''Go!'' The boat jumps forward and the rope coiled at my feet starts to slither away, suddenly becoming taut.
My arms are yanked outwards from my chest and I kick off the ground feeling the water under my ski become more and more like a platform.
As we pick up speed, I slip my right foot into the binding at the back of my ski.
I have to wriggle it around a bit so it is comfortably surrounded by the padded rubber.
The boat races through the water at 50kmh and as I pass over the wake, the bubbly water left by the propeller is replaced by a glassy mirror, untouched by the wind.
My ski slips effortlessly through the water like it isn't there and I prepare for my first turn.
Gradually pulling back on the rope I lean into the turn, my ski sliding in front of me and leaving a wall of water that gently falls in clear droplets.
The turn is too tight and I'm still angled backwards as I hit the wake.
Everything is blurred into a singular movement as I skip and spin over the water like a skimming stone.
Finally the water reaches up and grabs me from my haphazard tumble and I am shocked by the sudden icy fingers wrapped around me.
Reaching for my ski, I hurriedly tug it onto my foot.
As my fingers start to numb, the boat circles around and fumes from the engine waft past my nose.
Clenching the rope in a vice-like grip, I yell ''Yup'' and the engine revs, hauling me out of the piercing cold.
Freezing air strips the layer of water from me as the boat once again reaches 50kmh.
I shove my foot into the back binding and exit the rough waters.
Taking three deep breaths I complete a mental checklist: feet are secure in the bindings, hands clasping the rope in a comfortable grip, I'm far enough away from the wake to give me enough room to turn.
Brushing all other thoughts out of my mind, I concentrate on the ski in front of me.
I pull back then slowly ease the ski in a graceful curve while drawing the rope into my chest.
The wake is rushing towards me now. Flexing my legs, I brace myself for impact.
My legs bend like a spring, absorbing the shock and pushing me away from the water.
My ski is airborne and the fin trails through the water as I hurtle towards the second wake.
Catching my ski, the white wall of water forces me down the side as if I'm landing on a ramp.
I am extravagant with my success and signal the boat towards shore.
With land straight ahead, I trail my fingers through the water letting the liquid loosen the tension from clutching the rope.
The boat makes the final turn past the beach and I pull on the rope as it slingshots me over the shallows until I feel the sturdy ground beneath my ski.
Collapsing onto the shore, I let out three heavy breaths.
Closing my eyes I sink into the heated stones, warm in the sun's embrace.
- By Mitchie Maluschnig, Year 11, Mt Aspiring College
