Nobody said it was easy

I thought 100 days was a nice, round point to start my training for Tough Mudder. Start off with some walking, some jogging, maybe even some burpees and planks (I had to search Youtube to discover what a burpee was). The trouble is, I'm quite highly skilled in the art of procrastination. 'Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow' will no doubt be what Jane puts on my tombstone. So Day 100 came and went without any training. So did Day 99. My only excuse is that I had five pupils taking their tests this week. All five passed, so I think I was justified in (slightly) delaying my training.
This morning I was looking at my diary and trying to think where I could possibly fit in some training. With 12 more tests in the next couple of weeks, it is going to be a struggle.
Now, I'm usually not too impressed when someone cancels a lesson with less than 48 hours notice but, today, when someone cancelled a two hour lesson, I thought 'great, I can get some training done'. I was lucky enough to have afternoon pupils who were willing to bring their lessons forward, so I was looking forward to finishing lessons at 5pm and getting out there and transforming my slightly less than perfect physique into a lean, sculpted, perfect specimen of the male form.

Last week, up here, people were getting sunburnt and the temperatures reached the twenties. It was a pleasure giving lessons with the windows down, or even the air-con on. Today, on the day I wanted to get out there, it was cold and wet. In my penultimate lesson of the day, we were nearing the end of the lesson when it started to hail. Hard. Quickly the roads began to fill with ice. The temperature was dropping, so it was not melting. My pupil, Helen, lives in Milton of Leys, which is up on the hills which overlook Inverness from the South.
As we began to head up the A9, the hail had turned to snow, and I mean real snow. It was settling quickly and as we began to head up the dual-carriageway, we could see traffic slowing ahead. Conditions were getting so bad that vehicles were struggling to get a grip and some were even beginning to slide backwards. Very quickly both lanes were at a complete standstill and the police were doing a grand job, shovelling snow from beneath the wheels of lorries and trying to push cars who were struggling to get a grip. Now Helen has only had about twelve hours, so I had not covered driving uphill in snow while other vehicles are slipping back toward us. I asked her if she was willing to tackle it, or would she prefer me to take over. She did an incredible job, controlling the car with precise control of the clutch and very careful use of the accelerator. We did what few others seemed to be doing and kept a healthy gap from the car in front, which gave us much more flexibility. When, on the many occasions we could see traffic was not moving at all, we put the handbrake on, switched off the engine and had a good laugh at the stupidity and futility of some drivers who thought they could make progress by trying to change lanes whenever one lane seemed to be moving slightly more than the one they were in. Finally, after over an hour since the traffic first began backing up, we managed to get off the A9 and get Helen home, where I congratulated her on some superb driving.
By now, I had had to cancel my last lesson of the day due to the conditions, and I headed home, I started preparing dinner, then I realised I was doing it again! I was putting off my training. I looked out the window at the weather. I can't go out in this I thought. Much more sensible to stay warm, open a bottle of wine and enjoy the unexpected time off.

One of the most notorious obstacles in the Tough Mudder is the Arctic Enema (see photo), where you have to jump into a pool of iced water, duck completely under a bar halfway across, and climb out the other side. In three months I will have to do this, yet I'm not going out training because of a little bit of snow. Time to man up. I looked worriedly out the window as I changed into my running gear. I went to Brodie Castle, a mile down the road from me, and thought I would do some laps of the castle grounds for half an hour. Best not to push myself too much on the first day, I told myself. The plan was to jog until I began to feel uncomfortable, walk until I felt ok, jog, walk, jog, etc for half an hour. The snow got heavier, and my red fleece was now almost completely white and I had the lyrics to Coldplay's The Scientist going round in my head. After twenty minutes I made the fatal mistake of jogging within sight of my car. That was that. My willpower left me and I walked back to the car. By now I was beginning to struggle and my chest felt as though it was being sat on. 'This is really stupid' I thought. 'How can I possibly do the Tough Mudder? I shall admit defeat and just go to support the others'.
I got home, still struggling to bring my breathing down to a non-worrying level and tried to stretch, avoiding the temptation to collapse on the bed.
I finally did get my glass of wine - I had definitely earned it - and, to my surprise, a little voice in my head started telling me 'it's not so bad, it's only Day 1 of training, things will get easier.' I may have to abstain from searching for videos of the event, because it all looks a little scary. And I may even have to have to odd day off from training - tomorrow I am working from 7.30am until nearly 9.00pm. But, as long as I keep telling myself 'Don't give up', I am sure I will get there in the end. Gulp.

