It's the kind of recreation that's fitting for Wallace.

Tucked away in tree-heavy hills, barely leaving a footprint. Allowing participants to enjoy nature, without interfering.

All that, while giving a jolt to the nervous system like no barrels of caffeine could.

After all, no one straps into a zipline to take a nap.

"I think it's the adrenaline rush," said Bonnie DeRoos, co-owner of Silver Streak Zipline Tours, about the zip appeal. "There's the greatest feeling of freedom. It's so exhilarating."

Bonnie and her husband David, both Wallace residents, had been investing in property there for years, she said, initially planning to develop houses on their 16, 10-acre parcels.

Then one day David returned from a drive on the property with a "crazy idea," Bonnie recalled: "How about a zipline course?"

Several months later, the west course of Silver Streak Zipline Tours is fully constructed, with six cables zigzagging down a hill looming over the small mining town.

Open since June, the zips range from 425 to 1,100 feet long, ending with side-by-side racing cables.

With an east course still in development, the DeRoos report that most weekends have sold out in Silver Streak's first season.

"It's got a little bit of everything," David said. "One (line) is to get acclimated, the second has great speed. Number three..."

"Gives you a heart attack," cut in Matt Weingart, a zipline guide.

With folks visiting from across the country, even from around the world, roughly 1,800 have strapped themselves into the cables on the course, Bonnie said, which takes roughly two and a half hours to complete and costs $75 per person.

No injuries yet, staff assures.

"It's a great, great course," Bonnie said. "And there's no work to it. You just let yourself go."

Letting Go

I tested that on Monday.

Zip guide Drew Plate summarized all my doubts when the shuttle dropped us at the top of the hill.

"This could be the beginning of the end, maybe," Plate teased as photographer Shawn Gust and I tried to walk casually in our body harnesses. "You did sign a waiver, after all."

The set-up is efficient. The cables of varying lengths sweep customers over hills and trees. Each is separated by a trusty wood platform for clipping and unclipping.

Maybe this goes without saying: Below each zipline is a long, long drop. To the sides, endless scenery comparable to that on the Route of the Hiawatha.

The hard part - the heart-cramping, now-or-never, how-much-do-I-really-trust-clip-and-harness-technology part - is taking the plunge off the platforms.

Not even a plunge.

"Just sit back and lift up your feet," Weingart instructed as I stole a downward glance at the first 425-foot-long zipline.

Below, the landscape dropped away to reveal treetops and a mess of branches, ready to mash my body up real nice, should things go wrong.

And this was the "bunny slope," according to Plate. The quick zip to get folks adapted to the feel and the proper form of sitting back, lifting the legs, reaching for the stop rope at the end.

"Clear to go," Plate crackled over the radio, after he zipped down the cable with Tarzan-like ease.

Fight-or-flight battling it out inside me, I forced my feet off the platform.

Then it was just happening. I was flying through the air, trees whipping by my dangling legs. The trolley above my head hummed along the cable, my harness hugging my seat with assurance.

Everything was working smoothly. I felt weightless, coasting in awkward, harnessed flight.

Reaching the end and climbing onto the next platform, I felt refreshed, confident.

But apparently I didn't look it.

"You look really, really nervous, to be honest," Plate said with a laugh as he reached to unhook me. "Are they making you do this?"

Zipping

Past Fear

Every zip offered a different surprise.

We whizzed down the 725-foot cable, which added more speed. Next was Dragon's Breath, the 1,025-foot line with an immediate drop downward, prone to bringing water to the eyes.

"It's kind of like stepping off a six-story building," Plate said, adding that mist sometimes hides the end platform.

But my fear was becoming elation. Once the zipline propelled me forward, rocketing me past trees, I twisted to drink in the panoramic view of hillsides and forest.

I felt nothing but ease on the following two lines, each 1,100 feet and allowing a more relaxed glide. The finishing zip, with side-by-side, 1,000-foot cables, provided both a view of downtown Wallace and a chance for Shawn and I to test who was the superior zipper.

Let's just say we're all winners.

"I always tell people, if you're sharing a bed with someone, let the woman win," Plate said of wedded couples that come through.

The zip course is for all ages, with a minimum weight of 96 pounds and a maximum 270.

Carrying some extra pounds helps for speed, Plate noted.

Dean Cooper, co-owner of the 1313 Club in Wallace, said he's conquered the course twice.

"It was addicting," Cooper said. "They ease you into it, so by the third (line), you've got a full-steam going."

Silver Streak generally allows up to 8 in a tour, Plate said, with zips running in most conditions except heavy winds and lightning. Reservations can be made through October, by calling: 556-1690.

The greatest benefit is making people happy, David said.

"You see the smiles after people come in from after," he said. "People who have been apprehensive, they feel good that they've overcome that sense of fear."

Wanna zip?

Silver Streak Zipline Tours offers reservations through October. The cost is $75 per person.

To make a reservation, call (208) 556-1690