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For members to fill - what adventures does 2007 have in store?
Desolation_Sound_on_the_‘The_Cure_of_Time’_ Dart_Estuary_Camp_weekend_September_2007 Paddling_Underground_-_The_Verdon_Canyon Global_Warming_-_is_it_such_a_bad_thing!! Teign_February_2007:_The_best_open_boat_trip_on_Dartmoor RCC_members’_apathy_ensured_skittles_fun Leaderless_with_permission_to_paddle! Desolation Sound on the ‘The Curve of Time’June 21 – 26 2007 by Georgia Newsome
We all boarded the mother-ship at the Salmon fishing capital of BC, Campbell River, Vancouver Island, before motoring out of the harbour and around Mudge Pt to Rebecca Spit on Quadra Island. Launching from the zodiac for the first time was an interesting and time consuming exercise. It was an hour before everyone was tucked in to their kayaks and on the water. I might add that the majority of the guests were 65 + year old women, who had never kayaked before. While not officially an Elder Hostel trip, it certainly had that feeling about it. Rebecca Spit was supposed to be a nice protected body of water for the ladies initiation to kayaking. By the time we were all on the water the wind had picked up and a gusty moment scattered the party in all directions. A hasty retreat to the beach to adjust client rudder peddles. While exiting my kayak I suddenly found myself sitting in the water beside it (a little embarrassed I might add). We finally regrouped and the basics of kayaking were imparted before another hasty retreat to the beach to take care of mother natures’ internal fountains. A walk along the spit and now I’m dodging questions on the local flaura and fauna (not my forte! Paul T could have used your expertise). Finally back on the ‘Curve of Time’ where a hearty meal was being prepared. Crew quarters were down the ladder in the bow of the boat. They were simple, modest but comfortable. I had spent a previous week sailing on a Tall Ship so was becoming accustomed to being gently rocked to sleep. The next day we motored across to Von Donolp Inlet, where the wind was funnelling through the inlet. No kayaking here today! We motored on to Takena Arm, where we hiked up to the waterfalls before returning to the ‘Curve of Time’ and motored on again. This time to Refuse Cave. Refuse Cove marina is a hub of activity in the summer. Mariner’s motoring up and down the coast are almost certain to stop here (for more than dropping their refuse!). The café and shop promises treats and goodies not to mention the latest news and gossip. For our little crew it was another opportunity to stretch our sea legs and take a walk across the island. By this time my land legs were beginning to feel very strange and I found myself wobbling and staggering like a drunk. The fungi in these damp regions are huge, as too are the old growth trees, or am I just hallucinating?
We left the refuse of the marina and motored to Prideau Haven, where we moored for 2 days, explored the islets in the kayaks in search of an old native Indian village. We found some hints of a site, but it was very much overgrown and lacked any real tell-tale signs that anyone had lived there at anytime. Hearing that the bioluminesance was good in this spot we bundled ourselves into the kayaks for a night paddle. Contrary to the cloudy days we were treated to clear skies and an abundance of stars. What a magical evening! Following the 2 day lay over we motored up Waddington Channel to Walsh Cove, where we had heard there were pictographs on the cliff walls. Some were more obvious than others.
Early the next morning, even before most were out of their berths we had begun motoring back to Campbell River, via George Cove. After our five day sojourn we moored back at Campbell River marina, where the group said their goodbyes and went their different ways. ‘The Curve of Time’ owned by Jan Bevelander can be booked under his company Due West Charters at: info@duewestcharter.bc.ca Georgia Newsome Seeking Higher Ground
At last, after 6 weeks the rain came. By mid December we were seeking higher ground and sensible runs on an otherwise saturated Dartmoor. A climb around 'Gutter Tor' took us the the high watershed of the 'Upper Upper' Plym
There was plenty of water even at the very top - and more than enough 1km further down
Graham Dart Weekend October 2007Although boney dry, a little water was channelled through the bed rock at Staverton Weir for some entertainment
Mike Worth running Staverton Weir (Photo Dave Chadwick) And a few more photos:- From Mike F
Dart Estuary Camp weekend September 2007Well, you guys certainly had good weather. Thanks for the photos Ros sent these:-
1 - Saturday lunchtime at Deadman's Cove, mouth of River Dart 2 - Saturday evening landing at camp site - Old Mill Creek 3 - RCC's Ray Mears - all he caught was ridicule & abuse! 4 - waiting for the tide to turn - Sunday afternoon at Blackness Barry sent these:-
And while a bunch of members were enjoying the above, and Andrew had flown off for a weekends paddling in Austria I was stuck in the Office!
Norway
Ros and Dave enjoyed a week in Norway in July - I'm having trouble with permissions to upload Ros's trip report but this will be included in the next 'Canews' shortly A few more photos
Summer Rain (August on Dartmoor!)
