GCSE PE Trip 2016

GCSE PE Trip 2016

Perfect is a much overused adjective but having watched the sun rise from behind the Taj Mahal, I feel well qualified to quantify perfection. Marlon Brando’s portrayal of Terry Malloy in ‘On the Waterfront’ certainly makes the list, as does Dave Gilmour’s second ‘Comfortably Numb’ guitar solo; Philippe Albert’s chip over a dumbfounded Peter Schmeichel could qualify; but there is no doubt whatsoever that the sight of Scott McIntyre somersaulting over his handlebars to land with the sweetest of slaps onto the wooden plank, placed in his way by Dangerous Dave, makes the cut. It had everything: the look of determination on Scott’s face as he moved his body weight in the saddle to execute the front wheel lift that should have seen his front tyre glide effortlessly up the wooden curb; that moment of realisation when the frame of the bike didn’t shift; and the knowing look of a teenager resigned to the fact there was little he could do to prevent the inevitable; he was heading over his handlebars, no two ways about it. The front wheel’s rate of deceleration was extraordinary, almost as impressive as the acceleration of the rear wheel as it lifted into the air, overtook the front wheel, and released its rider. Scott maintained perfect form during his flight, arms outstretched, legs perfectly horizontal, eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching surface. The touchdown was no less impressive. Face and chest landed in unison, glasses somehow remaining in place and intact. The crunch of body against wood was considerable as the crowd of 15 year old girls watching on from behind the wall drew breath. It was a nervous moment that felt like a lifetime, but, as Scott climbed gingerly to his feet, dusted himself down, got back onto his bike and cycled back up the hill for another bash, I knew I’d witnessed greatness.

The GCSE PE Trip is about giving pupils the opportunity to gain practical marks to improve their GCSE grade, as well as the chance to gain some vital life skills. It begins as soon as we arrive, when they have to make their own bed; this is often a highlight of the week for me. The looks of indignation followed by the comical attempts to fit bed sheets upside down, back to front or not at all and the writhing bodies inside duvet covers are priceless. Pupils barely have the chance to acknowledge the lack of phone signal or internet availability before they’re meeting instructors and out on activities. Three hours later and they’re back in the centre, trading stories of near death experiences ranging from map reading misadventures to biking failures. It’s always worrying when pupils are being graded on their ability to successfully navigate a field or ride a bike, yet the orienteers have stories of wading through bogs and streams and the mountain bikers have more scuffs and scrapes than a veteran rugby XV. The first night’s evening entertainment always separates the men from the boys, or in this case, the girls (plus James and Jamie in pink hats) from the boys. As the girls bravely crawled their way through the pitch-dark labyrinth, successfully finding their way to the exit with the minimum of fuss, the boys screamed and squealed their way into every dead end. Despite resorting to torches, they still couldn’t find their way out. I think a couple may still be down there. Things settled down quickly on the first evening, and I was feeling quite smug as I clambered into the middle of my three bunks at a reasonable hour. The silence didn’t last. The scream from the corridor was like something from a Hitchcock film, I shot out to see what was wrong with the girls, only to find a stream of lads tripping over each other to escape Wycoller; in their defence, the spider was pretty big. Once Henry had done his job and the underside of all beds had been checked, the room was re-entered and a good night’s kip was had by all.

You can be certain of few things in life (death and taxes are the usual two to be cited) but the pain in the butt cheeks upon saddling up for a second day on the mountain bikes is just as inevitable. The second day's activities proved to be a resounding success, as despite Tara and Thomas doing their best to dislocate limbs, much information was learned, many miles were covered, and marks were accumulated. Thankfully the instructor wasn’t watching when Carl decided to tackle a descent that was perhaps beyond his biking capabilities. “Are you sure you want to go down there, Carl?”

“I’ve got to sir: I’ve got an audience now.” Carl did quietly thank me that night for the speed I got to his crumpled body at the foot of the hill, and the delicacy with which I untangled him from the bike frame. That evening, stories were again swapped: the gale force wind that nearly blew Ellis off a cliff; James the machine, unflinching in the face of impending danger; Melissa and Libby’s acceptance that their voices are louder than a distress whistle; and that giant killer Labrador puppies do, in fact, roam the moors of Yorkshire.

Day three gave one more session to develop marks before a lunchtime change in activities and a chance to impress in another discipline. The day drew to a close, with the camp split by either their disgust at something to do with Bake Off (I didn’t ask) or jubilance at Newcastle’s late showing against Norwich. I was taken aback by one thing above all else: the six girls on the trip, as tightly knit a group as ever I’ve taken away, can talk for Britain; no matter where, no matter when, no matter what the subject, they had something to say. Meal times have never taken so long.

By the end of the fourth day, much character had been built. The wind on the crag and out on the fell was intense, and relented just long enough for a torrential down pour to soak everyone to the bone before picking up again and ensuring all were thoroughly uncomfortable. The instructors were full of praise for all involved at this point, as whinging was non-existent and, despite the horrendous conditions, more marks were picked up as pupils demonstrated their techniques, their grit and their determination. We had no centre-led activities on the Thursday night, so the group entertained themselves; something most were perfectly comfortable with. Most of the lads played pool, and of course the girls talked. While it may be more years than I would care to remember since I was 15, I would like to think my memory of this age hasn’t totally faded. At no point during my teenage years did I think it would be appropriate to take up the activity that a small number of Longbenton’s finest chose to pass the time with. As a life-long rugby player, I’ve seen some silliness, but walking into Twistelton to find a small group of boys fencing with toilet brushes is something I could have gone through my life without ever having to witness. I left quickly.

The fifth and final day provided one more session on activities, providing a chance to polish skills, show off one last time and try to squeeze every last mark out of the instructors. Once again the instructors were brimming with compliments for the group. All put into practice the areas of development suggested to them, and some very good marks were achieved. One final briefing, a presentation of a High Adventure tee-shirt to James Redshaw for being the ‘top student’, and a one hour wait for a mini-bus held up by miles of A1 rubber-neckers, and we were on the road heading back to Newcastle.

It’s amazing the growth that can take place in only a few days (not just the worrying one on my right knee from all the cycling). As we headed home I reflected on some of the victories of the week. How the lads had quietly and efficiently disposed of the second tarantula that reared its head. The reduction in ‘I don’t like it’ that was heard at meal times, and the fact I barely had to mention putting phones away at the dinner table (though Mrs Terry proved incapable). Not to mention the development in pupil’s mountain biking, orienteering and rock climbing skills. It had been another good week!

The pupils who chose to attend the 2016 GCSE PE Trip have been an absolute credit to the school, their parents and most importantly themselves: hard working, well organised and polite. I couldn’t have been prouder. Every year I’m left with one lasting memory from the GCSE PE Trip, be it the moment on the inaugural 2010 trip that Harry Johnson doubted the sincerity of Damon Nigrelli’s ‘splash me one more time and I’m chucking you out of this canoe’, walking into Ponden to find Jordan Duffy getting overexcited by the remains of the chocolate mousse in 2013 or the 380 press-ups completed by a potty-mouthed George Ferguson in 2015. While the sight of a fencing match that would have turned the stomach of the Jackass cast will stay long in the memory, 2016 will forever be remembered as the year Scott McIntyre attempted to sling shot himself out of the Earth’s atmosphere, failed, but survived to tell the tale.