The Ardeche Gorges July 2002.

Piddle Paddle

Wye : Jubilee Weekend

River Axe Race 3/3/2002

A Stroll in the (gnarly Scottish) Park

A Good Friday Paddle

Frome adventures

Upper Dart > Lower Tavy Jan. 2002.

Upper Dart Feb 2002.

Exmoor March 2002

Portsmouth Circuit December 2002

Open Canoe Association Introduction to Whitewater November 2002

The Ardeche Gorges July 2002.

Dot and I had decided that for the second week of our holiday, we would try and fit in some paddling in the south of France. At the outset I will say that July would not be my month of choice to do anything in France as it is the start of the well defined holiday season there. However we regularly meet friends at a motorcycle rally in the Italian Alps, which is always the second week in July, so our timing was decided for us.

We had bought a copy of Pete Knowles excellent book 'White Water Massif Central' through Graham and were contemplating looking at the Allier, but fate once again took a hand when one of our Dutch friends wrote his bike off on a mountain road. He had booked a place on another rally at a retreat near the Ardeche, and as our motorcycle was on a rack on the back of the long suffering 406 we squeezed him in the passenger seat, Dot on top of the luggage and chugged off to the Gorges.

Most of the campsites in the Ardeche are in the towns on the rivers and are incredibly busy in the season. We elected to use a lovely shady site with a pool on top of the Gorges, marred only by the surly proprietor Monsieur Legrumpy and his pet scorpion, oh and the Germans. {Travellers note: Europe is a varied and interesting continent, but you will encounter many foreigners there}.

Our first foray was on the Sunday when we booked onto the mini-descent offered by the 'Base Nautique Du Pont D'Arc' at Chames. This operator was scientifically chosen at random, canoe hire was in fact available from our campsite, but we didn't like the boats available and in any case were not inclined to further swell the Euro-coffers of Legrumpy.

We left the car at their base at Chames and were shuttled to the put-in at Vallon above the Pont D'Arc, the famous and much photographed natural arch always featured in Ardeche advertising. The boats were very large and long Prijons with moulded in recesses to take barrels, which we spurned as we had brought dry bags with us. They were almost impossible to turn quickly enough to get on the few features that there were but they were the most lively things that were on offer.

There was nothing particularly outstanding about this part of the river, we paddled through some shallow rapids that were framed by banks of sunbathers, and infested by canoe splashing urchins. One of the tykes grabbed hold of Dots kayak to intensify his splashing but underestimated the current and was overwhelmed by the forces of nature, I adopted a 'Dirty Harry in a kayak' look and was left alone, after all I was here to enjoy the splendours of the Gorge not Splashdown!

Shortly before the PontD'Arc is the rapide du Charlemagne, this was one of the highlights of the Gorge, consisting of perhaps 100m of moderately technical rapids, large sunbather topped rocks with narrow channels some passable some not. The flow is quite strong here and the ability to steer your boat round the rocks is essential or you will be pinned, this was the fate of about 40% of the boaters we saw.

There is a nice friendly playwave at the bottom of the rapid which elicits shrieks from the majority of paddlers who either by luck or judgement have just avoided a pin. We stayed on it for nearly an hour constantly keeping an eye upstream for the continuous flow of plastic, paddles, bodies and cooolboxes that washed down, a quick ferry to the side, let the tangled mess get spat out and back on to the wave!

A few minor rapids followed and we were back at the take out at Chames.

Having got into the swing of things we decided to do a 27km trip on Tuesday .We started as early as possible to get ahead of the 'wave' and the first hour or two was a magical experience as we had an almost empty river to ourselves. Large trout were abundant in the clear water and the sun washed gorge sides were brought to life by the busy routine of the Swallows and Dippers.

The Ardeche gorge is a beautiful place when it is empty, and is a National Park. There are only two overnight campsites on the banks and the park is patrolled to prevent wild camping. It is inevitable then that these sites are very busy, and no matter how early you leave upstream by the time you reach the camps at Gaud and Gournier you will be closing on a sea of plastic. 99.9% of these paddlers are slower and if you put on a burst of speed you will see some space but the further down you go the harder this is.

We passed through Le Dent Noir without incident, here the strong current bends round some prominent rocks noted for pinning the unwary, and indeed there was an empty canoe wrapped firmly round a pinnacle with no one in sight, almost certainly a casualty from the previous afternoon.

