“Double dragon? That sounds Japanese.”

February 17, 2009...4:12 am

“Double dragon? That sounds Japanese.”

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I am rejuvenated.

I have returned from a weekend of adventure in my homeland, Wales. We went to an extreme sports camp in the Pembrokeshire area of South Western Wales, and spent the weekend revving up our adrenaline and taking in the countryside.

Welsh roads are the funniest things, because they keep you from ever knowing where you are until you stumble upon your destination; they’re hedged in, literally, by massive brambles, bushes and the occasional sheep. We took a loooong coach ride through England and Wales, past Bristol and Cardiff, over to the National Park of Pembrokeshire. It was filled with iPod listening, a bad Daniel Craig gangster movie, kettle chips, and general dozing off. We arrived at the little camp around 21:00, welcomed by awesome cozy rooms and a warm dinner. The camp was composed of three buildings: an equipment hangar, a living building with bathrooms, bedrooms and a drying room, and a kitchen/dining room/bar/hang out area. The hang out room was the coolest: you walked down a short flight of steps into a tiled room with a woodstove and leather couches in one corner, a game box in the other, and then tables and benches throughout the rest. Super cozy and made for great socializing!

I became acquainted with the National Ale of Wales: Double Dragon. I see a beautiful friendship on the horizon, if I’m able to find it anywhere but in Wales, which I highly doubt. We played ridiculous amounts of Jenga, and I surprised myself at how steady my hand was; I definitely had some impressive, nigh impossible, victories. All in all the atmosphere at the camp was one of relaxation and I think a thankfulness to get out of the city mindset. Things slowed down once we got to the rolling green hills, smelled the salt water and saw that clear sunshine.

The next morning we awoke for a breakfast of beans and toast and thick slice bacon before heading out to get suited up for some ocean kayaking. The equipment we had to wear was ridiculous: long john wet suit with fleece sweater over it, waterproof windbreaker, life vest, wet suit booties, helmet, and then a ridiculous contraption that we fastened over our holes in the kayaks to keep water out from the inside. If we weren’t sitting in our kayaks, we looked ridiculous, especially with a tarp hanging around our legs with a handle between our knees.

We took a quick drive over to a little fishing village, Abercastle, and launched in their cove. We did a few quick lessons in basic kayak technique, then headed out to the open water. We hugged the coast, but not too closely because there were jagged rocks and crags along the way. We got to paddle around in the waves, launch ourselves over rock outcroppings at the right moments, and were dared to generally be “fearless” in the water. Our instructors were really fun guys, both so down to earth and into fun, so the smiling was contagious. As we got back into the cove and dragged our kayaks up onto the shore, a neighborhood dog trotted down to greet us, going to each of us, checking we were okay, pausing to be adored, and then trotted back to his spot lying in the middle of the one way road. It was colder getting the wet equipment off than it ever was in the actual water, so we were all hopping around trying to get the clinging wetsuits off while trying to retain some of our body heat.

When we got back to the camp, once again, we were greeted by a warm meal and fun music on the stereo system. We got time to relax, warm back up, and then get ready for another adventure. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have had so many helpings of the warm Welsh bread and lovely soup, but I couldn’t help it: it was such comfort food! After a few minutes to relax I had to meet my coasteering instructor and get ready for what was to be a few straight of pure joy and adventure.

Listen to the equipment line up for this activity: full length body suit, wet suit shorts, wet suit vest, wet suit socks and gloves, tennis shoes, lifevest, and helmet. It was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do, getting all that stuff on. Granted, I wasn’t cold anymore once I’d done it, but I had to stretch and suck it in and wiggle and dance more than ever before. Damp, cold full body wetsuits up and over lady hips is not easy to do. I did, however, feel ready to jump in with Shamu when I was done, so that made me smile; I felt like such a trainer. So, finally, once we’d all sucked into our suits, we piled into a van and headed over to a pebble beach that would be our launching point. After a few short instructions and a quick hike up a dirt path, our instructor led us over to an outcropping of rocks and explained how we were going to jump onto it. Just willy-nilly, “Alright, don’t land face down on the rocks, cuz that’ll be ugly. Try to keep your cool, and be aware that the mossy rocks are super slippery. Go!” It was so much fun, crawling around the rocks, jumping into little pools, scooting around on my backside on moss covered slate. We got to a smaller solo rock past the larger outcropping, and he turned around and said, “Ok, when the wave comes, jump off this into the channel. Ready? Go!” And we all did! I was so glad that everyone was game to jump off things into the ocean.

Eventually we made it to an old slate quarry, with ruins of the old buildings up on a ledge, while the old quarry was filled with a beautiful blue, murky water. We played around on the rocks at the quarry, finding different launching points for freestyle jumps and slides and general adrenaline rushes. After floating around in the middle of the lagoon on our backs, laughing at the solitary sheep talking a cliff edge walk, we climbed up to the parapet of the old quarry building and after exclaiming at how high it was, we proceeded to jump off of it. Multiple times. I was laughing at myself the entire time, because I am positive that had you told me even five or six years ago that I’d be jumping from this high into the ocean, I would never have believed you. I would have never had the courage to do anything like climbing up the edge of an ocean cliff, let alone jump off of it once I got to the top. What a change from the shy, cautious girl this neoprene-clad, “ow!”-yelling crazy person was.

Once again, getting the equipment off was the colder part of the trip, and we stuck around after we were ready to leave because we were asked to help another instructor push start his van. Fun times running around in wet sneakers in the mud! And when we got back to the camp, you guessed it, we were greeted with a warm meal. The rest of the night was a “veritable Cannae of debauchery,” with Jenga, Katy Perry, Double Dragon, singing bar tends, all topped off with Bailey’s hot cocoa. Great success.

For our last day there, I took a seven mile hike along the coastal cliffs with a few other adventurers. My walking buddy was Keely, and we had a great time exploring, taking in the sights, and making sure we got off the beaten path occasionally. I got to frolic multiple times, which, in my book, counts as a major win. I took some incredible landscape shots, communed with the ocean, chatted with a sheep, and got to slosh through incredibly satisfyingly squishy suctiony mud.

After a quick lunch and time to clean up and get our stuff together, we headed back towards London, past Cardiff and Bristol, etc. although this trip was much quieter because we were all exhausted. I was sad leaving the rolling green hills and the sheep and the countryside smell. I let myself daydream about working on a farm for the summer, being able to fully immerse myself in the Welsh countryside and small town culture.

Maybe some day.