100 days of Mudder

Father Christmas was very kind to Jane and I last Christmas when, via our daughter Rachel, we received a two night mini-break at the Doubletree Hydro hotel in Dunblane. The second day was very enjoyable, visiting the Falkirk Wheel and walking around the equally impressive Kelpies. 

The first day wasn't so good. It rained and it rained, then, for a bit of variety, it snowed, before raining some more. We had Dolly, our Jack Russell, with us and, rain or no rain, I had to take her for a walk before bed. We walked around the hotel and came to the front, where an impressive lawn sloped very steeply down toward the road. A small sign warned not to walk down the lawn because of danger of slipping (especially on a night like tonight when the ground was so wet), so I stood at the top while Dolly went for a run. In the dark it was difficult to see where she had got to and, as I turned around, my feet slipped from beneath me and, suddenly, I was sliding down the steep slope for at least 20 - 30 metres. As I stood up, I could just about see that I was covered in mud. Soaking wet and caked in mud.
Needless to say, Jane was not particularly impressed but Rachel found the whole thing hysterical when Jane told her the story the next day.

"He looked like he'd done the Tough Mudder" said Jane.
"Oh, we should do that" Rachel suggested.
Now, I had vaguely heard of Tough Mudder - a few of my ex-pupils had taken part in it the previous year - but I had no real idea of what it involved.
Before I could part my lips to offer any opinion, Rachel had already decided that she, Jamie (her fiance), Irene (a friend), Job (another friend) and me would take part as a team. Within seconds she was searching Google and had decided that the Scotland Tough Mudder was too soon, but there is one in Skipton, Yorkshire, on 1st August. Before you can say "I am unfit, overweight and rapidly approaching 50" we had registered for the event and booked two nights accommodation in Yorkshire.
Jobs don't get much more sedentary than mine. The only exercise I get is walking from the driver's side of the car to the passenger side, then back again an hour later. I decided I had better go out for a wee jog - it was scary how long it took me to recover. This Tough Mudder thing really isn't a good idea I decided. I would gladly come along and support, but I wouldn't take part. I couldn't do 12 miles of running up hills, diving into icy water, climbing over all manner of sadistic obstacles. I couldn't even do one mile.
But then I thought 'Is this it? Is this the end of my active life? ' I have run marathons, cycled from John O'Groats to Land 's End, jumped out of aeroplanes, played all manner of sports. Am I now going to say that is all in the past? Is it really time to swap my running shoes for slippers?
" Hell no!!! "
Today I ordered a new pair of mud running shoes. In 100 days time I WILL complete the 2015 Yorkshire Tough Mudder.
Bring it on!

The best things take a little time

Once upon a time, in a house by the sea, there lived a young girl. She worked in the nearest village, but this was some miles away, so it was sensible that she learned to drive.
I wrote about this girl at that time, which was about five years ago. I was still on a franchise with BSM, and driving a Vauxhall Corsa. Now, the young girl didn't find driving easy. It wasn't so much that she couldn't control the car, it was more a fear of other road users. We had several lessons in a quiet car park before she felt that she could venture out onto public roads. Then, to start with, she would get very anxious when other vehicles approached from any direction.
The weeks turned into months and the months turned into years. Sometimes I wouldn't see her for months at a time. However, slowly but surely, she was developing into a nice, controlled driver.
Whilst with BSM I changed from the Corsa to a Fiat 500. In time, I left BSM  and set up my own driving school, leasing a Clio, then a Fiesta before buying my current Alfa.
The young girl moved to Inverness, changed jobs and, finally, took (and passed) her theory test. "How do you feel about taking your test? " I asked her. "No, I don't think I could drive on my own" she replied. I thought she could, but the trouble was, she had relied on me for so long, it was just too easy to ask me what to do, even though she admitted she knew what to do.
Finally, the decision was made. She was going to book her test.
In the hour lesson before her test she had everything thrown at her. The Stornaway ferry had come in and she had to deal with that traffic, a coachload of tourists had arrived in Ullapool and were wandering aimlessly around, oblivious to us approaching. And the bin men were making their way around the village, stepping out from behind their lorry.
"What if that happens to me in the test? " she asked.
"Well, you have just dealt with it, without any help from me, so it's no problem" I replied.
Forty minutes later, I stood at the Fire Station as she completed her test. I could see the examiner say something to her, then she opened the door and looked at me, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"I passed. I PASSED!"
She ran to me and threw her arms around me. "I can't believe it. He just said I passed."
It's always a high whenever a pupil passes, but some are more special than others. And Hayley's was as special as it gets. It had taken five years (on and off), and she had had lessons in five different cars, but she had passed her test and now had her freedom.

