A Paddle in the River - Original Writing Essay

A Paddle in the River - Original Writing Essay

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A Paddle in the River - Original Writing

Admittedly I was not expecting a stroll along picturesque canyon
scenery when the activity of gorge walking was announced, despite the
region's hilly nature, but neither had the prospect of preparing for
full blown assault down a river in its upper course occurred to me.
Snowdonia is abundant with water of all descriptions, from the mists
that drift across the mountain tops, to the waterfalls and rivers that
forge their way towards the coast. It is safe to declare that not one
part of this activity included walking; wading, staggering, stumbling,
even plummeting maybe, but definitely not walking. From the moment the
coach set off from base camp, and parked on a dusty cobbled road, I
was awaiting the activity with anticipation. Then, to my shock,
following the inquisitive cries from surrounding pupils, the
instructor bluntly likened the activity to a, 'dip in a pond'.

A wetsuit has always been an item of clothing designed for
reassurance. Whether it be surfing in the Pacific, or even paddling
off the coast of Scotland, a wetsuit is made to protect you from
bitter waters. Strangely however, the suits flung on a trailer which
we were told to wriggle ourselves into left me feeling helplessly
exposed. The fluorescent orange shoulder patches were in tatters, and
the zips on your back jammed and in some cases were non-existent. In
tandem with the mild yet prominent sewerage stench, I was beginning to
feel uncomfortable. After grabbing a helmet capable of fitting, and
struggling to put on a life jacket, we began an ungainly stagger up to
the start of our activity. The ascent proved a challenge, the ...


... middle of paper ...


...sed my
numb arm and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow, before loosening my
collar. Suddenly my life jacket became a worthless chunk of yellow
padding. A cheerful Mr Allen below, perching on a boulder, did little
to boost my confidence. Hell's demons were playing cunning tricks on
my mind: Is the plunge pool deeper enough? Are you certain you will
not scrape your back on the side of the rock face? I was superman, as
I teetered nervously off the edge and plunged down. All I could see
was a blur of rich green leaves, jagged rocks, and finally Mr Allen's
freckled face before I was consumed by the effervescent potion.

As I plodded slowly back to the coach I had time to reflect. There was
no doubt that the activity has been unusual and exhilarating and,
after one sniff, I could safely say it had been a, "dip in the pond".

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