[TR] Paddling in Poland

LUCINDA MANOUCH'S DAILY WILDLIFE

BLOG CAN BE FOUND AT http://mysnowdoniagarden.blogspot.com/

The Ultimate Flat Water Adventure

Discovering places untouched by British Tourism is always an adventure. Time consuming journeys and battling language barriers is enough to put anyone off but in my search for family friendly paddling I think I’ve come up with the ultimate expedition adventure.
I flew into Berlin on Friday afternoon and there was a taxi waiting for me to take me the two hour drive over the border to Poland. I was heading for the town of Skwierzyna in the Lubuskie district of western Poland. The area boasts over a hundred lakes and several large rivers yet doesn’t even get a mention in any Lonely Planet guides.
So I arrived at this lovely little campsite just after 8pm to find a tent already put up for me and inside was a stove, a couple of bottles of water and to my surprise two cans of local beer, this was my kind of outfitter! There was also a 1:80,000 map of the area and a brief guide the River Obra, the main reason I had come here.
The River Obra is over 165km long and travels through the heart of western Poland. The river starts near Babimost where it flows through several lakes then winds its way up to Policko, where my story begins.
It was 10am on Saturday morning; I’d packed the tent away, sorted my kit out into dry bags and waited for Simon the Outfitter. Bang on time he arrived with what looked like a brand new boat on his roof-bars. I was so excited and very glad I hadn’t eaten breakfast as we drove, very quickly down dusty and extremely bumpy tracks to get to the river. As all my friends know, I have the silly spraydeck/ kayak fear thing going on and had been adamant on the phone to Simon before I left that I needed an open boat to do the trip. However, Simon kept saying, everyone who’d paddled this river before had always done it in a kayak and I really should consider it. But I new best (well I thought I did) and he’d succumb and bought me a brand new Warthe Canoe. It was a lovely looking boat with moulded skegs front and back, all shiny and new.
I loaded all my gear in, tent, food and water etc, had my map and GPS in front of me and said goodbye to Simon.
We’d agreed a pick up point some 70km down river, where the River Obra joins the River Warta, and were to keep in regular contact by mobile phone throughout the trip.
The paddle I was given I discovered quite quickly, was far too long for me but by modifying my stroke, to a pull and slice and never actually taking the blade out of the water, I managed ok. The temperature was high in the 80’s and the reeds on the edge of the river did little to shade me, so out came the tilly style hat (I was in the middle of nowhere, no one could see me) and a long sleeved shirt. The first few km of paddling where effortless. I was so chilled out. The river was like a forgotten millpond with incredible reflections on the water. There was a pair of young kingfishers darting to and fro in front of the boat and frogs leaping off lily pads as I floated by. By late afternoon I’d only paddled about 10km, mainly due to the lack of current, which I wasn’t expecting. By 5pm I had started looking for somewhere to camp for the night. Simon had said there were lots of places to pitch a tent but so far I hadn’t seen a get-out for a pee spot let alone somewhere to camp. I carried on further down the river and came to some sort of civilization. It was a huge building set in beautiful grounds and even had a picnic table next to the river. I should have jumped at the chance of camping here but the big building was actually an old asylum. This was the place where thousands of mentally ill and disabled people were euthanized under Hitler’s rule during the war. It is still used as an asylum to this day but obviously the regime has changed considerably by now. Although it looked like a perfect spot to camp I couldn’t help feeling uneasy and took the chance on finding another spot further along. It actually took another 4km to find one but it was worth it. It was a bit of a squeeze to pitch the tent on the tiny bank but I felt a lot safer and relaxed there. I took out my stove and made my favourite expedition meal, veg sausages and beans with instant mash potato. It tasted fantastic and it wasn’t long before I was tucked up in my bag and fell asleep. I did get woken up twice during the night by something rather large rustling around in the rubbish bag I’d left outside. I tried to see what it was but it ran off both times before I could undo the zip of the tent.
The following morning I was up and on the river by 8.30am. Again it was an easy paddle reaching the town of Miedzyrzecz by late morning. There were lots of fishermen along the banks and they were all so friendly. My pigeon polish seemed to get me by as they wished me good morning and asked where I was from. Once through the town the river became slightly more challenging with fallen branches scattered about, which the skegs of my boat got stuck on every time. I didn’t mind until a couple of German day trippers on a plastic sit on top glided over the branches and overtook me. It was a little frustrating but I wouldn’t have got all my gear on a sit on top and they were only paddling a few km from one campsite to another. Apparently this stretch of river is very popular with Polish and German holidaymakers who hire the canoes from AdventurePoland.com or by the hour from the two campsites situated next to the river. As I left civilisation behind again the feel of the river completely changed. At first I couldn’t believe how stunningly beautiful this stretch of water was. It was like paddling through an enchanted forest with the sun glimmering through the trees and