In the excitement she had forgotten to pay me, so she text me and asked if I could meet her in Inverness the next day. "Of course. Better still, I can meet you after you finish work and you can drive home - your first drive as a qualified driver."
I met her as she finished work and she got in the driver's seat. "I've forgotten what to do already - I only passed yesterday."
"No you haven't. You can drive home and I'm not going to say a word."
"But which way will I go?"
"I'll leave that up to you."
Just typical.... Her drive home coincided with schools finishing and hundreds of schoolchildren streaming out of school.
"I'm not going to say a word" I reminded her, as she turned to ask me a question.
She got home, without any trouble at all, and without any help from me.
"That was ok. I didn't feel under any pressure"
And that was perhaps the key. Perhaps she had always put herself under pressure to pass and that had caused her to continually doubt her abilities.
This weekend she is going to look to buy a car. I always get pleasure from seeing ex-pupils driving around. I will be positively beaming when I see Hayley driving around on her own.

2014: Fun, floods and facial hair.

Yet another year flies into history at a somewhat scary pace. A year when I have been very neglectful with this blog (again).
Personally, there wasn't too much drama. No births, no deaths, no marriages. I grew an experimental beard for a few weeks when we were invited to a medieval banquet. But it's not something I shall be eager to do again. And, if ever you notice that I'm slightly unshaven, would you be so kind as to remind me of these words.

As you know, I did my first bungee jump and absolutely loved it. But, apart from Liverpool ripping up the Premiership for five thrilling months, any other 'excitement' has been in lessons.
We had Shauna's intensive course in Fort William. My first time instructing there and it coincided with the most rain I have seen fall in a three day period. But not even floods and landslides were going to stop Shauna passing her test at the first attempt.

