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From wakeboard to spinal board
Entry 22 of 68 | show all | print this entry |
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Not wishing to cause my mother any undue worry I shall first say this. I'm OK (well sort of).
Jen and I set forth from the kind and generous hospitality of our German hosts to experience the calming and relaxed atmosphere of Great Keppel Island, situated 40mins boat ride from the Marina at Yepoon. Leaving the van locked up at a 'lock up' we eagerly headed onto the boat via the ice cream shop. From here on in I shall recount the tale in reverse, preventing those likely of giving in to temptation from skipping to the end to read about 'spinal boards' and thus missing the not-so-dramatic bit in between. Our third and final day on the island began again with our failure to arise for sunrise...
We arrived for our wakeboarding lesson in good time, allowing us 20 or so minutes to don our life jackets (thank the sweet Lord for that), pick up our boards (which looked a bit like the hover boards in Back to the Future 2 but without the, er, hovering bit) and prepare our cameras for the Lord Lichfield style snapping likely to ensue when either of us does something remotely dangerous. Striding into the water looking like she had just stepped out of a Paula Abdul video in her tight neoprene shorts (apparently provided for ladies to prevent water from entering unwanted areas, whilst men just grin and bear it) Jen strapped on her board, and I hopped in the boat camera at the ready. i am pleased to say that jen was a complete natural. using her finely tuned snowboarding skills she progressed from the beginners 'bar' to the rope in no-time and could be seen effortlessly skipping over the waves with a Wallace and Gromit sized smile plastered on her face. The great inspiration to stay on your feet when waterskiing or wakeboarding is the knowledge that if you do fall, you are likely to either swallow a large volume of seawater or recieve a very unwanted enema, and so it was when Jen's arms had finally had too much she chose option 1 and face-planted beautifully into the water guzzling down a good couple of litres of Aussie seawater.
I was up next, so I strapped the board to my feet and was pushed, rather unceremoniously, backwards off the side of the boat into the cool blue. My first Wakeboarding experience started well, applying those same snowboarding skills that had benefitted Jennifer not moments before, and I rose out of the water confidantly gliding along the water's surface. After 5 minutes or so it was time to try the rope. it was fromthis point where the day started to unravel. Sitting in the water with an ironing board strapped to my feet clutching the handle of a rope attached to the back of a twin engined speed boat I started to do some quick calculations. Just how much power would it require to lift a 12 stone man out of the water when he essentially has a snow plough sized board attached to his feet under about 6 inches of water? I soon found out. The driver eased forward on the throttle and I felt myself being dragged through the water like a fish on a hook, the huge board resisting the pull of the boat, and me, my arms, my legs and my back taking the strain and a tug of war ensued. Realising I was making no upward movement, i attempted to drag myself to my feet using the rope in my hands. That was to be my undoing, for just as i gave an almighty heave the boat driver opened up the throttle propelling the craft on, and my spindly frame was no match for the 250 horsepower of the jetboat, and already at full stretch i felt the muscles in my lower back twang as the rope was yanked fiercely out of my hand.
I have not often found myself in a situation when I can't stand up. There was a time when I was about 10 and I decided to swing on the branch of the apple tree in our garden, and like many boys of that age I thought it a good idea to let go of the branch at the peak of my swing to see what would happen. Landing square on your back from a height of 4 feet will knock the wind out of you fairly effectively, and as I lay there struggling for breath i mentally filed the 'letting go of the branch routine' in the Do not repeat section of my brain. Then there was the time when I was about 14 when the urge to wheelie my mountain bike down a small decline in front of my friends overpowered me. Staring up at the concerned (or were they laughing) faces of my compatriates again struggling to get oxygen to my brain, I wished that I'd listened more in my physics classes enabling me to prevent the inevitability of the scene that had played itself out. There are also those alcohol induced moments where just standing up feels like an Olympic event but those really ought not to count. But I digress. Having been unable to get back into the boat, I paddled to shore and prepared myself for the indignity of walking back to the watersport hut a failure. Oh how I wish I could've, but I couldn't get up. I just couldn't. I could get onto all fours but no further. Oh shit. So I sank back into the water and did what every brave, self sacrificing child of generation X does. I shouted for help.
I would like to point out that, as the boat pulled up alongside me and the driver asked a typically understated Aussie question "Are you alright mate?" to my broken agonised form that Jen, love of my life, Yin to my Yang, sunrise to my sunset, was still taking photos of me. That's true love folks. Just when I'm down, going that extra half yard by swinging a petite little foot right at my men's bits. But that's unfair, because I would have done exactly the same thing for her.. Next week on "Adventures in Oz" How Chris has a ride in an Ambulance 'Aussie style', get's manhandled by two women and a fella at the same time and find out if he gets a ride in a helicopter....
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