white tailed eagles calling to each other high in the sky. But the feeling soon changed from awe inspiring to quite scary. The frogs suddenly disappeared and snakes appeared in their place and were swimming in the water all around my boat. There were strange noises coming from the river bank as wild boar rustled their way through the long grass. I’d been told that Lynx and Wolves still roamed Poland so every noise filled my senses and I was constantly looking over my shoulder. To make things even more interesting I was now paddling through an old untouched forest with fallen tree’s everywhere. The banks of the river where 15 metres high either side of me, so portaging just wasn’t an option. So with one eye on the snakes and another looking for things about to pounce from the trees above me I slowly dragged, pushed and prised my boat through the maze which lay before me. If only I had had a sit on top right now this would have been so easy. I think I’d have quite enjoyed chucking a virtually indestructible boat about in these conditions. But as it was I was terrified of ramming a hole straight through the fragile fibreglass shell of my canoe. I was finding this stretch of river quite tough just because I was on my own and the boat was quite heavy. However, I ploughed on and a few hours later, left the forest behind and was out in the blazing sunshine again. There was the odd tree down here too but I managed to guide my boat under most of them as I climbed over the top. By now it was getting quite late and I needed to reach the lake in time to pitch my tent before nightfall. I paddled hard and fast and almost missed seeing the beaver swimming just feet away from my boat. The canoe now came into its own and in no time at all the river merged into the beautiful lake of Bledzewskie. This is what the boat was designed for and according to my GPS I was travelling a good 11km an hour unlike the 2.4km I’d averaged through the forest. There were lots of happy voices and music coming from the woods around the lake but I didn’t see anyone. I found a nice spot in a pine forest to pitch my tent and watched a beautiful sunset go down over the water. Simon phoned to check I was ok and to see if I needed any food, water or even vodka dropping off. I’ve never met an outfitter who’d come and find you each evening and bring you beer, How cool is that? This would definitely entice a lot of my friends to come on expedition with me next time.
The following morning I was up early again but spent some time exploring the woods. To my surprise I came across a triangular wooden shack which on further inspection turned out to be a proper toilet, not a flush one obviously but after 2 days of wild camping a hole in some wood and a pit was luxury. By 8am the lake was filling up with tiny fishing boats and the odd tandem kayak. I paddled out and met a lovely Dutch couple who were paddling on the lake and they kindly offered to take some photos of me for my article. Apart from Simon these were the only English speaking people I had met throughout the entire journey. Even the lady who owned the campsite I stayed in on the first night said (I think) she had never had an English person stay their before.
So here I was on day three getting ready for the final stage of my trip. So far it had been an amazing trip even with the odd fallen tree to overcome. The scenery had been breathtaking and the wildlife incredible. I would happily take my family or even someone new to the sport on this stretch of the river but I would take Simons advice and take a kayak next time. As what they call kayaks aren’t what we call kayaks. Something has been lost in translation and their kayaks were poly-compound flat bottomed boats which have high sides but are not enclosed. Absolutely perfect for these conditions and I could have got all my gear in one!
Ok so back to day three. This didn’t go quite according to plan. It’s a long story but Simon turned out to be the brother in law of the guy who dealt with the canoe side of the company, and had never been in a canoe in his life. Marcin (the canoe guy) who happened to be away on exped in eastern Poland had left instructions for Simon which somehow got mixed up. It turned out I should have been dropped off 60km further up the river and where I was now was where I should have finished. But I didn’t find this out until much later. So unaware what lay ahead I merrily paddled the last bit of the lake towards a large dam which I had to portage (with help from a lovely old German guy who took pity on me). I put in on the other side and I ended up having to paddle through some stinking water with dead fish floating about, it really wasn’t pleasant. But soon I was back on the river and the water was moving faster, not quite grade one but it was moving. I was getting quite excited thinking I could do the final 25km in no time at all. There were a few trees but soon I had open fields either side of me. Each field had a very tall wooden tower which I presumed where bird-watching hides. However, I later learnt these where for hunters to use in shooting deer and wild boar. I saw some black woodpeckers which I’d never seen before and even heard some corncrakes. Again it was another beautiful day without a cloud in the sky and I was quite sad that this would be my last day on the water as I was enjoying it more than any other trip I’d ever done.
I’d paddled another couple of km when I came across what looked like a broken down old bridge. It took me ages to get my boat to the other side. I had to jump on the front of the canoe to push it down far enough to get under struts then climb back over the bridge, jump on the other end to get that end under. It was actually quite dangerous as the bridge felt like it would snap into pieces beneath me as I climbed back over.
