Blimey, it's autumn already. Conkers on the ground, more clouds than sun, the water's bloody freezing....
Perfect for Aquaskipping, then. A few months have passed since my last blog, but uneventful they haven't been. An exhausting week on the Isle of Wight introduced several hundred newbies to aquaskipping, and just a handful of them managed to get to grips with it a little too quickly for my liking. Those long sessions at Bray Lake and the Cefn Hengoed swimming pool seem like light years away now, but barely six months had passed between my late February introduction to the 'sport' and a momentous day at Hove Lagoon, just down the road from Brighton. The Lagoon was about to witness a record attempt. The radios were crackling, a helicopter hovered overhead (although we suspect there may have been a local robbery, or something), journalists hovered: the bloke who skateboarded across Australia has a new mode of transport, and today he's going for the British 100m record.
It stood at 27 seconds, a young chap from the Isle of Wight called Ben Farmer had laid down the gauntlet. My turn, now. Chilled Turtle, new clothing label extraordinaire, sponsored the event, the Lagoon staff set up my starting platform - an upturned rowing boat. I've been bouncing for six months and now it's time to turn dreams into reality, I want to become the fastest person in Britain. On an Aquaskipper.
The wind is up, the water slightly choppy, but this is it. The first run's time was called out. 28 seconds. Bugger. Fifteen minutes later I went again, 26.9 seconds this time. But these were warm-ups, over 130 metres. Panting a bit by now, I take a break as the official hundred metre course is mapped out by GPS. I start to zone out, head down, heart beating soundly through my rashvest. I have missed this, the pulse of challenge, the possibility of achievement just around the corner.
Let's get this straight. It's not the Olympics. It's not even a wet Wednesday evening in Sheffield. I'm about to attempt a record in a sport that few than 0.1 of the population has heard about, but everything starts somewhere, right? It was only a couple of centuries ago that a bloke punted a pig bladder inbetween two trees. Have you seen how many people watch the football World Cup now?
This isn't about recognition, either. Who knows the name of pig bladder man, after all? I'm always battling against myself and to a degree I'm satisfying my need for a challenge, but on the other hand I think this Aquaskipping malarky can go places and put smiles on faces, if I can kick-start that then why the hell not...
Run 3. It's official now. 23.62 seconds. New record.
Run 4. 23.91 seconds. So close.
Run 5. 22.50. Really want to break 22 seconds now.
Run 6. 22.25. Go on then, one more for luck.
Run 7. 21.96. A new record, breaking the old one by over 5 seconds.
Well, that was a very good day.
There's now talk of an Aquaskipping world championships in Australia early next year. I'm over there to promote the BoardFree book which launches on February 1st Down Under, so why not throw in another world championships at the same time.
The Aquaskipper continues to pull in the occasional bit of media coverage. At some point very soon The One Show on BBC1 will transmit Phil Tufnell's visit to our Aquaskipping camp on the Isle of Wight, and this evening, in about six hours to be precise, I'll be chatting to Chris Evans on BBC Radio 2. Will stick a recording on the BounceFree website - www.bouncefree.org.uk.
Friday 5 October 2007
Monday 9 July 2007
Skipping for the screen, plus a kind letter...
Friday 1st June
I’m perched unsteadily on the bow of an inflatable Rib, Ceri from Swansea Watersports holding my waist for stability, the light current of Swansea Bay hungrily waiting for me, its next snack, to fail miserably in the first Aquaskipping session for several weeks. I’m squeezed into a wetsuit, providing by Channel Marine who have sponsored me to be here today. In two weeks the South Wales Boat Show spans a weekend at Margam Park, and Channel Marine have Aquaskippers to sell. Ben Sutcliffe, the Boat Show organiser, called me last week and asked if I could come along for a media day to promote the show, so here I am, not overly keen on the cold water below. There’s a camera trained in my direction, and I’m aware that everyone around has never seen an Aquaskipper on the water before. I make them wait for a while, because the first launch was a spectacular failure. I was up to my neck in milliseconds. The next few runs were much better, clearing the ‘Skipping rust out of my brain and rediscovering the rhythm, circling the camera boat as Ben tells me HTV will be filming later on in the day. I finish for a while, take lunch, and sit for a while across the canal watching curious passers-by pause and stare at the assembled Aquaskipper on the dock below. It does look odd there, like a large robotic spider. With handlebars.
Two months ago Chris Perry from HTV joined by in the Cefn Hengoed swimming pool for an evening news piece on my ‘next challenge.’ Chris, bless his heart, managed to get suitably frustrated with the slow learning curve required to master the Aquaskipper, and left to edit the segment without so much as 5 metres travelled. Chris is currently in Australia, so it’s another presenter, James, who has the pleasure of losing his Aquaskipping virginity today. Tonight’s news is going to be beamed live from Swansea marina so I gave James a lesson from the Yacht Club pontoon, with about thirty people gathered on the walls above to see the poor bloke sink time and time again into the murky water.
An hour later James had dried off and donned a white shirt over the top of his wetsuit, in preparation for the live feed. Not expecting to be needed for ‘skipping duties, I gratefully accepted and hastily necked a bottle of Bud from the boat show support crew and sat back to watch the live-to-air segment. James spent two minutes chatting to Ben, explaining the varying forms of craft which were floating around in the background, and then ended by saying, ‘and for those of you who don’t have the wallet to buy a yacht, there’ll also be a fun device called an Aquaskipper at the show,’ to which he unclipped his mic, handed a pile of wires to Ben and pushed off from the pontoon, sinking immediately with a pained expression. Giggles all round, and then my face turned as James informed me that in ten minutes he was going to end his weather segment with the immortal line, ‘and this is how it’s supposed to be done…’ On James’ signal I was going to have to launch off and bounce around between the boats. This was going to be live, and a combination of earlier exertions under hot sun and the alcohol fizzing around my body didn’t bode well for a professional performance. I nervously deposited my empty beer bottle on the pontoon, and started to shake.
The moment came. As he was floating twenty metres away on a Rib I couldn’t hear James as he adlibbed the weather report, and instead I was concentrating on positioning myself at the end of the pontoon so I could push off and skip towards the camera out in the middle of the marina. Having just set up a clothing label called Chilled Turtle, I knew this was my chance to get a bit of TV coverage for the brand. Wearing a sample t-shirt with a big logo on the front, all I needed was to get a good launch and head straight for the camera, but I couldn’t help feeling that the Budweiser might have something to say about that. Eventually James turned around and I heard him faintly say, ‘…well I tried the Aquaskipper earlier and failed miserably, I believe this gentleman is just the man to show us how it’s done.’ And with that he dramatically pointed across the water towards me, and I pushed off.
Please don’t sink.
Please don’t sink.
Please don’t sink.
There’s a glorious moment on an Aquaskipper launch when you see the front skimmer hit the water gently, the small hydrofoil just behind it gliding through the water. The key to a good start is a nice hard push off from the side, bubbles zipping and light glinting off the hydrofoils, a splashing sound as the pushing foot lands on its platform for the first time, both legs pumping in union. A few bounces later I had sailed past the camera, nipped in between a mini-cat and an enormous cruising yacht, rounded a couple of other craft and then started to head back to the pontoon, cruising along and dismounting onto dry land to wonderful cheers and applause. You beauty! ‘That was the Budweiser talking!’ I grinned at the girls who had given me the beer in the first place.
‘More! More!’ yelled Julian from Channel Marine from atop the cruising yacht. As Swansea’s only stockist of the Skipper this was the first time Julian had seen an Aquaskipper in action. Thank god that went well, I thought, as James gave me a thumbs up (and I’m sure shot me evils too) en route back to the dock.
