Bolton Carers Support We held a session for Botlon Carers Support not too long ago. It was a thrill to provide something for those who have and still give a lot. We revieved this very uplifting letter of thanks. We look forward to doing more sessions like this.
Phil was an active member of Bolton Canoe Club for many years before he emigrated to North Island N.Z. We had many adventures together, but this one, I left to him to enjoy on his own. He’s still my best mate ! Kia Ora Bro’
Foz
The Spey
Newtonmore to the sea
August. 2001
I suppose the idea was sown many years ago after reading Alan Fox’s Run River Run.
Ignoring the section on ‘touring rivers’ as I am, was or inspired to be a white-water paddler (in a previous life), I thumbed through the book till I came to that magical phrase – Grade 2. There was no going back, the Spey it was. Though it’s more than nine years ago the trip and the lessons learned are still fresh-(ish) but fading.
After 2-3 years building my skill level up sampling Speyside malts, the trip was planned for Autumn 2001.
Newtonmore is a sleepy village just down the road from Kingussie ( Monarch of the Glen fame ). The campsite is a mile or so out of town, right next to the Spey with a cracking view of the Monadhliaths. Conveniently situated between the campsite and the town’s pubs is a transport café.
Sandy, the owner of the campsite and local blacksmith advised I pitched the tent next to the toilet block as a wind break and to be near the river. Sandy, as will be seen later, was a star is very supportive of kayakers.
A couple of days monitoring the river level at the first rapid under the railway bridge ( going down ) and local Guinness ( also going down ) I was ready for the off.
The campsite
Monadhliaths in the background
But first, the bunny.
Being a bit of a ‘Billy no-mates’, bunnies can be difficult. The plan was to take the car down to Spey Bay and cycle back to the campsite (70-80 miles) then paddle back down to the car – simple. From the O.S. map, the car park at the Tugnet Ice House visitor’s centre seemed ideal as it was at the side of the take-out at Spey Bay. A brief recce confirmed this.
Spey Bay
Tugnet Ice-House Car Park right of centre
After making sure that I had everything I needed for the trip downstream was left at the campsite, I drove down to Spey Bay the following morning with the bike in the car.
I rode a bike (with a nice gel-saddle) to work in Farnworth everyday. But afraid that it may go missing whilst kayaking down the river, I took an old undersized racer from my garage up to Scotland with me. The sort of bike you won’t cry too much if it went missing. Pity it didn’t have a front brake, pity it did have a Brooke’s saddle.
It was an uneventful trip down to Spey Bay on the same route that I planned to cycle back on. On arrival at Spey Bay I got the bike with essentials for the return trip and set off back to Newtonmore.
A long distance cyclist, with whom I work, gave me advice regarding hydration, etc. for the distance I was to cycle back (70-80 miles). Two litres of grapefruit juice diluted 1:2, was all I needed electrolyte-wise. Dried apricots were all that was needed food-wise, with the proviso that I chew them otherwise they will rehydrate in my gut and block it.
Clothing– I wore tracksters, a thermal long sleeved t-shirt topped by the trusty Buffalo mountain jacket. More on Buffalo tack later. Waterproofs seemed unnecessary as I expected to get wet and dry out as few times on the way back – I wasn’t to be disappointed. A chance to try the ‘wicking’ properties of the Buffalo kit
The first drenching came 30 minutes into the ride back up the B9104 after passing the World War 2 airbase at Dallarchy
Dallarchy was a base whose area covered the North Sea, including numerous sorties into the Norwegian fjords using Beaufighter bombers and nightfighter defence fighters.
There is a memorial at the entrance to the base to the service people who lost their lives during the course of the Second World War and in particularly to one operation over the North Sea which cost the lives of many planes and crew.
