For my Grandpa

You are one of the most inspirational men I know,
Somewhat famous for you beard, as white as snow.
A Savy business man, a salty sailor, the beloved son of a talented tailor.
You taught me that broccoli stems are gross,
And engines aren't so bad,
When times get tough, it's all about what a good time you had.
Exploring the islands with sereki mai, then elbows covered in grease, or floating in the shallows at Navini, completely at peace.
Windswept days at Torquay, finding penguins on the beach.
Christmases near the fireplace, family members making a speech.
Easter in the garden, dogs and kids running crazy,
Reading a good book, or having a snooze, things start to get hazy,
You can't sum up a life in a short moment,
But I can tell it is filled with enjoyment.
Grandpa you may not feel the best, but now it's your turn to rest.
I wish I was there to massage your feet,
And my jet ski you could meet.
But for now know that I love you, and your always in my thoughts,
And ill treasure the many things, that by you, I have been taught.

The Jet Ski Debut

So I bought a jet Ski. A 2005 model GTX 4-TEC Sea Doo, with 215 of supercharged horse-power under the hood, to be exact. And I'm in love. Aside from riding it to get my license, it was yet to be taken out properly. So last Saturday a friend and I decided to put the clear sky's and almost glassy seas to good use. In hindsight sometimes you have to learn the hard way – and my excitement somewhat over ruled my common sense.

I had read the manual cover to cover, had the ski serviced by a professional, learnt to hook it up to the old Landrover, reverse it down a ramp(etc) successfully, packed the life jackets, sunblock, waterbottles, checked the fuel, and wore the correct gear (including the inherited Tilly hats). We were set. Or so we thought.

No one was home, so us two girls got all the gear together, hitched up everything and drove down the neighbouring street to the boat ramp. The Holloways Beach inlet is well known by locals for having a rather large resident Crocodile, among other things. As this croc can be seen, on occasion, leisurely sun bathing on the opposing mud flat, about 30 meters from the boat ramp. A fair few people think kite surfers(namely my dad and fellow kite buddies) are somewhat crazy for kiteing in the mouth of the inlet. None the less, we ladies braved the water and got our calves wet as we detached the Jet Ski from the trailer.

At this point my 11 year old brother Fletcher had joined us, and although he wasn't keen to ride down the creek and out the inlet, (Due to the above mentioned croc, he wanted me to pick him up from the beach front) he helped by being entrusted with the electric car keys – that I was concerned would get wet if I took them, or stolen if I hid them on the car.

Once we were on the ski, and the little boys gave us a push out, we were off at a slow meander down the creek. Still no sight of crocodiles. It was such a gorgeous day with a gentle out flowing current, that there were a bunch of fishermen just inside the lip of the inlet – complete with a tent set up. Being the studious boatie that I am, I stayed to the opposite bank, away from their fishing lines. As we rounded the lip of the channel we came across our first hurdle – I hadn't been down the beach in so long, that the opening had changed, from the steady, deep and wide opening, into a V, with two pathways leading into the open ocean.

Another dilemma was that I hadn't thought to check the tides, and it was low... very low, low enough that one channel was wide with (what looked like) 30cm of water flowing over rippled sandbanks. The other channel looked deeper, but was more narrow and curvy. I took the latter, thinking we could just control our steering around the corners. Alas, if only that were true.

Sandbanks tickled the ski at first, then scratched, then stopped. As they were hilly banks, with deeper water either side, us ladies hopped out and pushed the ski downstream over the larger few. After a while the banks were getting larger and more frequent. I went for a quick walk to assess if there was any openings further ahead (note: wear polarized sunnies next time!), but when the water only just reached my ankles, we realized it was pointless going any further.

Then what do you do? Our options were: 1. wait until the tide turns, but we had no idea of when that was. 2. turn the ski around and push it back up stream, and over the sand banks again, completely undoing our hard work and spending more time in the crocodile infested inlet. 3. something about chucking a tantrum in front of pissed up fishermen and screaming for mum.

