Big Adventurous Sportive Trial: BAST

"Could you please leave and sit one chair to the back?"
"Why?"
"The foremost four chairs are reserved for the teachers." There are three teachers travelling with us. Although I don't understand what they need the fourth chair for, I obey and sit one chair to the back, at the window. Although I'm one of the last who entered the bus, most chairs in the front are still free. Apparently, most pupils don't feel the need to look forward through the window. The fourth chair is taken by backpacks.

Outside, a few parents are waiting. Some children have even brought two or three parents with them; the third one is most probably a brother or a friend. The bus leaves at half past eight, exactly on time, three quarters after the passport check. The other bus, that should bring the other group to London, should have left a quarter ago but still hasn't even arrived at school yet. Happily we wave the London-travellers goodbye. We're gone. From the corner in which the bus enters the Gaasperdammerweg I have a last look at the school building. Most classes have already started.

Being in the second row of the bus appears to have another advantage. I can clearly see and hear the movie. In spite of the fact that there is a choice between almost twenty different movies, a HAVO-boy (whom I don't know because I'm in VWO) still thinks it's necessary to bring along his own movie, The Planet of the Apes. Apparently this boy has a DVD-to-video-recorder, since the only place where this movie is available is through the Internet. The bus driver, who insists we call her Ida, doesn't care.

The story of the movie is utterly ridiculous. A man travels through some sort of time machine which lets him arrive in the future, where chimps rule the world and men are forced to slavery. He tries to enforce a power takeover to get men back in rule again. If I would be at home I would walk away from the movie in or even before the first advertising round, but it does offer some attraction while sitting in the bus; it is at least more interesting than other cars. The latter is no longer even true for the second movie, about some set of angels killing loads of murderers. I rather look at the Ourthe. I will be rafting over that river the day after tomorrow.

"Did you even bring along your own map?"
"Yes, my parents have been here 20 years ago. This map is from 1973."
"That shouldn't be a problem. You'll get there with your map, but you'd better use ours anyway."
"What scale is your map then?" It turns out to be 1:25.000. The guides ask some other questions: Where on the map is the North, Where does the red arrow of your compass point to? and how many centimetres on the map correspond to a kilometre in the landscape?. It is not necessary to tell them about the change in the magnetic needle declination change to be qualified as an expert.

"Gerrit," one of the boys from the team I have been put into asks, "do you ever have fun?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you do on a typical Friday night?"
"Loads of things. Sometimes I read, sometimes I play a computer game, sometimes I watch television..."
"What kind of programmes do you watch then? Don't you ever go out?"
"I watch the news, documentaries... no, I never go out." Our team is the last one who left. And my team members are walking ridiculously slow. Before every shop-window they stand still. At the petrol station they are astonished by the low prices for petrol. Knowing I am a vegetarian, they 'offer' me a sausage when we walk past a (closed) butcher's shop. When one of them takes the map from my hands, I'm off. I start walking forward on a faster pace and join Jantine's group.

Here it is appreciated to be able to read maps. We walk straight to La Boverie, where we turn out to be the first group to arrive. Luckily, the people at the reception desk speak Dutch. When we ask for P.B.N., we are sent to Bungalow 79. There we separate and I get a box to carry along to my bungalow, number 89. Peanut butter, three litres of milk, orange juice... because of the availability of only 3 rooms, I decide to wait for Geert, Hakan and Mustafa before I take one of the rooms without having them involved.

When he finally arrives, the first thing Geert does is throwing his stuff on the widest of the beds.
"Might it be a good idea to first talk to Hakan, Mustafa and me before taking that bed?"
"No. Hakan and Mustafa are close friends, they are happy in the bunk bed."
"How about me? Maybe I prefer to sleep in that bed as well."
"No, I was here first." Geert puts MTV on.
"Geert, please, not MTV! Can't you turn it off?"
"No."
"Can't we make an agreement, for example first turn it off and then turn it on?"
"No. My opinion is more important than yours." I back off. I don't want to have an argument.

Barbeque, or, as they probably mean: barbecue. There are veggieburgers for vegetarians, but I don't want them. I eat bread and talk to Hakan and Mustafa. Mustafa:
"What do you think about the attacks? Do you pity the USA or do you think its good for them?" Me:
"I think it's good for the country the US, but a pity for the casualties and their surviving relatives. Where do you originally come from?" Hakan is from Morocco and Mustafa is from Turkey.

