For the 5 days that Chris's highline was up, many climbers, adventurers, and tourists walking along Tonsai Bay caught the incredible sight of him or others walking this tremendous line. This line is not for the feint of heart, and even caused a few climbers to question the approach (or sanity) of such serious business. After hiking to the location, the approach starts with a 10m vertical ascent of a fixed rope using ascenders or prusiks which brings you to a sloping ledge. From here, a fixed rope traverses up and to the right around the wall; at times I was leaning out from a vertical wall with nothing but a rope in hand to hold on to, 30m(100ft) from the rock below. Once around the corner, another few meters of traversing brings the cave where one end of the line is anchored, and the adventurous few wait for their turn on the line. Its a squat, warm cave with an incredible view of the bay, but a relatively shitty one of the highline, unless you dare to hang out from the top of the overhanging cliff where the cave resides. Leaning out from the cave, while someone is on the line, is the quickest way to realize how incredibly loose this line is. Depending on where the person in on the line, they may be anywhere from 3 - 6 meters below the anchors! With a little convincing from Chris I traversed the wall out of the cave and positioned myself to secure into the leash attached to the line. Even before touching the line, I knew that it was a beast out of my skill set, but as a sucker for punishment, I clipped into the wheeled hangover, and slid myself out into that once empty space residing between the two towers of limestone. The view in every direction, up, down, and 360 degrees around is incredible from this perspective, but it comes at the price of having to take a fall on the line, which is something almost too much for the mind to handle. As the hangover is removed and clipped to my harness, and I have swung my center of balance up and over the line to a sitting position looking out at the vast length stretched out in front (and behind) of me, my mind begins to race questions: "why the heck am I sitting out here? This has got to be the stupidest thing I have gotten myself into. Is that anchor/pillar of rock strong enough to take repeated falls?" In the end, desppite worries of safety and well-being, and with rapidly fading light, I mustered up all the courage I could, and with a countdown while looking out over the expanse of the beautiful bay, did a front flip out into space.