Ultra vertigo potential: the Button Boy

It was many years ago now, but I clearly remember seeing a film on TV to do with the historical training of young naval recruits at a Royal Naval College called HMS Ganges. I watched with growing horror. The young recruits - each with the rank of 'Boy' and all teenage - gradually mounted (in formal attire, caps included) a very tall ship's mast set in the middle of a parade ground. I don't recall any sound effects, but you could easily imagine a big drum somewhere giving a 'boom' on every second, and in response these trainees would all step upwards together on the rope shrouds, perfectly synchronised. 

Higher and higher they went. Some would remain on the rope shrouds, holding on in an erect pose. But the rest would go on upwards to platforms, where a small number would stand. Others would edge out along the horizontal yards, spacing themselves evenly, and standing upright. The first and lowest yard was not quite halfway up; but the second was rather higher, and the topmost yard was at a quite dizzying height. The yards were substantial but rounded, and the topmost was on the thin side. 

This was dreadful enough. But one of the Boys, the nominated Button Boy, had to shin up the last section of mast to a tiny platform (the button) at the very top, and then stand on top of it, with (if it were not for a safety net far below) a fall to his death if he wobbled or lost his nerve and fainted. 

All stood to attention. And at some command would all salute. The Button Boy too, and that was a big deal, because he'd have to take his hands away from the short lightning conductor rod on his tiny platform. This rod hardly came up to his waist. He stood in front of it, and I suppose he might to some extent brace himself against it. But with one arm stiffly by his side, and the other making a salute, he couldn't hold onto it, and was effectively standing, barely supported, on a large dinner plate far above the ground. It was excruciating to watch. I expected him to be blown off by a puff of wind, and that would be that. But it didn't happen.  

You can view various versions of this mast-mounting ceremony on YouTube and elsewhere:

Wikipedia has a fair bit about HMS Ganges and this mast: 

Only a coin as a reward? 

But there might have been non-serious injuries? What about the mental trauma of scaling frightening heights, and then falling? How many falls were there?

On 11th July, the first evening of my Suffolk holiday, I drove to Shotley Gate - not far away - and while there I made a point of looking at what might be left of HMS Ganges. I'd already passed The Royal Hospital School at Holbrook on the way - basically a modern private school, originally built and run on naval college lines, and to this day continuing with much the same ethos - and I'd imagined that a former Royal Navy Training School like HMS Ganges would have a similar grand appearance. Or at least a grand approach road. But no. The old main entrance was tucked away down a disappointingly unremarkable side street at Shotley Gate. It was locked up, and looked forlorn. 

Behind those gates, the old site was being redeveloped. I didn't immediately realise what that white tower, which at a distance looked like a radar installation, actually was. I went closer, and managed to poke LXV's lens through a gap.

Oh dear! The redevelopment seemed to have stalled. And the mast had been partly dismantled to only half its original height. It must have got into a seriously poor condition. It was hard to believe that one day, when the redevelopment was finally complete, it would be restored to its former glory. I went away thinking that this part of the country's naval heritage had been sadly let down. And this, despite my feelings about heights and needlessly sending youngsters aloft. Many must have been in a state of controlled terror. Just to provide a display for an important visitor when the training school was active.   

Not every person is scared of being off the ground. I have to grant that these were boys of an unusually adventurous mould, likely to be high-spirited and light-hearted about risk. There would certainly be peer competition to show daring and coolness, peer pressure to excel, to exceed, and go to extremes. Then there was the relentless discipline, enforcing all commands to do things that were dangerous, unpalatable, or against natural common-sense. People will do anything if the compulsion is strong enough, or the penalties for refusal too severe.

And I dare say that some boys would have actually aspired to be the star of the show, the Button Boy. If they got up there with practiced ease, and came down again with the same aplomb, they would be much admired for their technique, proven courage and apparent fearlessness. It might make a difference later on, marking them out for early promotion in adult naval service. Given that, the small token present from the commander - that coin - might actually be a hugely-coveted trophy, symbolic of an impressive achievement. 

In any case, I'm sure the Navy wouldn't have offered meaningful cash rewards. There must be no suggestion that boys were induced to climb high in exchange for a money prize. The Button Boy's performance had to be in the best traditions of the service, the product of training and discipline and only those things. After all, in the days of Nelson anyone in a ship's crew might might have been ordered aloft, and no argument about it - nor any reward.

I remain perplexed how it is that some people have no anxiety about being high up. It makes me feel rather inadequate! I do test myself now and then. For instance, when looking around Woodbridge on 12th July, I mounted the curving steps at the front of the Shire Hall:

The steps, as you can see, were in good condition, and there was a proper handrail. The local council clearly regard ascending them as safe, otherwise they would be out of bounds to the general public. Anyway, I wanted the view (and some shots) from the landing at the top.

Well, yes: a great view of the lower town square! But it did seem high, and as the seconds passed I felt vertigo getting a grip. Time to get down. The stairs looked endless, the ground so far away.

I'm rather glad that I could never have been an HMS Ganges recruit! But there are careers I could have had, that would have involved being scarily high up from time to time. I'm really very content that I was only an office worker. 

So readers shouldn't be surprised to learn that I won't be trying out the zip-wire on the Brighton seafront. I saw it in action last April:

That tower with the spiral steps is the launch platform. Two friends were zipping noisily:

You zip down to that structure on the beach, where you come to a sudden stop. 

As I understand it, you get a ground-level briefing by the staff before donning a helmet and a harness. Then you have to climb that spiral staircase to the top of the tower - I'd never make it, it's too high, and my dodgy right knee would give out. On arrival, further advice and a choice between a fast wire and a slightly slower one. Then the harness gets attached. One is still not past the point of no return, but it must be like being at a church wedding (mine was a register office affair) and the exchange of vows is about to begin, with ring poised.

Two of my friends, Sue and Jackie, had a go recently. Apparently it was thrilling. A bit of last-moment trepidation as you dangle off the platform, then an immense adrenalin rush as you career at speed over the heads of people on the beach. 

But I'm still not tempted.

The experience is nevertheless unmissable if you are as daring as a Button Boy. Be warned, however: it's not cheap. Here a group of friends discuss whether they should spend megabucks on something they may regret:

Note the prices! Still, it's within reach of most pockets, including £4 extra for having a GoPro video camera popped on your helmet to record what you saw while zipping - Jackie and Sue agreed that is worth having. Obviously, you can't use your own camera or phone to take the footage, in case it drops onto the gawping multitude below. And they do gawp. I did. So did Joe Cool in the shot below, gliding along on his uniwheel Segway board:

Now that's something else beyond my capabilities - a good sense of balance. But that's for another post.