Inside the pod – above a yawning ravine – thumping techno played. It was meant to psyche me up – it didn’t help the nerves.

The first victim stepped up, adopted the Jesus Christ pose and took the leap of faith. They seemed to go forever…

The bungy cord went taut and snapped him back up. Everyone, staring through the glass bottom of the pod, gasped, seeing the ridiculous look on his face; half fear, half euphoria.

I had lived a full 27 years – I was comfortable to call it quits. I stepped up, put my arms out and looked into the distance… three, two, one, BUNGYYYYYYYYYY!

Momentarily I was flying forward until gravity kicked in, then down I went.

The ground rush you get from a bungy is something you don’t get from skydiving, accelerating towards nature at a pace only matched by your heart-rate. I was like Pierce Brosnan in GoldenEye – just without the composure as my arms flailed about and irrational thoughts raced through my mind. But saving my life, the cord became taut and sprung back upwards for the second part of my ride.

Back on the platform, everyone was waiting for the now-familiar expression of terrified enjoyment. I acted cool like 007. They must have had Q’s X-ray glasses ‘cos they see right through me.

The damage & the details: the Nevis Bungy ( costs $240