Technically it’s the Hang Dong Quarry. It takes stones to name yourself after one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Is it as breathtakingly beautiful as the actual Grand Canyon? Don’t be ridiculous. But is the actual Grand Canyon a water park? It is not. I think there’s room in this crazy world for both.

Thailand is blessed, in the south, with beautiful beaches and islands. Chiang Mai, in the landlocked North, not so much. Thus, we have the Grand Canyon Water Park, an abandoned limestone quarry about 30 km southwest of Chiang Mai. There were several pickup windows, but I opted for the 9:30 shuttle, which picked up at my condo, in order to beat the worst of the afternoon heat.

There were two British gals in the van, and when we arrived we discovered that we were the only attendees. The place was empty, which was weird. Then they held back, to see if it picked up, I assume, leaving me to navigate the place all by myself. Which was weird.

I’d looked at pictures before going, so I realized that most of it was like a floating bouncy castle crossed with American Gladiator. Not my jam, but I figured I could bat at that a little bit and then relax in whatever they had set aside for lolling. Except there wasn’t anything set aside for lolling. It was all obstacle course.

What’s a 69 year-old man to do except press on as if he couldn’t imagine how he’d feel the day after? I mean, what were my options? Well, the water was actually quite a bit warmer than it looked, and life jackets were a requirement, so one of my options could easily have been just relaxing and bobbing in the water. Of which I did some. But mostly I climbed and clambered and crawled and fell into the water and pulled myself back up. With, as it happens, no regard at all for how I’d feel the day after. Spoiler: really, really sore. And for more than just the day after.

But it was curiously fun, and made much more sense as the morning wore on and more people showed up. It’s a place that operates best when full. Which also gave me ample opportunity to take pictures of activities I had no interest in participating in myself. Which was quite a few of them.

Several items were verboten in the water: glasses, hats, phones. You were going to tumble into the water, so that made sense. But I had a dry pouch for my phone and found a few vantage points that seemed stable enough to keep me from falling in while holding my unsheathed phone.

One challenge was the giant sprinkler heads which shot water all over the park. While they obviously used quarry water, aerosolizing it and spraying it made it noticeably colder than the lake water. I tried to find a dry spot where the streams from multiple sprinklers didn’t intersect, but no such luck. Which meant that while I was braced to keep from falling off a floating, inflated platform while I took pictures and video, I often forgot that I was never more than a few moments away from being completely doused in cold water, phone and all.

Which is my way of apologizing in advance for the shakier-than-usual camera work. I was standing on something that was moving underneath me, and which could jump violently if some mook came running down the same section I was on.

While there was plenty of solo climbing and scrambling, there were tons of group activities, many of which fostered displays of performative masculinity that, interestingly, weren’t confined to men. There were squads of womenfolk willing to push the boundaries of common sense if it meant they could show off. It was a very egalitarian demonstration of stupidity. The dream is alive.

There was a floating soccer pitch.

Here it is with pratfalls. Always an improvement.

There was also a floating badminton/volleyball court.

There were slides, one of which released close enough to the water that even I was willing to try it.

The others? Nope. Check that close one, which has a wicked scoop at the end, to help get that last little bit of stomach churning loft.

Here it is in nausea-inducing action.

A closer look? Sure.

There was quite a bit of equipment available.

There was also whatever this is:

I love everyone’s confidence in this clip that they are the one who’ll maintain their balance.

But the absolute acme, the pinnacle, was the Pillow Bounce. It was like a trust fall for profoundly untrustworthy people. I have multiple clips, because I was transfixed. Here’s the lifeguard showing how its done.

Here’s civilians, not entirely in sync.

You don’t have to watch all of these. Although this one’s pretty good.

I saved the best for last. I apologize for losing the end of that spectacular finish, but someone came running down the inflatable lane and I was lucky to not go completely ass over teacups. Still, plenty awesome.

There was even a performance, right before I left. It answered this question: Why is there someone down there wearing a lamé dragon costume?

I should have known. A dragon in the first act…

Those little white skimmers the performers were riding were available for patrons to try before the show. No one got farther than about two leg pumps before slow motion sinking. Is it schadenfreude if it’s funny?

I love that the superhero didn’t make it to the end of the zip line and had to be rescued. By a blue-suited monkey? My admission came with a zip line ticket, which I gifted to the British gals so one of them could go twice. I could close my eyes and visualize the firehose of vomit that I’d rain down like one of the sprinkler heads if I were foolish enough to zip line.

And finally, no water park would, apparently, be complete without cheesy, inexplicable décor.

And thus I drag my weary body back up to meet the van that will return me to my condo. Where, once I’ve relaxed, I’ll realize that I’m not weary so much as very, very sore. Every time I fell into the water I had to haul myself back up hand over hand on the grips. I am still sore, several days later, in places I didn’t know could hurt.

Hopefully, this thing that’s keeping me young won’t kill me.