Summer in Sesena
I intend to write a descriptive story on competing in the junior worlds water ski tournament in spain.
It’s the middle of summer, early morning in the ghost town of Sesena, hot and dusty dry. Chalky trees and shrub outlining two man-made dirty lakes, taking their last breath of air before they fully dry out. Extending on further are grey dirt rolling hills with houses lined together like Soldiers saluting as a gesture of respect. Along the lakeside you can see each and every individual country’s flag making a spectacle of colours, with New Zealand laying upon others recognising our historical significance.
Listen. As dawn arises team vans are tearing down the destitute road potholes fulfilling the way making for a bumpy commute. Arriving at the lake walking into day one of competition, you can hear nothing but the constant noise of boats running, waves crashing and spray falling. The sound that suddenly captures you in your own state of mind.
It is Saturday morning. The light breeze shifts the muggy air down the lake, heavy and slow. The thin flog peels away to reveal the radiant rich colours that enlightened the morning sky, layers of pink orange and red diverse along the ridgeline. In the AC power cooled office the judges are preparing for the final day of competition, the noise of boats running, waves crashing and spray falling continues to enlighten skiers souls. Gear bags are being peeled open the stench of wet gear like warm wet carpet evaporated in the dry heat.
Look down. The warm water tickling your feet and sand slowly working its way in between the toes. Athletes taking into account the slight northerly breeze, and how much water you are consuming. This will all affect your performance on the water, your head will be running at a million miles an hour. All this is part of the excitement of the tournament. The time is approaching and the butterflies will suddenly expand inside of the deepest stomachs like a sunflower sprouting in the summer.
Sweating out all body fluids it would feel as if all body mass sunk to your feet leaving nothing but thin air in your head. The intense excitement would keep you going. As the New Zealand flag is raised by the team it immediately raises the hair down the back your neck, the team was cheering and this moment suddenly is to your own, all the two years of preparation than the ten years leading up to it and the last two years of fine-tuning it was game time. Standing on the start doc and all the emotions were becoming harder to hide. Surrounded with so much talent its pride and its pressure you got a team, you have a country behind you.
Listen. “Vamos Equipo” is booming down the lake as it had coming to the final few skiers of the day. Enriched in the raw culture of España. You can hear the boat swallow some more gas as it needs to refuel after a long hot day. The interior of the boat was softened and melted due to a day in the sun, almost as if it had transferred its colour into the red blemished cheeks of the athletes gathered along the shore.
Think. You get one chance and one chance only to live your life, the question will cross your mind of how you should do it? Thousands of lives changed for the better, international friendships edged in blood sweat and tears forever, it’s like a Cinderella story. Nothing can compare to tournament water skiing.