Fear is a strange feeling but as I stood on a tree branch peering nervously over at the cloudy blue water awaiting me eight meters below I had little time to reflect on such feelings. A row of keen adrenaline junkies waited patiently behind me, all looking as nervous as me as they waited for me to plunge into the cool water below. We made a few jokes and gave each other words of encouragement but now it was time for me to get on with it.

I didn't mind the height so much, it was more the fact that I couldn't see below the surface. I had no idea how deep it was or where a rock may be lurking, waiting to attack me on arrival.

I had seen other people do the jump and they were fine. Logic suggested that there was nothing to fear but something else within me casted doubt over such common sense. It was almost as though the cloudy water was also clouding my judgement. Either way, I jumped, I fell, I survived and benefited from a great thrill in doing so.

This was not the first time the mystery of the unknown had provided such a thrill as I found myself confronting fears in Vang Vieng.

The setting for the jump was the blue lagoon. A beautiful bright blue body of water which we had spent the last few hours trekking to, passing villages, limestone mountains and a wonderful ecolodge on the way.

On arrival we climbed up a mountain to a wonderful cave. The first chamber was magical, a giant cave with light streaming through an opening. The beam of light fell directly on a small statue of a gold reclining Buddha in the centre of the chamber. The rest of the space was dark accentuating the importance of this golden figure. As we walked further into the cave the crowds thinned and the light dimmed. The only directions were a number of red arrows painted intermittently on random rocks indicating that we were heading in the right direction. We did not know if there was a route or where we were going but we followed blindly, trusting in whoever had painted the arrows.

As the darkness grew, we switched on our head torches, wondering deeper, away from the sounds of the tourists. The further we went, the more nervous we got. We began to question our adventure. Are we being foolish? Too rash? Should we turn back? Despite this, we pushed ahead and just when the urge to bail would get strong, we would see signs of others who have passed through. Hand prints, the 'trusty' red arrow, a small glimmer of light in the distance. Finally we had a destination. Head for the light. It was 3:30pm and I found myself getting nervous about whether it would start getting dark outside. I wondered if we would be trapped in this cave as our destination faded away. Irrational! But darkness and isolation from others made us feel far away from safety.

We entered a second chamber, a magnificent dark space even larger than the first. Mountains of rocks were piled up around us and we scrambled through, finding our path. My senses were alive! My eyes searching for light and a safe path, my ears searching for sound and my hands feeling the smooth rock, searching for the next step.

I remember reaching what seemed like a dead end. Huge rocks loomed around us and the only way through was by crossing a ledge with dark voids on each side. I shone the torch down and could see no bottom. I hesitated and then we crossed as the fear factor peaked. The rest was simple. We scrambled through the cave and out the other side embracing the brightness of the sun and the comfort of having others around us. That's enough excitement for one day I thought as I approached the lagoon for a swim to cool off....this is when I saw the tree I jumped from.

There is a big difference between recklessness and taking calculated risks. With calculated risks I find myself constantly reevaluating the situation and weighing up whether to proceed, what the worst case scenario will be and what the exit plan will be should things not go to plan. I believe this has been key to making the most of our travels.

A typical example was my two days of rock climbing in the beautiful mountains of Vang Vieng. I booked a guide and the morning of my climb I was introduced to a boy who looked no older than 15 (turns out he's 20) and who was half my size. Now being a slim guy myself this made me nervous as he would be belaying me as I climbed. I sat on the back of his scooter as he raced towards the sleeping wall and sleeping cave climbing walls. He tried to communicate with me in his broken English and my nervousness grew as we approached the wall. We crossed the river on a slow boat and walked up to the wall where we would be climbing. It was awesome, an amazing wall for climbing, a beautiful river running behind me with miles of rice paddies stretching into the distance. We were early and so there was nobody else around. Great I thought, I had my pick of the routes. I inspected the gear and quizzed him on his climbing experience. He had good climbing knowledge and therefore my confidence grew. I lead belayed him as he set up an easy route and I climbed, taking my time to observe his technique. As we progressed I settled into the flow and had a blast, so much so that I had Charan join me the next day to learn basic climbing technique. We had an amazing day of climbing, clinging on to the side of these spectacular limestone walls. Thick tree routes trailed down the side of the wall and the surrounding forest provided an enchanting view. When tiredness set in we let go of the wall, suspended 15 metres high, just taking in the view. Simply magical, and as a bonus I now have a new climbing buddy....my awesome wife Charan.

Such times of uncertainty have provided some of the most rewarding experiences. To have great experiences you must push yourself to try new things. An important lesson that we will carry forward on our travels.