In the evening, we do a so-called 'star walk'. The guides think that when you put X steps in the direction of 30 degrees and after than Y steps in the direction of 60 degrees, that it means doing X+Y steps in the direction of 90 degrees. Dopes.

I would be waking up, if I were you.
Hmmmm... what's the time...?
Half past seven. Although it does seem a little early to me, I decide to obey to Mustafa's advice. I dress slowly, I mean calmly. Ten minutes later I'm ready and put on the television, on Text TV. Second day of bombardments on Afghanistan. Taliban claims civilian casualties. No real news, that is. That would come in the evening.

At ten past eight, I'm standing obediently at the street to get the bread. The agreement is that the bread will come at a quarter past eight. But at 5 minutes to half past eight, nobody has come. Do we each want a mandarin? I don't, I don't like them. Maybe someone else cares to have two.
"Ha, food, finally," Geert says when I enter the bungalow again. "No food at all. They are far too late. It isn't my fault either." I close the door again and leave. It has been 40 minutes past eight before the PBN-van finally arrives. Far too late. None of us like mandarins. Maybe the neighbours do.

Apart from two of the three teachers, everyone is on time for the bus to leave. We're heading for the so-called PBN-rock. Everyone is told to split himself up in three groups, for all three activities we will all be forced to do. The first thing I will be doing is practising archery. After that, I shall enter the Cave, and finally I will do some mountain-biking - but that's later. First see how the archery goes.

Archery is like rafting. That is: I've never done it, apart from once in the Archeon. But that was with fake-prehistoric material, and many, many years ago.
"You have to hold the bow like this, and not like this or like this." Some people start to laugh.
"Yes, I have seriously seen children hold the bow like this," he assures us. I don't see what's wrong. When its my turn to shoot, it costs me some time to see what he means by holding it like this. I need the guides to come and rescue me. I'm ashamed of myself. No, I'm not. I just try. I get three arrows. Only one of them wants to be shot into the board. That number is trebled at my second attempt. All points are added to each other. I'm by far the worst.

And now: the cave. Impatiently, I wait until the previous group has left it. The mountainbikers have already finished their route. I stand at the entrance of the cave. Yes, I do hear voices! A few moments later, Yun-Hi crawls out of the cave. She claims her overall used to be green an hour ago, but there is virtually no visible evidence for her claim. Slowly other pupils start dripping out of the cave. I have already dressed myself for the next adventure. My overall already is brown. I want to go inside, it seems terrific to me. Impatiently I listen to the boring, but, as I'm told, vitally important instructions.
"Help the one behind you, state clearly where to go, ask help if you're unable to complete some step or task," .... My thoughts are elsewhere. My thoughts are already in the cave. How will it be? Will I be able to stand on my feet? Will there be a lot of water? Will it be very narrow? A lot of stalagmites? To my own annoyance, I'm unable to be one of the first to enter the cave. I'm even one of the last. Finally, when I stand in the cave, I almost forget to put my headlights on. Put your feet down here. No, a little closer to the wall, yes here, I've got it, here is an iron bar. Now hold the rope and let yourself sink... Rope? Sink? Shit... Now I understand the story I heard about, about someone who fell down three metres. I can still go b... No, ridiculous. It's great! Of course we get plenty of help, and once we're down below we can simply walk. When it's my turn to go down, I feel utterly stupid. Clumsy. Slow. But indeed I get plenty of help and indeed I reach the floor. But the idea that I can simply walk from there is nonsense. I have to press myself through a small crevice.
"Put your foot down there," Derk tells me while he points at a certain spot with his headlight. We have to climb. Then, we go to the right. Down again. Forward. Backward. Sidewards. Finally a location where we can rest a bit. I now feel that I have lost my breath in the past few minutes. I look at my watch.
"What the?! I call out, Have we really been in the cave for half an hour now?"
"Sure. Time flies, doesn't it?" Rosalie, the accompanying PBN'er, answers. Five minutes later, we continue. The same way it went until now. The obstacles are becoming harder and harder. Pull yourselves up while lying flat on your belly, turn around at the relatively open spot, and continue on your back. Wow. A few moments later, someone calls that he absolutely can't cross that one without getting wet. And he is right, I do hear a loud splash.
"Shit, the water is deep!" I see some HAVO-guy standing in the water up to his navel. It won't happen to me! First I have to hold the pillar - I mean, of course, stalagmite - in order to be able to to turn around it. Then I have to make a big leap. Oh dear. What next? I don't want to make a splash. Luckily, I get help from a boy from another group. You should let yourself fall down so you can put your hands against the wall over there, I am told. Finally I do dare to do so: even if it's only because I have to. I succeed. Now, I have my feet at one side of the corridor and my hands against the rock on the other side. Below me the deep water. I manage to get my left hand free without losing my balance. I reach for the boy's hand and grab it. And now: the leap. First my left foot. Ouch... I won't succeed that way. I will push myself up with my right foot in order to reach the other side with my left one. One, two....... It takes some time before I realise that I am not wet. Adrenaline rushes through me. A few moments later I see the ladder along which I got down. It does take some effort to climb up. But finally I reach daylight. Daylight! Tiredly I manage to get outside. I walk down. I sit down, in the sun. The air shining blue. I arrived.

