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I rope..... And by that, I mean; I rope a lot. 

Rope is a daily part of my life. I tie seven days a week. I do both western and Shibari bondage at work, and I practice Shibari daily as a part of my social and private life. On a busy night at an event or play party I will easily do 8 or more suspensions. And in the 9 years since I took up Western bondage as a pastime, and the four years since I switched to Shibari, it would not be overly ambitious to say that I have done close to a thousand suspensions. 

There are four amazing riggers in Australia who I look up to, and aspire to rope at their level. I'm fortunate that I count three of them not just as teachers, but as close personal friends. Having such an phenomenal resource of knowledge available to tap into at will, is an incredibly comforting thing. 

Before I rope anyone for the first time, I will run through a long verbal questionnaire about their previous experiences, likes, dislikes, medical conditions, phobias, previous injuries, current injuries, medications, limits, and other concerns. I will test for range of movement and basic nerve functionality. I will explain in detail all the inherent risks and dangers involved in rope bondage to give them the greatest autonomy possible with which to make a decision with informed consent. I will also explain my own safety protocols, check in procedures, traffic light safeword system, show them my EMT shears, and explain that I will take them out at a moments notice, cutting the rope away if necessary. 

I take excellent care of my rope. I condition it and inspect it regularly. I retire lengths that show wear, and I cut lengths that have isolated wear spots into shorter lengths to use in all those annoying ties, where you just need to add on a bit more. 
I am also currently running fours sets of rope in regular circulation. I use my oldest and therefore softest set against the skin. My newest sets I use for my mainlines and elements that have the greatest load-bearing requirements.

In short, I have a lot of faith in myself in regards to my ability to plan and conduct a fun, yet safe scene. In fact, my calm, self assured confidence has never been more settled. 

But the inherent dangers never go away. There are always things that remain invisible to our sight. And it's from these impossible to see places that we find ourselves blindsided. 

A few days ago I met with a friend to spend an evening of rope. She has been in the scene for a number of years and is not new to rope in general, or my rope in particular. We chatted as I tested her range of movement, and went through the normal checklist.


I started by putting her in a TK and instantly placing a safety line from the centre back to my ring. I then put a hip harness on her that was capable of dynamic inversions. I tied a mainline from the front of the hip harness to my ring, took the safety line from the TK down, letting it hang from her back to be used later. The plan was to use it to pull an ankle back once I had her inverted. 

The hip harness took her weight, and I took her in my arms, bringing her horizontal, 80cm off the ground, as we both have done a hundred times before. She was blissfully lost in the beautiful place her mind goes to in rope. I smiled down at her, and wrapped my hand around the working end of the mainline to hoist her slightly higher......

SNAP!!!!!

And with a thud, she dropped to the ground. I leapt to hold her, in a state of shock and confusion. I looked up. Looking for what had happened. The speed at which she had dropped in free fall, made me think that the hard point had failed. But it hung there, with the ring exactly where it had always been. 

She looked up at me and with a pained expression said; "Ouch, that hurt"
I started checking her for injuries, as a highly experienced Registered Nurse who was present assisted in giving aid and checking vitals. The venue owner appeared instantly with a first aid kit, and I took her out of the rope as fast as my hands would let me.


In the end she was fine. She got checked out, and even got taken to the hospital just to make sure. The incident luckily had not resulted in injury. But the shock to everyone present and me in particular was tangible in the air. 

A post-mortem revealed that all four lengths of rope of the mainline that had doubled over the broad ring had explosively snapped. The rope was from a major known and trusted manufacture of Shibari Jute. It was only 18 months old, was in great condition and well taken care off. It had not snapped at a wear point or the classic halfway bite. In essence, it was an unforeseeable random equipment failure. 

But it still shook me. After the bunny was fully taken care of and had been taken home, someone contacted Felicity straight away to tell her what had happened. She came and got me, put a beer in one hand, pizza in the other, and drove me home. Reassuring me the whole way.

In the end, I was grateful. I was grateful it happened in a safe environment. I'm grateful it happened with amazing people able to offer assistance. I'm grateful that my model was only 80cm off the ground. I'm grateful that she was perfectly horizontal, rather than inverted. And as much as it sucked for my friend who was the one to be in my rope at that time, I'm grateful that it was her. Because she is one tough, unbreakable girl. And I'm grateful for the comfort she has since offered me in return. I'm grateful that she still wants to keep roping with me.

So I was back on the horse in a matter of no time. I love rope and will continue roping. I've seen ropes snap before, and now it's something that has happened to me. But nothing has changed. I have looked for things to learn from this, and I have spoken to those I look to for mentorship. And honestly that only thing that everyone has said is: "Well what we do is inherently dangerous, this is a constant possibility when working with natural fibre rope, and shit happens. Now you know that no matter what you do, stuff can always go wrong"

So that's my story. Now who wants to do rope?

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