Jumping off random cliffs(悬崖) into the sea is not clever. However, as a sport, coasteering uses local experts to help groups travel around the coast so they can then jump safely and have a lot of fun in the process. But coasteering is also so much more than cliff jumping.

    A usual day's coasteering will involve swimming, climbing, scrambling(攀岩) and cliff jumping. All trips begin with a safety brief and equipment check. You will be equipped with a helmet, wetsuit and life vest. You will need to wear some old sneakers you don't mind getting wet.

    From here it could be a short swim to the first jump site. Following an instructor, you swim through rock pools, around rough rocks and right up to the next jump spot. A brief climb and you'll be standing on the edge wondering, “Why the hell did I agree to this?” Then, and to the yell of your friends, you're leaping in, with a smile that's guaranteed to last the rest of the day.

    Coasteering is certainly more than cliff jumping. If ever a sport could claim to be confidence building, this is it. And it's also a perfect activity for groups of friends or for adventurous families who want to explore the coast. Many companies offer daily trips, so even if you are on your own or a couple you can join in with a large group. Companies use trained guides with much knowledge of local tides and weather conditions. These people lead the show and are qualified lifesavers as well.

    Coasteering is already popular around the UK. At least now you won't have to ask “What is coasteering?” if someone you know gives it a go.

    I call my story the story of a bad boy, partly to distinguish myself from those faultless young gentlemen, and partly because I really was not an angle. I may truthfully say I was a friendly, impulsive(易冲动的)teenager. I didn't want to be an angel. In short, I was a real human boy, such as you may meet anywhere in New England.

Whenever a new scholar came to our school, I used to ask him " My name's Tom Bailey; what's your name?" If the name struck me favorably, I shook hands with the new pupil cordially, but if it didn't, I would turn and walk away, for I was particular on this point.

I was born in Rivermouth almost fifty years ago, but, before I became very well acquainted with that pretty New England town, my parents moved to New Orleans. I was only eighteen months old at the time of the move, and it didn't make much difference to me where I was, because several years later, when my father proposed to take me North to be educated, I had my own view on the subject. I instantly kicked over the little boy, Sam, who happened to be standing by me at the moment, and declared that I would not be taken away to live among a lot of Yankees! You see I was what is called " a Northern man with Southern principles," I had no recollection of New England: my earliest memories were connected with the South. I knew I was born in the North, but hoped nobody would find it out. I never told my schoolmates I was a Yankee, because they talked about Yankees in a scornful way which made me feel that it was quite a shame not to be born in the South.

And this impression was strengthened by Aunt Chloe, who said, "There wasn't no gentlemen in the North no way."

    With this picture of Northern civilization in my eye, the readers will easily understand my terror at the bare thought of being transported to Rivermouth to school, and possibly will forgive me for kicking over little Sam, when my father announced this to me. As for kicking little Sam, I always did that, more or less gently, when anything went wrong with me.

    My father was greatly troubled by this violent behavior. As little Sam picked himself up, my father took my hand in his and led me thoughtfully to the library. He appeared strangely puzzled on learning the nature of my objections to going North.

"Who on earth, Tom, has filled your brain with those silly stories?" asked my father calmly.

"Aunt Chloe, sir, she told me."

My father devoted that evening and several evenings to giving me a clear account of New England: its early struggles, its progress, and its present condition. I was no longer unwilling to go North; on the contrary, the proposed journey to a new world full of wonders kept me awake nights. Long before the moving day arrived I was eager to be off. My impatience was increased by the fact that my father had purchased for me a fine little Mustang pony, and shipped it to Rivermouth two weeks before the date set for our own journey. The pony completely resigned me to the situation. The pony's name was Gitana, which is the Spanish for "gypsy", so I always called her Gypsy.

    Finally the time came to leave the vine-covered mansion among the orange-trees, to say goodbye to little Sam(I am convince he was heartily glad to get rid of me), and to part with Aunt Chloe. I imagine them standing by the open garden gate; the tears are rolling down Aunt Chloe's cheeks; they and the old home fade away. I am never to see them again!

