Archery # 1

So, one of the things that my Dad loves is archery. He is an instructor and avid shooter at a local club. As a good bonding experience, I asked if I could come along and learn. Dad was more than pleased.

In fact, he was so pleased that he taught me even though it was the one Saturday a month that they don't teach at all. I love my Dad. Sacrificing his own shooting time. He has a clout competition tomorrow too.

Anyway, I tried archery once before, when I was about 7 and (who knows why?) it was an activity one day at primary school. Because that's smart: giving a full class of small children bows and arrows and presuming they'll all point them in the same direction. I was so short that I would just plonk the bottom of the bow on the ground and the arrow prettymuch found the target on it's own.

In other words, I didn't have high hopes that I would be any good. My target was 10 metres away, and I used the standard recurve bow (RH Bow #5, which I need to remember for next week). Happily for me, I wasn't dreadful. It was amazing how similar "learning" is across different activities: it shared much with juggling. Dad was able to show me why I was going wide, help me bring my right elbow down, and I need to work on how I place my left hand on the bow, as I was using my muscles to work things, not my skeleton. And just like juggling, after one hour I was ready to sit and watch. No stamina, me. Muscles like pipe cleaners.

Not only do I have muscles like pipe cleaners, but I also have uber-bendy elbows. If I practiced, that would lead to some rather ace juggling tricks (Eric's Extension, anyone?) Guess what uber-bendy elbows are bad for? Yup, archery. My left elbow got in the way of the bowstring launching the arrow. Which means I completely spanked the inside of my elbow. It's got the most excellent oval-shaped bruise that I keep poking. Kinda feels like carpet burns. I'm hoping for a little bit of puss tomorrow.

We were so excited that my last arrow scored a ten that we both forgot to take any photos of me in action. So here's one of my Dad afterwards (with compound bow, aiming at 35 meteres at an 80 cm target):



And here is one of me wearing a rather lovely hat. One of the things I wanted to pack, but didn't bother. I regret that. I think I'll commandeer Dad's hat for the rest of this trip.



Yeah baby.