One day later I receive an email from Tom Kaufmann, a 54 year-old American from Traverse City, Michigan. Here are some excerpts…
Dave,
I live in an incredibly beautiful part of the world, on the Grand Traverse Bay of Lake Michigan. I'm 54 years old and make my living as a piano player in a hotel lounge... and have a variety of other interests that you can check out on my web page, but I'm writing to you as ardent, albeit unfulfilled fan of Aquaskipping. This is a story only a fellow 'skipper will understand.
I'm a sailor, and started windsurfing about 23 years ago when the sport was quite new. I got good enough to teach it, and when I was much younger, I'd teach skiing in the winter, and windsurfing in the summer. I also ride a unicycle while playing a harmonica and concertina, so I have a bit of balance, and love the water.
The first time I stumbled on the Aquaskipper videos, I was hooked, and knew it would be my next passion. I was sure from watching the videos that I'd "get it" right away.... so I bought mine about 6 weeks ago, and finally got it into a pool a couple of weeks later. I got a couple of good launches, but the pool was only about 10 meters so I'd get one or two good pumps before I had to ditch.
I was really excited about getting into the open water, and then since I absolutely couldn't wait any longer, I bought myself a drysuit. (Kokata... $465..... most expensive suit I've ever owned, and I can't wear it to work!) I looked all around for a suitable launch, but since the lake levels have dropped severely the past few years, all the docks are much too high, or the water level is to low.
I ended up in a smaller inland lake, and because the water was murky, and I was a bit cocky, I broke the steering shaft by diving down and hitting bottom in about the first half hour.
Karl at Inventist was able to get me a part shipped within a few days, and so as soon as it arrived I went back to the same lake, but launched off a different dock in deeper water. Not deep enough as it turned out, and after hitting the bottom again a couple times, I broke the canard less than an hour into it.
Because of the Memorial Day weekend, shipping took almost a week.... a long agonizing wait.... but I promised myself not to launch in less than 2 meters.
The part came today, and I just got back from my new launch site in the local marina. Deep water but the dock is almost a meter high.
I spent 3 hours of humbling launches, with quite the gallery of curious onlookers, but never made it more than about 7 or 8 meters.
It reminds me so much of the learning process I went through with windsurfing, when I couldn't get it to point upwind, and I'd spend hours walking the thing back to my starting point after getting blown down the beach. I certainly haven't lost my enthusiasm for skipping, but my aching muscles aren't too thrilled with all of the climbing out of the water, and the starts, and lugging it back to the dock. I must have launched 30 times today, but didn't get the rhythm or balance down.
One thing that helped me tremendously...... I had a floating rope tied to the dock, and then draped it over the back crossbar.... and coiled on the dock.
As I launched, the line fed out from the dock without pulling at all, and when I fell, I would pull myself back to the dock with the rope, then pull the other side of the folded line to pull the skipper back to the dock and to lift it out of the water.
It's a bit hard to describe, perhaps I can send you a video..... but I was delighted, because I could pull myself back to the dock, and be ready to launch again very quickly with a minimum of effort.... and since the water is about 45 degrees F, I was grateful. The drysuit works well..... but it's still a bit chilly.
So... I felt like today was really my "first" time.... but haven't yet had the "aha" moment when it all comes together.
It's frustrating to see all of the edited video that makes it look so effortless... but reading your blog has been an inspiration, and tomorrow if the old body isn't screaming too loudly I'll be out there embarrassing myself again. Knowing that it takes time for other people helps a lot. By the time the water warms up mid summer I hope to be skipping the 4 or 5 miles across the bay.
I’ll keep you posted as to my progress... and maybe someday we can skip together in Jamaica.
Yours, Tom Kaufmann
Tuesday 5th June
Another day of filming, this time with the crew from Antenae, who are responsible for producing the S4C show Uned 5. All morning I take presenters Tristan and Llinos through the motions at the Cefn Hengoed swimming pool. Slowly they get it, instant sinkings turning into successful one, then two pump skips. By the end of the morning Tristan had managed to reach the far end of the pool to much applause, but poor Llinos was exhausted and hadn’t managed to find the rhythm. It was heartbreaking watching the clock count down, seeing her become more and more tired as the endless launching, sinking and swimming to the side took its toll. But Tristan’s success added a bite to the competition between the presenters, his grinning face winding Llinos up a treat.
And then to open water. Production manager Rhiain had organised an afternoon session in amongst the yachts at Swansea marina. Initially the idea was to have Llinos and Tristan racing but instead the challenge became a distance battle. Llinos wasn’t at all enthused about sinking into the marina’s murky depths, but she valiantly gave it a couple of goes. Tristan wasn’t having much better luck, finding it difficult to adapt to the extra foot in height the marina pontoon added to the poolside he had learned from. Still, he hopped and skipped as best he could, always splashing down and returning to the surface with a wide smile. I managed a couple of good runs, skipping around the safety boat supplied by local sailing company All Points West and embarrassingly coming a cropper at the end of one run when I tried to glide into a landing on the pontoon only to misjudge the height. The rear hydrofoil collided with the submerged pontoon support and I flew past the handlebars and landed legs over head in the water. Llinos and Tristan enjoyed it, and in a small way it was perfect revenge, as neither of them had managed to look half as foolish as I did after the fall.
The Uned 5 show will air on Welsh S4C sometime in July, we’ll endeavour to place a copy on the BounceFree website.
I’m perched unsteadily on the bow of an inflatable Rib, Ceri from Swansea Watersports holding my waist for stability, the light current of Swansea Bay hungrily waiting for me, its next snack, to fail miserably in the first Aquaskipping session for several weeks. I’m squeezed into a wetsuit, providing by Channel Marine who have sponsored me to be here today. In two weeks the South Wales Boat Show spans a weekend at Margam Park, and Channel Marine have Aquaskippers to sell. Ben Sutcliffe, the Boat Show organiser, called me last week and asked if I could come along for a media day to promote the show, so here I am, not overly keen on the cold water below. There’s a camera trained in my direction, and I’m aware that everyone around has never seen an Aquaskipper on the water before. I make them wait for a while, because the first launch was a spectacular failure. I was up to my neck in milliseconds. The next few runs were much better, clearing the ‘Skipping rust out of my brain and rediscovering the rhythm, circling the camera boat as Ben tells me HTV will be filming later on in the day. I finish for a while, take lunch, and sit for a while across the canal watching curious passers-by pause and stare at the assembled Aquaskipper on the dock below. It does look odd there, like a large robotic spider. With handlebars.
Two months ago Chris Perry from HTV joined by in the Cefn Hengoed swimming pool for an evening news piece on my ‘next challenge.’ Chris, bless his heart, managed to get suitably frustrated with the slow learning curve required to master the Aquaskipper, and left to edit the segment without so much as 5 metres travelled. Chris is currently in Australia, so it’s another presenter, James, who has the pleasure of losing his Aquaskipping virginity today. Tonight’s news is going to be beamed live from Swansea marina so I gave James a lesson from the Yacht Club pontoon, with about thirty people gathered on the walls above to see the poor bloke sink time and time again into the murky water.
An hour later James had dried off and donned a white shirt over the top of his wetsuit, in preparation for the live feed. Not expecting to be needed for ‘skipping duties, I gratefully accepted and hastily necked a bottle of Bud from the boat show support crew and sat back to watch the live-to-air segment. James spent two minutes chatting to Ben, explaining the varying forms of craft which were floating around in the background, and then ended by saying, ‘and for those of you who don’t have the wallet to buy a yacht, there’ll also be a fun device called an Aquaskipper at the show,’ to which he unclipped his mic, handed a pile of wires to Ben and pushed off from the pontoon, sinking immediately with a pained expression. Giggles all round, and then my face turned as James informed me that in ten minutes he was going to end his weather segment with the immortal line, ‘and this is how it’s supposed to be done…’ On James’ signal I was going to have to launch off and bounce around between the boats. This was going to be live, and a combination of earlier exertions under hot sun and the alcohol fizzing around my body didn’t bode well for a professional performance. I nervously deposited my empty beer bottle on the pontoon, and started to shake.