The next km of river was lovely until the trees started to get thicker and I found myself paddling under a thick canopy of branches. It was quite dark under there and the temperature dropped considerably. I’d only gone a few hundreds yards when I saw my first beaver downed tree. These weren’t normal trees, like the other ones had been, these where giants. Some of them were well over a metre wide and they easily spanned the entire river. I dragged my boat over the first one and as I stood on a semi submerged trunk I looked ahead and all I could see was tree after tree blocking my route. My heart sank, it had been hard enough just getting over this one but I could see at least another 20 in front of me. So I took a few deep breaths and struggled on. Each tree was taking a good ten minutes to get over and by lunch time I was shattered. I was starting to feel like I’d never get out of there; in my mind it had became a psychological endurance test between me and the river. Everywhere I looked I was surrounded by fallen trees. There was no going back and there was no getting out so I had to carry on. I was so tired I’d started being clumsy and banged my head quite badly on broken branches I hadn’t seen. Some of the trees I managed to squeeze through. I’d have to lie flat on my back in the boat and drag myself under using my arms. I stupidly tried to do this under two trees at the same time and got stuck half way. It was terrifying. I couldn’t get up, my body was pressed between the boat and the underside of the two fallen trees and the boat was jammed against another branch. I could feel the rough bark digging into my chest. I could move my arms but the claustrophobic panic was starting to kick in. I couldn’t even reach my mobile phone to call for help. How I got out of that I don’t know. But someone must have been looking down on me from somewhere as I eventually managed to wiggle my way free. My face and chest were cut and scratched and my hands and knees where bleeding but I was ok. I was quite shook up though and sat for what seemed like hours on top of the next fallen tree trying to work out what to do next. I thought about calling Simon for help, even with the 15 meter high banks he could have found me with his GPS and he is really into his 4x4 off-roading and even runs expeditions by landrover so I’m sure he could have reached me some way or other. But that would be giving up and I didn’t want to do that, so I determinedly carried on. Every now and again I’d stop, have a mouth full of red jelly babies and wait for the sugar rush to give me the energy to get over the next tree. My next problem arose when the river split into two. It didn’t on my map but in front of me I had to make the decision. The water was running evenly into both channels and they both had fallen trees blocking the way as far as the eye could see. I didn’t have a clue which way to go. I chose to go right and prayed I wouldn’t find it to be a dead end a few km further down the river. One of the yuckiest moments was when I crouched down to get under another tree which didn’t look too bad and half way through I noticed this huge slimy fungus growing underneath which spread yellow foul smelling goo all in my hair and down my back. Not a nice sensation.
By 5pm I had had enough of all this hard work and truly wanted to cry. I’d been dragging my boat over and under trees for the best part of 8 hours solid. My hands were sore and my whole body was aching. My map was telling me I should have reached my get out point 2km back and I was starting to worry I’d missed it. By 6pm I started to hear traffic and soon I was manoeuvring my way under a big yellow and blue bridge which wasn’t on my map. I phoned Simon to see if I was anywhere near where I should be but he didn’t have a clue which bridge this could be. He offered to find me using the GPS but I said I’d carry on a little further as I still had an hour or so of daylight left. The river didn’t let up and I endured another 7km of fallen trees before I finally reached my pick up point. As soon as I saw the get out spot my body instantly gave up. I could hardly move my arms and didn’t have the strength to stand. I dragged myself onto the bank and just lay there totally and utterly exhausted. It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of Simon’s 4x4 driving down to the river. It was only then that it hit me that I’d done it. I had successfully done what we think is the first ever British Solo decent of the River Obra by canoe.
The boat was a mess. Three days earlier it had been brand new and shiny, now it was scratched all over, chunks missing out of the side, gauge marks on the top and absolutely filthy. If I’d known what the river was like I would have never taken that boat down there. In fact if I’d listened to Simon and took what they call a kayak down it would have been a completely different trip. Also thinking about it, it had been a hot summer and the water levels where lower than usual so that could have made things a little harder than usual too.
So to summarise, the river it spilt into three sections. The first from Trzciel to Meidzyrzec is easy and relaxing, even your Gran could manage this bit. The second section between Meidzyrzec and Bledzew is definitely trickier but ideal for a real family adventure. I found this bit to be the most enchanting stretch of river I have ever paddled. Even the photographs which are stunning still don’t quite capture the absolute magnificence and splendour of this unique stretch of river. The final part of the river from Bledzew to where it meets the Warta in Skwierzyna is definitely not for the faint hearted. It only takes a day but it’s a hell of a day!

