Those of you who have already posted support donations should know that I am taking very seriously the implied obligation that I actually complete this hike, to that end I have started taking every opportunity to get in walking practice. So when the outdoor education centre, where I occasionally supervise, offered me an afternoon’s work I of course accepted.
However, to my heart sinking displeasure, when I arrived I was informed that I would not be leading a walking group. I was scheduled to help supervise a group going coasteering that afternoon. For those of you who don’t know what coasteering is Wikipedia defines it as “a physical activity that encompasses movement along the intertidal zone of a rocky coastline on foot or by swimming, without the aid of boats, surf boards or other craft” Wikipedia is, however, silent on why someone might want to coasteer. Now, my rather firmly held view about sea based activity is that it has taken Man many millions of years to evolve out of that wet salty environment and seeking to return to it is simply a snub to the process of human development. But the Ulster Way can be very wet in places so I didn’t protest.
Coasteering required me to put on a wet suit, now you may think a man like me who not infrequently references the world of S&M might already be familiar with the intricacies of neoprean garments but actually this was my first introduction to the world of rubber derivative clothing. So things obvious to the more worldly came as a surprise to me, for example… if you wear pants under your wet-suit you will be going commando afterwards. Also, the zip goes to the back! If you discover this after you have squeezed and wriggled into the suit then removing it and trying to reinsert your now sweat drenched self into the same suit the correct way round is significantly harder (if you have ever tried to fit undersized tubular handlebar grips onto bicycle handlebars you will have some idea of the challenge). A liberal application of fairy liquid might help but the foaming consequence when you enter the sea may be distressing for on-lookers. In addition, trying to close the zip at the back of the suit has filled me with a new-found admiration for the dexterity and resourcefulness of women who every day wrestle bras and dresses into the compliance demanded by modesty. In the end I did succeed in getting dressed and am able to report that in a wet suit I look most like a vacuum packed bag of stewing steak pieces and that the Educations Centre’s practice of wearing large nappy size shorts over the top of protect the wet-suit arse did not enhance the look.
I then spent an afternoon feigning coasteering competence to a group of 19 German speaking teenagers who were attending the Education Centre for a week of mixed evangelical rowdiness and outdoor activities. I did an amount of pointing down at deep seawater pools from elevated rocks and issuing advice about avoiding slippy seaweed and sharp limestone, and working with and not against the waves; advice taken by everyone but completely ignored by me when it came time for me to launch myself off said rocks. Thankfully I was acting as the group back-marker so most of my appalling inelegant incompetence and foul mouthed invective was missed by the group, though a number of cliff-top spectators were clearly alternately intrigued and astounded at the sight of the bad tempered floundering platypus apparently chasing a group of German children around the coast.
Did the activity help me prepare for the Ulster Way hike? Well any marginal improvement to my fitness was easily off-set by the amount of sea-water I consumed but I think any practice in making progress over difficult rocks while wet must constitute a rehearsal for large parts of the Ulster Way in autumn. But I think I will confine future training to land based activity.
Brendan
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