There was a nice little rapid at Grand Gour where legions of scouts were queuing to go down on the right. We took the small falls on the left to avoid them but you are pushed into the cliff face which is the only real hazard. Unfortunately the sheer quantity of people coming down here made it impossible to stop and play.

We stopped at a prominent outcrop called La Cathedrale for lunch and then carried on to the rapide de la Pastiere which has a nudist campsite opposite. SeveraI deeply tanned men were displaying themselves on a large rock in the middle of the river, I negotiated this without difficulty, however Dot seemed not to be reading the water very well for some reason , and hit nearly every rock on the way down!

A pleasant paddle to within a couple of miles of the takeout at Sauze followed, at this point the scenery flattens out and we joined an unbelievable tide of plastic all converging on the takeout at the same time, it was late afternoon and all the canoe operators have a similar itinerary. We had to wait for the last person on the collection drivers list to turn up before the shuttle left, and then faced about an hours drive back to the put in.

The kayak hire cost 50euros, which didn't seem too bad considering the length of the shuttle. The gorges are well worth paddling, but try and do it out of season and if you can, take your own boat.

Mike.

It was a very pleasant day out on the Piddle and Frome at Wareham in July. The weather was warm and sunny, but all the kayakers got wet shooting a weir that Lisa assured them was tiny and didn't warrant spray decks. 

We launched just above the weir marking the tidal limit of the Piddle, and so the drop depends on the tide. Clearly it was a bit bigger than on the previous encounter and just enough for a lap full of water. 

It is a pretty route to paddle one way on tidal water, with a five minute walk back to pick up the cars from the start. We paddled down the Pidddle to Poole harbour then up the Frome to Wareham Quay, and met the canoe camping club paddling the same route in the opposite direction. 

Thanks to Lisa for organising it.

Barry Deakin

Wye : Jubilee Weekend

I couldn’t think of anything better than putting in, going for a gentle paddle down river, stopping off at pubs on the way with a bunch of like- minded loonies. Well that’s exactly what we did on the Jubilee weekend. The river was the Wye and the loonies were: Dot & Mike, Nick & Marion, Karl & Trish, Lisa, Tim & Megs, Paul & Becky, Mike A, Helen & Steve, Mark, Dave, Dick & Jane then later joined by Graham and family on Day 2.

We all met on the Friday at the Boat Inn near Glasbury where we camped in the pub beer garden, which over looked the river and better still only 10yards from the bar. The weather was good, beer was great, food was fantastic and company ok! (haha)

There the fun and frolics began.

Day One

After a mad but hearty breakfast we shuttled to Glasbury, where we were met by a million other loonies trying to do the same (if only someone had opened the bloody gate). By the time the drivers had got back the hoards had died down and we were able to reach the river where Paul had the launching ceremony of the Canadian he had lovingly built for the trip. Dot as Chairwoman it only seemed appropriate for her to do the formalities with a can of larger. THANKFULLY it stayed up right and no leaks and 6 Canadians and 5 kayaks headed on down the river.

After a brief lunch stop on the riverbank we headed on down to Hay-on-Wye where the expert knowledge of a fellow companion steered us in the right direction of Kilverts (a great pub with an excellent beer garden) for a well-deserved pint.

Walking through Hay ice creams were devoured before the next leg of our paddle back to The Boat.

Nearly back on Terra Firma when Karl, Trish, Paul & Becky had to go to the rescue of an upturned Canadian. All parties saved and we are now awaiting our medals from the Queen. It appeared that all the takeouts had shear banks, much to Paul's horror with his new shiny wooden canoe. All safely back at the Boat several more beverages and food was consumed ready for the evenings light entertainment thanks to Lisa, Tim, Helen, Mark and not forgetting Karl and his wiggle stick. Wailing was heard back at Glasbury the rest of the camp were thoroughly entertained but now all slightly deaf and thanks to Mike it’s all been recorded and he will be selling copies from the back of his van on Tuesday nights (so don’t forget your cash!).

