night, along with millions of other television viewers worldwide and an on site audience exceeding 100K, I tuned in to watch Nik Wallenda attempt to walk a high wire from the US to Canada across the brink of Niagara Falls.  And while I was as excited as anyone to watch such a foolhardy crazy brave nutjob man perform a feat that until recently was illegal since the 1890’s, I couldn’t help but wonder what motivated the munchkin to do it. Beyond his legacy as a 7th generation high-wire walker, I mean.

Was it Canada’s national health care plan that spurred the jaunt? A hankering for bacon? An outdated passport? A loose wire in his own noggin? Such were the questions in my mind as I nestled in beside Jimmy to watch. Well, that’s not exactly true. I told him to quit hogging the couch, grabbed several pillows from behind his back, adjusted the overhead lighting, and then I nestled in beside him to watch. A couch potato’s gonn’ couch potato, am I right?

After praying with his family for what seemed far too short a time given the maelstrom he wanted God to cover, 33 year-old Nik broke from the huddle and got down to business. Or up to business. A scissor lift spirited him to his start point above the Falls, and like the boy version of Tinkerbell, the diminutive daredevil mounted the 2 inch thick wire sporting one-of-kind, elkskin soled slippers made by none other than Mama Wallenda herself. Other aids included a safety tether reminiscent of Fear Factor stunts, a headset radio connecting him to his coach, and a handheld phone weighing a whopping 38 pounds!

Hmm. That doesn’t sound right. The emcees’ might have called the thing he gripped in both hands a balance board, come to think of it, even though it resembled a pole far more than a board, but what do I know? I probably would’ve grabbed an umbrella instead of a balancing anything, because I’m all about the hair. With gorilla-sized mist clouds and a steady drizzle that resulted in water hanging from the swaying wire in ragged sheets, the conditions were bound to vanquish even the strongest of hairsprays.

Good thing he’s a guy–I told Jimmy, too transfixed by Nik’s 1/3 mile journey to consider this surefire “hair-don’t” for long. Love in every cobbled stitch of his shoes or not, the dripping wire looked like a shrunken Slip-n-Slide and Niagara Falls no bumpered water park. So what if the free-hanging wire was “stabilized” by incremental 50 lb pendulum weights?

Some 700K of H2O pass the edges of the mostly horseshoed drop-off every second, cascading over 20 stories at a rate of 70 mph  to the rocks below, and taking absolutely no prisoners as it goes. The cross winds above the Valley: the term used to describe the mid-point of the walk, gust as strongly as 19mph and swirl from the South, Southeast, and Southwest as reliably as the latter touts its no-frills flights.

The man’s grace in both step and demeanor was remarkable. Literally “remark” able. He was poised enough to respond graciously to the emcees’ barrage of questions along the way, and humble enough to praise God with every step. In fact, the only break in his gentle and likeable demeanor came midway, when he actually lifted his eyes from the lifeline beneath his feet to heatedly tell the camera: “I feel like a jackoff wearing this thing.” (in reference to the safety tether officials insisted he wear.) Quite a surprising expletive from a hitherto soft-spoken man.

But enough build-up and questionable stats. Let’s get to the meat and potatoes! (Aside: meat & potatoes is an apt metaphor if you count as grace his number of en route prayers.)

Now that’s what I call a walk in the park. Or, as Great-Grandpa Karl Wallenda would say: “Life is on the wire. Everything else is just waiting.”