Unusual Activity at Plas y Brenin

Anna, my daughter, worked for three months in the summer of 1996 as an instructor at Plas y Brenin, the National Mountain Centre at Capel Curig. This is a very beautiful part of Wales in Snowdonia, with its mountains, rivers and lakes.

The activities she was involved in were skiing, climbing, canoeing and kayaking. I found myself, rather reluctantly, a student of hers for a brief spell. Whereas Anna is an adventurous sportswoman, I am more of a thinker and a dreamer. Any sniff of danger turns me into a petrified statue. It reminds me of a game we used to play long ago where, when the music stopped, you had to 'freeze'. I would wobble and quiver and giggle and be the first to be 'called out'. However, when I feel scared, I really do 'freeze'. Occasionally, Anna coaxes me to venture gingerly into uncharted areas of experience. I always regret landing myself in deep water.

That summer she invited Hazel, my old school friend, and Mike, my husband, and me to spend a night at the centre. We accepted with pleasure. Mike was recovering from an operation to have the bones of his upper left arm replaced in titanium. A simple fall on the way to the bus station had resulted in crushed bones. With his arm in a sling he was safe from adventurous trials, unlike Hazel and myself!

The first ‘treat’ awaiting us after our evening meal was a session in Indian kayaks on the lake. I am short and fat, so try to picture the scene as I stripped and began forcing my body into a wet suit! Imagine zipping yourself in, while the folds of fat redistribute themselves under the shiny, black, heavy suit! It felt awful. Then came the life jacket. At least, it disguised some of the strangely shaped mass, but I had to breathe in as I zipped it up. I never asked to see the photographs that were taken of us as we slowly and reluctantly emerged from the changing-room on our way to the lake! I guess we resembled something from outer space!

Firstly, we visited the canoe pool where students practise capsizing, but, thankfully, we were excused that exercise, so we continued to the boathouse and collected our kayaks. Soon, we were on the lake, learning how to handle a kayak. I began thinking to myself, 'So, people do this kind of thing for sport?'

I was far from enjoying it, but later I would get my kick from telling people about it. It is the sort of experience that gains in the telling. I managed not to capsize but I made sure I undid the 'apron' securing me in the boat. I knew that if I capsized, I would panic and be incapable of unbuttoning the flap.

Anna was out on the lake, shouting instructions. Suddenly, I yelled in panic, '“Help! My kayak is stuck in the reeds!'

Anna paddled across and freed me, 'tut-tutting' as she did so! Once in the centre of the lake I began to feel safer and I actually enjoyed paddling on my own in the little, one-person kayak. I dreamed of Hiawatha and Minnehaha, Laughing Water, and of Hazel'’s and my school days. The pine trees beside the lake and the sound of the water lapping took me back in memory so that I was listening again to Longfellow's poem being read by our English teacher. I was back in my dream world, where I seek refuge from the stresses of the real world.

After an hour on the lake we came ashore and put the kayaks away before returning to the heated changing-room. I was looking forward to joining Mike in the bar for a drink before retiring. No such luck! Hazel and I were taken back to the equipment room, where we were fitted with skis and ski boots. They felt just as odd and uncomfortable as the wet suit.

I plodded along, dreaming I was toiling, step by tortuous step, towards the North Pole. Once on the dry ski slope, we had our instructions to stand at right angles to the downward slope till told otherwise. I had always believed that skiers had to propel themselves with their ski poles in order to get moving. At one stage I turned around and whoosh! I was off, not, however, before I had grabbed Anna in panic. This resulted in a kind of full circle pirouette by both of us, as she applied the brakes to my downward rush. I pictured Torvill and Dean in action on the ice! I guarantee that there was no similarity between my undignified movements and the glamorous pictures of athletic skiers travelling gracefully down the slopes at breakneck speed.

Eventually, we reached the bottom of the slope. Then Hazel grabbed the moving ski-rail. She quickly reached the top, but I was dead scared. I refused to be hauled up. If you lost your footing, you would fall over the edge. Suddenly, the moving rail came to a halt. It was cut-off time, the hour at which the ski slope closed down for the night. I relaxed. I had had enough skiing to last me for the rest of my life, or so I thought! Mike had been watching our antics from the bar, which overlooks the ski slope. I was looking forward to an ‘Après ski’ drink with him, but that treat was yet to come!

The climbing wall was still open, and that is where we headed for next. We were given climbing shoes to wear. They were a size smaller than our own shoes. My feet felt crippled in them, and my bunions and corns were torturing me .We were taken to the training wall, which was smaller than the climbing wall, and was there for the use of novices. Up the wall we went, chalky hands clutching the narrow crevices. Being scared of heights, I was afraid to look down, so I let my feet search for the crevices below. How high and how precarious I felt at 10 feet! Then it was time to abseil down. 'Sit in your harness out from the wall”' was the instruction.

'What if the person feeding out the rope below lets go and I hurtle down to the ground? At my age there is a risk of broken bones', I argued.

What a relief when I landed safely and was allowed to remove those tight shoes! My feet, however, continued to hurt. I enjoyed the wall even less than the skiing. That was our lot for the night. We finally had our 'night-cap' in the bar, after which we slept the sleep of the just!

Next morning, after breakfast, we were back on the lake, this time in Canadian canoes - two-person craft. Hazel and I started rowing, supposedly making a beeline for the centre of the lake. Why were we going round and round on the spot in circles? We were told why! She was rowing in one direction, I in the other. It looks so easy when you see other canoes apparently gliding effortlessly and smoothly across the water.

A fit of giggles delayed our trying again. It was like being back in school in the 1940s when we giggled a lot as schoolgirls. Anyway, we both changed the direction of our strokes. We were still circling on the spot, but the opposite way round! Laurel and Hardy could do no better! We eventually got the hang of it and began to move forward and achieve a more rhythmic movement.

Anna, meanwhile, had settled Mike comfortably in her canoe, and was treating him to a trip around the lake. He sat there, enjoying the attention. The self-satisfied expression on his face indicated how pleased he was to be spared all the scary activities! I almost envied him his injured arm!

Anna tells the tale of her Mum's efforts over and over to her friends who smile and, in their kindness, compliment me on my courage in having a go at my age! How patronising! I may look my age but I don't feel it! At the time, however, I decided to stick to milder activities in future. Anna had other plans, like persuading me to go for a ride through a forest on a 'bicycle made for two' with my very tall, extremely fit son-in-law! The scariest bit was pedalling down a steep hill and taking a sudden right-angled turn without slowing down! Outwardly, I strove to appear brave but inwardly I was quaking with fear. There always seems to be an audience watching me and taking photographs. At least, I provide a certain amount of light entertainment!

I could always say, 'No!' when invited to engage in such scary pursuits. I am not a weak character and I can be really stubborn when I want to be. Somehow, I think I enjoy sampling challenging activities and sharing Anna's life in all its rich variety. I certainly enjoy talking about it afterwards!