Day Two

Another mad breakfast and shuttle to the next takeout near Monnington falls. After again struggling to put in down the steep steps at the Boat we set off on another beautiful day. Throughout the trip Megs showed us her balancing skills on the bow of Lisa & Tim’s boat, unfortunately down a small rapid in she plopped but was quickly scooped out by the handle on her back. But it didn’t end there 5 mins later she was in again. She was a source of entertainment throughout the journey jumping ship, not just to Canadians but also to Kayaks and sometimes her loving, caring and ever watching owners didn’t even realise she had deserted them. All her antics came to an abrupt end when her little paws acted as a fender between two Canadians.

Racing and ramming of boats stopped for half an hour when lunch was devoured on a small isolated bank. After lunch fatigue set in and "Iron Mike A" towed 3 Canadians (6 people and 1 dog) so we could all sit back and relax until we heard fast running water then the mad panic of trying to get untied before we hit the falls.

The falls were pretty well washed out although Paul and Becky managed to take a few branches with them on the way down. Shortly after we got to the campsite where we took out (another bloody steep bank). All loaded up we drove to Ross-on-Wye to Benhall Farm for camping and for the wimps Bed & Breakfast including hot showers (bastards).

Once all the roughly toughie campers were set up more beer and waggle sticking commenced but the B&Ber’s couldn’t resist the camaraderie of the camp and lowered themselves to join us. Off we went into Ross for yet again good food and bevies, and back to the camp for another singsong session.

Day Three

Very jaded campers and bushy tailed B&Ber’s woke up to a less than perfect day. It was a choice between a 20mile paddle, 5mile paddle or sod off to Ikea. The thought of rapids got our taste buds going again and we opted for the 5mile paddle. We put in at Symonds Yat rapids where we were met by an over enthusiastic car park attendant who only wanted our money (NOW).

The rapids were good the weather was still shitty and we were all wondering if we should have gone to Ikea. After the rapids came lunch where some of us got onto the bank others chose to safely stay in their canoes until cup cakes were passed around. Then the final mile stretch to Monmouth was hard going against the wind.

The weekend was an excellent adventure. Great beer, excellent food, good laughs, good canoeing was had by all. If there are still a few of you out there who are unsure about doing a whole weekend trip then I would advise you to give it a go, it’s not all about being smelly and peeing in holes, it can be quite civilised. If you haven’t tried a Canadian then give it a go, it’s a great laugh, if you would like a new one built to your specifications ask Paul K who would be less than happy to build you one!

River Axe Race 3/3/2002

When we saw the River Axe Race advertised on the clubs website, our curiosity was aroused, although not interested in racing due to our advanced years we are always interested in exploring the limited waterways that we have access to in this area. Dot duly phoned the organiser to see if there was an " only going for a jolly " category, we were told that if we wanted to start at the back in the slalom class that would be fine.

That dawn we loaded Dots Cyphur and my Rapidfire onto the car and made our way to the put in just South of the A35 near Axminster. One hour and one speeding camera later we arrived in time for the booking in. The camera episode was particularly embarrassing as the garage had agitated to have their courtesy car back for the weekend, and had relented as I was {ahem} "taking my mother out for the day", should they receive a photograph of their car sporting a new roof rack and two whitewater kayaks on top, I may have trouble convincing them that my seventy year old mother goes in for "park and play" on a Sunday!

The race started with Dot and myself idly floating at the back of the field, humming and looking at the scenery, but after a few hundred metres it was impossible not to pass a few of the flailing youngsters. I patiently pulled into an eddy and waited for Dot to carve her way through the kayaking equivalent of Spaghetti Junction at rush hour.

We carried on and the same scenario was repeated. Bear in mind that the Axe is a very narrow winding river with many shallows and currents trying to turn you, passing other paddlers is actually quite difficult, and I was becoming demoralised at the thought of having to re-pass the shoals of thrashing limbs and paddles for a third time, so I decided that I would get clear of them and occupy the vacuum between the back-markers and the serious racers.

This was a sound theory until a few minutes later I caught sight of a fibreglass cacooned adolescent just disappearing around a bend. You have to do something to pass the time don't you? So I slightly upped my pace to give myself a goal, however Team Puberty had seen me and done the same thing and was making a lot of commotion ahead of me. Having never been accused of being an elegant paddler myself I could sense the same deficiencies in what had now become my adversary. I was vindicated when rounding the next particularly tight bend I witnessed him overpaddle himself into a spin and ram the bank.. Oh dear! I suppressed a Vincent Price cackle and paddled on.

