HIGH STAKES
LOOK OVER THE EDGE of the platform and it hits you in the pit of your stomach. That lurching sense of visceral dread. Giddily, you look down and down and down. Snaking far below is the river, its water a murky shade of khaki. Brown leaves float in it like specks. At point-blank range, the 27-metre drop from the bridge is a harrowing prospect.
Yet here in Spain’s Basque capital of Bilbao, daredevils in tiny swimsuits will shortly hurl themselves off this bridge into the Nervión river in the final of the Cliff Diving World Championships.
Edging off the platform, I spy Rhiannon Iffland, the reigning women’s champion for the past four years. All golden tan and blazing blonde hair, she hails from Lake Macquarie, NSW, and is gunning to complete a clean sweep of seven straight victories to clinch the title tomorrow. When I confess how confronting I found viewing the drop, she winces and nods. “Trust me, I had exactly the same feeling when I walked out there fully clothed,” she says. “It takes a lot of getting used to. Really.”
It’s not just nerves that the cliff divers have to adapt to, but the phenomenal stress this extreme sport puts on their bodies. From 27 metres, the
