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Wednesday 31 December 2014

More Welsh Water (not the kind that comes out of the tap)

Had another great day on the river yesterday paddling the Sennybridge to Aberbran section of the Usk, my first time that far up the river. Although the river was pretty low, the three signature drops on the section were still loads of fun, and made up for one or two sections being a bit of a boulder-filled 'adventure'. Will did a fine job of catching much of the trip on his Go-Pro, with a write up and footage on his blog here.

Monday 29 December 2014

The Wild Wild West (of Wales)

Deep in the little-known depths of Wales, far from the nearest cappuccino, there is a river. A very special river. The river Tywi or Towy - not to be confused with the rivers Tawe and Taw - winds its way through the rolling hills and steep gorges around Llandovery, with enough rapids and drops to make the 90 minute drive more than worth it.

We got on the river a little downstream of Junction Pool, where an initial "You can't get on here" from the local farmer turned out to mean 

"Paddlers don't bother me in the least, but the bugger who owns the opposite bank can't stand anyone enjoying themselves for free so he's put up a bloody big fence. Two in fact. Topped with barbed wire. Oh, and he's going to plant a load of spiky hawthorn bushes to stop people getting down to the river".

The farmer was pleasant enough, and it was easy to see why he didn't want paddlers using his bank to get on; living in the middle of nowhere, you have to keep the neighbours happy, even the passive aggressive (or just plain aggressive) ones who have too much time and money on their hands. £1.50 each lighter in the pocket though and he kindly let us use his bank access.

The run itself had a few small drops, some decent sized wave trains and a couple of nice little rapids, great grade 2 fun all in all.

With the air temperature hovering around 4 degrees though, and the water cooler still, I couldn't feel my hands for much of the trip, and at one point my toes were so cold that I was convinced my right foot had somehow become detached from my leg. A couple of months ago I light-heartedly mocked one of our club members for wearing pogies (not least because it rhymes with... I'm sure you get the idea). After yesterday I'm beginning to think it might be a good idea to invest in some, either that or some kind of kayak mounted system for heating the water immediately around my boat (maybe I could recharge it with hot air from fishermen? Hmm, I see a plan forming)


The final rapid just before the get out at Dolauhirion bridge was the only grade 3 drop on the run, a fairly steep drop with a decent sized stopper at the bottom. We'd scouted it from the bridge and from river level before we got on the river, and it looked as though there was a pretty distinct slot on the left to drop easily through. From above though, the line was nowhere to be seen. I went hard left and managed to miss the top of the slot, dropping in from the side and nearly capsizing on the edge of the stopper. Three others in the group hit the line spot on. And swam. It seems a little bit of mild directional error can be a good thing sometimes, and it was nice not to be the one capsizing for a change.

So the winter of paddling continues...

Snaps courtesy of Graeme from Monmouth Canoe Club. Cheers Graeme!

Sunday 21 December 2014

Thoughts on a mountain tragedy

The professional outdoor world has been ablaze with debate and discussion over the past few days, thanks to the findings of a fatal accident report by a Scottish Sheriff.

The full judgement can be found here, but in summary, the inquiry concerned the death in 2012 of Graham Paterson, an experienced hillwalker and climber who was self employed, taking clients out in the hills of Skye. Although Mr Paterson had been taking clients out since 1995-96 and has been referred to as a mountain guide, he did not hold any formal qualifications in this area. This forms the background to some of the Sheriff's recommendations.

Mr Paterson fell on a grade 4 winter climb, in the company of a client who had asked for, and thought that she was going on a winter walk. When the accident occurred, the client did not know which mountain she was on, let alone the exact location, and Mr. Paterson was badly injured and unable to tell her. With considerable difficulty and at considerable personal risk, the client was able to descend the mountain and summon help.

Evidence was given by a local MIC holder and by the deputy head of the Scottish Adventurous Activity Licensing Service (AALS). Both were unequivocal that the client should not have been on the route she was, given her own stated level of experience, and that furthermore she should have been more involved in the route planning, as well as being provided with emergency procedures.

The Sheriff states in his report that 'the underlying cause of the risks to which (the client) was exposed was the unregulated nature of mountain guiding in Scotland' and that 'it is incumbent upon policy makers to discover a means by which mountain guides in Scotland are properly qualified and equipped to provide the service which they promote and which they operate for commercial gain'

This is no knee jerk reaction, the likes of which can be seen in the uninformed comment of the Daily Mail every time there is a death in the mountains. The Sheriff did not call for a minimum level of qualifications, nor did he call for the banning of non-professionals from the mountains and uplands of the UK. Instead, at a time when the UK government has been considering removing the requirement for licensing of outdoor activities for children, the Sheriff seems to call for the expansion of the AALS approach to the adult sector.