Finding myself once more in the open I settled down a little, I wasn't racing after all. But then it happened again another slightly older, slightly stronger member of Team Puberty disappeared round a bend and the sequence repeated itself! To cut a long story short this continued until the river opened up into the estuary by which time I was beginning to feel tired and quite dehydrated. There was now a long line of sight and I could see a couple of groups of paddlers and a few individuals ahead. The nearest opponent was trying very hard, but he was a teenager and we all know they don’t pace themselves don’t we? {like I do!}.

By now my throat was raw and my arms were burning, but I had got into a decent rhythm and overhauled my final victim who was clearly gutted to be overtaken by someone so uncool. As I ploughed on towards the finish, heart pounding at a long forgotten rate, I was suddenly gripped by this vision, a kind of out of body experience. I was looking down on this perspiring overweight bloke in a kayak careering blindly towards his fifties who was about to have a heart attack .For a brief moment I considered stopping, but remembered all the times I thought how much more preferable it is to die with your boots on.

The finish line was in sight, I could hear loud cheering and yells of encouragement, obviously not for me as I didn’t know anyone there, but for the first Canadian team who were about to pass me. Why should I care, we weren’t even in the same class? Because it was my last opportunity to provoke cardiac arrest that’s why! We hit the slipway at the same time but I was out of my boat quicker and hit the timekeepers desk a moment before the other guy.

My legs promptly gave way, and I had to hang on to the railings for support. It must have been at least two minutes of gasping for breath before I could regroup sufficient motor functions to drag my boat out of the way. Taking my race number to the canteen entitled me to a cup of tea and an excellent piece of fruitcake, by the time I had consumed these my breathing and heart rate had returned to normal.

Good job I hadn't been racing.

At the final reckoning I was sixteenth, none of the boats ahead of me was shorter than a Dancer, if only I had started at the front, if only I had taken it seriously from the beginning, if only it wasn’t a Sunday, if only Mars had been aligned with Jupiter ,etc, etc.

Dot finished twenty third and had a similar tale to tell, subsequently having passed some of the "yoofs" I had. Just when they thought it couldn’t get any worse the Sylph like Silver Surfer in a Cyphur sailed silently by.

I'm glad I did it, if only to prove that the chest pains I get are due to Dot stressing me out. {only joking…it says here}. I would like to do the Axe again but purely as a scenic paddle, there are no water features and the river is very shallow in places, Canadians perhaps?

Thanks to the Axe club for organising it, and to the kindly soul who offered to shuttle me to the takeout and back..

I would like to thank Dot for not being too smug about the speeding camera, and finally XXXXX Garage whose courtesy car made all of this possible.

Mike Farnden.

Easter 2002, I plugged into Chas’s Scotland week

Travelling up to Fort William on the Saturday I joined the party in a pub in town – a motley crew of 6 of various shapes, sizes and ages – but all with a desire to throw themselves down gnarly drops and falls. There was Chas Couchman, Tim Rex, Steph Druits, Andy Levick, Graham Dunn and (non-paddler) Tom.

For the 4 days I spent with this lot there proved to be more beer than water. Consequently, our paddling was limited to those runs that still work when rivers are low. The Etive, Roy Gorge, Fechlin and Spean Gorge, however, all provided for some great grade 3 to 4+ entertainment – lots of tight technical paddling, gnarly holes, drops and falls with names like ‘Head Banger’, ‘Multiple Choice’, ‘The Brothers Grim’, ‘The Constriction’, ‘Fairy Steps’, ‘Witches Cauldron’, ‘Letter box’, ‘Crack of Doom’, ‘Crack of Dawn’, and ‘Big Mans Falls’ (to name a few).

These runs are all short, very scenic, and characterised by blind corners and drops often requiring bank inspection and protection – and there are a few nasty undercut 5’s that are best portaged. We had plenty of back-loops, a few swims and scraped knuckles but Chas still insisted on describing most runs as ‘A Stroll in the Park’

Etive:      

Roy:     

Fechlin:    

Very different from paddling in the west Country – and definitely worth the drive

Rollalot

A Good Friday Paddle

Karl, myself, Mike & Dot, Tim, Lisa and Meg, Dave & Nigel (a friend of Mike & dots) all arrived at Wick Ferry car park Christchurch – all eager for a morning paddle on such a lovely day. The first interest of the day was Meg (Tim & Lisa’s Jack Russell) wearing aher buoyancy aid and looking excited as to what was going on around her.

