swing design Archives - Nikita Sheth

I am a battler.

I freely admit it.

I do not mean this in a self-depricating way. just seem to battle, through life a little.

Here are some examples. Just last week;

My drink bottle leaked in my handbag ….3 times…in 48 hours.
My entire bottle of tea tree oil spilt on my phone…whilst I slept. Woke up to a small BP oil spill on my beside table.
I accidently signed off a work email…”Look forward to touching you” – I forgot the words ‘base’ & ‘with’ after ‘touching’ (It was to a 60 year old male client). Epic mistake. Highly embarrassing.

Little did I know that the weekend was about to reveal my Number 1 ‘Battler Moment’ of 2013 thus far.

To celebrate the ANZAC day weekend, a group of us (my friends who I met on a Fishing Derby earlier this year…. don’t ask) ventured to Morning Peninsula in Melbourne to go ….. ‘Tree Surfing’. It is essentially, is a high ropes school camp activity .. on steroids.

It was 100% pure G-rated fun. Ok, maybe 98% G-rated, as the harness was a little ‘handsy’!

At first, I was pretty nervous. I was laughing on the outside…but inside I was crying with fear. As my confidence gradually began to build, I decided that I was going to tackle the ‘Tarzan Swing’.

It was by far the scariest swing in the whole course. It high…very high. It was not for the amateur ‘tree-surfer’.It required a free falling jump off a platform and the co-ordination to catch a net on the otherside. With my (false) sense of confidence….I thought I had it I the bag. I was all set up and I jumped off the platform……

Battler 101.

Instead of reaching and holding on for the net on the other side, I grabbed it… and let go…

Huge mistake.

I was now stuck. In no-mans land. Between the platform and the net. It took me a moment to realise what had happened…then I heard the laughter. I looked up, my friends and other random bystanders were holding their stomachs laughing.

(Yep that is me…just hangin’ out…whilst everyone looked on)

It was not funny. I had the biggest wedgie of my life.

The instructor told me to do breaststroke toward the net. With vigour, I pretended I was in a pool. Little did I know…he was taking the piss. Breaststroke was not going to get me anywhere. Only something like this could happen to a pure battler. (Note: The instructor helped me get down, after the amusement had died off). Meanwhile, some days later I still have brusing and the aftermath of harness chaffing. Not pretty.

Jokes aside – I loved the feeling of being so high up. My mind drifted to tree house design and the integration of ropes and even swings into interiors.

Here is a round up of some design inspiration, derived from my experience of ‘tree-surfing’.