There are quite a few sports in which people compete, which are not commonly known by the general population. In the Kapiti News I read an article entitled “The Lure of Bog Snorkelling.”
How alluring can a bog be? Apparently quite alluring, judging by the 155 competitors who competed in the 30th World champs last week in Llanwyrtyd Wells (in Wales, naturally), said to be the smallest town in Great Britain with a population of 601. It was really an international affair, with entrants hailing from Australia, France, Germany, Northern Ireland, Sweden, New Zealand, Eire, Mali, USA and Zambia.
Competitors don a wetsuit, mask and flippers, attach a snorkel and swim along a 55 metre trench cut into a bog.They must do two laps, so they cover 110 metres. There is a catch, however. Conventional swimming strokes are not permitted and they can progress only by using their flippers. Participants can raise their heads above the surface only for orientation purposes.
In terms of spectator sports, bog snorkelling rivals underwater hockey as the most challenging. Those watching see very little of the action in the muddy water until the swimmers emerge at the end of the trench.
The current World Champion is 33 year old Kirsty Johnson from Surrey, in a time of 1 minute 22.56 seconds, which is a new World Record, beating the previous record time held by Dineka Maguire from Northern Ireland of 1 minute 23.13 seconds by just over half a second. The Junior World Champion and in overall second place is Emma Pitchforth in a time of 1 minute 26.81 seconds, whose parents are both former Bogsnorkelling winners. In fact her father, Haydyn, was the fastest male competitor and fifth overall with a time of 1 minute 33.15 seconds.
There is a long list of weird sports, and bog snorkelling has branched out to include more competitors with mountainbike- bogsnorkelling and triathlon bogsnorkelling. Ja…
A few days ago, I was confronted by a new scene at home. Readers will know that we have a billy step-goat on loan, Michael Jackson (affectionately known as ‘Jacko’). He lives at Goat-Hill behind a long wooden fence at the end of the main lawn. The fence serves as protection for the plants, which he would surely devour, and as protection for himself against (possibly) the dogs.
Picture this scene: Jacko standing at one end of the fence (goatward side, naturally) on his hind legs, forelegs up on the top rail of the fence. Benny and Sophie standing on the landward side of the fence, attentive to Jacko’s presence.
All of a sudden, Jacko dropped down to the grown and sped off towards the other end of the fence at break-neck speed. I have never seen him sprint at that pace. At the some time, the two Labradors followed suit on their side of the fence, until the separated trio reached the other end of the fence.
Jacko up on hind legs, Sophie and Benny standing to attention, tails wagging, in anticipation. Moments later, Jacko was speeding back to the first end once more, with Benny and Sophie not to be left standing. This ritual was repeated at least half a dozen times.
It looks as if, after being close neighbours for six months, the trio have finally teamed up into a playgroup. Dog-goat speed time trials.
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