The moment came. As he was floating twenty metres away on a Rib I couldn’t hear James as he adlibbed the weather report, and instead I was concentrating on positioning myself at the end of the pontoon so I could push off and skip towards the camera out in the middle of the marina. Having just set up a clothing label called Chilled Turtle, I knew this was my chance to get a bit of TV coverage for the brand. Wearing a sample t-shirt with a big logo on the front, all I needed was to get a good launch and head straight for the camera, but I couldn’t help feeling that the Budweiser might have something to say about that. Eventually James turned around and I heard him faintly say, ‘…well I tried the Aquaskipper earlier and failed miserably, I believe this gentleman is just the man to show us how it’s done.’ And with that he dramatically pointed across the water towards me, and I pushed off.
Please don’t sink.
Please don’t sink.
Please don’t sink.
There’s a glorious moment on an Aquaskipper launch when you see the front skimmer hit the water gently, the small hydrofoil just behind it gliding through the water. The key to a good start is a nice hard push off from the side, bubbles zipping and light glinting off the hydrofoils, a splashing sound as the pushing foot lands on its platform for the first time, both legs pumping in union. A few bounces later I had sailed past the camera, nipped in between a mini-cat and an enormous cruising yacht, rounded a couple of other craft and then started to head back to the pontoon, cruising along and dismounting onto dry land to wonderful cheers and applause. You beauty! ‘That was the Budweiser talking!’ I grinned at the girls who had given me the beer in the first place.
‘More! More!’ yelled Julian from Channel Marine from atop the cruising yacht. As Swansea’s only stockist of the Skipper this was the first time Julian had seen an Aquaskipper in action. Thank god that went well, I thought, as James gave me a thumbs up (and I’m sure shot me evils too) en route back to the dock.
One day later I receive an email from Tom Kaufmann, a 54 year-old American from Traverse City, Michigan. Here are some excerpts…
Dave,
I live in an incredibly beautiful part of the world, on the Grand Traverse Bay of Lake Michigan. I'm 54 years old and make my living as a piano player in a hotel lounge... and have a variety of other interests that you can check out on my web page, but I'm writing to you as ardent, albeit unfulfilled fan of Aquaskipping. This is a story only a fellow 'skipper will understand.
I'm a sailor, and started windsurfing about 23 years ago when the sport was quite new. I got good enough to teach it, and when I was much younger, I'd teach skiing in the winter, and windsurfing in the summer. I also ride a unicycle while playing a harmonica and concertina, so I have a bit of balance, and love the water.
The first time I stumbled on the Aquaskipper videos, I was hooked, and knew it would be my next passion. I was sure from watching the videos that I'd "get it" right away.... so I bought mine about 6 weeks ago, and finally got it into a pool a couple of weeks later. I got a couple of good launches, but the pool was only about 10 meters so I'd get one or two good pumps before I had to ditch.
I was really excited about getting into the open water, and then since I absolutely couldn't wait any longer, I bought myself a drysuit. (Kokata... $465..... most expensive suit I've ever owned, and I can't wear it to work!) I looked all around for a suitable launch, but since the lake levels have dropped severely the past few years, all the docks are much too high, or the water level is to low.
I ended up in a smaller inland lake, and because the water was murky, and I was a bit cocky, I broke the steering shaft by diving down and hitting bottom in about the first half hour.
Karl at Inventist was able to get me a part shipped within a few days, and so as soon as it arrived I went back to the same lake, but launched off a different dock in deeper water. Not deep enough as it turned out, and after hitting the bottom again a couple times, I broke the canard less than an hour into it.
Because of the Memorial Day weekend, shipping took almost a week.... a long agonizing wait.... but I promised myself not to launch in less than 2 meters.
The part came today, and I just got back from my new launch site in the local marina. Deep water but the dock is almost a meter high.
I spent 3 hours of humbling launches, with quite the gallery of curious onlookers, but never made it more than about 7 or 8 meters.
It reminds me so much of the learning process I went through with windsurfing, when I couldn't get it to point upwind, and I'd spend hours walking the thing back to my starting point after getting blown down the beach. I certainly haven't lost my enthusiasm for skipping, but my aching muscles aren't too thrilled with all of the climbing out of the water, and the starts, and lugging it back to the dock. I must have launched 30 times today, but didn't get the rhythm or balance down.
One thing that helped me tremendously...... I had a floating rope tied to the dock, and then draped it over the back crossbar.... and coiled on the dock.
As I launched, the line fed out from the dock without pulling at all, and when I fell, I would pull myself back to the dock with the rope, then pull the other side of the folded line to pull the skipper back to the dock and to lift it out of the water.
It's a bit hard to describe, perhaps I can send you a video..... but I was delighted, because I could pull myself back to the dock, and be ready to launch again very quickly with a minimum of effort.... and since the water is about 45 degrees F, I was grateful. The drysuit works well..... but it's still a bit chilly.
So... I felt like today was really my "first" time.... but haven't yet had the "aha" moment when it all comes together.
It's frustrating to see all of the edited video that makes it look so effortless... but reading your blog has been an inspiration, and tomorrow if the old body isn't screaming too loudly I'll be out there embarrassing myself again. Knowing that it takes time for other people helps a lot. By the time the water warms up mid summer I hope to be skipping the 4 or 5 miles across the bay.
I’ll keep you posted as to my progress... and maybe someday we can skip together in Jamaica.
Yours, Tom Kaufmann
Tuesday 5th June
Another day of filming, this time with the crew from Antenae, who are responsible for producing the S4C show Uned 5. All morning I take presenters Tristan and Llinos through the motions at the Cefn Hengoed swimming pool. Slowly they get it, instant sinkings turning into successful one, then two pump skips. By the end of the morning Tristan had managed to reach the far end of the pool to much applause, but poor Llinos was exhausted and hadn’t managed to find the rhythm. It was heartbreaking watching the clock count down, seeing her become more and more tired as the endless launching, sinking and swimming to the side took its toll. But Tristan’s success added a bite to the competition between the presenters, his grinning face winding Llinos up a treat.
And then to open water. Production manager Rhiain had organised an afternoon session in amongst the yachts at Swansea marina. Initially the idea was to have Llinos and Tristan racing but instead the challenge became a distance battle. Llinos wasn’t at all enthused about sinking into the marina’s murky depths, but she valiantly gave it a couple of goes. Tristan wasn’t having much better luck, finding it difficult to adapt to the extra foot in height the marina pontoon added to the poolside he had learned from. Still, he hopped and skipped as best he could, always splashing down and returning to the surface with a wide smile. I managed a couple of good runs, skipping around the safety boat supplied by local sailing company All Points West and embarrassingly coming a cropper at the end of one run when I tried to glide into a landing on the pontoon only to misjudge the height. The rear hydrofoil collided with the submerged pontoon support and I flew past the handlebars and landed legs over head in the water. Llinos and Tristan enjoyed it, and in a small way it was perfect revenge, as neither of them had managed to look half as foolish as I did after the fall.
The Uned 5 show will air on Welsh S4C sometime in July, we’ll endeavour to place a copy on the BounceFree website.
Saturday 12 May 2007
The Maltese Bouncer
With a trip to Morocco cancelled in March the need to film a promo for AquaskipperUK was pressing. Clearing a week from a busy schedule of book writing, house moving and business creating, I gave Simon Thorpe a call.
“Si mate, how would you feel about a week in Malta. I have a promo that needs filming…”
“I’d feel pretty good about it,” says Si. And that was that, life is very easy if you know the right people.