We went for the second option. My friend Annie was a real trooper. Being somewhat vertically challenged(aka a short-ass), she got up to her chest wet more than once in the deep spots – and never once complained! Once we had gotten through the big sand banks, we could really start to feel the current. I was holding the ski, as Annie jumped on, and was just debating how I was going to jump on, start it, and get going before we drifted back on the last bank - when I screamed! I had just stepped on something (admittedly it felt like a slimy flat fish, or eel). I yelled out this fact to Annie – who was currently sitting on the Ski I was holding(Yes, I kept my cool and didn't do the ridiculously hilarious dance of 'Oh My God! Get It Of Me!' and I didn't let go of the ski!), probably busting her ear drums in the meantime, when the oh-so-helpful-fishermen-that-were watching-us-this-whole-time decided to pipe up with “Oi, there's a bloody big croc in there!”.

Annie and I rolled our eyes at each other, and with my new found balls I jumped on and took off, using the ample engine power to fight the oncoming current. Then low and behold an almighty high pitched alarm goes of, and 'High Temp' flashes on the jet ski screen. Another mistake – I forgot to put in the manual. This happening directly in front of the loud mouthed fisherman. You can almost hear his eyes roll...

I quickly turned off the engine – for fear it might blow up beneath me – and needless to say decided at this moment to pull more of my blonde hair out for the fisherman to see.. and in the meantime his mutterings about crocodiles and idiots traveled over the water.

We drifted for as long as I could bear being glared at, we were probably scaring his bloody fish, and then started the engine again. Alarm continues to go off, and I just putter around the corner, so at least our backs are to the fishermen. Turned off the engine again. Now we were out of the directly strong current, but were still drifting. The fisherman who had been watching us (and been so kind as to offer to help on many occasions) decided to pipe up again with “Watch out for that croc!” at which point Annie flipped him a gesture that promptly made him shut up. We were both fed up, I was somewhat furious with myself, and decided that we would just go slowly – as to not heat up the engine to much. After about half a minute the alarm went off, and everything seemed ok again. The inlet was clear of boats, and I still had fuel to use up. So we decided to see what the ski had to offer – even just a quick wizz up and down the creek for a bit. It was fantastic. Completely made up for the earlier misadventures, we got up to 75km/h and felt like we were flying.

After what seemed like a decent amount of time (aka we ran out of creek, and depleted the fuel supplies), we decided to head back to the ramp. I didn't want to scratch the ski, so decided to aim for the mud to the side of the ramp.. and slightly miscalculated. Annie jumped out first to hold the ski, and promptly sunk to her hips in mud and water. She somehow managed to work her way out of the water and to the front of the ski, but the ramp was still to far away. I had jumped out by this stage and was also stuck in mud and water.

Neither of us could move to the ramp, and if a croc had showed up then – we would have been in a lot of trouble. The water came up to my mid section but I somehow managed to get a knee on the ski (neither of us wanted to swim to the back and use the step on the ski). I pushed up off a bundle of barnacle/oysters that were submerged in the mud, somewhat shredding my foot in the process.

Annie managed to work her way to the other side of the ski, and got hauled up by me – sorry for banging your head on the handlebars! Once we were both on I churned up the mud and re-positioned onto the ramp, which thankfully had a solid floor under the brown water. The ski has a lovely paint job of black and green, unfortunately the prominent colour at this point was mud brown.

I jumped out so I could run up and drive the car down when I realized – I had given the keys to Fletcher who would be now waiting for me on the beach, which was two streets away! Annie was ok to hold the ski, and I ran up to get the keys.

Eventually we got the ski back home (after having to go back because I left the scooter I rode back on at the ramp) and all had a hose down.

All in all, the ski got wet, and sandy, and muddy, and so did we. But it was a blast, and I learnt my lesson('s): check the tides, take the manual, wear/take polarized sunnies, etc.

After that Annie and I went out, and danced, and made friends, and didn't come home until 5am Sunday morning! It was a pretty fantastically eventful weekend all in all.