by Susan Berran
We finally got the harnesses on without too much hassle while the goats were busy eating. The only problem was, that it didn’t matter what we did, the goats were so busy eating that they wouldn’t budge an inch! We tried pulling, we tried pushing, poking, we tried bribing them with food … nothing worked and between spending the morning getting to the dam and chasing the goats for the entire afternoon, we were now starting to run out of daylight.
Me and Jared had moved the entire herd a few times, ages ago when we’d needed their assistance in … well … let’s just say a little cover-up situation at Aunty Ree’s and Uncle Karl’s house.
Ok, where were we? Oh yeah.
There was just no way that we could get these two goats to leave the rest of the herd. Normally the herd just follows the lead goat everywhere. But we couldn’t catch the ‘LEADER’ and we’d tried everything we could possibly think of.
This was taking way too long. Our day of surfing was turning into a day of ‘CHASE THE GOAT’ … which by-the-way is our SECRET CODE-NAME for chasing TOFFEE THOMAS when we’re playing ‘tag’ at school.
As usual it was up to me to find the answer … luckily I’m BRILLIANT.
I got Jared to head back to the shed for our bikes and some other stuff while I kept hold of the goats. By the time he got back with everything I needed, they were getting quite comfortable in their harness and had resumed eating like pigs. We tied the goats to the fence and then one at a time, we very slowly slid the surfboard, on wheels, between the goats’ legs. Then we tied their harness to the bike seat and the front of the surfboard to the rear axle. With a gentle tap on the legs, the goat was soon standing on the ‘surfboard trailer’, where we quickly tied its legs so that it couldn’t step back off. It didn’t take long to do the same to the other goat and then we were ready to go. Riding very s l o w l y back to the dam for some well earned ‘surfing’.
It seemed to take forever getting back to the dam, but we were finally all set up and ready to go! With the goats standing on the far side of the dam, each one was harnessed and attached by a really long rope all the way back to the surfboards laying in the dung-mud by the water’s edge way off on the opposite side. Me and Jared each stood ready to surf on our surfboard. We steadied ourselves as we prepared for the triumphant moment.
I could see it now … on my command the goats would take off at a gallop, racing up the slope of the dam’s edge, pulling our surfboards at SUPERSONIC SPEED. Yanking us across the dam for the ride of our lives. EXCELLENT!
I looked across to Jared, grinning nervously.
This was gonna be AWESOME.
“ Ready… set … Go!! ”
“Yaah, yaah, giddyup, yeeha, woohoo!! We both screamed at the top of our lungs, yelling at the goats … woo … hoo … yaah … go … go goats … ooh come on … go … pleeease go . . . pleeease.”
It worked … sort of. We definitely scared the poop out of the goats. They took off at incredible SPEED with their skinny legs spinning at a zillion miles an hour. The trouble was, they were pretty much just sprinting on the spot and churning up the muddy ground where they stood. As much as they tried to run they weren’t going anywhere. They just kept running on the spot and digging their hole deeper and deeper by the minute as they flung dung-mud all over the place.
Why wasn’t it working?
“Maybe we left the brakes on?” Jared said with a dumb smile. BRAKES, on a surfboard? Sometimes I think they left the brakes on in Jared’s brain. Maybe that’s why it keeps stopping.
“Ah Ha!” I had it! The fin under the surfboard was digging into the mud beneath it and acting like a brake. It was holding us firmly on the dam’s edge and preventing us from going anywhere.
WOW, lucky I thought of that, Jared wasn’t really very good at figuring things out.
Flipping the boards over we began the task of cutting off most of the fin from both boards. It took a lot longer than we thought. But at least it gave the goats plenty of time to rest up before their next attempt.
We left just a tiny piece of the fin for balance and steering. Then we were ready to go . . . again. By now, most of the day was already gone. And we’d spent just about all of it so far covered in goat poop, BLEEDING and sweating. But it was all going to be worth it. In a few minutes we’d be flying across the surface of the water, skimming along and creating our very own waves.
‘RIPPING IT UP’ and ‘hangin’ ten’ on the crest of some ‘GNARLY’ waves. ‘Riding the tubes’ and ‘wiping out’ … wicked!
