I would like to preface this post by saying that I’m not
THAT much of a coward. I mean, I have what I’d call a healthy amount of life-saving
fear. The kind of fear that pulls me away from cliff edges and makes me recoil
from potentially poisonous creatures*. I get a fair amount of adrenaline from
just everyday life, like driving over roundabouts with more than two lanes or
when an email comes in with the subject line saying ‘a bit of feedback’. So,
for me, life is enough of an adrenaline high, let alone something like Go Ape.
But my other half thinks a little differently.
As a birthday treat for my boyfriend, I booked us a cabin in
the Forest of Dean over a long weekend and on Saturday, I arranged for us to go
to the nearby Go Ape Treetops Adventure. He is a much more laid back person
than I am, so for him, a little off-the-ground adventure was a welcomed thrill.
He had done Go Ape before a couple of times, but it was a
first for me. It wasn’t until earlier that day that I started to think about
what I’d booked myself on to do. Treetops. In charge of our own safety.
Obstacles. Swings and zip wires. “But what if we die?” I squeaked at my
boyfriend. “We’re not going to die. I’ve done it at least twice before, and I
didn’t die.” That should have been more comforting to me than it was. As it
turns out, my boyfriend likes to put the safety gear well and truly to the
test, but I wasn’t to know that at the time.
The first thing you do is read a terrifying sheet of rules
and safety instructions. By my count, it mentioned ‘high risk’, ‘fatal’ and ‘death’
more times than I would like to see on an A4 sheet outside of a crime novel.
But to be fair, I understand that you have to enter into this activity with
your eyes wide open about what it could mean if you don’t take safety
seriously. I get that; oh boy, do I get that.
The next step is to have a short pep talk from one of the
people who work there, let’s call him Josh. So, Josh puts us in our harnesses,
tells us to have a look at some instruction signs and have a ‘play’ with the
karabiners. Then he explains it all and it seems fine. Things are colour coded
and the simple rule – that I can follow even in the throes of panic – is to
always stay attached to something. Josh punctuates by saying that we are alone
and in charge of our own safety up there, and finishes the pep talk saying if
anyone has had a change of heart and doesn’t feel confident they could walk out
now with a full refund. I’m afraid, but I’m also interested to see how I would
handle it and interested in pushing myself. So, I pretend I didn’t hear this
cheat code for the quick escape route and I move along. Besides, my boyfriend
looks eager and excited and what kind of birthday present would it be to send
him up in the trees by himself? It must be at least a bit about the company you
are in as well as the excitement of the challenges.
So we get into the first of five separate little areas. Each
starts with a rope ladder and ends with a zip wire. You are attached to
something from the moment you leave the ground until the moment you are back on
it. The first of these five areas is about as far off the ground as maybe
standing on a table, and Josh is with us there, watching how well we follow the
safety rules and correcting anything we’re not doing right. Which,
comfortingly, isn’t much. So far, this is fine. Better than fine, this is
confidence-boosting. I like instructions and preparation when doing something
new – because I’m so very cool – so this is right up my street.
The next four areas take you through a series of challenges
around the course, growing in height and difficulty. I am not someone with a
lot of upper body strength, but the only thing that pushed this element was the
cargo nets that followed a Tarzan swing. Ability wouldn’t be an issue here, I
wouldn’t say. You can go slower or faster if you prefer, and some areas split into
an easier ‘moderate’ path or a tougher ‘extreme’ path.
For someone as fearful as me about the whole experience, the
height didn’t bother me for the most part. It was easy to look down but focus
on where to take your next step rather than the abyss. You can also mostly hold
on to the wire to which your safety equipment is attached. If you’re more
adventurous, like my lovely other half, you may want to not hold on to this and
balance your way across. And inevitably, sometimes, this would lead to testing
how effectively you are held on. And, to my comfort, it looked effective.
I fully expected that the zip wire would frighten me most.
It’s the time when you are fully reliant on your harness and karabiners. On
everything else, you have the support of your arms and legs on the safety
agenda. But much to my surprise, the zip wire was fine. Unlike my boyfriend,
who took a running leap off the ledge to ensure top speed while he zips down, I
could sit down into my harness on the spot, still above the ledge, and be
assured that my handy work with the karabiners will hold me. And I would say I
eventually reached the same top speed anyway. Besides which (!) if I were to be
going any faster, there is the issue of the slow down on the other side. If you
are lucky enough to reach the other side facing forwards, the slow-down is
simple; you just run and slow down. However, if like me, every single time, you
had twisted so you are facing where you came from, the strategy is to dig your
heels in and drag them on the ground. But alas, you end up also trailing around
on your bum for a short while. It’s not painful at all, but you may, like me,
end up with undies full of the wood shavings they lay down to ensure a soft
landing, which pickle.
Hands down, the toughest thing was the Tarzan swing. Tough
only in terms of getting over my fears of not plummeting to my death. Unlike
being able to sit in the harness on the zip wire, this required you to jump off
a ledge and take a downward, plunging trajectory before you are caught by the
swing and taken forwards into the cargo net. At this Go Ape, there were two.
The first one was a lot smaller – but it was also the first. I’d say much of
the reason I managed to take the first leap was because I was embarrassed about
holding everyone up. And because my boyfriend was behind me, pushing me –
metaphorically – to go for it. Little did I know, he was also considering a
literal push if I was too hesitant. Luckily for both of us and our
relationship, he didn’t. I was fully planning to avoid the second Tarzan swing
if there was another way, and yes! To my utter relief, there was a ‘moderate’
path I could take instead. I don’t know if it was my other half asking me to do
this Tarzan swing as well, or the deep-set desire to silence and override the
absolute terror I was feeling at the edge of the platform, but I decided to
jump. I can’t say that it wasn’t petrifying to step off that ledge, but it’s
quite freeing to look back and think that my will and my faith in myself won
out.
If, like me, you’re what Alan Sugar likes to call a ‘cautious
Carol’, there is nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Caution is good, it
means you don’t get into sticky situations without a plan, and that you don’t
take needless risks. But it’s really nice to know you can overrule when you want
to.
Go Ape was just a lot of fun, and a novel way to get that
good ache the next day that follows some fairly strenuous activity. My
boyfriend loved it and I really enjoyed it too. It’s well worth a go, fear or
no fear.
Scariest part: Aside from the Tarzan swing, which was a bit
of a leap of faith, I was probably most afraid before we got started. Reading
the instructions and waiting around was quite nerve-wracking, but trying out
the equipment fairly low to the ground really put me at ease.
Best part: Zip wires. Everything from the wind in your face
and the trees underneath you to looking back at how high up you were mere
seconds ago. And special mention to watching someone else try to stick that
landing.
*Okay, house spiders, but in my defence, they have some
pretty fearsome cousins.
