There's a particular kind of silence that some teenagers emit when you ask them a question that doesn't involve food, or video games; more a sort of white noise, a blocking of sound rather than the simple absence of it. My 17-year-old son Sam made that same non-noise when I first asked him to Go Ape with me. I persisted. "They have courses all over the country, and it's not like an adventure playground," I said, knowing that would sound childish. "It's got tree-walks …" Silence. "… Rope-bridges …" Silence. "… And a 250-metre-long zipwire, like the one Boris Johnson got stuck on." Bullseye. "Really?" he perked up at last.
A few days later, with his sports-mad schoolfriend Max in tow, we rolled up in the elegant grounds of Leeds Castle, an hour and a quarter and a million miles away from south London. The first 20 minutes were a training session: how to tighten up your harness ("Give yourself a wedgie," said the Go Ape instructor brightly); why you should always be attached by at least one clip at any time (much of the course takes place 12m above ground); what the clip colours mean. There was a red, blue and green clip, but wait – which went where again? I felt like the hero of a Hollywood action movie must feel, when he's trying to defuse a bomb but cannot work out which colour wire is which, as the seconds tick towards his doom.
In the event, doing is better than showing; you have a little practice at ground level before hitting the heights, and it's easy once you try. The kids took to it immediately. One of the first obstacles is a Tarzan Swing into a giant rope net. They loved it. I froze. "Are you scared?" asked a small boy behind me. I confessed I was, a little. "So am I," he said. I had to be brave to show him how it's done.
So I let myself go, and… whoosh! It was liberating, exhilarating. The boy behind me then followed suit with a happy Tarzan yell. He'd only been pretending to be scared in order to encourage me.
The next challenge was a zip-wire, the first of five. You attach a small wheeled triangle of metal on to the wire with your blue clip, sling the red clip behind it, settle back into your harness and step off the edge. It's totally James Bond: super-smooth and super-fast. The fear on my face quickly gave way to uncontrollable laughter.
It was easy to get turned around and land sideways or backwards, dragging your heels ignominiously; it became a point of honour to land facing forwards, running. Sam showed me how to kick my legs to regain position: inelegant, but effective. The longest zip-wires stretch so far that you can't see the ends. There's so much more to the Go Ape course: crossing from tree to tree by rope bridges, swinging logs and foot rings; a much bigger Tarzan swing with incredible momentum. (There's also a Tree Top Junior adventure here for six- to 12-year-olds; 10 of the Go Ape locations offer a £30 Forest Segway Experience as well.) It all took nearly three hours to complete.
As we drove back to London, Sam turned to me and said, very seriously, "Thanks, Dad. That was a proper treat." And that's about the only thing more thrilling than hanging from a zip-wire.
Have your own tree top adventure
Go Ape has 24 courses across England's forests: all sites have a classic Go Ape Tree Top Adventure, which costs £30-£32 for gorillas (aged 18+) and £24 for baboons (aged 10-17). The course is perfect for families, groups of friends, or even corporate team-building days.
Younger children aren't left out either: there's a Tree Top Junior activity, perfect for six- to 12-year-olds over a metre tall, in five English forests, too. It costs £16.
You can also explore the woodland at ground level, with the Go Ape Forest Segway: the self-balancing Segway has all-terrain types, so you can zip between the trees at 10 sites in England.
Get 10% off your Go Ape adventure
Book online at goape.co.uk or call 0845 643 9146, using promotional code 27FOREST