The above photo was taken on the 'Dorset Coast Sea Kayak weekend' - you guessed it, the paddle was diverted to Dartmoor where, in mid August we found excellent winter levels. What a crazy summer we are having Graham Paddling Underground - The Verdon Canyon
During the course of a family holiday, Andrew and I managed to include the surreal experience of paddling through the Verdon Grand Canyon in Provence. Aided by Deb Pinniger, who knew the route through the numerous siphons and sieves along the way (negating the need for endless scouting), we managed to complete the 35km run in 7 hours. An excellent but weird paddling experience - something between canyoning and kayaking
Deb also came with a 'shuttle bunny' and so we were able to avoid many additional hours of shuttle driving at either end of the day. Consequently, we were back to the Gite in time for dinner with the girls. Information
Graham Bland Dorset Coast Weekend July
We enjoyed a remarkable 'weather window' for the weekend - but, sadly, only three of us (Nick L, Simon B and Graham B) made the trip. Sidmouth to West Bay A few photos - hopefully some text from one of the others to follow.
Eastward Ho!Dorset Coast Camp, July 7-8, 2007 After years planning trips just such as this and cursing the tides which always seemed to be going the wrong way at the wrong time on the wrong day, Graham had a masterstroke. We’d paddle west to east instead of east to west. Suddenly, the tides were going the right way at the right time on the right day. If only the trip itself had gone as smoothly…… Saturday morning dawned bright and clear, in stark contrast to the preceding few days, which had seen atrocious weather. After meeting up at West Bay at 9.45, Graham, Simon and I drove to Sidmouth and quickly unloaded kit and boats on the seafront, pretending not to see the double yellow lines. While Graham went off in search of the nearest car park, Simon and I passed the hours loading the boats, eating a leisurely early lunch and discussing the pros and cons of RCC’s ‘not on the water before midday’ rule. After parking his vehicle somewhere near Ottery St Mary, Graham hiked back into Sidmouth. Nil desperandum; we were on the water just after 12 (rules is rules) and set course for Beer Head with a fair wind behind us and the sun on the yardarm. Or some such nautical crap. Watching Simon and Graham rocket off into the distance, I contemplated the loneliness of the long distance paddler, and consoled myself with the thought that I’d probably have time for a quick cigarette, maybe even a beer, before succumbing to exhaustion and dying at sea unnoticed by anyone. Paddling parallel with Branscombe Beach, I was struck by the number of timber dwellings perched on ledges all the way down to the shore. Some of these up-market beach huts looked really well equipped, and I pondered whether any of their residents had participated in the Whisky Galore style adventures back in January, when the container ship MSC Napoli ran aground off Beer Head. Swinging my telescope around, I could have sworn that I spotted some on-going ‘salvaging’, but then put it down to blurred vision brought about by paddling fatigue.
Graham and Simon were kind enough to wait for me in the swell off Beer Head, where we watched the latest attempt to re-float the Napoli; in fact, it was finally moved further out to sea a few days later.
We paddled on. My suspicions that this was developing into a serious paddling trip grew significantly when I noticed that the two lead paddlers were passing Beer without stopping. Didn’t they realise that the Anchor Inn beckoned? Many a mariner (mostly of the shipwrecked kind) has been grateful for the pub’s hospitality, and at the very least it would have been courteous to have stopped and thanked the landlord for services rendered to the maritime community. But no, my paddling partners once again shot off into the distance, bypassing even the dubious delights of Seaton in their desire to get to their destination. The problem was, there wasn’t a destination. Well, not a planned one anyway. Towards the end of the afternoon we passed what looked like a great camping beach just west of Humble Point, near the middle of the Lyme Regis Undercliff. But it consisted entirely of large pebbles, so we elected to paddle on in search of the sandy beach that we all knew was just around the next corner. Yeah right. This is the Undercliff we’re talking about here folks. Characterised, at sea level, by rock ledges and absolutely no foreshore at high tide. By now, I suspect that even our illustrious leader was beginning to tire, since he was happy to settle for a barren sleeping ledge which might or might not have been above water at high tide, just beyond Severn Rock Point. But as Simon pointed out, while this was probably OK for Graham, who was planning to spend the night in a bivvy bag, he and I might experience a slight problem hammering our tent pegs into solid rock. Plus, I noted, Graham’s site was backed by high, and highly unstable, cliffs which looked as though they would probably rain rocks on us all night. We paddled on towards Lyme Regis; Simon and I with thoughts of beer in the pub at the shore end of the cob, Graham with thoughts about the wimps he’d chosen as fellow campers. It soon became apparent that none of us would be happy spending the night in the immediate vicinity of Lyme Regis; the beach was still rocky, star-gazing would be a non-starter due to light pollution, and one or more interfering busybodies would doubtless rush over and demand that we put out our campfire as soon as we lit it. The consensus was that we should paddle back to the beach we’d first spotted at Humble Point, despite the fact that this effectively added 6 km to our trip. The beach was as good as it had looked a few hours earlier, just a bit darker. While Graham smoothed a place in the pebbles for his bivvy bag, Simon looked around for some heavy bulwarks of timber to anchor his tent down, in readiness for the inevitable heavy snoring.
