ADVENTURE course company Go Ape's plans to set up in Pollok Country Park have proved to be controversial, resulting in mass protest.

Locals have rallied against the prospect of high wires, rope bridges, Tarzan swings and zip slides being built in the tree tops.

But is it all a fuss too far? Brian Beacom took his terrible fear of heights off to the woods in Aberfoyle to find out.

ON ARRIVAL at the Go Ape centre in Aberfoyle, my eyes opened wide in disbelief. The rain was as unrelenting as Wendy Alexander's critics and the sky was dark as my thoughts towards my boss.

The entire world around us was a deep, dark shade of grey, like it had been covered with a giant Youth Hostel blanket.

Where was the good, fun time' I'd been promised back in the office? Hah. I'd been sold a pup. A very wet one. And I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be dry. To be warm. Indoors.

Even Pete Brown's warm, cheery welcome and obvious enthusiasm for his job - he's top banana at the Go Ape team where he looks after 13,000 adventurous visitors a year - couldn't warm the heart.

This is back to nature, said the site manager, casting his head around the valley, his hair already soaked and his cheeks ruddy.

This is commando stuff. And you'll love it!

Don't think so, Pete. I don't do outdoors as a rule, unless the outdoors has a beach view and a sky which looks like a David Hockney painting. I'm one of those people in complete agreement with Woody Allen: I am at two with nature.' As for going commando? That happened only once before, the result of a bad curry, and we'd best not mention it.

However, nothing could stop Pete smiling as he took us inside his little Go Ape hut on the outskirts of the Queen Elizabeth Forest. And he smiled all the more as he had us trussed up in very tight harnesses, the sort you imagine deviant Tory politicians wore back in the early Nineties.

Pete told us what to expect that day; we would swing over the valley towards the forest on a zip slide, we'd climb 50ft trees to reach tiny wooden platforms and then leap off into the forest on ropes and Tarzan swings. Gosh.

Back outside however, with the rain now driving harder than Lewis Hamilton, Pete's genial manner shifted and his voice became serious. Deadly serious. He took us through the safety procedures, explaining how we clipped our harnesses to the trees and the zip slides.

If you don't fasten this one (pointing to a red line) you will drop 50ft and die, he said.

If you don't then fasten this one (pointing to a blue chord) you will die. And if you don't clip this line over the cable, you will fall to your death.

Oh dear. I don't like death. It hurts. But having scared us to death, Pete's wide grin returned.

"Let's go have some fun!" he said, excitedly, leading us up wooden steps to the zip slide that would soar us across the valley, way above the tree tops to the heart of the Go Ape course.

Wait a minute, Pete. You expect me to trust my life to a bit of thin wire?

He certainly did. Look, this is the valley where Rob Roy once stole cattle and faced death on a daily basis, he pointed out.

And you're scared of a wee zip slide?

Yes, as it happens. I'm terrified of heights. And I bet Rob Roy never flew across this valley above the trees held only by a length of wire as thin as my own shaking fingers.

Pete just laughed and informed that the steel cable used throughout could take the weight of two army jeeps. And the harness clips that fastened us to the overhead cable could take a 10 ton weight. At 10 1/2stone I shouldn't worry.

But I did. So I clipped on, pushed off - and thought of death. Yet, I didn't die.

Amazingly, though initially terrified of heights, I managed to (partially) open my eyes and experience the wondrous view.

It was only when landing at the other side, using my backside to hit the wet woodchips on the landing strip, that I suffered a real dent to my dignity.

Well, done! said Pete, bellowing the encouragement he'd offer over the next three hours.

And so we climbed little trees and walked across easier rope bridges. And then we climbed bigger trees, always clipping and unclipping in sequence - or else death would result - and then we climbed the rope ladder up our first massive tree.

But it was scary. At every tree top platform, in spite of being secured by wire that could hold up the Squinty Bridge, I hugged those trees like we were long-lost lovers. And I inched my way around each one until I was in position to re-clip to the overhead wires and make for the next rope bridge or whatever.

And at each crossing, my legs wobbled like Dawn French on ice skates with a wardrobe on her back.

But then, after about half an hour, amazingly, the fear of death lifted. I felt safe. And confident. And from that moment I zipped over to other trees, flying like Spider-man from tree to tree.

We walked high wires, we climbed more trees. And we walked across balance beams and circus-like tight ropes.

The sheer physicality of it all made me forget everything else in the world, the concentration in making sure wires are clipped correctly.

And I got so comfortable with the adventure course I began to look around. I noticed that occasionally walkers would stroll by and scarcely look up. And what struck me was that the adventure course seemed to fit into the forest.

Yes, there were some gates and fences and supports around some trees - and some ecological signposts, for school kids to learn from - but for the most part it was unobtrusive.

And I realised it was fun. It's an incredible reminder that a 50-something can become a 10-year-old again, climbing trees, swinging on ropes.

And it made me think this is the sort of thing kids should be doing (if parents can afford £20 for a session) not watching TV or video games, instead meeting a challenge on their own.

It made me realise this sort of course is about confidence building, about character, about looking after yourself while supporting those beside you. And when told that blind and disabled people have completed the course, it made me feel humble.

That's not to say there weren't scary moments.

Stepping off one 40ft tree and free falling into oblivion before the harness pulled me up got the heart beating.

And after flying 30 yards from tree to tree into a cargo net - like Spiderman being caught in a very thick web - resulted in jelly legs for a few minutes.

But this was a real fun day, that left us almost singing in the rain like Gene Kellys with Gor-tex cagoules.

And by the time it came to cross the valley on the giant zip slide, it seemed perfect.

I still managed to land on the wet wood chips backside-first again though - all rather more Larry Grayson than Rambo.

Yet, the realisation I really would have to go commando didn't dampen soaring spirits at all. www.go-ape.co.uk