Leaving the car park and the annoying car alarm which kept intermittently going on and off, we made progress. Still commenting on the weather and watching Tim and Lisa getting to grips with their new Canoe (very nice too!). Wildlife was abundant, Dottie going after the habitual habits of the mateing ducks saying "if I’m not getting any then neither are they". Fish were jumping and kingfishers were spotted here and there.

Little Meg, who looked like she was enjoying every minute, decided she would like a little look in our Canoe (after a little persuasion from Karl), then looking like she might just swim it back to Lisa, we pulled alongside to allow her to return home.

On reaching the weir (the end of the road, so to speak) we decided to have a play - as the tide was quite high the ‘whoosh’ (as I call it) looked inviting. Karl, Mike & Dot and Dave decided to go over the wier so, after towing canoes over the top, it was a case of getting lined up for the only route down – between a tree and rocks. Tim also decide to have a go with Karl and got quite wet. After everyone came down successfully Karl and Tim bailed out and it was time to play again in the ‘whoosh’

Karl demonstrates the 'dry roll'

Time to head back. Meg, still looking very happy, thought she would show off a bit by standing up on the bow. As she did so a small boat cruised by but Meg proved her sea legs and kept her balance well. I spotted the Ice Cream Van when we arrived back at the slip and I didn’t have to ask Karl twice.

What a lovely paddle on such a lovely day – a great start to the holiday weekend. Cheers to Mike and Dot for sandwiches and cuppa.

Trish & Karl

Upper Dart > Lower Tavy Jan. 2002.

The Upper Dart trip, planned for Saturday 26th January 2002, had been looked forward to by many and this time to have some more water in than the paddle back in late December. For a week before the trip it rained and rained and rained some more! and just to add insult to injury it was still raining come the Saturday morning at 7:30 when Victor, Graham, Dave, Lynn & myself arrived at Ringwood car park for the first shuffle of the kayaks. This achieved, Graham and I started the drive to Kilmington chef for the usual breakfast and to give Dave the usual wind up about the river as it was to be his first decent of the Upper Dart.

Breakfast completed at a very leisurely pace and various provisions acquired for the trip, we all set off looking at all the streams and rivers that we cross on the journey to South Devon. The further we travelled the higher each river looked and the darker the clouds became. Arriving at New Bridge to have a look at the river level (yes it is still raining), the ledge that gives a very good indicator to the level of the river was completely under water and the river was coming up the steps just above the bridge. Everyone looked at the river, then at each other. Lynn felt this level was far more of a challenge than she was up for and, as the rest of us were feeling a little rusty on this level of river, a change of venue was called for.

We drove passed Dartmeet on our way to try the upper Tavy and were all amazed that the Stone steeps across the river were almost completely covered, this was even higher than I had seen it before and with the rain still falling the river was just going to get higher.

We drove into Tavistock to drop my car off, change into our paddling kit and shuffle the kayaks onto Graham's Landrover for the short drive up to the upper Tavy. On arriving at the mid point on the Tavy everyone got out to look at the river from the bridge and with open mouths we stood their not believing this river (which needs a lot of rain) could be too high, but there was a unanimous verdict that this would have been even worse than the Upper Dart to paddle. So this was the second river in as many hours that I had to walk away from on safety grounds.

Huddled in Grahams vehicle, steaming up his windows we sat and discussed various other rivers we could try but with the time already past midday we would have to choose a river close by. So the lower Tavy seemed to be the only possible river we could complete before it got dark. Only a grade two/three in usual levels this may give us some excitement, but as this stretch can take up to four hours to complete we would need to get moving.

After a further car shuffle (and demolishing a pack of Jaffa cakes, that Dave had brought), we arrived back in Tavistock just below the towns main weir. There was no gravel bank to get down on to. So it had to be a seal launch down in to the river. The river from this point down is wide and does not have a steep gradient, so it should have been slow flowing. However, with the amount of rain that had fallen over the past week the river was fast and furious, being pushed by the water coming down river. The river banks were pasting by in a blur.

