If you’ve never strapped your butt into a fiberglass sled, rocketed across the ocean, and thought, “This is fine, everything is fine,” while silently wondering if sea lions are judging you—welcome to my Saturday.

Let me introduce you to sit skiing at the Vancouver Waterski Club. It’s like your average water skiing experience… if you swapped the lake for ocean swells, the ski for a glorified sea kayak seat, and your dignity for a couple pool noodles and pure stubborn energy.

Now, apparently, when you’re built like a pipe cleaner with opinions, the sit ski isn’t quite one-size-fits-all. So, the pros busted out a couple bright green pool noodles to wedge around me and keep my skinny ass from sliding side to side like a wet noodle in a salad spinner. At first, I thought, “Okay, this is kinda cozy.” But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

We’re out in the ocean, boat ready, and I’m strapped in—no turning back. The rope tightens, the throttle hits, and suddenly I’m skipping across the salty waves like a caffeinated pebble with excellent balance and questionable life choices.

Cue noodle drama round two: Someone (I won’t name names, but they’re now on my list) decides to tuck another pool noodle behind my neck. “It’ll help keep your head up,” they said. “It’ll stabilize your core,” they said.

What it did? It locked me into the most intense posture this side of a chiropractor’s nightmare. I couldn’t look down, couldn’t look up, couldn’t sneeze without looking like a bobblehead under arrest. Every bounce off a wave was like a mini whiplash party hosted by Dollar Store flotation.

But between the neck brace effect and trying not to swallow half the Pacific, I realized something: I was actually doing it. Like, really doing it. Out there on the ocean, flying across the waves, powered by spite, adrenaline, and exactly zero chill.

Yes, I wiped out. Four times. Maybe five if you count that one graceful flop where I launched like a dolphin that didn’t quite commit. But every faceful of saltwater was worth it.

And the Vancouver Waterski Club? Legends. Absolute legends. The kind of people who cheer louder when you crash, who celebrate bruises like battle scars, and who don’t blink an eye when you tell them your core support system was literal pool toys.

So, if anyone asks? Sit skiing in the ocean is chaotic, salty, and slightly dangerous—but so am I. And yes, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Preferably without a noodle strangling my neck next time.

Because out here, we’re not just floating—we’re flying. And we’re definitely HandicapableAF.

~Steph

HandicapableAF isn’t just a mood, it’s a lifestyle.