Obviously, not suffering from afflictions like this myself, I had no need of such preparations and contented myself with collecting driftwood for the fire. There was certainly no shortage of material to choose from, ranging from brushwood and twigs to large railway sleepers and complete wooden pallets. We had a decent fire going in no time at all, and after celebrating with a few beers, prepared to cook and dine in true al fresco style. The first explosion was fairly muted. I didn’t immediately associate the sharp pain in my neck with the sound, and was surprised when brushing away what I assumed was a mosquito to discover that I had burned my fingers. Luckily, the hot shard of stone came out cleanly. We were vandalising our beach; creating a mini eco-disaster of our own, turning beautiful sea-smoothed pebbles into aggregate. Of more immediate concern, our cooking area instantly became a no-go area, as did everywhere else within a 10 metre radius. Graham, with the experience of many RCC camping trips behind him, happily ate food he’d prepared earlier. Simon, who had come armed with gourmet cook-in-the-bag goodies, a stove and a saucepan, was equally content. Me, I rued the day I’ve ever heard of RCC, camping and beach bloody barbeques, and munched my way soulfully through a partially cooked beef-burger, while listening out for the ominous crack of breaking teeth. We let the fire die down and eventually plucked up courage to sit within firing range. Admittedly, it was a beautiful sunset, almost offsetting the cold, hunger and grave threat to human life. Graham took the opportunity to phone Frances, who had had the sense to confine her boating activities to a day trip from Bournemouth to Swanage. Due to a bad signal he couldn’t quite make out whether she’d been watching puffins or a male pole dancer during her voyage. It turned out to be the latter, on which note we went to bed. Bed! That’s another camping euphemism, designed to lull sensible home-loving people into a completely false sense of security.
Sunday dawned bright and clear. And relatively hazard-free, since the fire had gone out. We had a leisurely breakfast, surveyed the scene of the crime – marked only by a small pile of sand on an otherwise pebble-clad beach – and set off for Lyme Regis. Again. The town looked great in the morning light, but I’m glad we hadn’t camped on the outskirts.
At my suggestion, we stopped for a coffee at Charmouth and wished we hadn’t. It was packed with holidaymakers and the coffee was crap. By now the low that had been threatening to overtake us for most of the day looked set to win, so Graham and Simon resumed their high speed paddling, leaving me to fend for myself. From the Western Patches at the foot of Golden Cap to Eype Mouth there was a slight swell, which made things great fun. Our leader had prepared us for a long hard slog – by identifying some cliffs on the horizon that he claimed we needed to paddle past – but we actually arrived at West Bay sooner than expected. And way before we got anywhere near the cliffs. So much for sat-nav. But Graham’s timing was impeccable; we were off the water at about 14.00 (I think), seconds before the rain hit in earnest. Leaving Simon to look after the boats, we made a quick run back to Sidmouth to retrieve Graham’s vehicle, and were all home by about 16.30. Thanks both. I had a great time – no, really – and look forward to doing it all again. As far as I can recall, this is the furthest I’ve paddled on a weekend trip – just over 46 km. But next time, please could we allow just a bit more time for sightseeing? Nick L Julian Butler Memorial Race
After a terrible few days of almost endless rain, the clouds parted and it looked like a great evening for a paddle. Jake may be the youngest regular paddler but he is probably the most competitive person in the club at the moment so he was keen to take part. He would have paddled a single kayak but, being so small, he would have needed an early start and I was a bit concerned that he might paddle most of the course unaccompanied. Yes, I do worry a little sometimes. We decided to paddle together and took our plastic open canoe for its first test of speed. There was a fantastic turnout at Mudeford: Mike, Dot, Nick, Trish, Dave and Annie all appeared late and without a boat between them, maintaining the tradition of boycotting this event. It seems strange to me that so many people drove to a canoeing venue on a lovely evening and didn’t paddle at all. Paul Toynton appeared with a boat but, in an uncharacteristic moment of sensible self preservation, bemoaned that his injuries prevented him competing. He paddled around the circuit, bumping into Larry and Jaqui in their open boat, who also went round the course for fun. We were joined for the race by a select few new members who have not been infected with the race boycotting virus. Dave and Katie Cunnea were equipped with the club’s sea kayaks, but Katie was seduced by the attractions of Mike Worth’s open boat, and opted to paddle with him. Handicapping was a bit of a guess, with just three boats, one with a man and a boy, one with a novice open boater and novice, pregnant crew, and the third with a strong but inexperienced paddler on only his second outing in a sea kayak. Dave had never paddled in the harbour before so I described the course for him, across the harbour, up one or other arm of the Avon, down the other and back to the Quay …..