Rewind a year and a half, I was chatting to Simon on the phone for the first time, discussing his interest in applying for the position as team cameraman for an upcoming trans-Australian skate journey. Si got the job, kept a smile on his face and did an awesome job as he filmed me pushing a longboard across what can only be described as a really big country, and that, as they say, is history.
Landing in a sunny Malta in mid April we were both full of optimism. I’d internetted a nice deal in the northern resort of Mellieha Bay and was looking forward to spending a week bouncing around in blue waters. Four days later the optimism had waned. Heavy winds and gloomy skies weren’t at all ideal for AquaSkipping or filming and Si and I had been confined to our hotel room, bemusedly descending to the lounge each night for a couple of pints. The youngest residents at the hotel by several decades, it got to the stage where we were actually considering joining the Granny Line Dancing Sessions. Dear God, we were not at all happy.
Going to bed on Saturday night, with no filming in the can and a flight home on Tuesday approaching a little too hastily, I was starting to panic. If we flew home on Tuesday it was not only a few hundred pounds down the drain, but it would be much harder for Si and I to get together to film a decent promo in the UK. When the only benefit of a week in Malta for two people in their twenties is the heart-thumping excitement of a half-hour Bingo game you know things aren’t going well. Bugger bugger bugger, it wasn’t looking good.
Then, Sunday morning. Sunshine! The wind still blowing but with much less strength than previous days, Si and I walked three kilometres across to the west side of the island. And there, almost unbelievably after the uncertainty of the week so far, was the beautiful, sheltered Anchor Bay. The water glistened turquoise in the sunlight, so clear that from our vantage point way above the bay we could easily see the seabed. As if that wasn’t enough, Anchor Bay is so named because it is sided by a colourful, ramshackle village, which was specifically created as the set of the Popeye film, made decades earlier with Robin Williams as the star.
Jutting out into the middle of the bay was a long, concrete jetty. At the very end of it steps were cut into the rock, creating a perfect launch point for the AquaSkipper. Si filmed me putting Skippy together, then I pulled a wetsuit on and pushed off. It had come a little later than expected, but finally I was bouncing free off the coast of Malta. The original plan had been to Skip around for a week and before flying home make a decision on what challenge to undertake on the AquaSkipper, but with the clock ticking our priority was to get a promo made. So I set about skipping across the bay, getting further and further with each attempt, liberated by the open water and now for the first time able to change direction and keep on going. Several embarrassingly rubbish back flip dismounts and a bit of foot-to-foot bouncing later, we packed up delighted with the day’s work. On a couple of occasions I’d managed to skip several hundred metres in one go, easily crossing the bay. Si had bagged almost two tapes worth of film and we were happy that there was enough material to create a promo.
One thing nibbled at me though, I hadn’t had a chance to master the beach start. Internet videos showed people running into the water and leaping upon the AquaSkipper, initiating the rhythm and bouncing off before it sunk, a completely different proposition to the standard launch from a raised platform, and something I longed to achieve before heading home. With crossed fingers I hoped for good weather on Monday, our final day.
Thankfully it came, and this time I launched off in slightly choppier waters in front of our hotel. With a forceful current to battle against I learned to lean against a turn, pulling up the inside edges of the AquaSkipper’s hydrofoils, which naturally tilt deeper into the water when veering off in a non-linear direction. Skipping directly into or with the direction of the waves was far easier than having the waves hit me side on, but anything other than near-calm waters posed a significant message to my thoughts about a long distance journey across a potentially violent body of water.
I managed to pull off the beach start from the hotel’s private beach, holding the AquaSkipper with left hand on the standing pole and right hand on the crossbar, just above the foot stands. Two swift running steps gives the AquaSkipper enough momentum to lift to its maximum height, and then the main challenge is jumping aboard – one foot, then the other – without taking any more steps, which as the water gets deeper just reduces the AquaSkipper’s inertia. With several pensioners peering over the hotel wall, I stumbled three or four times before managing to jump aboard and bounce off for the first time. Although it didn’t take as long as learning to launch the Skipper from a standing platform the satisfaction was just as high, not least when the small group above started to clap and cheer!
As a final shot for the promo, Si ascended to our hotel room and asked me to skip all the way down to the main beach, some 200 metres away. Riding with the waves made life easier, and as Si filmed me passing beyond some majestic palm trees I realised I could start surfing the small waves that broke towards the beach. Looking behind for the next wave that was to catch me up, I realised that I was moving a little faster than the waves now, and just as I tried to slow up the front of my AquaSkipper drove into the sand. Because I was looking behind I hadn’t realised that the water was getting shallower, and still about 50 metres from the beach I found myself flying over the handlebars, my head ploughing effortlessly through the foot-deep water and into the seabed. My body crumpling down in concert, I naturally rolled and took the full weight on my shoulder before popping back up above the surface and thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t a rocky bed. I was going to be pulling sand out of my head for the next three days.
Sadly, Si hadn’t captured all of the fall, but just before a tree blocked his view he filmed my legs flying through the air, following my body in a circular wave before the ensuing carnage disappeared behind palm leaves. Typical!
So, all said and done, we got the promo done – it’s now showing on the AquaSkipper website and on You Tube, and with a bit of open water experience under my belt it won’t be too long before a challenge is set. Watch this space.
“Si mate, how would you feel about a week in Malta. I have a promo that needs filming…”
“I’d feel pretty good about it,” says Si. And that was that, life is very easy if you know the right people.
Rewind a year and a half, I was chatting to Simon on the phone for the first time, discussing his interest in applying for the position as team cameraman for an upcoming trans-Australian skate journey. Si got the job, kept a smile on his face and did an awesome job as he filmed me pushing a longboard across what can only be described as a really big country, and that, as they say, is history.
Landing in a sunny Malta in mid April we were both full of optimism. I’d internetted a nice deal in the northern resort of Mellieha Bay and was looking forward to spending a week bouncing around in blue waters. Four days later the optimism had waned. Heavy winds and gloomy skies weren’t at all ideal for AquaSkipping or filming and Si and I had been confined to our hotel room, bemusedly descending to the lounge each night for a couple of pints. The youngest residents at the hotel by several decades, it got to the stage where we were actually considering joining the Granny Line Dancing Sessions. Dear God, we were not at all happy.
Going to bed on Saturday night, with no filming in the can and a flight home on Tuesday approaching a little too hastily, I was starting to panic. If we flew home on Tuesday it was not only a few hundred pounds down the drain, but it would be much harder for Si and I to get together to film a decent promo in the UK. When the only benefit of a week in Malta for two people in their twenties is the heart-thumping excitement of a half-hour Bingo game you know things aren’t going well. Bugger bugger bugger, it wasn’t looking good.
Then, Sunday morning. Sunshine! The wind still blowing but with much less strength than previous days, Si and I walked three kilometres across to the west side of the island. And there, almost unbelievably after the uncertainty of the week so far, was the beautiful, sheltered Anchor Bay. The water glistened turquoise in the sunlight, so clear that from our vantage point way above the bay we could easily see the seabed. As if that wasn’t enough, Anchor Bay is so named because it is sided by a colourful, ramshackle village, which was specifically created as the set of the Popeye film, made decades earlier with Robin Williams as the star.
Jutting out into the middle of the bay was a long, concrete jetty. At the very end of it steps were cut into the rock, creating a perfect launch point for the AquaSkipper. Si filmed me putting Skippy together, then I pulled a wetsuit on and pushed off. It had come a little later than expected, but finally I was bouncing free off the coast of Malta. The original plan had been to Skip around for a week and before flying home make a decision on what challenge to undertake on the AquaSkipper, but with the clock ticking our priority was to get a promo made. So I set about skipping across the bay, getting further and further with each attempt, liberated by the open water and now for the first time able to change direction and keep on going. Several embarrassingly rubbish back flip dismounts and a bit of foot-to-foot bouncing later, we packed up delighted with the day’s work. On a couple of occasions I’d managed to skip several hundred metres in one go, easily crossing the bay. Si had bagged almost two tapes worth of film and we were happy that there was enough material to create a promo.