Pff... and now, cycling. They reach me a bicycle with a black dot painted on it. There is only one smaller size. I try to cycle a few metres. The stones on the PBN-terrain are far too large for that, I can't cycle here. Luckily, we leave the terrain quickly, and the terrain is less bad outside. We cycle along forestry roads, asphalt roads, up and down. And over very small paths. Every now and then, we get instructions.

The next segment is very muddy. When you see puddles, go through the puddle. My thought are moving away. What bullshit. I'm just about smart enough not to say it aloud.
"From the previous group, somebody thought: what a bullshit. It's true, serious, don't laugh. He did. So, this boy cycled just along the edge of a puddle, but since it's more slippery there, this boy fell down. Thus, you thus have to thus ride thus through the puddles, don't forget to do so!" I don't. But neither do I manage to stay on my bicycle. The first part isn't bad. Up along a small path. An open place in the forest. A forestry road; I take the left track. I see a puddle in the right one. Preciously I manage to keep my balance. I'm progressing very slowly, my cycle in the bottom gear. Now a big puddle. I have been told to ride through it. What if the puddle is very deep? I ride through. Although I don't fall, I don't manage to stay dry either. I don't care, I have just 'caved' anyway, and the weather is fine. After a quarter hour, we reach an asphalt road. So, now we are allowed to descend, over asphalt!
"Back! Back!" I hear behind me. I'm already halfway through the descent. We have gone wrong. Grumble. We have to wait twice because of flat tyres. Some people smoke. This is boring. We are standing still 50% of the time.

I prefer the Gotthard-pass. It is far more convenient to cycle there. Most cars take the tunnel anyway.

"Crevettes, is that vegetarian?"
"Pardon?"
"Vegetarian, no meat, no fish?"
"Oui oui, no meat and no fish." I'm at a table in the pizzeria together with Karel and Betty. We're doing a guessing game. They don't succeed in guessing that I have subsequently 'Nessie', 'nothing' and 'plug-socket' in my head. A few moment later I get my food. It tastes weird.
"Karel, I say, can you please help me? Is this truly vegetarian?"
"I don't know," he says hesitantly. I let one of the guides taste it. He concludes it is not vegetarian. We ask the waitress to come along. I thought you knew that, crevettes are shrimps. It is without meat and without fish.
"Yes, but it's not vegetarian! I shall have to choose something else!' Much later, a quarter of an hour before we leave, I get spaghetti with some cheese. It is quite eatable, but prejudices against those peasants have been proved utterly correct this evening.

I wake up at eight o'clock in the morning.

Until now, my company is not as bad as it could have been. Normally, I absolutely can't stand Geert, but he could certainly be worse. I don't know whether that's because of me or because of him but the doomsday scenes some people - including me - got into their head, have so far not taken place. I do notice that Hakan and Mustafa are a bunch of idiots, but they're havists so that could've been expected.

Today, we will go abseiling, climb, strum, build a raft, use the raft, have a cooking game and have a so-called party. I shudder to do the last one. How can it ever go well?

The door of the bus is open, and I'm sitting at the second row. Because of this, a very interesting optical situation occurs. Both the window and the door are made of glass, and still, I can't look though it. It is as if every single photon is being reflected. Very interesting.

Next on the program is abseiling. I did that once, at a lake near Sion, but that was only two and a half metres. So I really never did this thing. First, we climb to the top of the rock along a small path. When I arrive up there, I look over the edge. Wow. This is deep.
"What is the approximate height of the rock," I ask.
"I think about 15 metres," I get answered.
"Ouch, you shouldn't fall down."
"You're safely tight up, it is secure."
"Sure."