“Simple. Can’t miss it.” Mike and Katie started first, Jake and I after 5 minutes, and Dave 5 minutes after that. It was soon clear that the first boat needed a more generous handicap, as Jake and I caught them at the top of the harbour, with Dave just few boat lengths behind us. We had the tide against us, and a fresh breeze to work against. I was having trouble keeping the power on and maintaining our heading, but the wind slowed the open boats more than the sea kayak, so I hoped that we might hold Dave off in the sheltered stretches of the river. We managed to keep our small lead until we reached the top of the Avon loop, where we began the downstream half of the course and had the tide and wind in our favour. Jake kept looking back but Dave didn’t appear round the corner as expected. We kept up our pace, expecting him to charge up from behind at any time, but didn’t see him until we were well on our way back across the harbour. Jake said Dave was paddling fast and he didn’t think we could beat him back to the quay. He must have been as tired as we were though, and we finished with a good margin ahead. When Dave arrived we discovered that he had lost sight of us where the Avon splits, and had a moment of doubt about which way to go. He went to and fro a bit, upstream too far, and back again to find Mike and Katie, had a quick chat, got told off for not taking a drink for his thirsty wife, then took up the chase again. I am sure he would have beaten us if he hadn’t lost his way, although my competitive son might have found extra strength with Dave on his tail. Dave had the fastest time but came home 2 minutes after us because of our 5 minute head start. Apologies to Mike and Katie, who were handicapped out of it and arrived a few minutes later. I’ll make a note to allow an extra 5 minutes for pregnant ladies in future. I was timekeeper and tired paddler so couldn’t manage anything better than times to the nearest minute, but here are the individual times around the course, in order of finishing:
Thanks to those who took part, none of whom knew Julian Butler, a great character who I am sure would have enjoyed the event and been an inspiration to the club if he was still paddling with us. Barry. (Photo from Nick Leatherdale) Deakins in Scotland
For the Whitsun half term holiday, I coaxed Bev and Jake 12 hours up the road to the west coast of Scotland for a few days sea kayaking. Perhaps in a few years I will get Lee up there too, but he always seems to find an alternative to paddling and this time it was a week’s activity holiday near Weymouth. We had decided to go to the Inner Hebrides south of Oban, then I learned that a friend, Richard, had just bought a house there, fronting the water on the island of Luing, so that gave us an ideal starting point. We got an early start on the road on Saturday and arrived at Cuan Sound at 5 in the afternoon. A little ferry that can just squeeze on 3 modest cars runs across to Luing strictly to a timetable, typically every 30 minutes, even if there is a queue of 4 cars waiting and it then has to make two runs. It must be logical to a Scot I suppose. Perhaps Ross will explain it to me. It is a very short but entertaining journey, with tides running up to 6 knots for much of the time, with seals and terns fishing in the boils and whirlpools. Richard had arrived just a couple of hours before us with a van full of cardboard boxes and a lawnmower, having sold his house in Cumbria the day before. He had unpacked the tea and Christmas cake (Yes, in May!) so the hospitality was good despite the muddle. With daylight until about 11pm, we had plenty of time before dinner to stretch our legs with a walk to the island’s high point, and view a panorama of the islands and lochs within our reach. I had paddled the area twice before, but it was a great chance for Bev and Jake to get their bearings.
Jake slept till 10 so we had a slow start on Tuesday. Bev’s ears pricked up at the mention of a National Trust for Scotland garden across the loch at Arduaine, so that morning she set our course. The garden entrance was obviously from the road up the hill, but we found an unlocked pedestrian gate to access it directly from the beach. We had only got a few paces into the garden to look for the path to the admission kiosk when we encountered the gardener who gave us a very hard time for coming in the “private” entrance. Apparently we should have taken the more obvious route along the beach and over the rocks for 200 yards, over a fence, through a patch of gorse, up a path, through the grounds of a hotel and into the gardens from the road. Scottish logic again perhaps. Anyway, we kept up the RCC reputation for getting it wrong in the eyes of the locals. The gardens were a wonderful mixture of manicured lawns, ponds and steep, rugged woodland paths, and with the short Scottish summer upon them, all the flowers were on show together. This area is blessed with a micro-climate with most winds coming directly from the gulf stream, and hardly any frosts at sea level, so the planting can be almost sub-tropical. We had lunch on the beach then paddled to the head of Loch Melfort for beer and chips in the pub at Kilmelford. I caught a small Pollack on the way, and another as we paddled back along the other shore of the loch to the tent, which we had left pitched at Degnish Point. The wind dropped steadily through the day until the water was mirror smooth in the evening. Now Jake had no struggle with the elements but progress was slow again because he and Bev only took their eyes off the urchins, starfish, and anemones far below us on the bottom of the loch, or the jellyfish floating near the surface, to watch the three seals that followed us the whole way. The view below was just as I remembered it from my previous paddle there, 15 years before, with Paul Toynton. It was not as warm though, and the softer members of the family had their paddle mitts on. When we got back to the tent at 8:30 it seemed to have been a long day to paddle only 18km. We filleted and poached the fish, and watched the otter make a repeat performance at exactly the same time as the previous evening.
