Camp Memoir- Abseiling

My grip on the rope tightens until my knuckles turn white. It doesn’t seem like the strongest rope, but I weave my trust into it. T Taking minute steps backwards, I lean back, expecting someone who isn’t there to catch me. Millimetre by millimetre, I let more rope out into the metal ring. Gradually I descend, instinctively leaning forwards. “Lean back, that’s it. Lean back,” murmurs the soothing American accent in a encouraging tone. Pixies dance a fierce jig in my stomach. I haven’t felt this nervous for years. But my courage kicks in as soon as the vertical artificial grass runs out. A tsunami of exhilaration floods my body. “Hey. Did you know you can jump?” comes a voice from above.

My worn-out sneakers push off from the metallic grey cliff, and I soar like the Haast’s Eagle. I imagine gliding effortlessly over the gargantuan blue lake, over the native bush, hunting prey, and admiring the scenery that future generations will never witness. I’m yanked out of my daydream as my feet crunch heavily onto the moss-covered stone. Running my fingers over the grooves, suddenly I’m in medieval times, scaling the castle wall. Leaping again, hearing calming encouragement, ripples on the lake, insects chirping and birds singing. The scents of bush and dirt permeate my nostrils, along with freshwater and foreign aromas carried on the breezes I can’t identify. I feed the ring more rope, this time lots all at once, so I seem to fall for a second, before the rope catches me in its thin, rough arms.

At this moment I’m confident I can do anything. I’m mentally flying over the breathtaking scenery, tasting the fresh air, the crisp breezes, the wilderness. Full of energy, I feel the adrenaline pumping through my body.

“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” a parent inquires. I bounce cheerfully, backing into a saturated, leafy plant. Wishing I could have taken longer, my feet touch down on horizontal earth. The parent helper disentangles the rope from the heavy ring, and I embark on the steep excursion through the bush. Trudging along the muddy, slippery track back to the hut, I long to do it again.