Writing

When I reached for the next rock I lost my grip and fell. The harness around my waist suddenly became tight and as I fell I soon felt the hard floor beneath my feet. It was a windy Saturday morning and my sister and I were staying in Auckland with my aunt and uncle. It was a small, dark place where I was and there were small things that stuck out of the wall which were glowing. I could not see a lot which made that climb much more challenging. Also, knowing that if I fell there was no-one there to catch me but a rope and harness to slow down my fall, made me even more nervous. We had gone rock climbing, my sister, my uncle and I. My sister, Kinjal, was facing a wall with giant puzzle pieces that had strings hanging off them to pull yourself up. On the other hand, I was climbing a dark wall that had small rocks that were glowing on it. They were spread over the walls to make the climb challenging. I left the small room and saw many other creative climbing walls that I wanted to climb. I challenged my sister to a ‘face to face’ wall. We could see each other through the wall while we climbed and so we motivated each other to climb faster. Meanwhile my uncle was taking pictures of us. My sister ended up winning because I gave up and drifted down making sure I was holding onto the wall. Since the harness was attached to the ground and there was no-one controlling it but myself, I was afraid of let go because I didn’t trust myself. While my sister was rubbing in her victory, I was deciding which wall I should climb next. I picked a wall with squares all over it in neat lines, they were all bright fluoro colours. There was a small space in each square where we could put our hands and feet and they were all very slippery. While I climbed I felt a rush of excitement and also a strike of fear. The excitement was for getting to the top and the fear was for falling even though the harness would slow it down. That day I felt proud of all the walls I had climbed and hoped to challenge myself even more the next time. By Anjali
 * The Rocky Road of Auckland**

“Samantha and Anjali,” I clicked, I stood up, and grabbed Samantha’s arm. We were all sitting in the hall, waiting to be called out by Ms Neumann. Miss Jones led the six of us girls outside. I went first holding Samantha’s hand tightly; it was time to do the Burma Trail. We were the first group to go and I was the leader. Miss Jones led us to the rope, holding a torch in her right hand. Her first attempt to get out the gate was unsuccessful; instead she walked right into it. Her second attempt was successful and we slowly but steadily made our way to the start of the rope, this was where Ms Morresy stood. The rope led us into an under ground tunnel, the tunnel where the screams started. The scream I heard the most would have to be Samantha’s, probably because she was right behind me. It was a dark tunnel and I could just hear the water dripping slowly from up above. The walk wasn’t long and eventually I could see a light. The walk out of the tunnel was very uncomfortable. It was steep, went straight up and the rope ended halfway so we had to pull ourselves up. The light was coming from Samantha’s mum’s torch which she shut off once we found the rope. The first time since we started I felt like screaming but I managed to keep it in. The rope started to curve and was wrapped around a tree. I could hear noises, obviously from the parents, filling the air and screams behind me screeching in my ears. We came to a bush and I again felt like screaming but found the guts to go ahead. The bush started to flash quick streams of light, I managed to chuckle but made a straight face again. I saw a parent leap out of the bush which made us all jump. He was wearing a red mask which looked pretty funny to me. Suddenly something wet touched my face, I realised it was a mop and pulled myself away. The rest of the trail was more screaming, screeching, howling, jumping and my personal favourite having a little laugh. By the end of the Burma Trail I hadn’t screamed once but it was a Burma Trail, screaming was necessary, if someone booed you. In my case it was a little different; we had come to the end of the Burma Trail where Mr Irwin sat. I had my back to him and he said “Hello,” I screamed a short scream, luckily no one noticed. That was my first Burma Trail, my favourite camp activity and a feeling I felt that I would only ever feel during a Burma Trail. By Anjali Patel
 * !Screaming in Neccesary!**