The next day we had a walk around the north of the island and its old quarries, where the slate is speckled with bright, square crystals of, I think, iron pyrites (fools gold). A wonderful sight in the rock pools. The highlight though was a fantastic view of a pod of seven bottlenose dolphins, including two young ones, swimming, leaping, flipping and diving together just a few metres from the rocks below us. They took about 20 minutes to pass by, then we walked on along the shore of Cuan Sound to take another look at the impressive currents. In the evening we went for a sail in one of Richard’s boats to Croabh Haven and back. It was a fantastic evening, in some of the best scenery in the British Isles, and there was only one other sail in sight. The following day we headed home, breaking the journey for lunch in the Lowther Hills south of Glasgow, where we disturbed an oyster catcher sitting on eggs in a quiet layby, then overnight in the pretty cobbled village of Dent in the Yorkshire Dales. We camped for £10 in a wonderful empty field, on clean lush grass, with a portaloo and a tap to hand, just two fields away from a crowded camp site. Lovely. It was a great wildlife trip, we counted over 40 different birds, but we got home to find that the local wildlife had been busy too, eating all our vegetables.
This part of Scotland is fantastic, with something of interest to everyone There are some extremely challenging bits of water for those seeking an adrenaline fix, but plenty of safe and sheltered areas for the more timid, and there is (almost) nobody there for RCC to offend. Don’t just read about it, go and paddle it. Barry. Lulworth Cove June
The Dorset coast doesn't get much more benign than this - 13 of us enjoyed a pleasant float along to Ringstead Bay on a beautiful day SORTed by Ryanair
I usually consider the 5 hour drive to North Wales a long Haul for a weekend, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity for one pence flights for a weekend's boating in the Pyrenees. Tim Rex, who lives out in Pau, had invited us to join his French Canoe Club trip to Sort Leaving in the middle of the night, for an early Saturday morning flight to Pau followed by a 4 hour drive across the mountains to Sort we didn't get on the Rio Noguera Pallaresa until 4pm. With 35kms to paddle to the take out I questioned the wisdom of the plan. But, the river was tanking along. A big, bouncy continuous grade 3 and 4 run woke us all up and we reached the get out by 7pm for well deserved cervezas. The canoe club had been busy preparing a Paella while we were on the river and the Anglo-French-Spanish festivities kicked in on our return to camp. Wine, Sangria, Porto etc. ensured that language was no barrier as the conversations became more ridiculous. Sunday proved to be more drive than paddle as we searched for sections suitable in the high conditions. We found a 3/4 section way up in the alpine meadows that fitted the bill. A long way for a weekend's boating - but great fun all the same I paddled with Chas and Richard from Southbourne, Jools from somewhere up North, RCC’s very own Tim and Tim Rex from Pau. Thanks to Pau Canoe Club for putting on such a good show and T Rex Tours for all the organising. Graham Symposium
n. pl. sym·po·si·ums or sym·po·si·a (-z - )
Well, I guess 'Symposium' was an accurate name for the Anglesey gathering of sea kayak 'anoraks'. There was certainly plenty of drinking and talking going on over the weekend - with a, perhaps, unhealthy bias towards the one subject. 200+ sea kayakers from around the globe met to chat, paddle, drink, padlle, snore, paddle. Although I felt a little like a (river) 'fish out of water' the Symposium did give me the opportunity to experience the handling of big boats in big swells, overfalls and tidal races. I did learn that sea kayaking doesn't always have to be a mellow side of paddlesport Graham Avon Paddle, March 2007
A few thrill seekers then went to investigate the stopper below the big hatch by the old tannery, and found some local residents who were interested in their activities. For some it seemed a novel interlude to their coffee morning, but another was moved to reach for his camera to gather evidence for a potential claim for trespass, or something. He asked for information about us so Nick asked him his name in return. He declined enthusiastically but as Nick put it – “Never mind, we know where you live”. No protection for him from the threat to anonymity that an association with RCC can bring!
It was a successful day out for the club, with a full range of abilities from the most experienced of our members to some holding a paddle for the first time. For novices the conditions were tricky, with some very fast flows and some trees that were best avoided. All did well and we had no swims. Let’s hope we can go all the way next year.