Again, I'm one of the last to leave. Just as they told us, the first step into the abyss is by far the worst one. But it really isn't a step into the abyss. I walk backwards holding my rope until I've reached the edge, and there I look at the abyss through the space between my legs. Wow. I get instructions. I am supposed to keep my legs stretched.
"You're going to forget that, you bet!" the relatively young guide says for the hundredth time. The first thing I'll do is lean backward with an angle of approximately 45 degrees. It is scary enough. Even though I know better, I've got the feeling that I can fall backwards any moment. I'm going slowly. But then I suddenly know how to stand. Now I've got to do a step down. The first steps are on an artificial wooden platform with a negative slope (hanging over). My left foot leaves the wood. Immediately I'm making a sweep to the right. I try to feel downward with my foot.
"Yes yes, go on, a little further down, yes. Get your other foot along, yes, good. Next step. Keep your legs stretched! I'm going to help the next one." With my right hand, I hold the rope. I pay it out just a little bit. Instantly I drop so I grab the rope firmly again. Pay it out again, a tiny little bit. I'm at a plateau now. I push against the rock to get backwards. Suddenly I'm turning along my axis. I'm looking the wrong way! I'm getting dizzy. I see the abyss down below. I try very hard to turn back with my face to the rock. I succeed in doing so. Phew. Further down. Pay it out... grab it. Pay it out... grab it. Very slowly I get closer toward safe ground. And then I'm there.

I unfasten the material and the rope. I'm about to take off my helmet and my belt, but Herman Kruizinga tells me I will need it later, while climbing and while going on the zip line (example video). Okay, I won't put them off then.

The climbing wall is a combination of a natural wall and a artificial wall. That means: it is a natural wall, but to make the process a little simpler for us beginners, they put in helpers in different colours. Initially, we get comprehensive instructions about securing the other climbers. It takes about five different steps, left hand here and right hand there and left hand this and right hand that. It is too much to remember immediately. I start with climbing so that it's not my duty to secure someone - it is Herman Kruizinga's duty, however.

The leftmost rock is the only rock left. It is the most difficult one. I'll give it a try. The first metres aren't too hard. It is heavy to pull yourself up, but I know I'm safe. A few metres higher the impassable obstacles are reached. Am I too small? Or too stupid? Probably the latter one. But I'm going down again.

The securing is OK, at least, while Kruizinga is climbing. When the assistant is going down again I forget to get hold of the brake: he falls down a few metres. Luckily, I know what to do just in time, and he's hanging still again. The last part is no problem. I'm glad he says he doesn't care about it.

Next: the worst thing of the whole project week. Zip line. It comes down to it that you are forced to jump into the abyss, while hanging on a rope using some weird mechanism. Many have made the leap before me. Some claim to have survived. There are even people who told me they liked it - but I don't believe people saying that since I heard people claiming they liked C.K.V. (Culture at school). But it's my turn now.

My hands are put through some sort of little rope and I've got to turn them twice. Around my belt I get an extra security check, 'just in case I'm stupid enough to let loose the rope'. But now I've gotta jump. Into the abyss. I stay at the edge of the plank bridge. My human brake gets his arm into the air: the sign he's ready.
"Go!" the only female guide, Rosalie, says. She can say that easily! But I do go. I don't jump, I let myself fall, in the instinct that the brush below me will break my fall. But I'm going high over this brush. I am now ten metres above the ground. Holy shit, this is scary. I scream. None of my predecessors have done so, but I can't hold it out. I want to return. But I can want what I want. I'm going faster and faster, faster every second. I wonder what my acceleration is, taking the friction of the rope into account. The rope is becoming hotter and hotter. I'm not sure whether it's safe. Suddenly I feel a bang. I'm slowing down. My body shoots forward, but then there is solid ground beneath my feet. I'm standing on safe ground. That was once. But never again.

And now, for something completely different.

"I think it's not good to put the fifth tyre on top of the other four."
"So what do we do with it, you say?"
"We'd better not use it at all. A structure with triangles is the best, but having triangles with 5 tyres makes the raft too asymmetrical."
After a few minutes of discussion they realise I'm right. We'll create a raft with triangles. Of course connected with pieces of rope.

The construction is fine. I don't do as much as I should, but that is much worse when we're rafting a quarter later.

We've got four tires. We've got four paddles. But we've got five human beings. Somebody has to sit in the middle. I don't know how it happened, but I end up being the one sitting in the middle. Well, I don't really mind. My task is to give instructions. I'm the only boy of my group. I ought to be strong and row the raft, but I'm not. OK then.

