There are some things you never expect to say:

‘Hello Wembley’

‘Damn it man! I need the launch codes’

‘YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!’

But this weekend, I got to cross one of the phrases off the list.

To paint the scene; myself, Alex and Kat were huddled into an inflatable dinghy, motoring over to our friend’s boat for what would eventually be, after some minor drama, a lovely day of sailing. I was at the helms deep, or driver’s side, or whatever the nautical term is for operating the outboard motor. Alex was sat in the middle, and Kat was at the front. Also joining us on the voyage was a large, black canvas bag and some food and drink supplies for the bbq.

It was a 5-minute motor from the launching ramp to the sailboat, which factored in the slight chop-chop of the sea. At around the 3-minute mark, I noticed that the ever-present pool of water in the dinghy and had grown somewhat. It appeared that the small amounts of seawater that were splashing over the sides into the dinghy were beginning to get organised. To put in context, we were at DEFCON 2 – ankle deep water.

We laughed it off, as I held our course steady and true. A minute passed, and the volume of unwanted water had grown from a ‘meh’ to an ‘err’. I noticed the canvas bag start to bob about, and a loose sandal casually float between my legs, indicating we had reached DEFCON 3 – shin deep water.

The sailboat was still a minute away.

‘So, er, you may want to start bailing,’ I suggested.

Alex and Kat burst into action, splashing about in the water in a futile attempt to battle the rising tide. Although in fairness, from a distance it would have looked as if they were just frolicking around.

Thirty seconds away and we’d reached DEFCON 4 – knee-deep water, which was worrying as the interior of the dinghy was about knee deep. As I watched a packet of vegetarian sausages and the sandal escape over the side, I knew as captain, that it was time to give the order.
‘Abandon ship!’

My crew gave a salute, and leapt out, fully clothed, with mobile phones in pockets. The contents of the dinghy soon followed. The outboard motor then cut out and I prepared myself to heroically go down with the ship.

However, the jettisoned weight allowed the edges of the dinghy to remain just above the sea level, preventing it from taking on any more water.

I grabbed the emergency oars and skilfully rowed in circles for several minutes before the sailboat came to my rescue. I was thrown the bucket of shame, allowing the bailing process to commence.

I’d stared death in its ugly face, and won. Which was why it was left to Kat to leap back into the murky depths to retrieve the floating bag of vegetarian sausages.

It’s always important to have a captivating image to accompany a blog post. Something that makes a potential reader think; ‘Ooh, I might read about that’.

All going well, it may even result in a ‘Like’.

So when I decided to enter ‘Peak to Pub’ – an event that involves a 2km ski through Mt. Hutt ski field, then a bike down the 18km access track, finishing with a 12km run to Methven – I decided to take a GoPro with me to film the experience and create a short montage.

‘If an image gets a like, then a montage gets a share’, as the saying goes…

The race is started with a shot gun blasted into the air, which provides an instant, attention grabbing opener for the action video. Then a 300m ‘sprint’ commences to your skiing gear. The use of the inverted commas is important as running in ski boots, through snow, at altitude, is hard. Harder than most people expect. So the initial flurry of excitement and energy is quickly replaced with wheezing and fatigue before most people even make it to the ski section.

The skiing is generally carnage, and I got a great shot sliding past other competitors who had lost their ski’s, or were chasing after their poles, or were lying face down in the snow not moving.

A quick transition gets you onto the biking stage, where you propel yourself down the gravel access track, gripped in terror that at any second you’ll get a puncture at speed, or go hurtling off the side at speed, or both… at speed. On the plus side, I managed to get some cool shots over the Canterbury Plains, with the blue sky meeting the dark haze of the sea.

The running section is where the fun really begins. It starts with a jaunt through a ‘dry’ river bed. Again, inverted commas completely necessary as at the time the river was in full flow, almost waist deep in places. But that was alright because after that it was a 6km run along a straight road. That was OK though because right after that was a jump into a river, complete with panicked swim to the net on the other side, desperately hoping that you’re not going to miss it as the current tries to drag you out to sea. That was tolerable though because you’re then light headed running through a root covered path, struggling to lift your wet, heavy legs over the numerous tripping hazards.

But then you’re on the home stretch, safe in the knowledge that despite the pain in your hips, the blisters growing on your feet, or the can of crap beer at the end, you’ll at least have got some decent shots for the montage.

Until you realise that you forgot to turn the camera on.