The Adventures of a Middle Aged Gapper

As promised, over the next 2 weeks I will publish on here the opening of my book - Adventures of a Middle Aged Gapper. This is also my final submission to Hull University for my Mickey Mouse degree in Creative Writing. Despite my belief that this is not a real degree I am, much to my own amazement, in line to receive First Class Honours (surely that proves my point?). It all depends on this last piece.

If you have any comments to make or constructive criticism then please feel free use the comments box. I will then mention you in my very long acceptance speech when the university laud me with honours. Ok, maybe that's a slight exaggeration since I'm not even going to the awards ceremony. But any comments will be appreciated.

And, if there are any literary agents out there reading this, I am still agent-less and welcome any inquiries.

Here we go -


THE ADVENTURES OF A MIDDLE AGED GAPPER

Preface

Andy, our instructor, guides the inflatable raft to the side of the Kaituna River in preparation for the big one - Tutea Falls.

‘Around this bend is the highest commercially rafted waterfall in the world. The drop is seven metres. If you listen carefully to my instructions and do as I say then there’s a pretty good chance that we will make it.’

At this moment I must admit that there is a certain amount of adrenalin pumping around my body and a nagging fear that won’t go away.

‘If you do fall out of the raft it will feel like you are in a washing machine. Roll yourself into a tight ball until you surface,’ says Andy seriously. ‘You don’t want to hit the rocks.’

All I can picture is myself tumbling around in the crashing waters at the base of the fall, with no idea which way is up and praying that I don’t get snagged under a boulder.

‘Everyone on their feet while I ask the god of the river to protect us.’ Andy is not a Maori but from somewhere he plucks a stirring tribal incantation, calling for our safe delivery while his crew waiver unsteadily in the large raft.

White water rafting is one of the twenty challenges that I set myself for my gap year. In the preceding six months I have already rafted in Turkey and even passed through mighty Grade 5 falls with names like ‘Overtime’ and ‘The Bad Place’ on a twenty mile journey down the River Nile in Uganda. This is one challenge that is well and truly ticked off the list. According to my own rules I don’t need to be here and yet it was the first activity I booked once I had arranged my flight to New Zealand. I’m a tanned, fit, adrenalin junkie. A long way from the overweight guy who used to sit at his desk trying to muster enthusiasm for the latest performance figures and measuring out his days by visits to the coffee machine.

‘This is the Silver Fern,’ says Andy, grabbing some leaves from the river bank. ‘It is the symbol of New Zealand. It’s what the All Blacks wear on their shirts. See, it is green on top and silver underneath? Here, Becky, take the leaf and throw it on the water.’

Becky is a very blond and very attractive American. Like just about everyone else in the raft she is about 30 years younger than me. Becky is a real gapper.

‘If the leaf lands silver side up then it is a sign of good fortune,’ explains Andy. ‘If not, I will have my work cut out.’

Becky throws the leaf to the surface of the river and nine pairs of eyes follow its progress intently. The silver fern sinks without trace.

Shit.

Andy looks genuinely troubled. I don’t think that was meant to happen.

‘Okay, guys, no problem,’ says Andy with forced enthusiasm. ‘Let’s go anyway.’

I resume my position at the front of the raft, alongside my friend Pete who asked if he could join me on my New Zealand trip.

Urged on by Andy we paddle around the bend, Pete and I setting the stroke rate towards the roaring falls.

‘Keep paddling!’ cries Andy, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of rushing water. I force myself to obey as the front of the boat edges out over the drop.

‘Get down!’ screams Andy.

There’s an ‘ecstasy of fumbling’ as Wilfred Owen put it, describing soldiers in a gas attack. I try to squeeze myself into the space beside Pete, at the same time grabbing the guide rope around the raft and grasping my paddle tightly. Trying to do three things at once whilst my stomach churns more than the river proves too much. I snag my right foot on a toe hold on the floor and begin to panic. In what seems like slow motion, I shake my foot free and get down just as the raft tilts and falls into the crashing water. I take a one last deep breath as the foaming water swallows up the boat. My entire world turns white.

Next time - A very unsettling re-settlement course.