Chapter 15
“My name is Adolfo,” the father said as he sat in the front seat of the taxi.
They drove along the Costera Highway, a road that took them past beachfront hotels, sidewalk cafes, and carefree tourists strolling down the promenade.
Children sold candies on the side of the road.
An old lady holding rosary beads promised a blessing for a donation.
Lines ran across her face like roads on a map.
Eventually, the road led them up the mountain known as La Quebrada, a dark sand-colored mountain covered in boulders and jungle.
In between the wild mountain landscape were pockets of homes and hotels.
When they emerged on the other side of the mountain they were met by an expansive view of the Pacific Ocean, a view so breathtaking that the chatter in the car stopped.
Soon they arrived at the Miramar Hotel, an elegant white, seaside hotel made of concrete. The hotel looked onto the cliffs where the divers performed. In front of the hotel, a crowd of about fifty people gathered on a large viewing platform at the end of a cement peninsula with stone parapet walls.
Between the viewing platform and the cliff walls was a cove filled with white capped surf, where divers would soon plunge.
The taxi let them out at the end of the peninsula and they joined the crowd. The feeling of anticipation was electric. The stage was set, the crowd abuzz, the show about to begin.
“John Wayne’s house used to be up that hill,” Adolfo said, using his cane to point to a small pink hotel on the mountain. Scott gave Daniela a sideways glance. She shrugged as if to say, I don’t know how he does it.
“When did cliff diving start in Acapulco, dad?” Daniela asked.
“In 1934, two fishermen dared each other to see who could dive from the highest point on that cliff. They went all day, diving from higher and higher heights, until it got dark and they dove in the moonlight. From that day on it became a tradition and they’ve been diving ever since.”
“So, they just dive? That’s it?” Daniela said.
“Just dive?” Adolfo said, shaking his head.
“Daniela, there is more to it than that. They are diving from heights of 135 feet high. That’s as tall as a 13-story building.
Taller than the Leaning Tower of Pisa. But it’s not just the height that makes the sport so dangerous.
They have to time it perfectly, with the waves and wind crashing all around them.
Think of the pressure, Daniela. A bad jump could prove fatal, no different than a matador who slips in the ring. ”
A hush descended on the crowd as a man in a red speedo bathing suit appeared from an opening in the cliff wall. Behind the diver was an archway with a cross on top.
The man waved at the crowd, as the crowd cheered.
The diver was lean and muscular, tan from years of performing in the Acapulco sun. The crowd went as quiet as parishioners at a church. The wind and crashing waves sounded in the background.
The diver disappeared back into the archway.
“Where is he going, papa?” Daniela said.
“He is praying,” he said. “You see, cliff diving is an act of faith. One must trust in God because in cliff diving, as in life, you cannot always see the way. You need faith. Like me, my eyes may not work but I can see. I have faith. It’s here.” He pointed to his heart.
Adolfo turned to Scott. “What about you, Scott? Do you have faith?”
Just as Scott was about to answer, a clamor rose from the crowd as the diver reemerged.
“Papa, do you want me to describe what’s happening?” Daniela said as her father stared straight ahead toward the ocean.
“No, Daniela,” he said. “I don’t need eyes to see this.”
With an orange sun glowing high overhead, the diver put his hands to his side. His chest heaved several times, his lungs filling with air.
The diver stiffened, then pushed off from his legs and leapt forward.
His arms reached out wide as he positioned himself into a swan dive.
He soared in the air like he had wings. His lean, muscular, taut form was perfect as he entered the water like a knife, cutting through the ocean with barely a splash.
After a few seconds, the diver broke the surface, his hand raised in triumph. The crowd erupted in applause.
Daniela turned to Scott, her eyes wide. “Que bueno!” she said. “I didn’t realize how exciting that would be.”
Scott wanted to say something but suddenly became tongue-tied as their eyes met. She turned rose-colored as the romantic tension hung in the air like a tropical sunset, dramatic and powerful. Adolfo began wandering down the walkway. “I better follow him,” Daniela said slowly.
“Sure, I’ll get us some drinks,” Scott said. “Does your father want one?”
“I’m blind, not dead,” Adolfo called back, apparently still in earshot. “Of course I want one.”