Grease from the Blackstone grill drips onto the ground as an eager-eyed dog gratefully licks at the cold earth beneath her feet.
Alan Bisgaard shovels a fried egg and tortilla off the stovetop onto a paper plate, placed on a plastic foldout table behind him.
This is routine for the San Francisco native. Each morning at the campsite, he fires up the grill to cook his famous breakfast burritos and sandwiches for the crew, also known as some of his closest friends.
The campsite, nestled in the cleared-out portion of a handful of acres the crew owns, is home to Vertigo Bungee, run by a group of friends off the historic Young’s High Bridge they bought with the sole purpose to give adrenaline seekers the thrill of a lifetime and build their jumping community.
In the shadows of Wild Turkey Distilleries and stretched out above the winding Kentucky River, stands a 1,659-foot former railroad bridge, located in Lawrenceburg, Kentucky.
In 2013, co-owner Doug Frutos, along with three of his friends, purchased the bridge for $105,000 from an old acquaintance. The crew then spent countless years working to transform the old railroad into an adrenaline junkie’s paradise.
Bungee jumping is an extreme sport that involves jumping headfirst off high rise structures, mainly bridges, with a bungee cord attached to your ankles. There are several jump sites throughout the U.S., though Vertigo is the one of the very few on the East Coast, with a majority being out West.
Jumpers from all across the country flock to the bridge. Operated one weekend per month, May through October, anyone can sign up to jump with the crew.
Frutos has known several of the crew members for around 33 years. Finding a commonality through jumping, this bridge keeps them all connected throughout the year, a place they can all reunite during the summer.
Without this bridge, the friends would rarely see each other. Meeting each other through jumping out in the Pacific Northwest, where most of the crew is originally from, the group has met friends of friends wherever they travel and have over the years, rapidly grown their crew.
“An old acquaintance of ours from Tahoe, (where the business originally stemmed from) he came out here and looked at it, who owned it and pretty much asked him if they’d sell it so we could turn it into a bungee place,” Frutos said.
At camp, Rob Hatcher, another co-owner of the bridge, carefully loops bungee ropes around his upper body and reaches for his OneWheel. Elliot Barstow walks out of a camper, brushing his teeth and Mike Padgett revs his bike and heads out of camp. An early morning bridge setup awaits the crew.
The faint smell of gasoline trails the group as they pedal, glide and ride onto the bridge. The entrance to the platforms, surrounded by fog and dust from the quarry below, hides the snaking river.
Hatcher unlocks a chest and removes a blue harness along with several carabiners, which are safety clips that hook onto the cords and harnesses. Carefully fitting the harness around himself, he steps out onto one of the two platforms and clips himself to a safety line. He repels below the platform to secure the cords and make sure everything is in working order for his friends jumping later in the day.
Many jumpers who come to the bridge are first timers, never having experienced the feeling of standing on the edge of a platform with only a bungee cord holding onto them.
“I mean initially when they show up here on site, (the first-time jumpers) they are pretty shy. Our website doesn’t really tell a whole lot, it’s like a pretty basic thing,” Frutos said. “It’s not intentional, but it does kind of add a little mystery when they get here and see us and meet us.”
Barstow is newer to the sport, since he has only been jumping with the guys for eight years. He recalls jumping in many places across the U.S. such as Foresthill, California and in Royal Gorge, Colorado.
“This is just like a typical Wednesday, and this sums up every day of my life, this is what I do. I hang out with my cool friends and travel around the world, do cool stuff, that’s all I do now,” Barstow said. “I don’t even really jump that much; I’m just stoked to be here.”
Even as the fearless individual he seems, Barstow still remembers his first few jumps off the bridge and the rush of fear that came from standing on the edge of the platform.
“It’s the commitment, when you’re on the edge it’s scary, but as soon as you’ve committed, it’s all done and you’re just in the moment, which is pretty funny,” Barstow said with a laugh. “But I’ve done it enough now that I’m not terrified to be on the edge, but there’s still a little bit of some type of fear at all times. That makes it exciting.”
Before packing up equipment for the evening, the crew typically spends time performing a few more jumps before nightfall.
The sun has slowly begun to dip behind the rolling hills, casting a soft orange glow across the river valley. A breeze is faint against the early evening air as Red Bull athlete Brian Grubb grips onto the side of the platform. His eyes briefly fall to the flow of the murky water below and wander there for a moment. With a swift motion of his arms, he propels himself forward, gracefully falling into the open air below until he is stopped by the length of the cord.
Plummeting into the open air is nothing new for Grubb though.
Making his way up from Orlando, Grubb found a family within the crew. Grubb said he always makes it a point to come up to Kentucky to spend time with the group throughout the season.
Grubb has been jumping with the guys since the early 2000s, after meeting them through a mutual friend in Washington. He has always enjoyed the camaraderie and teamwork involved in bungee jumping with the guys to be something he enjoys.
“A lot of those jumps are in the middle of the night, and we’re not really supposed to be there,” Grubb said. “But I mean we’re just stealing altitude, and those missions are really fun. Every jump, every bridge is a different height, so you gotta know how much cord to use. I kind of fell in love with all these air sports, like with Vertigo Bungee and hanging out with these guys, it’s so cool.”
With such diverse clientele, from young children to senior jumpers, the group atmosphere helps to enhance the sense of community while out on the bridge, Frutos said.
People come out to the Young’s High Bridge from all different walks of life, according to Frutos. But everyone who comes out to jump is not always in search of the thrill of an adrenaline rush.
“Sometimes they’re going through cancer treatment, a divorce and they just need some other challenge to accomplish, you know, to get them past a rough patch,” Frutos said. “That’s actually pretty common … I’ve actually seen people change because of jumping. They look like a completely different person when they come back. Whatever was going on, it’s not going on anymore.”
The size of the group ranges anywhere between 30 to 50 people, according to Frutos. The majority of them are complete strangers to each other, which adds to the excitement and energy of jumping.
The excitement even reaches some of their more seasoned jumpers, such as Bob Lute, a 77-year-old from Granger, Indiana.
Finishing up his tenth year, bungee jumping was a bucket list activity for Lute. He brings the whole family with him now, including his 10-year-old granddaughter who also jumps and is a member of the crew.
Bundled up in the chilly Saturday morning air, Lute walked up to the check-in table with a smile stretched wide across his face. He was finally able to make the trip in for a few last jumps before the season concluded at the end of October.
“The best part about being here at Vertigo with the crew and everyone is you’re part of the family. You’re not just a number on a sheet of paper … they’ll call you by name out there, not number three or number 12, it’s Doug or Bob” Lute said. “And they just make everybody feel safe … and it really eases that stress for the newbies here.”
The crew at Vertigo fosters a sense of community, a feeling that is sometimes non-existent at other larger bungee jumping businesses, according to Frutos.
Even after having jumped around 60 times now, Lute said he still experiences that feeling of nervousness each time he walks out onto the bridge.
“If you’re out there and a little unsure, they (the crew) talk to you. They know exactly what to say to put your mind at ease so not everybody is gonna be nervous,” Lute said. “I’m still nervous about doing it, but I do it anyway. It’s a rush and it’s really a thrill.”
The wind is brisk as the last few jumpers get weighed and checked in. Two young girls smile nervously at each other as Hatcher checks them in for the session.
Lute strays away from his granddaughter to mingle with other jumpers, shaking hands and giving hugs to crew members he had yet to greet.
“I think the camaraderie of just being here with everybody is the coolest part. It’s what I’ve always loved about hanging out with these guys,” Grubb said. “These guys are the best in the world, so I’m just really thankful to be a part of the team.”