My attention was on the river ahead looking for any large trees that may have been washed down in the very high conditions and keeping a look out for any large stoppers, but with only large standing waves everywhere the river was just a huge roller coaster ride up one wave and down the other side, with the occasional spin around to surf the face of the waves. The only tricky parts where towards the end of the trip. A rapid on a corner that had a tree across it, but this had been washed away in the flood, and one weir which we all inspected in these conditions, but all shot with out any problems.

The end of the trip arrived just as darkness began to fall, and with the only capsizes and rolling going to those who were playing, Graham, Victor, Dave Lynn and myself felt very pleased to have completed this trip with out rolling, that was until a boil proved the point ‘never relax even five feet from the get out point’, and ;always practice rolling, as you never know when you will need it’.

The rain had stopped by the time we finished the trip and the river level had dropped two to three feet from when we had last looked at this point on the river. As the only way to finish a trip like this we arrived at the World's End pub to celebrate another safe return home, and to hope that the next trip to the Upper Dart went a little more to plan.

Pete Ambrose

You might recall that, at the time of writing the last Canews I was praying hard for better conditions for the last Upper Dart trip of the season..

Well, the 3^rd Upper Dart Trip panned out – great levels (in my opinion anyway) at around 4½  on the gauge (low/medium) – in ‘old money’ lapping the lower edge of the ledge.

At this level there is nothing too pushy, a fairly continuous grade 4 . Pete A and I were joined by Bill and Dave Jaggs of PHCC – so it didn’t really work out as an RCC trip. Shame, I would love more RCC members to try this trip – the look on Bill and Dave’s faces was priceless. They had no idea how different this section was to the Loop and they loved it. They ran everything (including the intimidating Euthanasia and Pandoras) with no incident (bar the odd roll) and the whole trip really opened their eyes to what white water paddling is all about.

Dave Jaggs getting swallowed

If you are comfortable on the Loop – and want to get back to the feeling of challenge / apprehension / achievement that, without doubt, you felt on your first whitewater trip you must join us next season on ‘the upper’.

Exmoor March 2002

Just a few snaps - waiting for the article!

Karl shoots Beasley Weir

Trish gives a paddle twirl

Portsmouth Circuit December 2002

When Bev, Paul and I left home to drop the children with her parents and drive to Portsmouth, we could have been in a monsoon. The rain was as torrential as it ever gets in this country and the sea kayaks got the dust washed off them admirably. Fortunately we drove out of the showers approaching Portsmouth and stayed almost dry all day, until the rain came again as we started to drive home.

Mike Farnden, Mike Dew and Margaret had also ignored the threats from the sky and we were on the water in good time. We launched by the lifeboat station just inside the entrance to Langstone harbour and were joined by Dave Rawlinson from Portsmouth CC, who works in the same building as me, and two of his fellow club members in a double sea kayak. We were all in sea kayaks except Margaret who paddled one of the club’s slower, trusty old reflexes.

We paddled inland with the tide, across the muddy shallows, and were treated to some great aerial displays by flocks of waders. The route then passes under a series of bridges and alongside the noisy M27, so the conversation was dropped to minimal grunts of communication between us, apart from Margaret of course, who took on the competition with the enthusiasm only a lady can muster.

Mike F. made a close inspection of a rusting motorbike that had been dumped (or recklessly ridden?) over the side of the motorway into the mud, but decided it wasn’t worth trying to ferry back on his rear deck –It was "just some Japanese thing". More interesting sights follow, ranging from modern sculptures beside the M275 to decaying submarines awaiting dissection for scrap.

We agreed we all had enough energy to detour to Portchester Castle, where we stopped for lunch and a quick look at the Roman walls and Norman keep, which are still impressively intact. Dave and his friends met some others from their club, also eating sandwiches, who were paddling the same inland half of the circuit. Here Dave introduced a new concept to RCC, and proposed a precise time to go back on the water. We were quite taken aback and, to a man (and woman) we returned to our boats about 15 minutes late.

There was a very bright double rainbow as we made an easy crossing of Portsmouth Harbour, into a moderate southerly breeze. We approached the Channel ferry terminals cautiously, but there were no departures or arrivals so we passed on to take a close look at some of the naval ships at the dockyard. The aircraft carrier Ark Royal is an impressive sight when you paddle underneath the overhanging deck and look back at the stem. You wouldn’t want to be there when it is underway. You can see Victory very well from the water, at high tide anyway, and can paddle right alongside Warrior.

