In the latest in a line of ‘crash test dummy’ features which has included joining the circus, driving on a skidpan and flying in a microlight, Lichfield Mercury ‘stuntman’ Phil Barnett tried his hand at water-skiing…

It isn’t bravery, it’s stupidity. Stupidity enabled me to dress as a clown and join the circus in May. Stupidity forced me to take to the skies in a microlight in June.

Last week, my stupidity out-did itself as I was pulled through a lake water-skiing.

I’ve no fear of flying or heights, and I’m happy to make a pillock of myself dressing up like Coco. But I’m no ‘water baby’ and balance isn’t a key physical skill of mine.

Chasewater Ski Club had invited me along to Chasewater Country Park to try my hand at a sport not commonly found in the West Midlands – and certainly one I wasn’t too familiar with.

The optimistic soul charged with instructing me was Anthony Gittings, a keen water-skier since the age of 11 and a highly respected instructor.

Phil manages to stay upright

In late September the water is cold, so I got changed into a pair of tracksuit trousers, a jumper, a fleece jumpsuit and finally a ‘dry-suit’ to keep the water out, ensuring I didn’t feel too cold or wet during my lesson.

Once my skis were on and the boat in the middle of Chasewater Lake, I jumped straight in.

While I floated awkwardly, Anthony, who came runner up in the recent coach of the year competition, gave me instructions on body positioning in preparation to my first attempt at skiing.

I started off using the ‘boom’, a pole extended from the side of the boat which added a bit more steadiness to my attempt.

As the speedboat whizzed off, dragging me alongside, it was surprisingly difficult to pull myself out of the water and onto the skis. The main reason was my bad positioning, my feet pointing back, thus giving too much resistance against the water.

The water pushing against me while I tried determinedly to hang on for dear life at 20 miles per hour took its toll on my arms and I soon let go of the bar, plunging under the surface.

After swallowing a gallon of murky green water I had another attempt, this time with more success.

Taking heed of Anthony’s advice, I managed to re-position my legs and popped up out of the water like a salmon (not quite) as the boat skimmed across the lake.

I did exceptionally well considering I had Anthony shouting at me to look straight ahead, while Mercury photographer Allan Williamson beckoned me to look at the camera at the same time – and still I stayed on my feet.

Anthony said: “That was a good start, I have seen a lot worse attempts and it can take people all day just to manage on the boom.” Praise indeed.

After ‘mastering’ skiing using the boom I progressed to using the tow rope, which proved to be a different kettle of fish altogether.

Whether or not it was because of the distance between me and the boat I don’t know, but it was much harder to ski on the water using the rope.

After a bit of perseverance (and a lot of untangling my legs from the cord underwater) I managed to re-discover my ‘magic touch’ just about long enough for Allan to take a few snaps. And a few more. And a few more.

Unfortunately though, the longer I skied the more tired I grew, and therefore the more difficult it was to continue with any success. I decided to quit while I was ahead, content with managing to ‘conquer’ the skis in my first lesson.

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