Ever been canyoning? Nor had I, until yesterday. As of now it is absolutely my Most Favourite Thing in the whole world bar none.
My canyoning buddy was Tim, partner of one of my friends at work and general all-round Good Chap. He’s the ideal person to do this kind of thing with: he has all the kit, he’s fit and capable without having anything to prove and he explains things exceptionally clearly and then doesn’t fuss while you get your head around it.
Also, while he can hold an interesting conversation, he doesn’t chatter incessantly – he’s quite comfortable with silence unless he has something to say.
Canyoning involves trekking – with ropes, wetsuit and harness – to the entry point and then abseiling down the cliff to the river which has cut the canyon, where you alternately swim and scramble down stream to the exit point. Then you haul out and trek back up to where you left your car… and your dry clothes, if you’ve any sense.
“Hey Tim, this is like hiking in bondage gear with a water fetish” I said, as we made our way along the track, clad in neoprene and with harnesesses securely fastened round our nether regions.
“Yeah” he said, and grinned.
I hadn’t abseiled before so while we were hiking to the canyon entry point he demonstrated how to attach the various ropes and metal bits and then let me practice a couple of times on some rock steps.
It’s pretty simple, really.
Our entry point was a tree growing out of the canyon wall, above a waterfall. The cliff dropped steeply below it with a little overhang and the walls were obviously very slippery because of the water, so it was just tricky enough to be challenging for him without being so tricky that it was beyond the enthusiastic but untested novice.
I can’t describe how quietly beautiful it was down there, with crystal clear water sparkling in the rays of sunshine which reached us from far above, and no sounds other than our own splashing.
My god, the water was cold in the swim-through pools at the bottom of the canyon though!
I saw my first superb lyrebird, as well as several large orange freshwater yabbies. The waratahs were in bloom all over the hillsides, too.
[Those are not my photos - I didn't have my camera with me, rather stupidly]
All in all, a perfect Sunday. Even if I did have to get up at 5.30 after a late night at a friend’s Hallowe’en party dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow.
November 3, 2009 at 3:25 am |
And I thought I had the perfect sunday. Check out my post today. It does not do justice to the little canyon I was in. How odd that we were both enjoying rock and water and steep canyon walls at opposite seasons and opposite sides of the world.
November 3, 2009 at 5:57 am |
I am somewhat afraid of heights, so I don’t climb mountains, or even rocks. Although I took many swimming lessons as a child, I never learned to swim well.
I will have to get all my jollies by reading this adventure about underwater mountain climbing or descending or something like.
November 3, 2009 at 12:34 pm |
healingmagichands – I thought of you several times as I clambered over all those enormous, beautiful rocks
I’ll head over to your post right now…
Mr Random – I consider a fear of heights to be a very useful evolutionary trait, so the fact that I DON’T have one concerns me a little…
November 3, 2009 at 3:09 pm |
Random Granddaughter does not seem to have a fear of heights, either. We have some steep steps going down to the garden of our land, and I always felt nervous as a little toddler blithely toddled down them.
She seems to now understand the principle of “Be careful,” but I am not sure she really understands it. She is taking swimming lessons and piano lessons, so perhaps she will be an underwater pianist.
November 5, 2009 at 12:01 pm |
Sadly, principles like “Be careful” only seem to be properly learned by experience of not being careful enough.
And I have often wondered at what point in our development do we truly understand that bad things can still happen, even when you don’t intend them to? I mean, as children we blithely do all sorts of things without much regard to the possible consequences – especially the unpleasant ones. And yet, such stuff has to happen to someone, else we wouldn’t know it was a possible consequence.
Slightly off topic – but there have been a spate of fatal car accidents here recently where the drivers were very young 17 or 18 year olds with a car full of (presumably trusting) mates, none of whom intended to crash and kill themselves by driving too fast.
November 5, 2009 at 2:30 pm |
Yeah, you carelessly fall down on your butt a few times, and learn to project the experence on future risk-taking adventures.
I like your lyrebird–but I’d rather not take my life into my hands to get to it. (I’ve fallen down often enough in my life.)
November 6, 2009 at 6:46 am |
Sounds like fun, but I want to see pics of you in your Halloween costume!
November 6, 2009 at 10:07 am |
Me too!
November 6, 2009 at 12:33 pm |
Wow — what a great adventure. But *I* saw John Cleese last night, so, you know … neener.
November 6, 2009 at 1:03 pm |
Ombudsben – and just how widely one can extrapolate that experience will influence the future success of pretty much all one’s endeavours…
Az – yep, trying to track them down through a girl I met at the party via facebook…
November 6, 2009 at 1:04 pm |
healingmagichands – on their way (I hope!)
David – okay, I am suitably envious. I think even I would prefer John Cleese to a Superb Lyrebird… although its a close one.
November 10, 2009 at 6:46 pm |
That’s very adventurous of you, Woo, especially the hiking in a wetsuit part, which sounds like the last word in discomfort and much too much like punishment to me… but I’ll grant you the rewards sound glorious.
November 11, 2009 at 1:36 pm |
Oddly, it wasn’t as bad as I had anticipated. Having said that, I will be buying a cheaper, thinner, wetsuit for future canyoning: my diving wetsuit is too thick and too expensive to risk damaging on the rocks!