The current situation in law is that an outdoor professional can demonstrate their competence in a number of ways, including the use of formal qualifications. It is also possible to demonstrate competence through long experience. Where the competence-based route can fall down is in the area of continual professional development, in particular keeping up with developments in best practice and new technology. The licensing approach, with its emphasis on technical advisors, attempts to address this concern.

The distinction between children and adults that forms the basis of the AALS regime is based on the premise that adults are (or should be) more able to understand and assess the risks involved in an activity. When commercial services are engaged however, this process of risk assessment becomes blurred, and in practice, paying clients expect that risks will be managed for them.

So, licensing, a no-brainer right? Well, at a cost of £700+ for a 1-3 year license under AALS, many small providers are discouraged from taking on licensable activities. If this approach were extended into the adult market, how many small businesses would decide to pack it all in? Would we be left with a few big players taking people out on the same routes and offering a less than personal service, or would prices simply rise to absorb the licensing and technical advice fees?

There are no easy answers, and this case appears to be unusual rather than indicative of a wider problem amongst outdoor professionals, but I believe there is some wisdom in the cautious steer given towards licensing by the Sheriff. Regardless of the next steps though, there will always be risk in the mountains. The focus must remain on sound judgement and decision making, with external controls a secondary concern.

Friday 28 November 2014

And a bit wetter still...

The season of guinea pigging and generally trying to paddle as much as possible continues!

A first ever session paddling on the artificial course at Cardiff International White Water Centre found me fighting to hit eddies in the fast flow and finding little respite in those I managed to make it into. Unlike most of the rivers I have paddled, the whitewater course has fast recirculating eddies, meaning that when I paddled out of the flow, there was no real rest to be found. With vicious swirling boils to be found on each eddy line as well, I rolled and swam my way down the course.

The final indignity came on only my third run around the course, when I capsized, rolled back up again and promptly capsized again, with the concrete bottom of the course smashing into my paddle, which in turn smacked into my nose. A runny nosebleed and a bit of TLC from the centre staff later, and I was on my way home, chastened but determined to return and get to grips with the CIWW course.

A few days later, my much anticipated 4 star kayak training failed to materialise, due to an unforseen 2AM detour to west Gloucestershire, but that's another story...


I made day 2 of the training, and had a great day on the River Usk, with top-notch coaching from Paul Marshall of Inspire 2 Adventure. We ran the Talybont to Llangynidr section of the river, including the grade 3 Mill Falls rapid, a first for me, so I can't wait for the next course in January.

The latest bit of paddling was back up to North Wales, guinea pigging with Getafix again on a 4 star open canoe assessment.

A perfectly still first day on the Dovey Estuary gave me and Laura a fantastic introduction to open water canoeing, with wide-ranging vistas across the river in the early winter sunshine. The second day was on the River Dee, with eerie mist shrouding the riverbanks as we got on and bitterly cold weather prevailing for most of the day. The Dee had an entirely different personality to the last time we paddled it, with higher water leaving the Serpent's Tail almost washed out. The run from Horseshoe Falls to Llangollen seemed to take no time at all in the faster water, and it was soon time to bid farewell to North Wales again. For now.

Saturday 8 November 2014

Wet November Work

Today marked the worst weather day at work I have had this year. Heavy rain was forecast, and my congratulations go to the Met Office for a highly accurate forecast. That didn't put off the group though, a fantastic set of 4 families staying at the Dean Field Studies Centre.

Despite the rain and cold, the group had a great morning of zipwiring, climbing and leap-of-faithing (leaping faithfully?) on the centre's ropes course. Tiny Lucy was a star, defying the laws of physics to climb half way up the wall despite the holds clearly being too far apart for her and thoroughly enjoying the zipwire alongside her dad.

I don't have many days work left this year, just hoping they're all as enjoyable as this one!

Tuesday 4 November 2014

If you're not getting wetter, you're not getting better!

... or so I was told many years ago when I made my first tentative paddle strokes on white water at Symonds Yat rapids. This week has seen me upside down and back to front almost as often as paddling the right way around, but despite this I'm convinced that I am indeed getting better.

A leisurely canoe on the Wye between Erwood and Glasbury was rudely interrupted by Hell Hole rapid, where my hasty readjustment to run a fast chute backwards was described as 'the coolest thing I've seen all year' by one of our group. If only it had been fully intended...