“Ready, Go!! Yaah, yaah, mush ” … it moved, I could feel the board move … “Woo Hoo go go go! ” The goats pulled with all their scrawny muscle, like mighty stallions … their legs were spinning like a ride at the fair. We moved again … we were on the water, JUST. They dug in their hooves trying to run in the slippery, muddy bank of the dam, they were moving … JUST, and we were moving … JUST. “ Yeehah!” A tiny ripple of water formed at the front of my board … it was going to work … it was working … it was great … it was awesome … it was … THUD … OVER!? The front tip of my board rested in the mud on the opposite bank, right where the goats had started.
The top of my board wasn’t even wet!
By the time the goats had struggled and finally got up and over the side of the dam I was already gliding into the mud behind them. BUGGER!
I looked across to Jared standing on his board, still floating in the middle of the dam. As I stepped off my board and into the warm dung-mud, I turned to see Jared’s goat just walking along the top edge of the bank, taking a nice little stroll.
And there was Jared, still standing on his board, arms folded, looking REALLY peeved as the board barely moved, being towed across the dam really, really s l o w l y. When he finally washed up to the bank beside me, we looked at each other in total silence, then off into the distance at the sun, as it s l o w l y disappeared beyond the horizon. It was too late.
We unharnessed the goats who, for the first time all day, actually looked happy. They didn’t exactly sprint off to the rest of the herd and they didn’t really leap from our grip or dance away merrily. They sort of fell to their knees and crawled away, dragging themselves through the dung-mud of the embankment. Their tongues hanging loosely from their dry mouths and flapping about in the breeze. We kinda knew how they felt. They sort of looked like Booga Boris, just before lunchtime at school.
That night back at the tent, as we lay there exhausted and peeved, Jared was supposed to be solving the surfboard problem with me. But instead, he was raving on about rollercoasters and how they don’t need steering because they’re on a track and rave, rave and they go so fast by gliding on the rails and ramble, ramble. I wasn’t really listening though.
Then it HIT me. I suddenly came up with another incredibly AWESOME idea, totally and completely all by myself… geez I’m good.
It had to be one of my most ingenious ideas ever and just when we were beginning to think that we’d never get to surf again. If we could make a track on land for the surfboard to sit on then we wouldn’t need to steer and if it was on a slope, then it would pick up speed … we didn’t need water.
WOW, I’m really clever. I just wish Jared would help a little, just once.
And I knew just the stuff we could use. I’d seen some old roadwork signs on the way back from my Aunty’s place the other day. It was a perfect plan.
You see, there’s this HUGE, massive hill on the back road, just out of town. It’s not used very much, hardly anyone goes that way anymore. There’s only a thin, crappy dirt road that twists and winds its way up and around the hill. But it’s HUMONGOUSLY steep, REEEAALLY rocky and incredibly dangerous. The guys at school reckon that a few hundred years ago, a family of five and their two horses died there HORRIFICALLY.
Back then it was the only way in, or out of town and everyone used horse-drawn carriages. They reckon that it was easily the coldest day ever on record and just as the sun was setting, the new family was arriving in town to begin their new lif
e. But then, just as they were coming to the top of the hill, the sun reflected off the eye of a kookaburra, blinding it for a second … it flew straight into an emu and stabbed its backside… the emu leapt up, kicking a wombat in the butt… the wombat rolled along and squashed the tail of a kangaroo … the kangaroo jumped up and kicked a cow in the udder … squirting milk in the eye of one of the horses. The horses took off out of control, galloping right over the top of the hill and flew straight off the edge. Two days later a BLOODIED and BATTERED horse stumbled to the edge of town, then collapsed and DIED. Of course, by the time help got out to the family, they were all dead. But the worst part was that one of them hadn’t died from the fall. He’d begun crawling along the track towards town for help, but it was so cold he’d been SNAP-FROZEN stiff, like a popsicle statue, reaching out desperately for the help that never came.
