Man cave
BOUNCING
INTO THE
RECORD BOOKS
37
Well, some said it wasn’t possible, some said my back and legs would suffer immense amounts of
pain, but most, whilst looking on in amusement, gave kind words of encouragement and wanted
to believe in me as much I did myself.
On Saturday the 23rd of March, 3.05pm, I bounced my
final few bounces over the summit of Mt Fyffe. Skippy, my
trusty Vurtego Pogo Stick and I had done it. Sea to Summit
in under 24hours.
Standing tall at 1602m, I estimated it took up to 100,000
jumps to travel the 21.2km from the Kaikoura Esplanade to
the Summit.
I had practiced certain sections of the route, and so was
quietly confident upon these, but stringing them together
in one solid attempt was another thing. From fatigue and
nutritional requirements, to the epic physical demands that
it needed, I was going to have to rely on my mental game to
complete the task.
As I started this challenge, it was always meant to be
something that was supposed to demonstrate the benefits
of the 5 ways to wellbeing, along with the extraordinary
ways we can overcome seemingly impossible situations in
life. It was supposed to be something that raised awareness
around mental health, and gave those suffering a little hope.
How could I afford to not reach the summit? As I bounced
my way up the hill, I saw parallels in my efforts to those in
real life.
Like how important it is to focus on our achievements,
looking at how far we have come, and not how far we still
have to go. Helping to keep a glass half full frame of mind.
Like, how if we don’t allow ourselves to get overwhelmed
with the size of the task, but break it down in to sizable
chunks and keep chipping away, eventually the finish line
can only be inevitable.
With these thoughts in mind, the seemingly impossible was
achievable, and to some degree quiet enjoyable. A new
world record had been set, and my personal boundaries of
what I’m capable of, shifted a few notches skyward.
I can only encourage you take on your own impossible, and
see what you’re capable of.
Just remember to have faith in yourself, don’t be
overwhelmed with the size of the task, and celebrate how
far you have come, not how far you have to go.
If you wish to learn more about Pogo Mt Fyffe, please check
out the Facebook page @pogomtfyffe. Or to donate check
out; events.mentalhealth.org.nz/fundraisers/leegriggs/Pogo-
Mt-Fyffe
Until next time . Cheers Lee
THE MAGIC OF
OPENING DAY
Jacob Lucas, Nelson Marlborough Fish & Game
Crispy May mornings are a signature of early
winter in the top of the South. For our region’s
gamebird hunters, these mornings stir something
inside them, as the first Saturday in May heralds
the start of the new season, and for many, it is
the most important day on the calendar.
As an ardent gamebird hunter, the magic of
Opening Day captivates me like no other sporting
quest. Roaring stags in April, high country
honkers, the first day of the trout season – none
of these compare to the magical Opening Day of
the gamebird season. Though it’s been 25 years
since I experienced my first gamebird opening,
the allure of the occasion has not waned, and, in
fact, has deepened over the years. I love nothing
more than the weeks, and even more so, the
minutes, before daylight on the first Saturday in
May. And I’m not the only mug suffering from
Opening Day symptoms. There are 40,000 other
kiwi hunters, who, like me, will have little else on
their mind leading up to the fabled day.
So what is it about Opening Day that makes it so
great? Well, for me, it’s about the build-up – the
month of preparation and conjecture leading up to
the big day. It’s about the night before, the long,
sleepless night. It’s the swirling butterflies in your
stomach that only a duck hunter will understand,
which come when you’re sitting in the dark,
waiting for the first birds to appear. It’s about
tradition. It’s pitting your wits and skills against a
wild bird. Its decoys, calling and concealment. The
joy of watching your affable hound pull off a great
retrieve. And importantly, sharing the spoils of the
hunt with friends and family.
But for most of us, it’s about good times with great
mates. For many, Opening Day is the catalyst for
such important unions.
Weather-wise, duck hunters love rough conditions
– a smattering of rain, but more importantly, wind,
will bring the birds lower and looking for shelter,
increasing the odds of a good bag. To be honest,
though, in a region where sun reigns supreme,
opening days like this are rare, and I struggle to
think of the last rough ‘ducky’ day.
Nevertheless, cometh the great day, instead of
donning duck callers and earthy attire, I’ll be out
with colleagues and voluntary rangers helping
to ensure our hunters are doing the right thing.
And that is that they are hunting in a safe and
responsible manner, abiding by the regulations,
and hold a current gamebird licence.
For those who taking part, stay safe and enjoy the
day.