The Wye was only a warm up for 2 days as a mock student on a 4 star kayak assessment in North Wales organised by Getafix coaching. The first day was spent on the Vrynwy, a new river to all of the candidates, as well as me, Laura and the other 'guinea pigs'. With pretty consistent white water almost from the word go, the upper section of the river was fantastic fun, and not too difficult to run. Reaching Dolanog Weir - a pretty horrendous looking set of drops with a tree in the flow for good measure - we took the sensible option and walked around it.

Further down river, things began to get more interesting. Our leader for one section skidded high onto a rock running one drop that looked fairly innocuous from above, but proved to be far trickier. I tried to run the drop to the left, but was forced onto a rock, capsizing me only about 2 metres above the drop. Common sense overcame my initial instinct to try to roll, and I hunkered down instead with my face pressed close to my deck. Four or five thuds followed as the back of my head bounced off the rocks, until eventually the thumping stopped and I rolled back up, safe but disorientated at the bottom of the rapid. Craig, one of the candidates, insisted that I took the perfect line, with the only problem being that I was upside down at the time! Given the amount of expensive kit involved in kayaking, I was pleased to finally make use of my helmet.

Day 2 was spent on the Dee between Horseshoe Falls and Llangollen. The river was high, with the island at Serpent's Tail rapid partially flooded. After a bit of consultation with Pete, the assessor, I decided to run the main drop, and came up with a fairly detailed plan: Leave the eddy and ferry glide across to the start of the wave train. Follow the wave train towards the drop. Hard left into the drop, hard right out of the bottom. Here's what actually happened: Leave the eddy and battle across the flow, hitting the wave train part way down instead of at the top. Battle to stay on the wave train, struggle to avoid capsizing above the drop. Oh, hold on a minute - there's the drop. Fall down the drop into a foaming wall of white water. Oh dear, I seem to be upside down again. Wait. Wait. I think I might be out of the rapid now, try a roll. And again. That's better, I can breathe again. Head for the eddy. Capsize again on the eddy line. Roll back up again and catch breath.

Further shenanigans and playing in stoppers downstream led to me rolling 3 or 4 times more over the course of the day, but oddly enough left me more confident in my own abilities than before, which brings me to today. Cheque in the post, 4 star training booked.


Monday 27 October 2014

Loop the Loop: A weekend on the Dart

Having missed the last 2 club trips to Dartmoor, I was excited to finally be able to make it this year. I'd paddled on the River Dart once before when I was very new to kayaking, but only on the easy lower section. Now it was time to step up a gear and take on the Dart Loop, a classic intermediate whitewater run.

As we drove down the M5 the water levels were already dropping following a dry few days, so we made straight for the put-in at Newbridge. An easy chute underneath the bridge led onto the warm up section, with all of us taking our time down towards the 'Washing Machine' rapid. With a 1 metre drop, I couldn't see what was coming, and instead of punching through the stopper at the bottom, I nose-dived into it, causing a capsize and roll.

With nothing more serious than a bit of wounded pride to deal with, I paddled on, following the rest of the group towards 'Lover's Leap', the second of the 3 main rapids on the Loop. We got out to scout this one, as it's somewhat longer than the others and harder to see the line from upstream. Craig, one of the more experienced among us, pointed out the main hazards, including a couple of large boulders to the right of centre, and I headed off, trying to follow his line. The rocks proved easier than expected to avoid, and we headed on towards 'Triple Drop', the final significant rapid of the run.

At triple drop, I somehow managed to capsize on the first, relatively simple, drop, before recovering and taking on the remainder of the rapid with no difficulty. After portaging at Holne Weir, we finished by 2PM, just in time to drive back to Newbridge and do it all again!

With the rivers dropping further throughout the weekend, we only managed a run on the lower Dart, followed by an interesting excursion on the Plym, where boat scraping rocks blended with a few short and sharp chutes to make an enjoyable afternoon. We ran both of the weirs on this section, and stopped to play a while on the first one, which proved to be a pretty grabby, if shallow, spot. Sound effects from Laura added to the entertainment as she skittered and skidded across the face of the weir, screaming loudly as she did.

Despite the lack of rain, we made the most of the weekend, enjoying a couple of decent runs on the Loop and scouting out a new river with potential as a beginners' run in higher water. Next time, more rain though please!

Thursday 9 October 2014

Blowing a hoolie!

With cold, damp feet, an aching left knee and the rain still driving at my face, I reached the car park at 6.30PM. After 2 ill-advised days in the hills I was glad to get back to the car, but then I saw it. Glass. Shattered glass inside the car. My heart sank as I realised the car had been broken into in my absence, but with Laura waiting half way down the road the only thing for it was to drive down anyway, sitting on a heap of icy white cubes.