The only two times we have ever had an accident in lessons were the fault of other drivers (both when vehicles went into the back of us). This year I had a pupil leave the road, not in a lesson, but in a test! Fortunately, no-one was hurt and the only damage was to my two nearside tyres, which both burst.
But I am pleased to report that almost all other drama has been positive, with a record number of my pupils passing their tests. Last year I was thrilled to have 79 pupils pass their driving tests. I was hoping that we might have over eighty this year, but that didn't look likely early on in the year. However, the last few months have gone a bit mad and I ended up with no less than 98 pupils passing their tests in 2014. Congratulations to (deep breath)..... Abbie, Adele, Aimee, Alan, Alex, Alexander, Alice C, Alice Mac, Alice Mash, Allen, Andrea, Andrew, Angus M, Angus U, Becky N, Becky R, Ben, Bethany, Calum, Cameron, Catrina, Chantelle, Charles, Charlotte, Chloe, Conor, Craig, Craig M, Darren, Donald, Donna, Eilean, Eilidh, Elizabeth, Emma, Euan Mac, Euan Mc, Gemma, Geoff, Gregor, Hally, Hamish, Hannah, Harriet, Holly, Humzah, Ian, Innes, Jack B, Jack G, Jamie, Jeanette, Jock, Joe, Joshua, Kacey, Kate, Katie S, Katie W, Katy, Kayleigh, Keirra, Kenneth, Kieran, Lasha, Lauren, Liam, Lilleth, Mark D, Mark V, Mary D, Mary M, Matthew, Michael H, Michael M, Michael O, Michelle, Oliver, Paisley, Patrick, Rachel, Rory M, Rory R, Ruari, Ruairidh, Ryan, Scott M, Scott S, Seumas, Shauna, Sigi, Sophie, Stephen, Stuart, Tess, Tony, Tylar and Vicky. I think that's everyone, but apologies if I have missed anyone.
I am proud of every one of those, but, looking back, the ones that meant slightly more were generally the people who had been with me longer. Angus was one such pupil. He had been unsuccessful in a few tests, arguably slightly unlucky in two of them. But, the puzzling thing was that I had no worries about his driving at all during lessons. I guess it was just that nerves got the better of him on tests. In November he asked me if I would sit in on his test. I am always happy to do so, but explained to him that I cannot say or do anything throughout the duration of the test. He has been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and in tests, and even in lessons, he often found it helpful to talk himself through situations. Before the test started I simply advised him to drive exactly as he usually does and, if he wanted to, to talk himself through each situation. The test was going fine, although I would suggest that he was holding back a bit more than was necessary. He did get slightly alarmed when, at the start of his parallel park, I ducked down in the back seat to allow him more visibility. The examiner reassured him not to worry about me. As the test progressed I had counted a few minor errors, but nothing serious. As each junction and each situation was dealt with I heard a voice in my head urging him on. "Come on Angus." The test was almost over, just a few more junctions to negotiate. Come on Angus. An awkward situation with parked cars on both sides of the road, but he patiently held back and waited until it was clear, Come on Angus. A pedestrian with her back to us started walking towards the curb. He checked his mirrors and watched what she was doing. Come on Angus. The last junction coming up. He took it slightly wide. Come on Angus. The examiner asked him to pull up and switch off the engine. As far as I could tell, it was a pass, but how would the examiner interpret his slight lack of making progress when the road was clear? "I am happy to tell you that you have passed." COME ON ANGUS!!! YES!
Sometimes, this can be a frustrating job. Pupils cancel lessons and don't drive to their best ability. Other drivers tailgate and do all sorts of stupid (and dangerous) things. But all of these niggles fade away when people like Angus pass their test. And, hopefully, many more people will do so next year. Let's break the 100 barrier!

How NOT to take a driving test

I've had a few tests recently which have not gone exactly as I would have liked.
The first one wasn't her fault. She had a 9:37am test and, the night before, I went to pick her up for her last lesson.
"I've got a bit of a problem ” she said, as she got in the car. " I can't find my purse, and it's got my licence in it. "
That's not "a bit of a problem", that's a major disaster.
" I had my purse at school this afternoon, but it's not in my bag now. "
Whether it was stolen, or simply fell out of her bag we shall never know (although when she did get her purse back, money had gone from it). She reported it stolen and planned to go to the school first thing in the morning, in the hope that she might find it.
I met her at school in the morning. "The cleaners haven't come across it" she said.
"It's OK", I lied, " we have plenty of time. "
Her school was 25 minutes from the test centre and, if she didn't find it in the next half an hour, we wouldn't get there in time.
Luckily, with about fifteen minutes to spare, she came running out, clutching her purse and licence.
Very rarely does anyone go to their test completely relaxed, but finding your licence with minutes to spare certainly doesn't help.

A few days later I had another Inverness test. He hadn't been too happy about his first test: In slow moving traffic, he had held back to keep a junction on the left clear. The correct thing to do, but in the examiner's opinion, he had held back too much and possibly irritated the drivers behind. So, this time, he asked me if I would sit in the back.
All was going fine. I was completely relaxed and enjoying the drive. The examiner asked him to pull over and explained that he would like him to complete a reverse (parallel) park, using the parked car ahead. When I sit in on tests, I duck down on the back seat when they are reversing, so that I do not impede their view. This means that I can't see how the manoeuvre is going, but I had every confidence in his ability to successfully complete the parking.
At one point he braked a touch sharply and the brakes squeaked. I saw him secure the car, sit bolt upright and exclaim "OH MY GOD!!! HAVE I HIT THAT CAR?!!!"
”No, you're fine. It's just the brakes. " explained the examiner.
He successfully completed the manoeuvre and passed his test but, as the examiner pointed out to him at the end, he should have known exactly how close/far from that car he was. Shouting "OH MY GOD!!! HAVE I HIT THAT CAR?!!!" is not likely to fill the examiner with confidence.