Info:
Flights from £25 with easyjet or Jet2.com (flight takes less than 2 hours)
Taxi: 220 zlotes which is roughly £45 (cheap considering its well over a 100km drive) but you could get a train or bus for a fraction of that price.
Or you could take your own car and drive the entire way; it’s only an 11 hour drive from Calais.

Outfitters: ADVENTURE POLAND: http://www.adventurepoland.com/
Tel: +48 95 755 7055

Boat Hire: Kayaks & 2 seater Canadian Canoes 30 Euro a day (approx £20)
Sit on top 25 Euro a day (approx £17)
(all boat hire includes buoyancy aids, paddles and shuttle at no extra cost)
Tent hire (3 person) 5 Euro a day (approx £3.40)
Cooking equipment (gas stove, kettle & pan) 5 Euro a day (approx £3.40)
Basic fishing kit 5 Euro a day (approx £3.40)

Adventure Poland have an English speaking guide. They can arrange drop off’s and pick ups at the start and end of every day if you prefer to stay in a guest house or hotel. They can also arrange to drop off fresh food and water and even Polish vodka for you at your campsite in the evening. They also run 4x4 expeditions and do cycle hire.
A big thanks to Simon for everything. To Roman who let me sample the local delicacy of Pierogi, to Pyranha for giving me an ace River dry bag for the journey, to Max who spent 3 hours over the phone teaching me how to use my GPS and finally to my mum and my hubby for not going too ballistic with me when they realised on day two I was doing a solo decent.

[TR] Swallows and Amazons (Coniston Water)

LUCINDA MANOUCH'S DAILY WILDLIFE BLOG CAN BE FOUND AT

www.LucindasGarden.co.uk

Real Ales & Pirates

It was Saturday morning, I was sat eating my cornflakes and flicking through the December issue of CKUK, when I came across the Lakeland Adventure article about Derwent Water. I’ve been so busy this year trying to find warm countries to paddle, that I’d actually forgotten how much I use to enjoy paddling in the Lake District. So out came the maps and with a quick call to Al, to see if he was doing anything that afternoon, it was all sorted. By 12.30pm the car was packed, the boat was on the roof and we were on our way.
As we made the 3 hour trip to Cumbria I was still trying to decide which lake to visit. Some I had paddled before, some where just too small and some seemed a little tricky to get to. Then I saw Coniston water on the map and memories of playing Swallows and Amazons on the river as a child came flooding back. Author Arthur Ramsome had based the story around Coniston Water and I’d heard, the novel’s landmarks where easily identified. For those of you, who didn’t read the book or see the film, the story goes basically like this. There was John, Suzie, Titty and Roger who were on holiday there and borrowed a boat named Swallow and there was Nancy and Peggy who were local’s and sailed a dingy called Amazon. They used to meet up on Wildcat Island and have adventures revolving around, sailing, fishing and piracy.