The water got steadily rougher as we passed the jumble of historic buildings of Spice Island, and as we left the harbour entrance the clapotis formed by waves reflecting off the sea wall made the going more difficult. My sea kayak is very narrow and lacks stability. I am fine if I keep the paddling power on, but with the tail-ender suffering a bit of nerves and tennis elbow, we weren’t at full stretch. I spent most of my time wobbling about with a low brace at the ready, and convincing myself that I really must spend some money on a wider boat. Haven’t I said this before?

As you progress eastwards along the coast, and round Southsea Castle, the wall is replaced by shingle beach, so the clapotis gave way to a more comfortable swell with waves about 1 to 1.5 metres, but the tidal stream increased steadily against us. We were probably making about 2 knots through the water, but with about a 1 knot tide against us it took a couple of hours to get back to Langstone Harbour entrance, which meant that we paddled twice the actual distance. From South Parade Pier the beach is featureless and the paddle is rather dull so this section would have been left out by most of the group without regret, for reasons of boredom, fear or aching bits. The highlight was when a squall came in from the sea with strong wind, and heavy rain beading on the sea surface and lit up by the low sun shining beneath the black cloud.

The paddle has a couple of little stings in the tail. As you re-enter Langstone harbour on the ebb there is a sand bar that sets up some surprise surf with the combination of incoming swell and outgoing flow over the bar. Then in the full flow of the entrance, which is like a wider version of the Mudeford Run, there is a pier to paddle round. The flow sets up a strong eddy line off the end of the pier that is difficult to cross under control if you expecting the sea kayak to turn like a short white water boat. Finally you are in the full flow of the run and have to engage first gear to get past the pier and reach the slower water near the beach. All were safely gathered in and happy to be going home to a hot shower and grub.

The paddle offers amazing variety for such a short route, about 9 miles I think, and when we paddled it in the Spring with a calmer sea it was different again.

Thanks to all for the company, and to Dave for the local knowledge and bringing up the rear.

Open Canoe Association Introduction to Whitewater November 2002

We had joined the OCA back in the summer and decided to book this course to learn the basics of open canoeing in whitewater. The course was based on the lower Dart and accommodation was at the good old Pengelly Cave Centre at Buckfastleigh.

We arrived Friday evening, booked in and made a bee-line for the White Hart where we had arranged to meet some friends from Exeter. Friday had seen continuous rain which continued overnight.

In the morning we headed to the put in below the weir near Austins Bridge. The water was fast flowing, and we were even more convinced that a swim was imminent. We were fortunate enough to have one to one instruction, and our mentor Mark soon had us practising our ferry glides, breaking in and out etc.

Our first trauma came when breaking in above a rapid we got it wrong and were heading for a pin on a large tree stump. We suddenly found we could reverse ferry glide, fear providing all the instruction necessary! The coaching was quite intensive but great fun, although getting our kayakers heads round some of it was quite hard.

By lunchtime the Dart was running brown from the unremitting monsoon, and by the time we got off the water, Mike and I were both shattered .Back at the centre we sat around discussing the days events before repairing to the back room of the White Hart for a meal. We spent a good evening chatting with the other OCA members, but were starting to flag so requisitioned the key and headed back to the centre. As we climbed into our bunks I asked Mike what the time was. It was 9.45 on a Saturday night!

On Sunday the Dart had come up even more and was flowing hard. Our instructor Bob said that today we would just have some fun and put together what we had learned the previous day, just after we put in several others in the group saw two otters playing about, not in the least bothered by the canoes. Our muscles protested at the thought of further use, and we wondered whether we would last the day, but what had seemed so hard the previous day now seemed a little more controlled and a little less effort. The weather even improved and we glimpsed some sunshine. Bob encouraged us to try some new strokes and manoeuvres like going down rapids backwards. By the time we came to Broken Weir we were able to descend more or less in control, set out half way down, have a rest in an eddy and then head for the biggest section of the wavetrain shrieking with delight {not Mike of course}. Breaking out at the end of the rapid we found very little water in our boat, a big improvement on the previous day Brilliant! Bob was spot on when he said it was going to be a fun day. I can't wait to try it all again only my knees aren't so keen.

We had both booked a day off work on Monday, just as well, we had to roll out of bed, and the house was filled with small cries of pain and groaning all day. We didn't have our expected swim, but we did have something to remember the weekend by!

Dot.