It didn't make sense though; my wallet was untouched, there was still gear on display in the back, and 2 pairs of approach shoes stashed in the footwells. There was no sign anyone had had a go at the radio either, and it was then that it dawned on me: it was the wind. 120mph winds were reported on the tops that day, and my car windows had fallen victim to a hail of supercharged gravel and stones, hurled at high speed against the glass until it shattered. With those kinds of forces unleashed over the hills that day it made me think that perhaps the last minute route change - trying to salvage something out of hazardously cold, wet and windy conditions - had been the wisest thing I had done all week.

The original plan was to walk the Lharig Ghru from the north, staying at the Corrour Bothy before heading up the Tailor Burn to Ben Macdui and a night on the Cairngorm plateau, heading back down again after 2 nights in the hills. The forecast though, stayed resolutely poor in the days leading up to the trip. High winds became a prediction of 100mph on the second day, when we would have been camping on the high ground, and rain was a constant.



The hasty revision found us staggering up Miadan Creag an Leth Choin, leaning comically into the wind and swaying like saturday night students. When we reached the slope leading to Cairn Lochan, it was bitterly cold, and with low cloud swirling down from the south, visibility was down to metres. I seriously considered turning back, particularly knowing that this was probably the worst conditions Laura had been out in, but with down jacket and new Gore Tex waterproof to shield her from the elements, she was loving every step.

"It's like a rollercoaster!" she yelled over the force of the wind, and so we plunged onwards into the mist-shrouded col below.

With a cloudy boulderfield between us and Macdui, the compass came out for the first time, confirming the route between several marker cairns to the base of the final climb, and thirty windswept minutes later we stood at the top. Surrounded by thick cloud and with increasingly heavy rain and wind chilling us through, there were no views to be had and the only proof of our location was to be found in the trig point.

Hastily consulted bearings took us down from the top to the vicinity of the Tailor Burn, which we intended to follow to the valley floor, but despite the heavy rain there was no sign of the stream, only a low lying area that I guessed must house its headwaters. The slope down was not as steep as I expected, but as the clouds dispersed below, I discovered why. In my haste, I had taken us slightly beyond Tailor Burn, and we almost dropped into the next coire to the south.

As evening approached, we reached the shelter of the Corrour Bothy, unoccupied but with a rucksack and sleeping bag inside, together with a note referring to a helicopter rescue the previous day. On that sobering thought, we collapsed into our sleeping bags and slept through the growing wind and rain hammering on the roof.

A relentless slog up the Lharig Ghru the following day brought no improvement in the weather, but at least we had a tailwind for most of the journey. Fine weather picnic spots seemed to appear everywhere, from the Pools of Dee to the steep chasm at the headwaters of Allt Druidh, but with such poor weather we had no incentive to stop.



Finally, as we passed through the impressive Chalamain Gap, the sun began to pierce the clouds, and a double rainbow appeared at the end of the boulder-filled canyon. What fine views remained of the day began to present themselves as we rounded the corner of Lurcher's Crag and made our way back towards the car park.



The weather was terrible, the car was badly damaged, but it can be repaired and the hills will still be there next year. And the year after...

Thursday 2 October 2014

Unfinished Business and the Unpronounceable Scramble

We leave tomorrow. Six hours to Carlisle and the luxury of Travelodge. Another 4 hours to Aviemore where it all starts, or should that be continues?

Back in 2007, as a very green and inexperienced hiker grovelling away for a living in the kitchens of a PGL centre, I set out to climb Ben Macdui. A 9.30AM start in November probably wasn't the smartest of moves, but then again, who gets everything right first time around? I made it as far as the March Burn that time, before the thickening cloud and fine drizzle soaking through my Regatta 'waterproof' sent me scuttling back to the car park before dusk fell. I've been exiled from Scotland ever since.

Tomorrow I travel back to the Cairngorms, courtesy of a long running card game competition with Laura: if she won, we agreed to go to Alton Towers. My prize was the Cairngorms, or maybe Skye, or some other place in Scotland. Secretly it was always about the Cairngorms; I felt I had failed first time around, even if turning back was the right decision. With a slightly older and greyer head on my shoulders now though, Ben Macdui would be great, but it's not the only game in town.

Despite the poor forecast for the week we're going to give the West Highlands a shot too. A friend who knows about these things recommends Aonach Eagach, which coincidentally is the sound I made last time I had a gut infection. Cowardice being the best part of valour, we'll have to see how it all pans out. Plenty more to do if that all goes belly up.

Watch this space...