That same week I had six pupils taking their test in Ullapool. Typically, the examiners take them out on the A835, a twisting, hilly, 60mph road, to Ardmair, a few miles north of the village. While my last test of the day was taking place I was happily enjoying a coffee. My pupil had been out for about half an hour, so it was time to finish my coffee and walk back to (hopefully) congratulate him on passing his test. Just as I was doing that my phone rang. It was the examiner. My heart sank. It couldn't be good news.
"Hello Martin. We've had a bit of an incident." It definitely wasn't good news.
Although his driving had been absolutely fine in his lessons, for some unimaginable reason he had decided to show the examiner that he was Lewis Hamilton. He took a bend too fast, left the road and burst my two nearside tyres. Thankfully, no-one was hurt, although, with hindsight, I would have liked my pupil to have suffered a little. At least he had to suffer the embarrassment of having to walk a mile or so back to the test centre with the examiner. I can't imagine it would have been the most hilarious conversation between them.
My pupil mumbled a quiet "sorry Martin" then disappeared (not that I was in the mood to discuss his next test with him !) and the examiner hurried off to his next test. That left me to rely on the ever helpful Rod Houldsworth at Ullapool garage to rescue my car and transport it 55 miles to the nearest garage that had replacement tyres in stock.
Later, once I had calmed down, I was left wondering exactly what had happened. Nothing like it has ever happened in a lesson, but I guess the examiners try to leave the pupil to it. I just hope nothing like it ever happens again.

I was writing this while Michael was successfully taking his test in Ullapool. Although he passed with just three driver errors, he didn't make it easy for himself. Ullapool tests don't have a test centre, we just park up near the Fire Station. Whilst we were waiting for the examiner Michael asked me where the nearest toilet was because he was desperate to go. There is no nearby toilet. Not even a convenient bush. We didn't have time to drive to the nearest toilet.
"We don't have time. Can you hold on?"
"I'll have to."
I wandered off whilst he took his test. A few minutes later I saw Michael drive past and do an emergency stop..... Not what you want when you need the toilet ! Not only that, but, at the end of his test he told me he had "a bit on an incident" on the road to Ardmair. "Oh no !" I thought, "what now?" He explained that, just as he went round the corner where the aforementioned pupil had gone off the road, a family of ducks had waddled across the road and he had to do a second emergency stop.

An hour later: My last test of the day. Two out of two so far and every confidence in my third pupil passing easily. Except..... Can't fault his control, can't fault his judgement, can't fault his awareness, can't fault his manoeuvres, BUT...... His mirror checks are just a bit..... random. I have explained that he should check his mirrors before any change in speed or direction, before signalling, before overtaking, before changing lanes (not that this applies in Ullapool), etc, but still I have to regularly prompt him. I have explained the consequences of not checking mirrors but, for some unknown reason, he still misses mirror checks. In the lesson before his test we analysed his driving and I stressed that his only weakness was his use of mirrors. However, I felt confident that he would put it right on his test. Result, fail for not checking mirrors. I didn't need to say  ”I told you so ", the look on his face told me he knew.

So, to summarise: Keep both parts of your licence safe, make sure you don't need the toilet before your test, listen to what your instructor says, don't ask the examiner if you have hit something and, most importantly, try to keep the car on the road....... Easy.

When the going gets tough......

I like a challenge. And I get plenty in this job. 
A few months ago, I had an email enquiry, asking about an in intensive driving course. Nothing too unusual in that, intensive courses seem to be increasingly popular. I replied, asking various questions to establish previous experience, availability, whether or not the theory test has been passed, and whether they are looking for a test at the end. All her answers seemed fine until she asked what days I am in Fort William.
Ah, that's a shame, I thought, I don't cover Fort William. Fort William is 90 miles from me, not an awful lot further than Ullapool, further north on the west coast, at which I instruct several days a week. But the journey, although spectacular, is a relatively slow, wiggly drive, across to Inverness, down the side of Loch Ness, Loch Oich, the Caledonian canal, Loch Lochy, then around the western flanks of the Grampian mountains to Fort William. I would have to say 'No'. "Why not just have regular lessons with a local instructor?" I asked. She replied that she had taken some lessons, but felt that an intensive course would suit her better. She also said that she hadn't yet taken her theory test, so I suggested that that should be her priority if she really wanted an in intensive course.
A couple of months later, she emailed again to say that she had passed her theory, so could I take her on for an intensive course. I relented. She seemed such a nice person and I was impressed with her determination and excitement at the prospect of being able to drive. I did make it clear that I was not familiar with the area but, if she accepted that, I would be happy to help.