Barry. Kayaking is Not a Crime
Once a year we are 'allowed' to paddle our local river (Hampshire Avon) - and this year, through negotiation with 7 new landowners, we were given permission to paddle an extra couple of miles. All in all, 10 kms from Alderbury to (almost) Woodgreen. We were shouted at and challenged before we put on the river, and again a couple of times on the float down. Why? it was outside the fishing season so we disturbed no fisherman, we left no footprints and drifted quietly along disturbing nothing and committing no crime. Despite the angst we enjoyed our quiet day on the river - It's too bad that there are some miserable folk around that, through snobbery and intolerance, do their best to spoil life for others. Anyway, none of us lost our heads - except, perhaps, Bex!!
Thanks, Barry, for all the hard work that was necessary to allow us our ‘day on the water’ Graham The Barle10th-11th March 07 Present: Mike, Dot, Paul, Bev, Jake, Dave, Nick, Ross, Mark, Ollie, Tim, Jo, Barry, Graham, and the 3 scouts; Ben, Jacob and Ant. Walkers: Dot, Bev and Lee
Day 1 – Tarr Steps to Dulverton (or Exebridge)The Barle is a beautiful grade 2 river with a number of weirs and features along its length. The put-in was at Tarr Steps, an ancient stone footbridge across the river. Word has it that it is possible to pass underneath the bridge. However, being a mere 1.5ft above the water, it might be a place to destroy another Canadian!
The popular canoeists’ subject of river levels was put to good use, with morning greetings of ‘good river levels’. The Barle consisted of shallow rapids for most of the paddle, with larger features along the way. Most unusually the sun was shining. The day started off well for Dave, who managed to fill his boat with water 400m into the paddle.
By the time we reached Dulverton, it was 3.30pm. There was a little ambiguity in the time required for this paddle. An online guide which was a tad optimistic, suggested a minimum time of 2hrs from Tarr Steps to Exebridge. In 4.5 hours we had managed to complete 2/3 of the distance! Decisions were made by most to finish for the day and head for the pub. Hard-core enthusiasts Ross, Tim, Mark, Ollie and Barry barrelled on to Exebridge for a play on more waves. Unfortunately for the rest, the pubs weren’t in our favour. Two were shut due to private parties, so back to the barn it was! Dot cooked a beautiful spaghetti dish with a whole array of sides: salad, breads, cheese, and kale, brought by Sue (Barry’s sister) who joined us for the evening. A draughty night in the barn with only moderate snoring made it quite a comfortable place! Day 2 – Dulverton to ExebridgeAdditions to the group this morning included Bev, Graham, Ant, Jacob and Ben. Due to the earlier finish at Dulverton on the Saturday, it was decided to paddle Dulverton to Exebridge. The distance was debatable (depending who was asked!) roughly 10km from Tarr Steps to Dulverton and approx 6km to Exebridge.
The technique of ‘sitting upside-down in a canoe waiting for a rescue’, originally sported by Mark, was a popular occurrence when playing on a number of waves and stoppers. Swimming episodes were demonstrated by Jo and Mark on the chicane sections of the previous day.
The Barle merged with the river Exe a few kilometres from the finish point. More water gave rise to a number of waves which were surfed by all. A few swims and rescues later, and some excellent surfing by Jake, we arrived at Exebridge. A beautiful paddle with ‘good water levels’!!! Jo Ratford
Global Warming - is it such a bad thing?!!
It's the end of February 2007 - we only have a few weeks left of the 'white water' season - but what a season it has been! I love mild and wet!! I have managed to get down to Dartmoor/Exmoor more times than I should have over the season, with runs on all sections of the Dart, the Walkham, Tavy, Erme, Lyn, etc. Indeed, it's been 8 home runs on the Upper Dart so far. Not once have I had to cancel a trip due to low levels. And only once have I had to scrape ice off the windscreen as I set off on a Sunday dawn. No numb fingers, no ice-block feet, no hunting around for rivers with enough water to paddle. And they are now forecasting a long hot summer for Sea Kayaking! Life is good
This last weekend it was to the Erme again - enough water and sunshine. The 'Slot' provided some entertainment (rope retrieval of swimmer, boat, paddles and a left shoe) and the Gorge was magnificent Graham Teign February 2007: The best open boat trip on Dartmoor?
Although billed as RCC’s annual ‘Gunnislake’ trip (our secretary doesn’t like to confuse people by introducing too many new place names in the events list, so he resolutely sticks with the old ones), the weekend found us in a very cold bunkhouse in the middle of Dartmoor, nowhere near Gunnislake. According to Ross, this was because our usual venue, the Old School House, was closed for renovation. We all took his word for it, though with hindsight perhaps someone should have checked that he wasn’t simply being blinded by a desire to wean people away from paddling the Tamar. Despite the near zero temperature everyone survived the Friday night, and those fortunate enough not to be sharing a bedroom with Simon (OK, OK, and Nick) probably even got some sleep. Ross had drawn a short straw, but treacherously decamped to the non snorers’ room under cover of darkness. Over breakfast on Saturday, he further advanced his rosy portrayal of the Teign, so we all agreed that this was obviously THE river to paddle.
