I have never golfed, but I know of people who have. And the remarkable thing is that they continue to golf, in spite of knowing what they’re in for. As the esteemed Samuel Clemens said, “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” Doubly so when using a golf cart. Now, I’ve spoken with several of my golfing friends, and they seem to have come to a consensus about the allure of golf. Apparently the appeal has a lot to do with sticking it to the laws of probability – with overcoming the sheer implausibility of putting this tiny ball in that distant and tiny hole, and doing so with maximum efficiency. I can appreciate that. Hell, my mind short-circuits every time I think about the things golfers are capable of. Still, I would propose an alternative to golf that is equally improbable, probably far more pleasurable, and, best of all, far more dangerous. (I’m sure golf can be dangerous; people being brained by balls, clobbered by clubs, struck by lightning, that sort of thing. These occurrences, though, are pretty rare. And I would wager that if things operate smoothly, the risk of accidents occurring is slim to none. Almost as improbable, you might say, as that elusive hole in one. My substitute is inherently more likely to cause cuts, bruises, abrasions, fractures, breaks, injury to one’s pride, to one’s manhood, etc.) What is said pastime, you clamor? Why, it’s slacklining!
One advantage of slacklining is its simplicity: all it requires is a piece of nylon webbing, and two trees to tie it between. The webbing used for slacklines is similar to the material seat belts are made of, only a little thicker, far longer, and one inch wide. Slacklines can be short or long, they can be strung low or high, over water, over land, over an endless abyss, they can involve hundreds of dollars worth of gear or be made of left over ends, knotted together. Too often we depend on electronics and fancy gadgets to keep us entertained. It is an unparalleled pleasure to step back from technology and spend an afternoon outside falling off some nylon.
Slacklining is sort of like tightrope walking, but on a broader and looser line. To slackline, then, you just step onto the line and walk back and forth between the anchors. At least that’s the idea. In reality, balancing on a taut piece of nylon that oscillates wildly, magnifying both your own tremors and those caused by malevolent gusts of wind, proves pretty challenging. Once you’ve got balancing down, there is an endless world of tricks to try: turning, jumping, sitting, kneeling, assuming yoga positions, stripping, walking backwards, walking while blindfolded, while playing Frisbee, while on the phone.
The concentration, the focus required to flaunt gravity, is immensely satisfying. And when you manage to stay on the line, through something you thought would surely send you hurtling to the ground, it is akin, I’m sure, to pleasure of a nice golf shot. If golf is a good walk spoiled, slacklining is a good walk distilled and elevated.
(If anyone is interested in trying slacklining, the outing club puts up a slackline before and after its meeting every Tuesday.)
Caleb is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at ctobrien@wustl.edu.