The plan was for me to hire an apartment and spend the whole weekend there, working on her driving, then take her test on the Monday lunchtime. I wanted Jane to join me. Although I would be busy during the days, she would be able to explore Fort William, walk our dogs in Glen Nevis, and hopefully enjoy a break from her own business. A perfect plan, or so I thought.....
Last Saturday morning we drove down to Fort William. The forecast was not good for the west Highlands, but it was warm and beautiful blue skies when we set off. As we progressed, a few spots of rain began to turn to a heavy downpour. By the time we reached Fort William there was a lot of water on the roads.

After getting settled in at the apartment, I left Jane staring out the windows, watching the rain getting heavier and wondering whether she should have stayed at home, in sunny Morayshire. I drove off to meet Shauna. A few years ago Shauna had had an operation on her hip which had gone wrong. Complications had left her without full use of her left leg. She told me that she had gone from being an optimistic teenager to someone who would now need crutches to help her walk and had lost interest in her future. It was only when she got herself a black Labrador puppy that her optimism returned. Having the company of the dog inspired her to get up, get out and start living again. And it was this new optimism that inspired her to learn to drive so that she and her dog could get out into the Highlands and go for more spectacular walks. 

The lessons and test were all in her car, a Polo automatic (because she was unable to use a clutch). Over Saturday and Sunday we would have two hour lessons throughout the day, with 45 minute breaks inbetween. Meanwhile, the rain was completely unrelenting. It made for even more spectacular scenery, with Britain's highest mountains spouting numerous waterfalls and the rivers churning and gushing to worryingly high levels. On the roads the puddles were getting bigger and deeper. By Sunday afternoon the roads were flooded in many places and some roads were closed. We used the opportunity to work on driving in such conditions, assessing the road and, where the water was particularly deep, keeping the car moving steadily to create a bow wave in front of the car. At one point we were on a single-track road, that was severely flooded. Some sheep had escaped from a field and were anxiously running along the verges around the car. Meanwhile, we had a cyclist braving the flooded road behind us and an oncoming car with barely room for the two cars to pass. Shauna handled the situation beautifully. I told her "If you can deal with all that, you can deal with anything".

Monday morning, the day of the test, and I was now very worried. Not about Shauna's driving, that was very hard to fault, but by the fact that I was convinced that the test would not go ahead. Despite no let up in the incessant rain, the council had worked wonders with drainage and only a few roads remained closed. But even if the roads were better, they were still bad and, most importantly, the road south of Fort William was closed due to landslides. This meant that the examiner would have to make a massive detour around the Grampians, up the A9 and back south to Fort William. It was therefore, an huge relief to see the examiner walk toward us at the test centre and an even bigger relief to find that the test would go ahead. Shauna asked me to accompany her on the test." What brings you so far from Inverness? " the examiner asked me. "Shauna asked me nicely" was my honest reply. 

The test was.... different.... The road closures and amount of traffic meant that the examiner had to rethink his route on a few occasions. This didn't matter though. Having no experience of instructing in Fort William, I had taken Shauna all over the place during the last two and a half days, and we had no preconceptions of where the test might go. It was no surprise (at least to me) when, at the end of the test, the examiner told Shauna that she had passed. 

Since then, Shauna has got insured and has been driving all over the place. It is always very rewarding for me when someone passes, but this one was more special than most. With her licence, her new freedom, and her dog, 'Ziggy Stardust' by her side, the world really is her lobster now.

Whilst we were in Fort William our daughters seemed to delight in letting Jane and me know how mild and sunny it was at home. So we took the rain back with us.

Here we GOOOOOOOOOO00000000000ooooooooooooooooo.........

