Fiona MacLeod on a first attempt at an activity that looks effortless from the riverbank and is very much not
I’ve watched people punt gracefully along the river for years, always assuming it looked considerably easier than it actually is, a belief I held with total confidence right up until I was finally handed a pole myself this week and immediately proved myself entirely wrong about the whole thing.
The First Few Minutes
Genuinely humbling, honestly. The pole is heavier than it looks, the punt moves in directions you did not intend the moment you push, and I spent the opening stretch spinning in a slow, entirely undignified circle while more experienced punters glided smoothly past looking faintly amused at my expense.
The Actual Technique, Once I Found It
Once someone kindly explained I was gripping the pole all wrong and pushing at completely the wrong angle, things did improve, though “improve” here means “occasionally travelled in a straight line for several consecutive seconds” rather than anything resembling actual competence.
The Moment I Nearly Went In
A slightly enthusiastic push combined with a pole that had genuinely stuck fast in the riverbed mud resulted in me holding on for dear life while the punt continued forward without me for a horrifying half second, an experience my companions found considerably funnier than I did at the time it happened.
By The End Of The Session
Marginally competent, is the honest assessment, capable of basic forward motion and reasonably confident I would not actually end up in the water, which felt like genuine progress given how the first ten minutes had gone.
Whether I’d Try Again
Yes, absolutely, purely out of stubbornness at this point, because I refuse to let a wooden pole and some genuinely uncooperative moving water defeat me permanently without at least one further attempt at redeeming myself properly.