Zip-lining In the Canyons

From canyon floor to sky high, the zip line ride that made me fly.

I never thought I’d feel so peaceful hanging over a desert canyon, but there I was, clipped into a cable and ready to soar hundreds of feet above the ground. My first ziplining adventure took place at Skull Canyon Ziplines in Corona, California. We decided on their Extreme Course. It’s five ziplines, more than 6,100 feet of cable, and a steep 35 to 45-minute hike just to reach the top. By the time you get there, you’ve already earned the thrill.

I went with my aunt and uncle. My aunt was hyped from the start, ready for the adrenaline rush. My uncle, on the other hand, is afraid of heights. But the hike turned out to be his unexpected cure. The climb up through the dusty desert trail, surrounded by dry brush, boulders, and open canyon views, was enough to make him forget his fear. He said by the time he reached the top, he was too tired to be scared.

For me, heights have never really been an issue. I felt calm and curious, taking in the rocky landscape that stretched for miles. There were no tall trees here, just layers of sunbaked stone, winding paths, and the kind of silence that hums with anticipation. When it was finally my turn to clip in, I took one deep breath, leaned forward, and flew.

The air rushed past my face as the canyon opened beneath me. The dry wind carried the smell of dust and heat, and for a few seconds, I wasn’t thinking about gravity, just movement. I could hear my aunt screaming and laughing behind me, my uncle shouting in disbelief that he was actually doing it. We zipped across the open space, our shadows gliding over the rocks below, the sun beating down, everything wide and bright and alive.

When we landed at the last platform, we couldn’t stop smiling. My uncle looked at me, sweat on his forehead, and said, “That wasn't so bad.” That’s what happens when you say yes to something that scares you.

That’s what I love about moments like this. They remind you that fear doesn’t have to hold you back. Sometimes it disappears halfway up a dusty trail. Sometimes it’s waiting to be replaced by freedom, laughter, and the sound of wind rushing past your ears. Take the dare!