One thing nibbled at me though, I hadn’t had a chance to master the beach start. Internet videos showed people running into the water and leaping upon the AquaSkipper, initiating the rhythm and bouncing off before it sunk, a completely different proposition to the standard launch from a raised platform, and something I longed to achieve before heading home. With crossed fingers I hoped for good weather on Monday, our final day.
Thankfully it came, and this time I launched off in slightly choppier waters in front of our hotel. With a forceful current to battle against I learned to lean against a turn, pulling up the inside edges of the AquaSkipper’s hydrofoils, which naturally tilt deeper into the water when veering off in a non-linear direction. Skipping directly into or with the direction of the waves was far easier than having the waves hit me side on, but anything other than near-calm waters posed a significant message to my thoughts about a long distance journey across a potentially violent body of water.
I managed to pull off the beach start from the hotel’s private beach, holding the AquaSkipper with left hand on the standing pole and right hand on the crossbar, just above the foot stands. Two swift running steps gives the AquaSkipper enough momentum to lift to its maximum height, and then the main challenge is jumping aboard – one foot, then the other – without taking any more steps, which as the water gets deeper just reduces the AquaSkipper’s inertia. With several pensioners peering over the hotel wall, I stumbled three or four times before managing to jump aboard and bounce off for the first time. Although it didn’t take as long as learning to launch the Skipper from a standing platform the satisfaction was just as high, not least when the small group above started to clap and cheer!
As a final shot for the promo, Si ascended to our hotel room and asked me to skip all the way down to the main beach, some 200 metres away. Riding with the waves made life easier, and as Si filmed me passing beyond some majestic palm trees I realised I could start surfing the small waves that broke towards the beach. Looking behind for the next wave that was to catch me up, I realised that I was moving a little faster than the waves now, and just as I tried to slow up the front of my AquaSkipper drove into the sand. Because I was looking behind I hadn’t realised that the water was getting shallower, and still about 50 metres from the beach I found myself flying over the handlebars, my head ploughing effortlessly through the foot-deep water and into the seabed. My body crumpling down in concert, I naturally rolled and took the full weight on my shoulder before popping back up above the surface and thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t a rocky bed. I was going to be pulling sand out of my head for the next three days.
Sadly, Si hadn’t captured all of the fall, but just before a tree blocked his view he filmed my legs flying through the air, following my body in a circular wave before the ensuing carnage disappeared behind palm leaves. Typical!
So, all said and done, we got the promo done – it’s now showing on the AquaSkipper website and on You Tube, and with a bit of open water experience under my belt it won’t be too long before a challenge is set. Watch this space.
Monday 19 March 2007
Do you want the good news or the bad news?
Duncan calls me, he's the boss man when it comes to AquaSkipper UK.
'Hi Dave, do you want the good news or the bad news?'
Oh dear, I hate that question. I always go for the bad news.
'Bad news, please.'
'Well, the people organising the Morocco competition forgot to book the flights.'
'What?!'
'They forgot to book the flights.'
'Please tell me there is some good news.'
'There is. You won the competition, you're the face of AquaSkipper!'
And so it was. I, Dave, had been Skipping along for all of three weeks and my little video diaries had shown enough improvement to tell Duncan that I was serious about this whole thing. A shame about Morocco, but at some point the promo video for the 'Skipper will come about, hopefully in a sunny location, with myself at the helm of the 'bouncy bike' or 'pogo stick.' It has earned many names since I started trying to describe the thing, but after a bit of thought and of course the compulsory 'closeness' needed to give a solid object a name, I've decided to call it, somewhat predictably considering my recent Australian history, 'Skippy.'
Word had gotten out that Skippy and I had a challenge up our sleeves, and HTV Wales paid the Cefn Hengoed pool a visit today. Chris Perry, the reporter, wasn't going to do a piece without having his own go on the AquaSkipper, which led to the piece on the night's 6pm news being called 'A Sinking Feeling.' Thank goodness I'd finally gotten the hang of it, there I was bouncing all over the place as Chris spoke, people all over Wales (not to mention the compulsory rows of Cefn Hengoed pupils at the window) staring wide eyed and shaking their heads in amused disbelief. 'I knew it,' they said to each other, 'I told you he was mad.'
And mad I felt, when pushed by Chris for a comfirmation of an endurance challenge on the Skipper. Even mentioning crossing the English Channel makes me question my own sanity, and the resulting story certainly homed in on that particular venture. But I have to think to myself, would crossing the Channel on Skippy honestly be harder than skateboarding across Australia? Different kettle of fish, the sea, but why not swap the rolling hills of eastern Australia for the rolling waves of the Channel? Why not? I've been called mad many times before, and it really doesn't hurt anyone. I'm going to have another session or two in the Cefn Hengoed pool, and then take Skippy back outside. 23 metres is no longer enough. It's time for Open Water.
(See the HTV report on www.bouncefree.org.uk)
'Hi Dave, do you want the good news or the bad news?'
Oh dear, I hate that question. I always go for the bad news.
'Bad news, please.'
'Well, the people organising the Morocco competition forgot to book the flights.'
'What?!'
'They forgot to book the flights.'
'Please tell me there is some good news.'
'There is. You won the competition, you're the face of AquaSkipper!'
And so it was. I, Dave, had been Skipping along for all of three weeks and my little video diaries had shown enough improvement to tell Duncan that I was serious about this whole thing. A shame about Morocco, but at some point the promo video for the 'Skipper will come about, hopefully in a sunny location, with myself at the helm of the 'bouncy bike' or 'pogo stick.' It has earned many names since I started trying to describe the thing, but after a bit of thought and of course the compulsory 'closeness' needed to give a solid object a name, I've decided to call it, somewhat predictably considering my recent Australian history, 'Skippy.'
Word had gotten out that Skippy and I had a challenge up our sleeves, and HTV Wales paid the Cefn Hengoed pool a visit today. Chris Perry, the reporter, wasn't going to do a piece without having his own go on the AquaSkipper, which led to the piece on the night's 6pm news being called 'A Sinking Feeling.' Thank goodness I'd finally gotten the hang of it, there I was bouncing all over the place as Chris spoke, people all over Wales (not to mention the compulsory rows of Cefn Hengoed pupils at the window) staring wide eyed and shaking their heads in amused disbelief. 'I knew it,' they said to each other, 'I told you he was mad.'
And mad I felt, when pushed by Chris for a comfirmation of an endurance challenge on the Skipper. Even mentioning crossing the English Channel makes me question my own sanity, and the resulting story certainly homed in on that particular venture. But I have to think to myself, would crossing the Channel on Skippy honestly be harder than skateboarding across Australia? Different kettle of fish, the sea, but why not swap the rolling hills of eastern Australia for the rolling waves of the Channel? Why not? I've been called mad many times before, and it really doesn't hurt anyone. I'm going to have another session or two in the Cefn Hengoed pool, and then take Skippy back outside. 23 metres is no longer enough. It's time for Open Water.
(See the HTV report on www.bouncefree.org.uk)
Thursday 15 March 2007
The clock is ticking
Session three began with all the promise of the end of session two. Pushed off, nice and high, pump pump pump, yeah! Then I did it again! Yeah! Got it! Then I tried four times in a row and didn't get past halfway. 'What the heck am I doing wrong Danny?'
