There’ll be times at gatherings back home where I will mention to acquaintances that I am a member of my university’s kayaking club.

This statement will often elicit a series of mixed reactions. ‘Sounds dangerous!’ an elderly relative may exclaim, clutching their glass of wine in defense, just in case I might invite them to come along.

Most of my friends remain supportive albeit bewildered. ‘I could never,’ someone might say in the pub, before adding hastily ‘but it sounds fun!’ almost as if they were trying to convince themselves.

My own parents had their reservations when I announced it to them.

As far as they were concerned, their clumsy, accident-prone child signing up to sit in a boat and throw herself down rivers was a unique recipe for disaster.

Even I often wonder what exactly I’ve gotten myself into as I drag my waterlogged kayak up a riverbank on a cold rainy February day, teeth chattering, fingers freshly blistered, and limbs frozen up.

I’ll peel my stubborn wetsuit off and admire what fresh bruise I’ve acquired this time. Was it an awkward capsize that did it? Or was it maybe a consequence of slipping and falling on my bum due to the dastardly combination of wet leaves, mud, and flimsy river shoes.

I’ll curse myself as I manage to kayak bow-first into a rock, beaching myself and wriggling around helplessly like a turtle on its back.

I’ll imagine how I could have better spent a Saturday morning as I fall on an eddy line and meet the ice-cold embrace of river water and watch mornfully as the more experienced chase my boat down.

So why do it? Why indulge?

Too often university may feel like you’re oscillating between two extremes. From the Orange VK-soaked nights where awful music, poor financial choices, and an unfortunate snog, will have you waking up spooning a Styrofoam box of greasy chips while nursing a hangover that’ll nail you to your bed for the next few days.

That may not be your cup of tea.

Alternatively, you can haul yourself out of your bed for that 9am, battle your way through the soggy streets of Cathays to sit in a lecture with lighting that will expose every pore on your face while the LinkedIn warrior next to you receives their eighth internship offer of the week.

Kayaking can offer respite from those choices, a third route.

Once you get on that river, the world of university melts away. Your body and your mind are no longer disconnected, and suddenly the only real priority will be making it from point A to point B in an upright position (not an easy task).

Becoming a kayaker will have you doing crazy things

Much like falling in love, becoming a kayaker will have you doing crazy things that past you wouldn’t even begin to fathom. Why do I religiously check water levels on my phone? Why am I watching a 10-minute YouTube video on how to spot holes on rivers? The intense debates in the pub about the merits of a half slice versus a full slice that used to bore you to death will suddenly become interesting.

But it’ll be too late, and before you know it, you’ll find yourself on Facebook marketplace at 3am furiously haggling with 47-year-old Craig from Swansea over the price of a Werner paddle.

So get on out there and kayak! Boost your ego with an impressive profile pic, stink up your toilets with the smell of wet neoprene (it never goes away), and terrify your overprotective parents with the prospect of you drowning (Mum, I promise I’ll be fine).

Most importantly, since I must end with an awful cliche, create memories for life.