So now NO-ONE ever goes that way unless they really, really have to, because of all the spooky stories that people have told over the years from when they have had to travel that way. Especially when it was just on dark. Heaps of people reckon that just as they get to the top of the hill, it gets absolutely freezing cold, even when it’s the middle of summer. Then suddenly from out of nowhere, a blue, ice-covered, frozen guy on horseback comes galloping out of the trees yelling and screaming at people to “GO BACK!” Then he disappears just as suddenly as he appeared. The trouble is, everyone reckons that instead of helping them, he almost causes them to go over the hillside as well.
Mum reckons it’s more like the amount of ice cold beers that the LOCALS have been drinking at the pub that nearly causes them to go over the edge. But either way, because of all the complaints about near crashes, the local council was going to put up safety rails all the way down the thin, windy hillside road. So a few years back, some battered, old yellow ROADWORK signs were erected and a stack of the safety rails were stacked at the top of the hill ready to go. The council ran out of money, or got spooked, or something, so that’s where it was all left sitting, seven years and four months later.
It was too good to be true. I explained my grand plan in great detail to Jared … then I explained it again in less detail … then I just gave him the basic outline … then I drew him a picture. Jared wasn’t brilliant, but compared to the guys at school he was a genius.
I drew up the plans properly that night and we packed our backpacks ready to go. After wasting so much time trying to ‘GOAT surf’ we wanted to get building as soon as possible.
We kept our invention top secret and over the next three weeks or so, we headed off to the hill every chance we got. If we had to push our bikes to the top, we’d be completely and utterly STUFFED. So once again I saved the day with another GREAT IDEA. I came up with a way of getting to the top of the hill a lot easier so that we’d have more energy left to build once we got there.
At a few flat spots on the hill we set up a rope and pulley system. The rope was then laid out from that spot up to the next point. Jared just had to push his bike up to the first station while I hooked up my bike to the rope. Then he just had to pull on the rope to bring me up. Once I reached that spot Jared made his way up to the next station while I unhooked and re-hooked to the next line. By then he was ready to haul me up to the next bit.
At first, Jared thought he was getting the rough end of the deal because he was hauling me up. But then I pointed out to him that he actually had the easy part, because he was getting a rest break each time he walked up to the next point. While I had to constantly work really hard at keeping my balance on the bike all the way up the hill.
'Sorry Sam I didn’t think of that,” he said apologetically.
Once we were both at the top, we’d get straight back to work on the WOrLD’S FIrST and definitely most PHANTASMAGORICAL, awesomely INCREDIBLE and wickedly COOL surfboard ‘track’ ever to be made in the entire history of mankind. Sure there was no beach, no sand and no lifeguards. There wasn’t even any water. In Agnath there was only dirt, rocks, cows to shear and sheep to milk and goats to… goats to … well, four-legged and two-legged goats. And I’m not really sure what any of them were good for.
Mum gets annoyed when I call the LOCAL kids goats, but it’s not MY fault I mix them up, they’re so similar. They’re both grotty, they both grunt, climb fences and chew on grass continually … and young goats are called kids, so what’s the problem?
ANYWAY … we were going to surf!
I’d figured out that when we laid the safety rail down in the dirt it was the shape of a nice smooth, rounded, short ‘m’ or a ‘3’ on its face. So if we could just lay the track on the ground straight down the side of the hill instead of on posts alongside the road and make it long enough, then it would make one helluva surf track … absolutely NO WATER REQUIRED.
But the lengths of solid steel railing were way
HUGER and HEAVIER close-up than what they looked like when we drove past them. It took the two of us AGES to drag each length of rail through the dirt and weeds, inch by inch and down the hillside one at a time. We laid each piece of safety rail, length by length, all the way down the side of the hill, making sure to get each one butted right up to the last. Then we had to make the steep climb back up for the next piece of railing.
S l o w l y , but surely, the track was beginning to take shape, as we worked away together on the steep, crappy hillside in the scorching heat. We used our bare hands and sticks to scrape away slices of dirt here and there, to shift rocks out of the way, to rip out hundreds of weeds and carefully piece together one of our most AWESOMELY MAGNIFICENT tracks ever. The tricky part was trying to actually join the lengths together.