Danny Loo, stood at the side with video camera in hand, shrugged his shoulders. 'Not sure mate.' Danny had been with me during session one at Bray Lake. We're never going to talk about what happened there again. It was that bad. This bloke, record-breaking skateboarder, reckons he can AquaSkip across the Channel. 'Fair enough,' Danny had said (or at least he'd said something similar to that), he'd been with me for pretty much the entire BoardFree extravaganza, and he knew that sheer bloody-mindedness would probably get me through. Until Bray Lake. That first push off. 'Why are you calling this BounceFree?' they asked, 'try SinkFree Dave, it's more appropriate.'
'You just wait and see,' I said, gulping. 'You just wait and see.'
And Danny could see the progress. Now he was gulping. Well, at least for the first two goes. Then I lost the rhythym and floundered about for a little while, and he was able to be smug again. So I got him on it. This was his first go, he'd been too much of a wussy that first time with the cold water all around. Now, in the safety and comfort of an indoor swimming pool, Danny was ready to give it his all. 'If I make it further than Dave did on his first go I'll be happy,' he said. And he did. He pumped a bit. He got about 4 metres, which is 6 metres to Danny because he's small. And I was happy for him, because it's not easy to be that small and excel at any sport.
Cefn Hengoed Leisure Centre is tagged on to the side of the local school, and at lunchtime for about 15 minutes the blinds at the side of the pool were lifted and about 30 faces crammed up against the glass to see what was happening in the pool. They applauded when I skipped the entire length of the pool, and either laughed or banged the glass when I disappeared awkwardly underneath the water after forgetting about the bouncing rythym, which admittedly I often did when I drew up alongside the windows and got taken by a rush of blood to the head, which forced me to wave like a madman at the young, interested faces. And it was when I did this with two hands that I usually fell off.
But the session, as it wore on, was becoming a true success. The pool. at 23 metres, had me beaten last week, but this time round it was a restriction. the 'Skipper doesn't have the smallest turning circle so when I made it to the end I whipped around as a BMX rider would do when skidding to a stop, and sunk. This time, gracefully. For I was a length of the pool champion.
But this session had an altogether bigger aim. This Sunday, much to my chagrin, I am missing a get-together in a lake near London. The purpose of this meeting is for random people of all ilks to take on the challenge and bounce it off for the ultimate accolade, to be 'The Face of AquaSkipper!' The prize, a week long holiday in Morocco, where the AquaSkipper promo video will be filmed. So, because I am otherwise engaged on said weekend event, the video footage from this session was being sent to AquaSkipper UK headquarters, as my entry into the competition, so thank goodness I was getting the hang of it.
All I can say is, woo hoo! The feeling of bouncing along on the 'Skipper filled me with extreme joy. Improvement in anything is so satisfying, and having been a complete dimwit at AquaSkipping in the previous two sessions I was delighted to have finally found 'the knack.'
Watch this space for news about Morocco. Three weeks into my new career, am I going to be accepted as the face of AquaSkipper? I find out early next week.
PS. Just for the record, I love Danny. Just as a friend, but I love him. I don't mean to cause offence when I take the mickey out of him, I just do it because...well, it makes him laugh. And there's nothing like seeing his little round face grinning from ear to ear. It's almost like giving a baby a toy. Sheer excitement! He's my best mate, and he'd think something was wrong if I just said 'well done mate, you did awesome.' He's look at me sideways waiting for the punchline, and when it didn't come he'd walk away and I'd never see him ever again. Probably because he got stuck in a pothole and couldn't get out, but that's not the point...
Danny Loo, stood at the side with video camera in hand, shrugged his shoulders. 'Not sure mate.' Danny had been with me during session one at Bray Lake. We're never going to talk about what happened there again. It was that bad. This bloke, record-breaking skateboarder, reckons he can AquaSkip across the Channel. 'Fair enough,' Danny had said (or at least he'd said something similar to that), he'd been with me for pretty much the entire BoardFree extravaganza, and he knew that sheer bloody-mindedness would probably get me through. Until Bray Lake. That first push off. 'Why are you calling this BounceFree?' they asked, 'try SinkFree Dave, it's more appropriate.'
'You just wait and see,' I said, gulping. 'You just wait and see.'
And Danny could see the progress. Now he was gulping. Well, at least for the first two goes. Then I lost the rhythym and floundered about for a little while, and he was able to be smug again. So I got him on it. This was his first go, he'd been too much of a wussy that first time with the cold water all around. Now, in the safety and comfort of an indoor swimming pool, Danny was ready to give it his all. 'If I make it further than Dave did on his first go I'll be happy,' he said. And he did. He pumped a bit. He got about 4 metres, which is 6 metres to Danny because he's small. And I was happy for him, because it's not easy to be that small and excel at any sport.
Cefn Hengoed Leisure Centre is tagged on to the side of the local school, and at lunchtime for about 15 minutes the blinds at the side of the pool were lifted and about 30 faces crammed up against the glass to see what was happening in the pool. They applauded when I skipped the entire length of the pool, and either laughed or banged the glass when I disappeared awkwardly underneath the water after forgetting about the bouncing rythym, which admittedly I often did when I drew up alongside the windows and got taken by a rush of blood to the head, which forced me to wave like a madman at the young, interested faces. And it was when I did this with two hands that I usually fell off.
But the session, as it wore on, was becoming a true success. The pool. at 23 metres, had me beaten last week, but this time round it was a restriction. the 'Skipper doesn't have the smallest turning circle so when I made it to the end I whipped around as a BMX rider would do when skidding to a stop, and sunk. This time, gracefully. For I was a length of the pool champion.
But this session had an altogether bigger aim. This Sunday, much to my chagrin, I am missing a get-together in a lake near London. The purpose of this meeting is for random people of all ilks to take on the challenge and bounce it off for the ultimate accolade, to be 'The Face of AquaSkipper!' The prize, a week long holiday in Morocco, where the AquaSkipper promo video will be filmed. So, because I am otherwise engaged on said weekend event, the video footage from this session was being sent to AquaSkipper UK headquarters, as my entry into the competition, so thank goodness I was getting the hang of it.
All I can say is, woo hoo! The feeling of bouncing along on the 'Skipper filled me with extreme joy. Improvement in anything is so satisfying, and having been a complete dimwit at AquaSkipping in the previous two sessions I was delighted to have finally found 'the knack.'
Watch this space for news about Morocco. Three weeks into my new career, am I going to be accepted as the face of AquaSkipper? I find out early next week.
PS. Just for the record, I love Danny. Just as a friend, but I love him. I don't mean to cause offence when I take the mickey out of him, I just do it because...well, it makes him laugh. And there's nothing like seeing his little round face grinning from ear to ear. It's almost like giving a baby a toy. Sheer excitement! He's my best mate, and he'd think something was wrong if I just said 'well done mate, you did awesome.' He's look at me sideways waiting for the punchline, and when it didn't come he'd walk away and I'd never see him ever again. Probably because he got stuck in a pothole and couldn't get out, but that's not the point...
Wednesday 7 March 2007
Skipping along...
So, imagine. You're in a bit too deep for your own good, can't back out now, and there's an audience. A large audience, all with school uniforms on. And more intimidatingly, they're all pressed up against the window, so you feel like you're in a zoo.
If there was ever a feeding time for BounceFree, this was it.
The kind staff at Cefn Hengoed Leisure Centre, not far from the Swansea centre, agreed to support my efforts at mastering the AquaSkipper and gave me a couple of hours in their pool today. This was session 2. I've really got to make some ground.
