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Water Skiing Tips From a One Day Star

One of the ultimate dreams of my life was to learn to water ski. I had always envied those elegant young ladies who pranced into the water, slipped on a single ski and then smiled dazzling smiles at the plebs on the beach as they sailed by on a stream of sparkling blue ripples.

The waters off Changi in Singapore just happened to provide the ingredients for the opportunity, i.e. the boat, the accompanying expert and the three rum and cokes required to gain enough bravado to have a go.

I was assured that a beach start was the very thing for me. When they said try a beach start, I thought they meant me to stand on the water skis, on the beach, and gently get towed into and through the water until I could eventually stand up on the skis. They actually meant that you have to bob about in the water, trying to remain in a crouching position, trussed up in a lifejacket which Mr Expert insisted upon, and also trying to keep your skis pointed slightly together in the textbook poise of readiness.

Well I was ready, until the tow rope whished out of my hand, necessitating the entire thing having to begin all over again. Second attempt, I pulled up out of the water in a minor tidal wave, and was thrilled when I managed to stand up first time. I stayed up for about thirty seconds, until the rope went a little slack and I thought I could correct matters by pulling the rope up to my chin. Wrong..

Third time, I got up and stayed up so long I began to get bored and even started searching the beach for plebs. Then the boat started edging toward one of the ski jumps. In my demented and slightly inebriated fuddlement I actually thought I could pull off a jump, would you believe. I went hurtling toward the ramp, which was covered in a weird sort of astro turf, like a water logged Eddie the Eagle.

I lost my equilibrium entirely, and slipped onto the ramp on my bottom, losing both skis. This ugly story is not over. Forgetting to let go of the tow rope, I traveled up that ramp at about forty miles per hour on my rear end, and catapulted myself over the top, screeching at the top of my lungs.

I hit the water on the other side facing the wrong direction, still hanging onto the tow rope and now swallowing salt water at a rate of about a gallon per second. Over the sound of the rushing water in my ears I could hear the applause from the plebs on the beach..

The moral of the story is; let go of the rope.

Jan Gamm writes reflections on life with an emphasis on world travel. She has lived in many countries and traveled extensively in the Far East, the Middle East, America, South America and throughout the South Pacific. She writes for fun and for money whenever she can manage it.

Waterski video from Youtube: Water Ski Crashes