Dallarchy War Memorial
I was in good spirits after drying out by the time I’d reached the A96. A right turn past Ena Baxter’s soup factory (making tomato soup that day) with a brief look over the bridge down stream (two channels, river right deep giving a fast bouncy ride through, this would be my last bridge before the final leg to the sea) and then a left up the B9015 through to Rothes, left along the A94 till Charlestown of Aberlour, then right along the A95 until Grantown on Spey (the half way mark). The aim being to familiarise myself with as much of the river as possible whilst going back to the campsite.
Back on the left side of the river again after Charlestown, looking down to the river, I saw a ‘more than grade 2’ rapid – a big constriction leading to a drop, river left, with bouncy waves. Not the sort of thing to have a solo swim on and still keep your brew kit. Mental note for that one!
Canadian shooting the Charlestown rapid
(Edinburgh Kayak Club)
Eventually I reached the half-way mark on the bridge near Grantown-on-Spey, time to rehydrate. More than 30 miles in the bag. Things were looking good.
However, the Brookes saddle had done its worst and the second half of the journey was spent mainly off the saddle.
Over the river to the river left bank following the A95 till it hit the A9 to Aviemore. Aviemore was a long time coming and a very welcome site. Scores of Hen & Stag night revellers had already turned out in the late afternoon, spilling into the streets on their way from pub to pub. Must admit, I could have murdered a pint.
About 15 miles to go and I was off the saddle completely. Time to take to the quiet back roads. A left onto the B9152 left all the traffic behind. It ran parallel with the A9 hugging the railway line till Kingussie. Passing through the main street saw me on a convenient cyclepath between Kingussie and Newtonmore. I was preoccupied with thoughts of a big mixed grill and Guinness in Newtonmore when ‘zing’, then another ‘zing’ and thud. I was being shot at from somewhere from the heather to my right. After a hundred yards or so fast cycling I could still hear the shots falling behind but not following me. No need to take it personally then.
A pleasant, but short night was spent in Newtonmore carbohydrate loading – eating curry and chips and drinking Guinness, standing up.
Sandy had already agreed to look after my bike for me. He really was a star. Apparently he gets a few solo kayakers starting from his campsite to go down the Spey. The fastest returned paddler was back within two days – the river was close to flooding the campsite at the time (about 5 -6 feet above present level).
The water levels for my trip were relatively low so I’d planned for 2 and a 1/2 days river trip.
A good night’s sleep was had and I was up at sparrow’s fart the next morning.
The weather was settled – for Scotland. It was a very calm morning.
No lasting after effects from the cycling so the haemorrhoid cushion and anusol were thrown back in the tent.
I’d already decided what to take with me and had had a practice pack of the Gattino before.
Small items I wouldn’t need immediately, in behind the full plate foot rest.
Things to be kept dry in the wet bag pushed far rear, split paddles pushed either side then the brew kit and stuff that could get wet. All kept in place by the buoyancy bag pushed in place then inflated. Trail food and water between my legs in the cockpit.
A hearty breakfast and I was ready for the off.
It was a bit of a beast to drag to the river. Double check on everything and then a seal launch down the short steep bank into the Spey. It was about 7:45am if I remember rightly.
I hit the bottom but bobbed up and braced downstream.
I could see a hundred yards downstream to the railway bridge and down the first rapid then the river took a sharp right. I wondered what was in store for me?
Crunch. The river had dropped overnight and I grounded under the railway bridge.
Out of the boat, push past and back in.
The river soon picked up and I was shooting down, river left to the first bend.
The Spey, the fastest river in the UK.
I shot round the bend to start the longest slog in sluggish water I’d ever paddled.
This continued for about 5 miles or so across the Insh marshes to Loch Insh
Right onto this road,
The water was about 15 feet deep, clear with the typical browny tannin stain.
I could see sunken trees on the river bed.
River Spey impersonating the Bridgewater canal
This stretch seemed to go on for ever. I knew Loch Insh was downstream somewhere, but the river meandered for a hundred yards or so before changing direction preventing me seeing Loch Insh. So this is what its like when the contour lines are far apart. Not the perfect start to the trip. It could only get better. I was just thankful that it was very peaceful, just the sounds of the river. The weather was kind and the scenery was stunning.