Wayne, Ash and Mark the lifeguards were on hand to have a giggle at me as time and time again I splashed headfirst into the water, having managed a measily pump or two before the AquaSkipper, which doesn't have a name yet, sunk. After half an hour or launching and sinking, then climbing out of the water and doing the same again, I was getting tired. 'Why don't you guys have a go? It would be good for me to see this thing from a different perspective,' I said to them. So they went to get changed and I stood on the side for a while, frustrated at my inability to understand what it was that I needed to do. I was well into my second hour of my career as an AquaSkipper rider, and had made little progress from my first launch. I couldn't work out what I was doing wrong, how I needed to coordinate my body after a good launch. There was barely time for me to repeat my name when I was stood on the thing, how was I supposed to learn this?
The lifeguards took it in turns to have a go. From the off Wayne looked the best. After twenty minutes or so he was bobbing along four or five times, slowly descending into the water but finding the rhythym nevertheless. 'Oh dear,' I thought to myself, 'I've come in here with world record training on my lips but this chap is better than me already.' I am more than overly competitive, if my cat beat me down the stairs I'd have a sulk, and it niggled at me a little bit that I wasn't progressing as fast as lifeguard Wayne. It wasn't his fault! His success just highlighted my weakness. I had two choices. Give up, or sort it out.
So I opted to sort it out. Each time Wayne hopped over the water like a sprightly little lamb, I studied his technique. He was travelling no more than 10 metres but in that distance he bounced up and down at least 9 or 10 times. He looked like he was riding a horse. That’s it! I had been concentrating so much on trying to find the right combination of movement between my legs and my arms that I’d completely neglected one option. When the legs pump, push with the arms at the same time. The whole body moving as one, pushing down to create the forward motion with the hydrofoils and then using the inertia to take some weight off, allowing the AquaSkipper to rise up for the next pump. The necessity of a good fast launch was already obvious, so let’s try it. Andrew from the office came in, a tall well spoken man who had been incredibly helpful with my request to use the pool, as had Kierann the pool manager. ‘Time to wrap up guys, we’ve got a training session in here soon,’ Andrew said. Thumbs up all round. I better get my skates on and do this thing quickly, otherwise I’m going home depressed, I thought.
I stepped up, wrapping my toes around the poolside ready to give a good lateral push. Deep breaths, come on Dave. Left foot up, lean out with a hard push off the side. The AquaSkipper rose high in the water, probably higher than I’d managed ever before, and I started to bounce, quick flighty movements up and down up and down. I’m bloody moving! Look at this! Then, 7 or 8 metres down I realised the excitement had gotten the better of me and I’d neglected to direct the ‘Skipper. The left side of the pool approached and I disembarked before I got too close. Under the water I screamed with delight. Such a small thing, but I’m ready for a challenge again and I really feel like this could be the next one.
Wayne had another bounce, heading towards the halfway mark and falling off backwards. Ash had a go and almost hit his head on the side of the pool because he didn’t push off at all! My turn again, please don’t let the last one be a one hit wonder. It wasn’t, hard push off, high up again, bounce bounce bounce bouncing free. Over halfway, into the shallow end. And then as the opposite side of the pool came close (I’d forgotten to steer again) I fell off sideways, delighted. Thank god for that, YES!
One last go, this time launching from the shallow end, which by the way was closer than the other end now. Halfway again. Got it. You beauty. We’ll be back next Tuesday, the ‘Skipper and I. See you then.
If there was ever a feeding time for BounceFree, this was it.
The kind staff at Cefn Hengoed Leisure Centre, not far from the Swansea centre, agreed to support my efforts at mastering the AquaSkipper and gave me a couple of hours in their pool today. This was session 2. I've really got to make some ground.
Wayne, Ash and Mark the lifeguards were on hand to have a giggle at me as time and time again I splashed headfirst into the water, having managed a measily pump or two before the AquaSkipper, which doesn't have a name yet, sunk. After half an hour or launching and sinking, then climbing out of the water and doing the same again, I was getting tired. 'Why don't you guys have a go? It would be good for me to see this thing from a different perspective,' I said to them. So they went to get changed and I stood on the side for a while, frustrated at my inability to understand what it was that I needed to do. I was well into my second hour of my career as an AquaSkipper rider, and had made little progress from my first launch. I couldn't work out what I was doing wrong, how I needed to coordinate my body after a good launch. There was barely time for me to repeat my name when I was stood on the thing, how was I supposed to learn this?
The lifeguards took it in turns to have a go. From the off Wayne looked the best. After twenty minutes or so he was bobbing along four or five times, slowly descending into the water but finding the rhythym nevertheless. 'Oh dear,' I thought to myself, 'I've come in here with world record training on my lips but this chap is better than me already.' I am more than overly competitive, if my cat beat me down the stairs I'd have a sulk, and it niggled at me a little bit that I wasn't progressing as fast as lifeguard Wayne. It wasn't his fault! His success just highlighted my weakness. I had two choices. Give up, or sort it out.
So I opted to sort it out. Each time Wayne hopped over the water like a sprightly little lamb, I studied his technique. He was travelling no more than 10 metres but in that distance he bounced up and down at least 9 or 10 times. He looked like he was riding a horse. That’s it! I had been concentrating so much on trying to find the right combination of movement between my legs and my arms that I’d completely neglected one option. When the legs pump, push with the arms at the same time. The whole body moving as one, pushing down to create the forward motion with the hydrofoils and then using the inertia to take some weight off, allowing the AquaSkipper to rise up for the next pump. The necessity of a good fast launch was already obvious, so let’s try it. Andrew from the office came in, a tall well spoken man who had been incredibly helpful with my request to use the pool, as had Kierann the pool manager. ‘Time to wrap up guys, we’ve got a training session in here soon,’ Andrew said. Thumbs up all round. I better get my skates on and do this thing quickly, otherwise I’m going home depressed, I thought.
I stepped up, wrapping my toes around the poolside ready to give a good lateral push. Deep breaths, come on Dave. Left foot up, lean out with a hard push off the side. The AquaSkipper rose high in the water, probably higher than I’d managed ever before, and I started to bounce, quick flighty movements up and down up and down. I’m bloody moving! Look at this! Then, 7 or 8 metres down I realised the excitement had gotten the better of me and I’d neglected to direct the ‘Skipper. The left side of the pool approached and I disembarked before I got too close. Under the water I screamed with delight. Such a small thing, but I’m ready for a challenge again and I really feel like this could be the next one.
Wayne had another bounce, heading towards the halfway mark and falling off backwards. Ash had a go and almost hit his head on the side of the pool because he didn’t push off at all! My turn again, please don’t let the last one be a one hit wonder. It wasn’t, hard push off, high up again, bounce bounce bounce bouncing free. Over halfway, into the shallow end. And then as the opposite side of the pool came close (I’d forgotten to steer again) I fell off sideways, delighted. Thank god for that, YES!
One last go, this time launching from the shallow end, which by the way was closer than the other end now. Halfway again. Got it. You beauty. We’ll be back next Tuesday, the ‘Skipper and I. See you then.
Saturday 24 February 2007
That sinking feeling…
“In about ten seconds I’m going to be very wet indeed.”
Danny Loo of BoardFree fame pointed a camera at me as I stared, almost disbelievingly, at a murky expanse of water which seemed colder than a stare from a wronged female. And trust me, I’ve seen those stares and they’re not to be recommended. We’re at Bray Lake near Maidenhead. Kate and her brother Simon are here too. We’ve assembled the AquaSkipper with numb fingers and chattering teeth. The wind chill factor is 0 degrees. There’s a man named Alex who works at the watersports centre and he tried the AquaSkipper last week. He’s laughing at me now. “Any advice mate?” I ask him.
“It’s a lot of fun,” he tells me with a twinkle in his eye, “but it’s bloody hard and I hope you can swim.”
