Spring is here!!!! In some parts of the country boats are starting up again in earnest, docks are being repaired, and skiers are getting ready to kick it into gear. Those parts of the country could use more great RipNsix t-shirts. For the parts of the country where lakes are still frozen over...maybe you should consider the RipNsix sweatshirts and beannies.
Welcome to our Waterskiing Stories and Jokes page. As you can see we need help - lots of help! - filling up this page. Send us your best water-ski / watersports story or joke...the time you lost your bikini bottom tubing...the time the driver ran over a sandbar, etc. Use this address to give us what you've got: Joel@ripnsix.com
Ever hear the one about...ah, never mind. Be sure to include your Name, the Story or Joke, and an Attachment (pic/video) if possible.
Paramoter Water Skiing!
Twiggy - a Florida grey squirrel - is turning heads among those who have flocked to the Jacob K Javits Center to admire the millions of dollars worth of luxury boats.
Twiggy The Squirrel Rides Behind A Radio Controlled Boat
Twiggy The Water Skiing Squirrel Gets A Tow
Waterskiing the Amazon
A couple years ago a buddy and I headed to the Peruvian Amazon in search of fun and adventure. The adventure was plenty some, the fun…not so much so. After a couple days of light hikes, piranha fishing, and canoeing we left the comforts (relatively speaking) of the jungle lodge for a three day jungle survival experience. Taking nothing but the clothes on our back, machetes, and some mosquito netting (okay, so we didn’t leave all our comforts behind), we were dropped off miles and miles up the river from the lodge. Three days later we drug ourselves back into the lodge, a stinky, exhausted mess of mosquito/ant bites, jungle rot, and body odor. I was so sick of fish after those three days that I didn’t eat fish for a year. Ever try sleeping in the jungle? There is no city in the world as loud as the Amazon after sunset. Did I mention our exhaustion? Once back at the jungle lodge we didn’t want to do anything involving the jungle and sat around for a couple days just recovering. At the recovery point we still had a few days left in the jungle before the 5 hour trip by motor boat back down the river to the closest town, and we were getting bored. There was no way we were heading back into the jungle. We had seen and experienced everything (and more) that we wished to.
Knowing that I was a waterskiing fanatic, and noticing all the perfectly flat water around us, my buddy started talking waterskiing. I think he originally was doing it to drive me crazy but soon an idea started forming in my head. At the lodge there were a couple small boats, more like canoes really, that had 40 horse outboard motors on them. A forty horse outboard isn’t much compared to the Ford 351 I had in the Nautique in my garage back home. But I didn’t have the Ford 351 so the forty horse OB started looking pretty good. A few of the guides had heard of waterskiing and one had seen it on TV once but none had ever done it. We worked on them for a couple days until they agreed to let us give it a go, probably thinking that there was no way the idea would become reality seeing as how we had no skis, rope, handle…anything that was needed for skiing.
The Peruvian jungle guides vastly underestimated good ol’ American ingenuity. After some thought and exploration around the lodge we had found a couple hand milled mahogany boards (about 6 ft long, a foot wide, and 3 inches thick), a pair of old beat up rubber boots, and several coke bottle tops. There was plenty of rope. Using the machetes we did the best we could carving the boards into a pair of skis, even complete with a fin for each ski. The work boots were cut down to the point of being usable and attached to the planks using the bottle caps. Lastly a handle was carved out of branch and a ski rope of workable manner was attached. We were ready to ski.
Understandably to a bunch of people that had never even seen waterskiing this was a big deal. We all piled in the little boats and headed down the river a couple miles to a “lake” off the main river that was relatively free of debris in the water. My stomach did a couple flip flops upon realization this was the same “lake” in which we went piranha fishing. The locals didn’t seem to mind and soon we were all in the water splashing around and getting ready for the big show. As the ring leader I was first and managed to get up and got for quite a while. My buddy was second and shortly after he got up he tore the boots on one of the skis badly. The guides gave it a try but weren’t able to get out of the water. Not unexpected considering the boat, skis, etc.
After everyone had a great time giving it a try one of the boats zoomed off back towards the lodge. We then piled in the other boat and headed back ourselves. As we turned a bend in the river right before a small village that we would pass on the way to the lodge I was told that the first boat had raced ahead to warn all the villagers out of the water (their little canoes would tip over from the wake the larger boat) and to get in the water so I could give them a ski show. Remember that one of the skis had a broken boot, so now I was single skiing on a mahogany plank with only one boot. Luckily I made it on top of the water and we roared off (as much as we could roar behind a forty horse engine anyway) and rounded the corner. The entire population of the village, maybe a couple hundred people, was lined up along the shore. I couldn’t believe my eyes. They couldn’t believe their eyes either. Very few of them had ever seen a TV, let alone seen anyone ski. Suddenly I wasn’t just a blue-eyed celebrity (blue eyes are very much a novelty in that part of the world), I was a blue-eyed celebrity that seemingly walked on water. The best part was the knowledge that I had skied on the Amazon.
What would you do if you had only one morning glass set on the course, it gets windy, and after a wind blown day of doctor pepper double-ups on the wakeboard you still yen for stroking your personal best,… early and wide,… Rip-n-Six.
Would you cry?
What if you drove some distance, you only have two days left camping at this secluded fishing lake, your insta-slalom screaming your name, and plenty of pull left in your arms.
How ‘bout sending a buddy to the closest town on a mission to get a case 1.5 liter water bottles and some glow-sticks. Then we’ll switch all the buoys on the course with glow stick water bottles. It can be done. We did it, and skied until 3am. We have done it at least once a year since ’98, once at a private lake in Sacramento. It is truly a spiritual experience and I can’t wait to do it again. I did have a problem one year. The conditions were right for bugs and I couldn’t keep from getting them in my teeth as smiling can’t be avoided.
The course looks like a runway air strip at night. No dash lights and no moon proved to be better.
Skiing at night has always been great, everyone gets plenty Julio. As in Julio E. Glassous or ski whistling smooth glass. My skiing has improved due to knowing the wake is there and not being able to see it. It forces you to ski stronger through the wake, in fear of going over the front. I did have a problem with skiing to, and clipping the water bottles, but they let out a crushing sound and have no affect on the ski. Euphoric is the best way to describe it.
Some people would call this type of skiing dangerous and I must say don’t try this at home. The hazards can all be addressed during the pre-dusk safety meeting. Driving the boat is close to as much fun as being pulled. We put glow-sticks on the skiers vest (front and rear), the top of the ten foot pole, and one on shore to help with your bearings to safely drop the skier. We drop at both ends of the course, and after the skier falls we wait until we have sight of them shaking their stick, then idle back. Although we haven’t had any close calls, the fear of something happening never leaves (and shouldn’t). It is only slightly more risky than skiing during the day. Words or photos don’t do it justice. You just have to live it.
Life better wet, with your glow balls out.
Troy
Twiggy - a Florida grey squirrel - is turning heads among those who have flocked to the Jacob K Javits Center to admire the millions of dollars worth of luxury boats.
Dumb joke...
Did you hear about the blonde who never learned to waterski?
She couldn't find a lake with a slope.