We are the third team to go into the water. Soon, we pass the two teams that started before us. Some Havo-guys with a very stupid Havo-construction, and the teachers, who used four tyres with the three of them, a triangle with an extra tyre on top. We are the first team now, and the other members of my group are rowing quite fast. Soon we reach the predicted rapids. The instruction the guides gave us was to pass it along the edge. We do so. Some water droplets find their way towards our bodies, but we don't care. The difficult part has yet to come. When we get sight of the finish, the other teams are so far behind that they're far out of sight. But before we are allowed to reach the finish, we're supposed to turn around the fountain. One side is easy, but back, against the stream? "We" paddle as hard as we can. But the maximum velocity in the desired direction we can reach is zero. I realise that I can finally make myself useful and without thinking too much, I jump into the water. I easily push the raft along the fountain. It's silly to jump back onto the raft again so I keep pushing until we've reached the finish. We have beaten the winning team of this morning by a full minute. We're all astonished to hear we have done so.

Hakan and Mustafa are leaving the bungalow.
"Where are you going?"
"We're cooking with the neighbours."
"Hey, what about us!"
"You're unlucky bastards."
"Let them go, I'll cook. Will you wash the dishes then?" Geert says. I am happy with that. Absolutely. The food fails and can't be eaten. I'm having a Liga Milkbreak for dinner. We won't take part in the cooking contest.

We are told to be at the reception at half past nine for an 'evening game'. I have decided to try it out and take the risk. We are called inside. I sit on a chair which turns back automatically. When I turn it exactly 180 degrees, I am able to keep it into balance. Let the hell begin...

"OK, everyone: take off one shoe and lump them all together." I am astonished to see every single person obeying. Apparently there is no escape to this order. Also because the guides have threatened to use force if you do not blindly oblige their orders. I start to make the laces of my shoe loose calmly, and put it gently on the mountain of shoes.
"OK, take back your shoe now." What in Christs' sake is the necessity of this? And why is the music so extremely loud? And why the ridiculous text? Laat de limonade nu maar knallen... What do they mean with 'knallen' talking about lemonade? Nu ben jij, degeen, die een feestje geeft... What is the reason of this party? I don't understand. The end of the project week? It wasn't that bad, until now! En binnenkort nodigen wij je uit... Who invites me? For what? Where? When? Why? How? I really don't understand a single bit of it.

"OK, sit down everyone. We are going to do the Belgian chair dance," Why does this dope keep saying 'OK'? Can't he start his sentence in any different way?
"OK, you all know the ordinary, Dutch Chairdance, but the Belgian chairdance is different. I name an object. Everybody is part of one of the three teams, and when I name an object, the team that is the first to bring along an object has won." The music becomes even louder. If it had not I would have not thought it was possible. More idiotic songs stream into my poor ears. It is horribly crammed with people here. Would they know anything about fire security? What would happen if the decoration burnt and fell down on us, like it did in Volendam?
"OK, Empty pack of cigarettes!" What kind of idiotic object is this? With this, something terrible like smoking is in fact encouraged, because the smoking team wins. It even seems like they think it's cool to smoke. Someone comes along with an empty pack of cigarettes in one hand and the cigarettes in the other. A few moments later:
"OK, T-Shirt!" Christ. Is it possible to play a more idiot 'game'?

It turns out to be possible.
"OK, For the next game, the objective is to be the best in BELCHING. I have three bottles of coke here, and you have to empty it in a single draught, and next..." My thought are flying away to the aquarium. The aquarium is definitely a whole lot more interesting than this, er, 'fun'. The 'game' has started.
"SO THIS IS WHAT YOU CALL FUN?" I scream into the ear of Simon, who sits next to me.
'YES! AIN'T IT COOL?" I am unable to suppress my tears. I have the feeling that I lose consciousness. I half-hear that we are allowed to have a pause. That we are allowed to go outside, as long as we don't leave the terrace. I do everything in order to get away from the terrace. Like a thief in the night I am able to sneak away, through the dark. Five steps upwards towards the tennis court. There is too much light here. Along the fence of the tennis court I run to a bench. I go and lie on my back on this bench. With my face to the stars. I half-expect to be called back. Back to the ultimate punishment. Back to the gulag-education-camp. Back to hell.