We spent another half hour happily bodging a temporary strengthening spar – involving plastic cable ties, buoyancy bags and a plastic waterproof drum – before declaring the vessel fit for purpose, though no-one seemed too sure exactly what that purpose might be. Tim gallantly put in a salvage bid, which was rejected by Dave pending a professional post-disaster survey by Paul Kendall. Personally, I suspected that at this point, the boat had the structural integrity of a soggy egg carton.
Fingle Bridge marked the end of the trip for our intrepid paddlers of the modified Canadian. It also marked a glaring error in our trip planning, when it became evident that only Simon could drive the car we’d left at this mid-way point, and he wanted to paddle the rest of the trip. Luckily Dave was able to get a lift to Steps Bridge from a helpful passing motorist, but by the time he’d retrieved his car and driven back to Fingle Bridge he had a very cold Jo on his hands. The 6 km from Fingle Bridge to Steps Bridge was another excellent paddle, characterised by small rapids and a number of weirs. We finally exited the water at 4pm, just as dusk was approaching, and made our way, via the Warren House Inn, back to the farm and a very good evening meal, courtesy of Ratford Catering Services. Dave and I left on the Sunday morning for a consultation with RCC’s chief boat repair specialist, back in Bere Regis. But as far as I know, everyone else set off with the intention of paddling the Tavy……. Thanks to: Ross for organising an excellent trip Dave R for cooking superb food on Saturday night Dave C for cooking all the breakfasts (again) Tim for really supportive paddling and backup Everyone else for the craic A note concerning Runnage Farm This was the first time that we had stayed here, so the jury was out on what it would be like. It’s a bit basic, but will probably improve over time. At present, it has no proper heating facilities (apart from mobile oil-filled electric radiators which cost a fortune to run) and is cold and damp at this time of year. And although the owners seem really helpful, they could do with casting an eye over the equipment; expecting a party of 10 or more to enjoy a self-catering weekend armed only with two frying pans and no saucepans is a trifle unrealistic. Conclusion about the Teign A really nice river to paddle, though at the levels we encountered, perhaps not quite ‘the best open boat trip on Dartmoor’! I place it above the Lynher, which has always been a firm favourite of mine. Nick And, recounting the next day …. Ross, Tim, Mark, Paul B, Dave C, Jo, Ros, Simon & Phil. Following a discussion about trips, it was decided to do the Tavy - we were told 6km of mainly grade 2 rapids. Dave R absented himself due to a floppy canoe (see Teign report) and Nick decided not to paddle. This left plenty of kit for Jo (Dave's crew from the bendy canoe trip) to choose from. 'Shuttle' complete we were on the water for 11-20 (a break with club protocol #173 part A - thou shalt not paddle before noon). At the put-in Ross and Tim were demonstarting rock canoeing techniques while the rest put in just below that rapid. Phil was the first to capsize, on a vicious eddy line, and having emptied his canoe we continued down river. Ross doing reconnaissance (occasionally using Mark as a probe) and the rest of the crew following when told to, either by boat or on foot depending on the rapid and their bravery/stupidity.
Not much further on the Walkham joined the Tavy and the joint waters flowed onto a boulder garden. The team were now very cautious and all bar four portaged. Ross, Tim, Dave and bloody Mark ran the rapid with varying degrees of elegance. Everyone but Tim portaged the large, unfriendly weir, then there was a short play on a small, slopey weir just before the take out. Having exited the river Ross was accosted by a lady from the house overlooking the river who told him in no uncertain terms, and in contravention of the facts (though some of the group may have agreed with her) that the river was not navigable. Ross anxious not to draw any more flack from the natives proceeded to set off his car alarm destroying the peaceful idyll of a quiet February afternoon. The trip took 4 1/2 hours (breaking club protocol #189 part C - No Sunday trip shall last more than 3 hours). So with only four swims (one with a bloody face), two broken protocols and a set of irate natives it was a good RCC trip on a beautiful river. Dave C Jake shows us how it is doneA nice photo from Barry.
RCC members’ apathy ensured skittles fun
It was a great evening, and Godshill Village Hall turned out to be a surprisingly good venue, with a very pleasant ambience and first-rate facilities. Apart from the non-functional microwave in the kitchen and an electricity meter with a rapacious appetite. Well done for organising the evening, Bev – an excellent choice! Curiously, those members who did attend were the same members who always help organise club trips, sort out catering arrangements and generally put themselves out for other people. I briefly pondered where the other 80% of RCC might have got to. But then realised that hey, they probably had homes to stay in. And it WAS dark and a bit chilly outside that evening….. If you’re interested, you can download a slide show of the RCC skittles night by clicking here. But be warned, it’s 15MB, so if you’re still using dial-up, you probably won’t want to bother. You’ll need Quicktime Player to run it, and it’s best played with the volume turned up. If anyone wants any of the photos, they are all available in hi-res format. Nick L
Torridge January 2007A couple of Photos from Barry, who reports a good social weekend - Good river level and perfect for the open boaters. Jake says it would be a great starter river for Scouts - plenty of waves to surf, tight bends with clean eddy lines, and no scary hazards. No swims this weekend!
