Before invading just about every jungle block in Costa Rica, ziplines were a practical necessity in mountainous regions, where they were a means of transporting both goods and people. With the boom in ecotourism, enterprising operators realized tourists will pay good money for the opportunity to slide faster than a monkey through the canopy, learning about the environment as they do so. I’ve ziplined on four continents, and here’s what I’ve come to realize:
Usually, the environment consists of trees, which is why this neat little operation in Grand Falls zip-zags its way onto the bucket list. The town is named after the waterfalls it cradles, where the Saint John River drops 23 metres over a rock ledge, creating one of the largest Canadian falls east of Niagara. Eric Ouellette, a local civil engineer with some big industrial projects under his belt, saw the potential and opened Zip Zag for business. It took his team two years to build dual racing ziplines across the gorge, spanning 150 metres above the raging whitewater. He rightly believed that the only thing sweeter than a huge waterfall is ziplining through its spray on a bright, sunny day.
I collect my harness at the Malabeam Information Centre, where visitors learn about the area’s history, the hydroelectric project, and how Eric and his team used 2,500 ice blocks to create the world’s largest domed igloo, as certified by Guinness World Records. Clearly, here is an impressive man committed to random achievements. The only requirements for zip-zaggers are that they weigh between 25 and 125 kilograms and are capable of walking up stairs.
Eric’s wife, Christine, slips me into a harness and gives a brief demonstration, and then we walk to the launch zipline. Ziplining is perhaps the easiest of all “adrenalin” activities, requiring hardly any physical effort and offering the security of knowing you’re safely connected to a steel rope over-engineered to take the weight of an elephant. Once I kick off, it takes only seconds to get across the canyon, which is where the real fun begins: the dual lines 23 metres above the waterfalls.
Grand Falls, also known as Grand Sault, is one of only two municipalities in Canada with a bilingual name. Over 80 percent of its population are completely bilingual, including all the Zip Zag guides. This is useful for American customers (the town is right on the Maine border) and Québécois customers driving in from 80 kilometres away. Regardless of whether you whoop in French or in English, once your feet leave the wooden platform, you’ll find yourself gliding along at 30 to 40 kilometres an hour, and with an awfully big smile on your face. A sheet of fine mist gently sprays me as I make the crossing, which is over too soon, as ziplines usually are. While the overall experience might take around an hour, the actual flying time can be counted in seconds. But believe me, those seconds count infinitely more when you’re flying over a raging waterfall as opposed to a jungle canopy. There’s no practical reason why anyone needs to zipline in this day and age, which is exactly why it’s so much fun to do so.
START HERE: canadianbucketlist.com/zipline