Eventually – Loch Insh.
Loch Insh
Near the outlet
From the map I knew the river’s exit point was far left. Far left I headed till I could see the bridge over the exiting river. The Loch was unsettled with waves washing over the spraydeck, which was a welcome relief from the upper stretches.
At last the exit to Loch Insh .
Under the bridge and the river picked up momentum. I laid back and chilled, fair flying down the river.
The Freshie entered the river from the right. The speed was deceptive I noticed the trees flying past. The river was only about three to four feet deep with no noticeable rapids but the speed was incredible.
I decided to take a rest but as soon as the boat turned sideways in the current I’d hit a boulder.
This is how the book described it; this is what I’d imagined it to be. The river had been playing with me before. No time to relax, just keep it pointing downstream, scull away from the rocks and enjoy the ride.
I passed another bridge (Aviemore) where the Druie enters the Spey. Now I realised why the commercial groups launch here and not Newtonmore. A group of Canadian canoes were launching. I paddled past but didn’t see them again.
Time for some trail food.
I peeled back the deck, had a good swally of water but couldn’t find the raisins I’d put in there. In their place were rabbit-like dropping floating about in the water at the bottom of the boat. Bugger, my deck leaks. Heh-ho. This river was good; the scenery fantastic, even the sun was out.
Downstream of Loch Insh
Its faster than it looks – believe me.
I had planned to haul out and have a brew every so often. But I just pushed on anxious to make up some time taken from Newtonmore to Loch Insh.
As I paddled downstream I noticed a pattern to the Spey: straight for some time then splitting into two at a bend. The islands splitting the river were often quite large with under cut banks and pines growing on and falling off them.
Sod’s law was that the outside fastest channel was the one I couldn’t inspect for fallen trees so I had to opt for the haul out past some shallows before taking the inside shoot to link up with the faster, outside channel later.
This was the pattern for the day with numerous haul outs, but at least I could stretch my legs and empty the water and raisins from the boat.
Then I was into salmon country.
I remember coming down one particular piece of river. It was a steep rapid ending in a sharp left turn. There was a recirculating eddy on the left whilst the rest of the river bounced off an undercut cliff which was the right bank producing a sizable cushion wave.
Discretion being the better part of valour and the water being cold I wasn’t willing to take risks losing my camping tack. Besides, so far, the Spey was one of the very few rivers I hadn’t taken a swim on and I didn’t want to blot my copybook.
I was concentrating on getting close to the left eddy and only then noticed a woman fishing in the top of the rapid. “Are there many more of you?” she said. “No” I answered and if she slipped there wouldn’t be many more of her!
Safely round the bend I noticed the first of the fishers’ huts, river left. They were quite Spartan, no more than a bus shelter-type building with the back facing the prevailing wind. Cracking bivvy shelters (future note). These contrasted with the opulent ‘huts’ that were surrounded by four wheel drives further down the river.
Another fisherman.
I floated quietly downstream until he saw me then directed me to pass on the far side of the river. I sculled across then floated quietly down. The river had slowed up considerably. The campsite marked on the map should be near at Boat of Garten.
River right and a rotting sign hanging from a tree said “campsite”. According to the guide this must be it. I hauled out and made my way to the nearest house. This was only a holiday house whose occupants directed me to the ‘Big House’ about ½ a mile away. No problem unless you’re wearing wet suit boots on a stony road.
The sight of a wet-suited person on dry land knocking on the main door of the manor may have been too much as nobody answered. So I hobbled back to the Gattino.
It was about 6 or 7pm.
The first night’s bivvy was set up in a small field next to the river in the company of a dozen or so cows. The brew was on. I lay back still in my steaming wetsuit drinking a cup of coffee, looking at fish rising for flies. Even today the memories of the bivvies of this trip are more memorable than the river time. Very relaxing reflective moments. Maybe one of the reasons we do trips, alone or accompanied.