Leaderless with permission to paddle!7th January 2007For those who have not joined the RCC Upper Dart trips these trips are a group of paddlers with a common interest of running the upper Dart and such rivers. The trips are organised and informally lead by Graham or Chas, two experienced paddlers that keep the rest of us in order on the river. However, this weekend both had decided that some additional training was required and had signed up for 5 star training with Gene17. Emails were sent to all the other usual suspects and a loose plan was formed to meet at the RDCP at 09:30. Seven of us convened at the RDCP and headed off to the shop to get out of the rain and do a little window shopping! A general consensus was reached that we wanted to do a grade 3 trip that wasn’t the Dart. There had been some rain in Dartmoor but the Dart was still below the ledge which was an indication that there wasn’t masses of water about. After a discussion with the shop assistant we decided to try the Teign as no one in the group had paddled it before. This was described as a Grade 2(3-) trip the guidebook (English White Water) and was recommended as ‘the best open boat trip in Dartmoor’ making it an ideal trip considering we had a Topo Duo in the group. We headed off to the egress at Steps Bridge and found the river at a nice medium level. I was in the lead car and after my navigator had taken me down some of the smallest roads in Dartmoor with a nice crop of grass growing down the middle of the road, we eventually stumbled across the put in as the A382 Bridge. After adding a lone paddler who had lost his group during the shuttle we headed off. There was a pleasant and calm start to the river, after a kilometre or so we found a horizon line that indicated the first weir and the only bank inspection required. There was an obvious line down the fish steps on river left. This was made to look very difficult by another member of the group and after this demonstration of the line the weir was portaged by half the group! This was followed by a really nice section of grade 2 punctuated with a couple of grade 3 rapids through a really picturesque valley. The river then flatters off a little with a few runable weirs and some grade 2 rapids. We sacked the navigator and found a much better route for the return shuttle. This was a new river for me and I think it would make a really nice RCC trip for both kayaks and open boats. Sorry no pictures you will have to paddle it yourself to see the views! 14th January 2007A very similar group headed out minus the Topo Duo and had an interesting day on the Upper Dart with one pinned and one broken boat! But everyone made it off safely. Ross Hmm – Over the same two weekends (above), and while Ross, Richard, Martin, Pete et al were wrecking boats, Chas and I had, indeed, opted for some training. I had managed to avoid any kind of formal training since 1998 – but was beginning to feel the need to ‘brush-up’. This was partly due to additional demands from the Scouts However, I thought that this might also help me to keep pace with Andrew - at least sufficiently so that we could continue to paddle together without cramping his style too much. Anyway – 5 stars seemed the next logical step and so, with Chas, I signed up for Gene 17’s 5* Training over one weekend, extended with their Whitewater Safety & Rescue on the Monday, and the 5* Assessment the following weekend. A bit rushed, perhaps, but I would never get around to it otherwise. The training gave us two consecutive days on the Upper Dart, blessed with mild wet weather and great levels. The days were spent brushing up on some advanced paddle techniques (“Westgarth’s New School”) and honing leadership styles and approaches. All good fun We spent Monday jumping in and out of the Erme, tying ourselves up with Prussic Loops, throwing bags, fishing with live bait and practicing a whole host of rescue and retrieval techniques. If you don’t know the difference between a Z-Drag and a 4-line cinch I would highly recommend booking onto a WWS&R course with Simon The Assessment, the following weekend was much more fun than I had anticipated. Simon had shipped three Assessors in (two from PYB) – and we spent some time with each over the course of this weekend. Rather than the false scenarios and contrived environment that dogs the coaching assessments, Gene 17 run a really relaxed show. You get mixed up in a group of 4, spend the whole weekend paddling together, taking turns to formally ‘lead’ all under the watchful eye of Assessors that otherwise let you get on with it.. We had Saturday on the Upper (again with good levels) and Sunday on the East Lyn (at slightly higher levels than I am comfortable with – I didn’t know that I could throw 3 cartwheels in my Creeker!). All in all – 5 days paddling, with new people on great rivers, evenings spent paddle-talking over steaks and ale and you even get some stars. What could be better than that!. Graham
In fact - they do exactly what it says on the tin
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In my experience, most skittles matches are
characterised by too many people getting to throw too few balls. Not so with
RCC. Our annual skittles match was attended by just a few people who threw
lots of balls. Some of them even hit skittles. And doors. And skittle
putter-uppers. Ross achieved the highest score in all categories. I can’t
remember who actually won the match – or even whether anyone did – because
someone rubbed out Jake’s ‘The Winner is…’ message before I had a chance to
read it.
