It was another hot and steamy day in Whangarei. People, young and old, were searching for any body of water to dip in. It is a pity that the nearest beach is at least half an hour away, depending on where you live.

In our desperacy, we decided to take a plunge in local waterfall, however unsettling this idea was. You see, Whangarei Falls look truly majestic, but the plunge pool underneath is slippery and unpredictable. There are mud, rock formations, and plants that could easily tangle around your feet. Worst of all is a flat plate that commemorates a poor soul that drowned in these falls several years ago. So while it is not forbidden to swim there, it is certainly not a proposition for the fainthearted!

And have I ever suggested that I am brave? Au contraire, mon ami! I bravely wear my scaredy-cat suit instead!

We arrived. I invited my husband to lead the way, obviously. What followed could be described in three Latin words: veni, vidi, and instead of vici, my husband declared that the pool was tricky and not suitable for swimming after all!

My mood dropped several degrees. I could see that there is a potentially better entrance into the basin, but it would involve some climbing, and I am so scared! Besides, I’ve got jandals on my feet, and I am almost 37 years old, and after a recent toe injury.

I sulked and I sulked, and then I got angry at myself and these thoughts! I kicked off my shoes. I climbed like a gazelle on that rock formation; I dipped one foot in the water, then another; I ripped off my dress; and I immersed myself in the refreshing pool of water.

Alice: “I must get through!”

Doorknob: “Sorry, you’re much too big. Simply impassable.”

Alice: “You mean impossible.”

Doorknob: “No, impassable. Nothing is impossible!”