A hot meal of chicken supreme & rice (I can taste it now), housekeeping and off to bed. It was so good to stretch out.
First Night’s Bivvy
Have you ever had the feeling that somebody is watching you?
I awoke with that feeling, grab the torch and shone it out of the bivvy.
A lonely pair of eyes 10yds. away were peering at me.
The paddling was taking its toll, I just rolled over and went back to sleep.
What a brill nights sleep.
Breakfast on and boil some water for the day’s paddle.
Pack up and launch. The river was still slow here but picked up a bit under the next bridge. I was enjoying this. Pushing on I passed under the bridge near Grantown-on –Spey. This is where I had my first break cycling back up the river, where the Brookes saddle had done its damage but marked the approximate halfway mark in the trip.
The details of the river time are now fading with time, however I knew that there were some ‘interesting’ rapids several miles downstream near Knockando.
They were on me before I realised.
The banks had closed in. The river is quite restricted at this point. A cliff on river left. No inspection was possible.
First a couple of small drops than the river took a left turn. I couldn’t see round the bend. I edged closer but got caught in the current – too late. Round a bend, over a drop, hit the guard boulder, spun backwards in the eddy. I couldn’t believe it, still upright.
Latter part of Knockando Rapids
(Edinburgh Kayak Club)
Further down the banks closed in again. I was going to haul out river left for a brew but decided to carry on. Nobody fishing here but loads of fish leaping right next to the Gattino. All down the Spey from here to the sea there was more fish activity in the places where there weren’t any people fishing than where they where fishing.
There was a bit of a drop to the next bridge. River right, bouncy but through O.K.
I knew that I was getting close to the second night’s bivvy, but where was that constriction that I had seen near Charlestown on my cycle back to the campsite?
I wasn’t marked in Alan Fox’s guide but I know what I had seen. Must keep the Spey as a ‘no swim’ if I can help it. Then the river funnelled left. This must be it, get a bit closer to be sure but the speed of the Spey is deceptive. Just enough time to straighten up and brace. Half a dozen waves and a couple of slaps in the chest to waken me up and I was through.
A few miles downstream I hauled out for the night’s bivvy. According to the map I was just half a day’s paddle to Spey Bay.
As I cleared stones for a comfortable sandy base for my bivvy I took in the Scottish air. The sweet aroma from the local distillery was tempered by the unmistakable smell of sewage. I had hauled out just downstream from the local sewage outfall.
Tinned chunky chicken and mash was on the menu, but I could have eaten a scabby cat. Then disaster, I knocked my whiskey over (last seen in the photo-right on a boulder) then the plastic bag that had my in ‘smash’ burst. Even though I tried to retrieve the individual ‘smashettes’ there comes a time when you realise that the effort isn’t worth the reward. So off to bed.
The river at this point has scoured a deep channel for itself which afforded a nice sheltered position for a bivvy.
2nd bivvi – boulders excised
The tarp was laid from the upper bank over me
The channel was about 10-15 feet deep. A bit of privacy and a convenient support for the tarp. Because I was in the river ‘trough’ the condensation settled in later in the night. I had stuffed the wetsuit to the bottom of the sleeping bag to keep it warmish for the morning and hopefully dry the sweat out of it. The buffalo system worked well and also kept me dry from the condensation, although the outside of the sleeping bag was wet. A cracking night’s sleep again
I can recommend the pertex/fibrepile system (whatever the manufacturer) where weight isn’t a consideration. Both the buffalo clothing system I used for cycling and the sleeping bag worked faultlessly. Is there a price you can put on a good night’s sleep?
The morning showed no great change in the weather. As the catchment area of the Spey is huge, I had memorised a boulder and the water level around it when I hauled out the night before. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bivvy next to the river after all however; the river was still dropping slightly. After a quick brekkie of coffee and trail food I was soon packed up and keen to get to Spey Bay.