    Today's Flight Time Table

（Departure＝leave）

Five years ago, when I taught art at a school in Seattle, I used Tinkertoys as a test at the beginning of a term to find out something about my students. I put a small set of Tinkertoys in front of each student, and said: "Make something out of the Tinkertoys. You have 45 minutes today - and 45minutes each day for the rest of the week."

    A few students hesitated to start. They waited to see the rest of the class would do. Several others checked the instructions and made something according to one of the model plans provided. Another group built something out of their own imaginations.

    Once I had a boy who worked experimentally with Tinkertoys in his free time. His constructions filled a shelf in the art classroom and a good part of his bedroom at home. I was delighted at the presence of such a student. Here was an exceptionally creative mind at work. His presence meant that I had an unexpected teaching assistant in class whose creativity would infect(感染) other students.

Encouraging this kind of thinking has a downside. I ran the risk of losing those students who had a different style of thinking. Without fail one would declare, "But I'm just not creative."

"Do you dream at night when you're asleep?"

"Oh, sure."

"So tell me one of your most interesting dreams." The student would tell something wildly imaginative. Flying in the sky or in a time machine or growing three heads. "That's pretty creative. Who does that for you?"

"Nobody. I do it."

"Really-at night, when you're asleep?"

"Sure."

"Try doing it in the daytime, in class, okay?"

    A few years ago, Darla Hoff painted a pumpkin face onto a round straw bale(捆)at A1 and Karen Goldman's farm in Idaho Palls to advertise her U-pick pumpkin field. While Darla has stopped growing pumpkins, the annual tradition of straw bale art lives on at the farm and has drawn friends and neighbors to participate in it. Past creations have included an owl, Minions, tractors and a teddy bear.

    To make the tractors, A1 baled round straw bales in two different sizes smaller ones for the tractor's front tires and larger ones for the rear(尾部). Large square bales made up the bodies. Jerry Kienlen used his farming equipment to arrange the bales in the shape of two tractors. Then it was time to bring the tractors to life. Karen and her daughter. Lana Hedrick, secured some green paint, and A1 got some red paint. Darla's husband, James, sprayed the creation with a paint gun. For the finishing touches, Steven donated two shiny exhaust stacks (排气管),and A1 and Karen donated two steering wheels from their farm parts.

    The farm's annual straw bale art projects have now become a way for everyone to celebrate the end of another growing season. It's just something fun to do together after harvest. This neighborhood has always been close. Generations of these families have grown crops in this soil. Raised on the farms where they live now, they grew up together as their elders did before. A1 and Karen are truly super neighbors. Every year they also grow about two acres of corn to give away. Anyone can pick some, or A1 and Karen will even deliver. And during long Idaho winters, everyone gathers at the farm to enjoy fresh coffee and cookies.

    This year's straw hale creation theme is Straw Wars. And all eyes will be on A1 and Karen's farm as their creation takes shape.

    This past summer I went on a journey to Canada's Arctic with Students On Ice. When I left Calgary I wondered what I would find what I would learn and who I would meet. On the trip to Ottawa I was wrapped in a blanket of uncertainty and excitement. But when I first met the group of students, scientists and leaders, I knew that l didn't have anything to worry about. The group was amazingly receptive and I was soon part of a big family setting out on an amazing adventure—an adventure of a lifetime!

    When we reached the Arctic I saw a vast Land that appeared untouched and original. I was surprised by its great size and beauty and my senses were repeatedly shocked and amazed. I stood on the Kapitan Khlebnikov and saw twelve polar bears. They walked in search of seal holes, and patiently waited for a meal. I learned that polar bears are successful only one out of every twenty hunting attempts.

    However, I learned that the Arctic and its people are being threatened by pollution and global warming. I learned that pollutants are carried by ocean and air and have a bad effect on all Arctic people. I learned that global warming has put polar bears at risk because a warmer climate means that they have a shorter time to hunt seals on the ice.

    The trip was a feast (盛宴) for the senses. I have learned more about our environment, and particularly how alive and interesting the Arctic is and why it is so important to take care of it. I learned pollution, ignorance of individual and global problems need to be solved. The Arctic deserves to be preserved. My trip with Students On Ice has made me more determined to try to ensure that I do not leave harmful footprints on either Earth or its people.