Zach Liptak's idea of blowing off steam is flipping backward off a 35-foot cliff into a tiny swimming hole, feet pointed at the clouds and arms out like Superman.
"Cliff jumping is about finding the biggest, most terrifying slab of rock and flying off it with grace and poise," says Liptak, who snapped a photo of a friend making just such a jump from Candy Rock and posted it on his Instagram. "The terror immediately dissipates once you’re airborne."
Liptak belongs to a community of adrenaline-crazed jumpers who have been meeting through Instagram and one-upping each other diving headlong from rocks, bridges, and bluffs around the country. They jump from as high as 100 feet, always posting vertigo-inducing pics and videos online. “If you don’t have the evidence to prove it,” says fellow cliff diver and documentarian Jeff Edwards, “you’ve never jumped it.”
Ask anyone where cliff jumping originated and everyone will give a different answer. Some say it started in Hawai'i. Others say it was a rite of passage for the young men of Arizona’s Supai tribe. Wherever it started, it's gone mainstream with the rise of Instagram and Youtube. You know it's thoroughly crossed over when Red Bull sponsors an international world series and guys like Devin Supertramp spend thousands making slick videos.
Liptak goes cliff jumping with a rowdy sect of enthusiasts in Northern California called Excursions Always, while Edwards leads a SoCal group called LA Swim. They all got together recently for a nine-day road trip of the best jumping spots in NorCal. It's a great way to meet friends while hurling yourself from absurd heights.
"I've met almost every single person I've hucked [jumped] with (besides friends I've grown up with forever) on the Internet," says Mike Berritta of the East Coast jumping group Cliff Life Media. "I've found friends on YouTube, Facebook and Instagram as well. I honestly couldn't even list who I've met through these social platforms, it would take forever."
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If jumping from a cliff sounds dangerous, well, duh! It is. People who don't know what they’re doing can easily break a bone or two, which is why people tend to start with so-called "pencil dives," jumping into the water feet-first and arrow-straight. Even though anyone with a lick of sense will make sure the water is deep enough—and clear of debris like stumps and rocks—seriously painful things can happen. "I was just in the hospital yesterday for head trauma and stitches," says Chase Reinford, whose super-saturated GoPro selfies are among wildest in the genre. "There have been so many deaths this year alone and it's tragic."
But hardcore jumpers say the risk is worth the exhilarating rush of free-falling a couple of stories. "It feels like getting a piggyback ride from a bald eagle and a back massage from Mother Nature,” says Berritta. "It’s the most adrenaline-pumping feeling in the world, but I’m also never more at peace than I am on the cliffs."
And then there's the joy of snapping a selfie in midair, or having a friend get the shot to prove, as Berritta says, you’re "the biggest badass out there." Jumpers shoot on everything from vintage cameras to high-end DSLRs to GoPros and drones, battling sun glare and water on the lens. While some are content to snap a pic and call it a day, others take great pains to get the perfect shot.
"I often find myself swimming across rivers with my camera high above my head or scaling cliffs to get the perfect angle," Liptak says. "I like capturing the specific moment where each jumper reaches the pinnacle of their jump. Each picture represents the apex of human potential."