The river continued as fast as ever. As I had travelled downstream I had noticed that, from the initial fisherman’s shelters higher upstream (which resembled little more than open bus-shelters, with their backs to the prevailing wind) the ‘huts’ downstream had transformed into opulent residencies surrounded by gardens and 4 wheel drives.
They were having a late morning as I paddled past.
And so to Fochabers.
Ena Baxter’s were making minestrone from the smell of it that day, but I was concentrating on what was to be my last bridge over the Spey. As I had cycled up I had looked over the parapets and chosen the river right channel. Deep, fast and bouncy. Maybe a chance of a swim. The smell of the soup was fantastic.
Under the bridge, through the rapid which wasn’t as bad as it looked from the bridge and past the undiscovered, but sought after, Ena Baxter’s outflow. Only four miles to go. The river changed its form noticeably from here. The river became a rock braided system. My challenge was to find the fastest and safest was to find my way down to Spey Bay.
There were a few frustrated fishermen to exchange pleasantries with. The river was like a puzzle now, I which channels to follow; left to right, flat or with drops. I couldn’t smell the sea air, the prevailing wind being south-west. Eventually I saw the car- Park. I had entertained the idea of paddling into the sea proper then returning to the car-park, but I was buggered. I hauled out; this was close enough to the sea for me. I unpacked my kit, drained the river water and the few remaining swollen raisins from the Gattino and got it onto the roof of the car. A quick change and I was looking forward to the mixed grill I had promised myself from the transport café.
The mixed grill and the Guinness didn’t touch the sides. A quick check in with Sandy to let him know I was O.K. and I was off to bed.
Spey Bay take out
The Spey
Would I do it again In the same circumstances, no. Been there done that, etc.
What would I do different A small group of Canadian canoes, taking longer, having longer breaks and a good craick
Double bag the raisins and smash.
What did I get out of it I got a sense of achievement
I learned a little bit more about myself
I have a shed full of memories that are special to me
Ena Baxter’s cooks different soup on different days
Was I lonely No, I was with the river. The bivvies were magical.
Buffalo system Get some
Gattino Perfect kayak this trip
Was I lucky Weather, water conditions, no swims.
Newtonmore campsite Try it. Give my best wishes to Sandy
OH, tell me, kind angels, why is it,
When hundreds of miles far away,
That often in dreams I revisit
The banks of the glorious Spey?
Phil
April 2011
(bugger, its nearly ten years ago)
“For years I’d indulged in walking, mountain biking and other land based activities but had always avoided escapades of the aquatic kind. A nagging feeling that maybe I should try something else, a free Monday night and a number of friends interested in kayaking convinced me to give it a try.
First impressions arriving at the reservoir were promising – a bunch of friendly people, a wide array of boats and a willingness by everyone to lend the benefit of their experience. My initial efforts at navigation were somewhat mediocre; I marvelled at skilled members wearing their boats like a glove and wondered if I would ever reach that level of ability. Nevertheless I was bolstered by a successful capsize drill and realising that my less than fantastic swimming was amply supported by the buoyancy aid.
Knowing that the worst that would happen was a bit of a dunking provided the confidence to experiment. Over the course of the next couple of months my navigation skills improved considerably – not competent, but certainly reasonably good at correcting the course of the kayak.
My skills slowly increased; a variety of different kayaks taught different issues of manoeuvrability, connecting up strokes and the importance of flexibility and subtlety of movement. Sea kayaks enforced the importance of banking, and then there were the canoes.
Whilst the vast majority of the boats available are kayaks – a boat that’s steered with a double bladed paddle and enclosed from the elements by a spray deck, there are also a number of canoes typically using a single bladed paddle and open to the weather. Canoes are a key illustration of the difference between strength and skill; ultimately the key to both kayaks and canoes is finesse in positioning of the paddle, but it’s possible to substitute finesse for raw strength in certain cases of kayak movement. Attempting to paddle a canoe as easily as a kayak quickly showed me some areas where my kayaking technique required improvement and the advantages of each type of boat.