Promising, then. But a challenge is a challenge and that’s what we’re here for. The AquaSkipper rests on a pontoon, grey water lapping hungrily at its hydrofoils. I’ve kitted myself out in gloves, windsurfing boots and a dry suit, which means that I’m still wearing all of the clothes I arrived in, plus a couple of spare t-shirts. In theory, I could go headfirst into the lake time after time and afterwards remove the dry suit, like a superhero would, for example, and walk away like a normal human being. Guaranteed, though, that Clark Kent never did anything like AquaSkipping. Kate makes a joke about me looking like a fisherman and I realise that sometimes you have to sacrifice the ‘cool’ for an altogether bigger picture.
Frankly, though, the bigger picture couldn’t have seemed further away. In my mind I was about to attempt a brand new ‘sport’ with an aim to quickly becoming good enough to break a world distance record and perhaps cross the English Channel or race the Isle of Wight ferry. Not once, until that moment, had I wavered in my belief that I could achieve something on this bizarre device. One problem, I’d never been on it. Standing beside the water, looking like I’m about to take a seat, crack out a pipe and cast out a line with the hope of catching a carp supper, I realise that all of those people in Australia who thought I was absolutely bonkers were about to feel very smug indeed.
So I take hold of the handlebars, get Simon and Kate to count me down from five, and launch the AquaSkipper for the first time. I hit the water, pause midair for approximately point five of a second, and sink. Straight down, glug glug glug. Laughter everywhere. Not quite at the stage where I could cross the Channel, then.
For the next hour I repeatedly hauled myself out of the lake, positioned myself on the edge of the pontoon and pushed off, never getting more than five metres from dry land, more often than not hitting the water quite unceremoniously, sometimes even head first after a critical lack of balance led to my toppling over the handlebars.
So what the hell was I up to? Honestly, I’m still struggling to tell you. There were a few fleeting moments when I was stood proudly high, looking down at the AquaSkipper’s hydrofoils as they glided gracefully through the water, and it felt amazing. Exhilarating. And even though the moment passed very very quickly I felt the buzz of achievement whilst swimming to shore to do it all over again. You see, if it was easy then there would be no point. If I was off like a long dog bouncing all over the lake sure it would be great fun, but where’s the challenge? To me, this first session was character building. Humility is a wonderful thing, because however far you eventually go you can look back and say, ‘yep, back then I was quite rubbish at that.’
So, all well and good. But how do you get better at the AquaSkipper? The air was thick with a lack of information about how to ride this craft properly, so I was effectively teaching myself. Problem was, I wasn’t on the damn thing long enough to realize what I was doing right or wrong. I tried to work it out in my head, the science of it all, and decided to push out and just pump the AquaSkipper with my legs. The largest hydrofoil was, after all, directly below the footpads. I did it. I did it! For two or three pumps I flew! That’s it! Ok, so I sunk very quickly because of a lack of rhythm, but I’d been gliding like a bird for a little while. Magic! I was, in effect, writing my own manual. The legs need to pump, the front glider and smaller hydrofoil need to start off from the launch by gliding across the surface. After that, it’s all about the motion and rythym.
I didn’t get much further than that. The cold started to seep through my gloves and boots, numbing the extremities, spreading under the dry suit and then up towards my head. And when the head is frozen, well that’s it. Kate, Simon and Dan were shivering uncontrollably on the pontoon, each silently urging me to give up for the day, and when I noticed that Simon’s nose was a deep shade of purple I pulled the AquaSkipper out of the water for the final time. “Ok guys, session one done. Good start, let’s get warm.”
A good start but a slow start. There is a long way to go before I conquer a large body of water on the AquaSkipper. Or even a little body. But you have to start somewhere.
Danny Loo of BoardFree fame pointed a camera at me as I stared, almost disbelievingly, at a murky expanse of water which seemed colder than a stare from a wronged female. And trust me, I’ve seen those stares and they’re not to be recommended. We’re at Bray Lake near Maidenhead. Kate and her brother Simon are here too. We’ve assembled the AquaSkipper with numb fingers and chattering teeth. The wind chill factor is 0 degrees. There’s a man named Alex who works at the watersports centre and he tried the AquaSkipper last week. He’s laughing at me now. “Any advice mate?” I ask him.
“It’s a lot of fun,” he tells me with a twinkle in his eye, “but it’s bloody hard and I hope you can swim.”
Promising, then. But a challenge is a challenge and that’s what we’re here for. The AquaSkipper rests on a pontoon, grey water lapping hungrily at its hydrofoils. I’ve kitted myself out in gloves, windsurfing boots and a dry suit, which means that I’m still wearing all of the clothes I arrived in, plus a couple of spare t-shirts. In theory, I could go headfirst into the lake time after time and afterwards remove the dry suit, like a superhero would, for example, and walk away like a normal human being. Guaranteed, though, that Clark Kent never did anything like AquaSkipping. Kate makes a joke about me looking like a fisherman and I realise that sometimes you have to sacrifice the ‘cool’ for an altogether bigger picture.
Frankly, though, the bigger picture couldn’t have seemed further away. In my mind I was about to attempt a brand new ‘sport’ with an aim to quickly becoming good enough to break a world distance record and perhaps cross the English Channel or race the Isle of Wight ferry. Not once, until that moment, had I wavered in my belief that I could achieve something on this bizarre device. One problem, I’d never been on it. Standing beside the water, looking like I’m about to take a seat, crack out a pipe and cast out a line with the hope of catching a carp supper, I realise that all of those people in Australia who thought I was absolutely bonkers were about to feel very smug indeed.
So I take hold of the handlebars, get Simon and Kate to count me down from five, and launch the AquaSkipper for the first time. I hit the water, pause midair for approximately point five of a second, and sink. Straight down, glug glug glug. Laughter everywhere. Not quite at the stage where I could cross the Channel, then.
For the next hour I repeatedly hauled myself out of the lake, positioned myself on the edge of the pontoon and pushed off, never getting more than five metres from dry land, more often than not hitting the water quite unceremoniously, sometimes even head first after a critical lack of balance led to my toppling over the handlebars.
So what the hell was I up to? Honestly, I’m still struggling to tell you. There were a few fleeting moments when I was stood proudly high, looking down at the AquaSkipper’s hydrofoils as they glided gracefully through the water, and it felt amazing. Exhilarating. And even though the moment passed very very quickly I felt the buzz of achievement whilst swimming to shore to do it all over again. You see, if it was easy then there would be no point. If I was off like a long dog bouncing all over the lake sure it would be great fun, but where’s the challenge? To me, this first session was character building. Humility is a wonderful thing, because however far you eventually go you can look back and say, ‘yep, back then I was quite rubbish at that.’
So, all well and good. But how do you get better at the AquaSkipper? The air was thick with a lack of information about how to ride this craft properly, so I was effectively teaching myself. Problem was, I wasn’t on the damn thing long enough to realize what I was doing right or wrong. I tried to work it out in my head, the science of it all, and decided to push out and just pump the AquaSkipper with my legs. The largest hydrofoil was, after all, directly below the footpads. I did it. I did it! For two or three pumps I flew! That’s it! Ok, so I sunk very quickly because of a lack of rhythm, but I’d been gliding like a bird for a little while. Magic! I was, in effect, writing my own manual. The legs need to pump, the front glider and smaller hydrofoil need to start off from the launch by gliding across the surface. After that, it’s all about the motion and rythym.
I didn’t get much further than that. The cold started to seep through my gloves and boots, numbing the extremities, spreading under the dry suit and then up towards my head. And when the head is frozen, well that’s it. Kate, Simon and Dan were shivering uncontrollably on the pontoon, each silently urging me to give up for the day, and when I noticed that Simon’s nose was a deep shade of purple I pulled the AquaSkipper out of the water for the final time. “Ok guys, session one done. Good start, let’s get warm.”
A good start but a slow start. There is a long way to go before I conquer a large body of water on the AquaSkipper. Or even a little body. But you have to start somewhere.
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