Well..... I'm still here. So, either I chickened out of doing the bungee jump, or it all went successfully.
As the day approached I kept expecting the nerves to kick in. I didn't help myself by watching videos on YouTube of other people doing bungee jumps - not a good way to reassure myself.
On some of the videos of Killiecrankie Bungee it shows people making their way along the platform beneath the bridge. Just watching that was enough to stir the butterflies.
The jump was booked at 11:00am. So Jane and set off around 8am, picking up my grandson, Jordan, and his friend Joab, on the way. Beautiful blue skies and not a breath of wind, so I was beginning to think I should perhaps have worn shorts, rather than jeans. As we drove south, the clouds appeared, the temperature dropped and, by the time we reached the Cairngorms, there was more snow than I have seen all winter.
We arrived at Killicrankie around 10am and, when I went to the reception, I was told that they may be able to fit me in early. 'No rush' was my first thought!
I was weighed and was told that I would be joining a group of three friends who were doing a jump as a birthday present. Then, the next thing I know, we are being ushered into a minibus and driven to the bridge.
My daughters, Rachel and Anna, plus their partners and children, had all followed us down to add their support (or perhaps to laugh at me). They were just arriving as I was being whisked away, so they jumped back in their cars and followed the minibus.
At the bridge, the three other jumpers and I were introduced to the Highland Fling Bungee instructors, who were all excellent. They managed to strike a careful balance between being professional, but also enthusiastic, relaxed and light-hearted. They ensued that we were always clipped on even climbing up short ladders.  I'm not sure how they decided who was going to go first, but the other man was to go first, then the woman in his group, then me, then the young girl, whose birthday it was.
We had to walk along a platform just beneath the bridge, which took us to the jump platform. We were all harnessed and individually talked through what would happen. I then had to sit and wait while I watched the two before me.
The man was clearly very anxious, to say the least. He was led to the edge of the platform and encouraged to spread his arms out wide and, on the count of three, leap forward. But he kept backing up and leaning back on the instructor. On two occasions the instructor counted down, but he didn't jump.
Finally, on the third count, his knees buckled slightly, and he fell forward towards the River Garry. If anything, that stopped me from getting nervous. I had kept expecting the nerves to hit, but, when I saw his jump I just thought 'I'm up here now, so I either fall or I dive.' The instructor then came and had a few words, which emphasised what I had just decided, explaining that I would get more out of the jump if I tried to dive out away from the bridge.
By now, the man was being winched back up. His faced had changed completely and he was beaming. It was now time for the eldest girl to go, and she threw herself off the platform very confidently, with a loud WHOOP! My turn next.....

"Any words for the camera?" He asked...
"Erm..." What do you say? "Help"? I mumbled a slightly unconvincing "Let's go for it".
My ankles were bound together, so I had to waddle forward onto the platform.

"Keep going. Your toes need to be over the edge" said the instructor. As you can see, he had hold of my harness, but it still felt very uncomfortable, inching forward like this.
I'm now standing, with my toes over the edge, looking down at the drop. He decides that now would be a good time to smile for the camera. Actually, I can smile. A huge surge of adrenaline floods any fears and I can't wait.
"Right. Arms out wide. I'm going to count down from three, then I want you to go big."
For half a nanosecond there is a doubt. This is NOT a natural thing to do - jump 132' down towards a very shallow river (too shallow to make any difference). Too late.
"3... 2... 1..." and I launched myself as far away from the platform as I could......

My view changed slowly from the sky, down down down towards the water. Then, just as it felt like I was heading straight towards the river, a gentle pull began to increase as the bungee chord did its job.
Jane had earlier suggested that the worst part might be when you bounce back up again, then are left dangling, but I barely noticed that bit. I tried to quickly get my bearings so that I could find where the family were and wave to them. Then they lowered a cable which I had to clip to a loop on my waist, before they hoisted me back up to the terra firma of the platform. More words required for the camera.... "Fantastic. Amazing." Hardly original, but what else can you say?
"Would I recommend it?" Without doubt..
It may have been something that tempted me when I was a teenager. But, after freefall parachuting, I lost any inclination  to do a bungee jump. If you only do one, I would say do a parachute jump. But I would certainly do another bungee. And I cannot recommend the staff at Highland Fling highly enough.

Go on..... You know you want to!

Click here to see all the gory detail on YouTube

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