Practising kayaking was taking some time – I’d started right at the start of the season in May, and continued on until around October as the clocks were about to change. Daylight starts to become an issue, so the club retires to Westhoughton Baths to practice moves in an environment that is substantially warmer, cleaner and more shallow than a reservoir. In particular, perfecting the fabled roll or other moves that may result in exiting your boat – a capsize drill is usually not difficult when on a river, but can be time consuming.
Personal experience has taught me that rolling is definitely a move worth learning. Aside from the Monday night meetings I’ve been on a couple of trips, learning that there’s somewhat of a difference between water that’s moved by the wind and the wash of other boats, and free flowing water in a river. River boating involves faster decision making, more varied scenery and a degree of excitement. It also, if you’re unlucky or lacking in skill, includes a certain amount of unwanted close up examination of the river bed.
Realisation that there’s suddenly a large quantity of water rushing past your head and that you’re upside down is not necessarily a major issue if you can’t roll – perform a capsize, keep hold of your paddle, make your way to the shallows and then wait for your boat to be retrieved. The buoyancy aid will prevent drowning, and the way ahead is scoped out by the more experienced members to ensure the less able paddlers do not get into trouble – it’s no shame to admit you can’t handle a section of the river, and I have skipped parts until my probability of handling them was reasonable.
It is reassuring to know that capsizing on a river is not a large problem, but the time to get back on the water can vary. On some occasions I have been back in my boat within a couple of minutes. Unfortunately another instance involved capsizing in one of the less ideal spots – it took some time to swim to the shallows, whereupon other members had retrieved my waterlogged boat. Getting back in involved emptying the boat, dragging it up a steep bank, along a road, then back down again – this can be rather exhausting, but do think of the warm shower, refreshment and diverting chat with everyone that night and the satisfaction when a drop is finally mastered and you can look back and marvel at what you have achieved.
The baths sessions are therefore a vital part of making river trips more enjoyable and pleasant. I must admit that a roll still eludes me, although I’m very close. Regardless, it keeps skills sharp and livens up the cold and dark Winter nights.
The future undoubtedly contains new adventures – more practice, social events with the club and further honing of my skills. My progress is variable, but most importantly I’ve found a new activity with people I like, and it’s difficult to put a price on that.”
PK
This weekend I joined two other club members on a trip down the River Tees. It was a very wet affair – especially for myself! John lead the trip (much to the dismay of Pottsy who clearly thought he was upto the challenge! (Have to give you some stick Potts!)). We started below High Force Falls and had a pleasant but fairly bumpy trip down to the first major feature, which was Salmons Leap. We got out of our boats and had a look at the feature (s shaped bend) and decided on our line. John lead the way followed by Potts and myself. Things were going well until I found myself pinned against the rock at the bottom of the rapid – luckily I eventually got washed off and took a swim for my troubles! We then carried on down river and eventually met Low Force Falls. John had been teaching us to boof on the way down to Low Force and so we tried out our new skills on the fall. Think we may need a bit more practice! – but the trip down Low Force was definitely worth the effort. A great days paddling that was made even better with fish and chips later on!
On Sunday we decided to have an easier paddle on the Leven. The water level was fairly high, making for an enjoyable trip. We all used the time to practice our eddy hopping and boofing for next time on the Tees!
Thanks guys for a really enjoyable weekend!
Suzanne
P.s Below are pics of us going down Low Force
On Sunday October 17 The Bolton Society of Blind People [BSBP] organised an afternoon of canoeing and kayaking for those members “with a spirit of adventure”! Half a dozen RSBP members plus five volunteers went to the High Rid water sports reservoir in Horwich to experience the fun and exhilaration of “messing about in boats” as Kenneth Grahame put it in his classic children’s book, “Wind in the willows”.