But thank God, nobody comes. The pause has finished. The music is turned louder again. I watch the stars. I never see stars in Diemen. I don't see the difference between the Polar Star and the Great Bear. But that doesn't mean I can't get lost into my fantasy with them. I fantasise about stars. Exoplanets. Supernova's. The Big Bang. Black Holes. I get up. I sneak along the tennis court. Down from there, to the parking. From the parking I can cross the grass towards the bungalow. It is probably locked. I know I will be punished for this. But I'd rather brush the holiday park with a tooth brush a thousand times, than return to the hell back there. I sneak further. I arrive at my bungalow, number 89. My guess was right, it's locked. I hope I can get in through the back. I climb upward along the drainpipe. Somehow I manage to reach the balcony. I push at the door. It opens. I step inside. But then comes the panic. Is this our bungalow? I try to find a light switch by touch. No, there is no light switch here, of course. This is something that could very well be my sleeping bag. I walk further, by touch, along the wall. I reach the front door and press the light switch. It is our bungalow. I undress, fall into my sleeping bag, and I'm asleep. I escaped!

Somebody fumbles upon my leg.
Why don't you let him sleep! someone else says. I let myself sleep.

"At what time did you come home last night?"
"I was here at half past three. Hakan and Mustafa weren't here before five." Geert answers. I'm very glad to have been disobedient.

I expect a lot of reactions. But the entering guides, waking us up, don't say a word about it. Hakan, Mustafa and Geert don't say a word about it. The former two are still asleep, by the way. I have packed my luggage. They are allowed to do the rest of the job: the bungalow needs to be cleaned as well.

The bus is leaving. We're going to canoe. It can't be too difficult. I think I will like it. I have canoed before, one time, at the Vecht near Utrecht. But this is probably different. After having listened to the instructions, I sit down in my canoe. I am pushed into the water, and I'm in.

I try to tighten my cape a little. Immediately it loosens itself again. Finally I do accomplish in tightening it. I see that the guides are already leaving: presumably I'm expected to follow them. Initially it looks like everything is going all right, as I manage to get along with the rest. But soon the problems start.

I am now perpendicular to the water. I have been told that I should paddle through the bend in the river. I can get as much as that. I make a wide bend with my paddle. Fortunately, my canoe now turns so that it's OK. I want to accelerate now, but before I can even put my paddle in the water my canoe has turned too far: 180 degrees now, so that I'm perpendicular to the water again. I try to turn back, but again I'm turning too far. You need to use more force, is the mantra I hear besides me. I obey. I try to get forwards by putting all my power into a few turns, and indeed, I am now parallel to the water, and progressing. But after a few turns of my paddle I'm getting tired and losing my breath. I've managed to get my canoe parallel to the water, and I figure it will stay so when I settle down a bit. But soon I'm turning along my axis again, going straight into the verge. I try to prevent myself crashing into the verge. I fail to do so. I crash into the verge. I wait a few moments in order to take by breath again, and then I realise I've got to push against the verge in order to progress downstream. What would happen if I'd simply let it go? No, I've got to paddle. The teachers say so. The guides say so. Am I too clumsy? Or am I simply to weak? A fact is that I now see a lot of people at the verge. We're forced to wait for each other there. We have to go through the rapid one by one. Rapid? Yes, rapid. I'm one of the last to go through. I use all force I have to paddle through it. I've got to go through it straight, or else I'll tumble, or so I'm told. A few moments later I realise I have actually managed it. I try to rest a little. Immediately I get perpendicular to the water again. I then manage to have a few turns straight but I'm soon turning again. I now see a bridge. I try to paddle away from the centre of the stream. I fail. With full speed I crash into the concrete. I don't think the canoe would be happy with this. I push off and pass the bridge. I'm turning again. I try to get straight. I'm turning twice. For a few moments I lift along with someone else. That is very bad so I let loose again. Being adrift I collide against a tree. I've got a helmet. How far to go? This river is endless. I turn again. Another turn around. Another one. And again. Shit. I collide with a stone. I almost tumble. There is another rapid, a small one this time. I've given up trying to go straight through the river. I pass the rapid sidewards. I'm turning again, first going backwards and then again sidewards. I try to go straight. I turn 180 degrees so I'm sidewards again. And again. And again. In a final attempt to go straight, I turn a full circle. Madness. I lay back but immediately hear someone shout to paddle along. I obey. I turn. And I turn. There is another trunk. And another verge. Another stone. I turn. Yet another rapid. I turn. Yet another bridge. I turn. I turn. I turn. Another trunk. I turn. I've gone totally round the twist now. And another stone. And again. And again. And I turn.