Extreme sports. I’ve never been one for jumping over cliffs, climbing up mountains, or generally doing anything that is remotely life-endangering. However, this year I decided to mix things up a bit and heck, just say YES to more in life: extreme sports being a primary example.
Fast-forward to July 2014 and I’m in Corsica. My brothers are leafing though a guide book and my youngest brother exclaims with (far too much) excitement, “We can do canyoning, canoeing and paragliding!” My heart immediately plummets. Yet I also feel exhilarated at the thought of soaring high in the sky, abseiling down waterfalls, and jumping into fresh water rock pools. Bring it.
I find myself on the corner of a street in St Florent, waiting for some extreme sports expert to pick us up. Eventually an old, bashed up Renault Clio skids to a halt in front of us and a skinny French guy pokes his head out of the window and asks us – in French – “Are you the English guys who want to do some canyoning?”
We nod and get in. After 30 minutes of rally car racing on the vomit inducing, winding mountain roads of Corsica, our guide, Yann, grinds to an abrupt halt, turns around: “Let’s have some fun.” He wasn’t wrong.
Canyoning was terrifying, painful, tiring and draining in every way, yet it was also shit loads of fun. We abseiled down waterfalls, swam in fresh water rivers and leaped into rock pools from stupid heights. We may have resembled a troop of beached seals in our wetsuits, but we ended up incredibly grateful for them because the temperature of the water was a chilly 6℃. There was a lot of moss induced slipping and a lot of teamwork, but for all the effort I’m glad I gave extreme sports a chance. Dare I say it, I’m looking forward to the next time.