We received a great deal of help and invaluable coaching from several members of the Bolton Canoe Club who kindly gave up their Sunday afternoon to pass on their experience and expertise. Where necessary these seasoned water sports enthusiasts paired up with the totally blind BSBP members and acted as our pilots and instructors as we paddled around the water in both canoes and kayaks. It was really good having the opportunity to experience the different kinds of feeling being in a canoe and then a kayak. Also as we quickly discovered the techniques involved in “driving” a canoe are quite different from those needed to “power” a kayak. Afterwards it was interesting to find that some members had preferred the canoe to the kayak, whilst others got more fun from being in a kayak.
We were blessed with really nice autumn weather, and the water on the reservoir was as calm as a proverbial millpond. This even encouraged a few brave [some would say fool hardy] members to have “a dip” in the water, and if nothing else this gave the rest of us a good laugh as they emerged shivering and bedraggled from the reservoir!
As one of those who got so much out of the day, I would like to thank Glenn from BSBP for organising the event from our end, and to thank Helen, Joanna, Natalie, Matthew and Geoff for making us all feel so welcome and for acting as our instructors and pilots.
Derek J Heyes
Have a look at our new look website where you can find out all about the club and what we do. http://www.boltoncanoeclub.org.uk/
Also become more connected by becoming a member of our Forum!
Hope to see you on Monday nights; till then, stay wet!
Last night (7/8/2010) members of the club set off from adlington in search of adventure and ice cream.
They paddled a few miles north to Fredricks ice cream parlour for refreshments of the milk and ice variety.
Meanwhile Ron went off to bring in the herd for milking
The ice cream ” The cows want it back “
So a quick exit was made along the canal again to Adlington. A good time was had by all and we hope to maybe do this trip again over the summer.
We have recently had an FSRT (Foundation Safety & Rescue Training) course which is a basic course that aims to give you some understanding and knowledge of simple rescue techniques. It was run over two evening sessions at High Rid Reservoir. Six of us were on the course run by one of our club members, John.
The course consists of safety techniques for use on sheltered water and is a pre-requisite for those wanting to go on to become coaches. Although the course itself does not require expert paddlers, it is for all paddlers with, at minimun, some paddling experience. The 6 of us had a vast range of experience between us, going from those with a bit of flat water experience and one or two river trips under their belt through to those with a fair amount of river experience and having done similar courses in the past.
The first session covered throw line work on the bank and on the water rescue techniques in kayaks. These included ‘T’ rescues, ‘X’ rescues and ‘H’ rescues; as well as being able to recover an unconscious inverted paddler in their kayak. Although the first session was on a fairly cool June evening, all the really wet work was left to the end to keep us as warm as possible all evening.
The second session was on a sunny June evening and gave us the opportunity to practise our throw line work with people in the water and then bringing them ashore. We had a refresher of some of the kayaking rescue techniques and we also used open canoes and learned the appropriate techniques for rescuing capsized open boats. This session seemed to have a lot more wet work involved, which was fine as it was a sunny summer evening, and I think we all enjoyed getting wet that day!
All in all, everyone had fun and we learned something new about rescuing our peers on the water. A fun, enjoyable course of benefit to everyone on it.
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After some discussion its been decide to change the location to Coniston Hall. A few people need to come back early and this makes the trip more accesible to everyone. General plan is a flat water paddle and picnic , probably a barbeque saturday evening weather permitting and then we will see what happens. Some people are going up Friday night but roll up whenever but if you could let me know how many people, and when you are coming I can liase with the campsite.
This is a laid back fun weekend with a few beverages and a good laugh and no festival tents (Ok Potts)
Everyone welcome
Bubbles
Please talk to Potts/Ken about borrowing kit etc .
Some new members first session at our summer location
Its a long way to the other end, Tom in the fore ground
Open Boats and Kayaks welcome
Paddling full circle
Geoff paddling Glen's surf kayak off into the sun set
