Of all the things I’ve decided to carry for a period of time a harness is perhaps the strangest.

“Really?” said my neighbor as I hung out my washing, “I don’t think anyone in this neighborhood would think so. A harness, a sex swing you could staple into the ceiling.” It’s in all the boys’ handbags.

Thanks for sharing.

Anyway upon brainstorming we decided the average person at some point will carry:

A few extra kilos, a dead beat, a dead end career, a dream, a baby for some, an unrequited love, a bad hair cut, laundry, dry-cleaning, insecurity, a childhood issue and love, heartache and an addiction (even if it’s just to caffeine).

It isn’t hard to see why one handbag just isn’t enough. People also tend to have identity issues – many turning into a handbag for somebody or confusing another person for their own.

At the point of needing a new bag or simply wanting to carry different experiences people tend to branch out and try new things.

Again, of all the things I’ve carried a handbag to, canyoning was perhaps the strangest.

Why? I’m a bit afraid of heights. When standing in the Blue Mountains Mountaineering shop being stripped of my ‘creative jewelry’ and fitted in thermal underwear it turned out my journalist friend had told the guide I was an advanced abseiler to make it ‘a better story’.

I have thrown myself into many deep canyons for the thrill of a yarn and let me tell you if you have the choice write it another way.

Finally it was agreed at the guide’s discretion that since I was extremely athletic and open to following her she would let me go.

You must know – this conversation was on the phone.

‘Extremely athletic’ to me means you could enter the Olympics. Um, I would be delusional if I thought I could I told the guide.

“You get so hung up on words,” she replied

I’m a writer, surely that’s allowed?

We walked two hours through the Blue Mountains carrying back packs filled with wet suits aka weight suits because to avoid the freezing water they had to turn you into a walrus.

I’m not joking. I had never realised how restrictive carrying a couple of extra handbags makes you feel. These wet suits weighted 5 kilos. I can't afford five kilos.... 

At one point I could hardly lift my leg because the suit made everything too heavy when logged with freezing water. Trying to get up this sharp rock, I used my hands to put my weight on and pull me up and over as I slid onto the rock like a seal gasping for air and heard my mate say,

“Throw her a fish, she puts on a good show.”

If that doesn’t motivate you stay on a perment exercise regime nothing will.

The track was treacherous, and Yana, the guide kept saying,

“Be careful what you hold onto for support. Some trees look good but they are not solid and you’ll fall.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” screamed a Hungarian women in her early 20s.

"Oh shit – I think I was about to say something about the perfume of nature" said my suprised friend.

Don't worry you didn't - I shot back.

The walk into the canyon was down hill and in the haze of excitement went quickly - a bit like life really.

All of a sudden we were in the canyon crawling through rocks that were like a small rabbit hole in the pitch black.

People freaked out, especially when they felt stuck or jammed.

“I’m going to die in this canyon,” the guide told us a man twice my size had said the week before when he literally got lodged between two rocks and a very hard place.

He didn’t. When he stopped panicking he listened to her.

“He was trying to fit the normal way, he was a different shape so he needed to maneuver his body. Straight through wouldn’t work for him but at first he wouldn’t listen to anything else,” Yana said.

“Yana, you are better than a therapist,” cried a bouncer from Star City Casino.

I didn’t mind having to push myself through hoops to fit. It wasn’t unlike squeezing into a skirt at the start of summer. Comfortable no – but the discomfort is reason enough to get going.

Abseiling 10 metres down the cliff face of a canyon with nothing to look down at except sharp jiggered rocks and ice-cold water….Well, tears started to fall.

“Drop to your knees, get onto your side, edge back, edge back, don’t look down.”

I let the tears fall as I did it. As my mate stood below members of the group all started trying to offer advice.

“Emma don’t look down.”

“Emma, talk to us.”

“Shut up,” I screamed half way down the cliff face.

“That’s my girl,” laughed my friend at my reaction, “she’s alright.”

When I’m faced with a canyon I might cry as I jump but I can trust my myself to do whatever it takes for it to be over.

The abseiling got harder as the canyon got deeper, a 25 metre drop into a black freezing hole of water using your back pack for a life raft with nothing for company but Glow Worms (worms that glow in the dark). The canyon looked like a sky full of stars till one fell in my eye. Stinking bugs!

And much like life, just when you thought the darkness was all consuming you came out of the canyon into the river. Sun shining and natural bling, trees with silver leaves all around.

We pushed ourselves upstream for another half an hour before we could break for lunch.

Tired, bruised and overwhelmed, surviving the 2-hour walk home ended up being possibly the biggest test of strength of all.

It’s funny how nature always has a way of finding you, pushing you but bringing you back from the brink to renewed sense of excitement and fulfillment.