We tried bluetak, but that was useless. So we ended up pinching every roll of tape that we could find in Agnath and using that. We nicked sticky tape from home, masking tape from school and electrical tape from sheds. At school Miss Croonarc thought that the little prep kids must have been eating it or something, because she kept bringing out more and more and we kept nicking it, as fast as she brought it out.
We slaved away hour after hour, day after day, piece by piece, but we could only do one, or two lengths each time we went there. So of course we wanted to be absolutely certain that NO-ONE else came along and accidentally discovered what we were building, before we even had the chance to finish it and give it a go. So at the end of each day we’d spend another hour, or so, covering over the part of the track that we’d been working on. We had to walk further and further to gather heaps of sticks, dead tufts of grass, branches and any other stuff that we could find to hide it. By the time we finished each day, we’d SWEATED enough to fill an eight-hump camel.
FinAlly, after weeks and weeks of hard, sweaty, filthy work it was time to chuck off the grass, weeds and other stuff and uncover our MASTERPIECE. THERE IT WAS! The sunlight reflecting off its shimmering, silver surface and blinding us for a second.
The INCREDIBLY FANTASTIC track began at the very highest point at the top of the steep hill and ran almost all of the way down to the bottom.
The whole thing ran straight down, no twists or turns, just straight as an arrow down the hill. And the small part of fin that was left under our surfboards would sit perfectly in the centre groove of the railing and keep the board on the track. PERFECT.
We weren’t too worried about the steepness of the hill, because we figured that as we hit each joint in the track, it would definitely slow us down, more and more each joint. We figured that we probably wouldn’t even make it any more than halfway before the surfboard crawled to a halt. But it didn’t really matter anyway because …
It was ready!
IT WAS BEAUTIFUL!
It was absolutely, INCREDIBLY EXCELLENT!
Jared wanted to go first, as usual. And that was just fine with me. I’d learnt very quickly that it was better to call the ambulance than to be riding in the back of the ambulance in unbearable PAIN. He sat his board, gently onto the track and placed one foot solidly onto the back of it. He stood there with the other foot stil
l firmly planted on the dirt just staring down the track, like he was trying to psych himself up or something.
Actually as I stood at the very top of the track, this was sort of the first time I’d been able to have a really good look around and see just how steep the hill really was. And now that I looked at the whole thing I kind of figured that … maybe we should do the first run sitting down … HE WAS OFF!
Jared had thrown his other foot onto the front of his board and TAKEN-OFF before I could say, “You’re dead meat”.
WOW, he was really surfing! IT WORKED! He was flying faster than a cheetah with a jet-propelled rocket stuck in its butt. Straight down the track! Within seconds, smoke began to pour out from somewhere underneath the board leaving a white cloudy trail, shooting out behind as the board began to heat up. Just then he hit the first join in the track, the front tip of the board lifted slightly and went … FASTER!?
UH-OH!
The smoke was quickly becoming thicker and darker … and as he crossed another joint the front of the board leapt up a little higher still. OOPS. Then my eyes captured something even WORSE. Amongst the blackening smoke, I could swear I saw actual FLAMES sneaking out from underneath his board as well … he was still picking up speed and his board seemed to be bouncing higher and higher as it crossed each new join in the track.
Hmmm, maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to coat the track in a few buckets of cooking oil to make it slipperier after all. Now between the smoke and the FLAMES it was starting to smell like a barbecue out there. And somehow, Jared had managed to stay on the board and was now leaping over entire lengths of the railing as he bounced even higher … and still increasing in SPEED! Jared was now just a blur, like a zit on a hot bullet. The rail behind him glowed red with heat. His clothes had just about disintegrated into dust and the skin around his arms and legs was flapping about like jelly in a tornado. His face contorted; skin stretching and flapping out of shape. I couldn’t tell if he was screaming in absolute ‘ I’M GOING TO DIE’ terror, or ‘ WOW THIS IS AWESOME ’ joy. And flying from the corner of his mouth, like some sort of liquid rope, was the longest string of DROOL that I’d ever seen. I could clearly make out the shiny slime trail that was hanging on from somewhere inside his mouth and extended right alongside him, disappearing into the clouds of black smoke trailing behind. At any moment I expected my ears to explode from a SONIC BOOM as Jared seemed to SMASH through the sound barrier.