After a slight epic involving our canoe straps sheering off on quite a hazardous stretch of road just off the M6, we finally arrived in Coniston at 3.45pm and discovered there where quite a few campsites to choose from. We decided upon Coniston Hall campsite, which by the map, looked like it had direct access to the lake. It was tricky to find and we had to do a sharp u-turn off the main road to get to it. The 16th century Hall was a very impressive building with huge chimneys and a good array of (quite stoney) camping fields to choose from. We were charged £4.50 each for camping and an extra £1.00 to launch the canoe, which seemed quite reasonable. Camping on the beach wasn’t allowed but we managed to find a lovely spot literally 30 seconds away from the waters edge so ideal for launching the boat.
We pitched the tent and within 15 minutes I was on the water. It was a stunning afternoon. The sun was shining and the lake was lovely and calm. We only had a couple of hours before it would be dark so we decided to paddle across the lake and head towards the northern end. I had read that no powered craft were allowed on the lake so I was really surprised when this Steam powered Gondola came past us crammed to bursting with passengers.

It was heading to a small pontoon which we hadn’t noticed before. I thought I could make out some picnic tables and possible a café next to the pontoon. So we followed behind and sure enough we pulled up on a little pebbly beach surrounded by tables and sun umbrellas. As we stepped out from our canoe, much to the amazement of the other customers, a waitress came over and handed us the wine menu. It was excellent. We found a table and sat drinking our Cabernet Sauvignon as we watched with amusement some other holidaymakers and small children take a great interest in our boat. It wasn’t long before the sun started to set and we had to make our way back to the campsite. We took a short cut through the Marina which was home to some beautiful sailing yachts.
That evening we enjoyed a stroll across the fields to the village of Coniston. It was one thing wanting to relive childhood memories and finding Wildcat Island but it was just as exciting finding a Micro Brewery in a 400 year old coach house in the Village. Based in the old Black Bull pub, the Coniston Brewing Company make CAMRA award winning beers like the ‘Blue Bird Bitter’ and ‘Old Man Ale’. Obviously we had to sample them all so we could determine which was the finest ale. Although after 3 glasses, I was away with the fairies and can only vaguely remember walking home through a thick mist which had descended over the fields.
The following morning I was up early and headed straight for the lake. The mist was still thick and I couldn’t even make out ‘The Old Man of Coniston’ the highest fell in the area which stands 803 meters above the west side of the lake.
We made our way the southern end of the lake and saw what looked like ‘Wildcat Island’ on the other side. It would have been good to have a copy of the map printed inside the Swallows and Amazon’s book for reference as I’m sure I recognised lots of places like, Kanchenjunga, the Pigeon Post Country and the Amazon boathouses along the way. We reached the end of the lake and started to paddle down the River Crake for a while. However the flow started to get too strong and I was worried we wouldn’t make it back up, so we turned around and headed back to the lake.

Passing a tiny island with a single tree, I persuaded Al it would make a great photo if he stood on it, and to my surprise he did. Obviously I had to paddle away and leave him there, which I found quite funny. He really didn’t seem that bothered and looked quite happy there so I soon got bored and went back to get him.
It was now nearing lunch time so we headed straight for what we now new was Wildcat Island. I was so excited. Would it be how I’d imagined it all those years ago. I have to admit I had butterflies in my belly as we approached the Island. We paddled right around the Island and finally found a little inlet which was virtually hidden by rocks. We made our way down the gap and came to a little beach just big enough for two canoes. A tiny little path led us from the beach and through some bushes until we reached a big clearing in the trees. It was just like the book. The path continued up and with a bit of a scramble I was at the highest point of the Island and through the trees I could see all the way down the lake.

We stayed on the Island for an hour or so and had some lunch and a well deserved cup of tea. It was a shame we had to get back to Wales that evening as I would have loved to have stayed the night there. I don’t know if camping is officially allowed but it’s obviously well used and there were remains of several camp fires. It was now 2.30pm and we had to get back to the tent. A breeze had got up and was going in our direction so with a make shift sail made from my cag and two paddles, we sailed all the way back to camp.
We were only away for 24 hours but I honestly felt like I’d had a proper holiday. If you have more time than I did, then there is so much more to see in the area. Coniston is an ideal base for walking and climbing in the Lake District. The lake is famous for the world water speed record set by Donald Campbell in 1955 and which sadly cost him his life when he tried to regain it in 1967. There is a memorial to him on the village green and the shops in the area are full of ‘BlueBird’ memorabilia. Down the road there is the famous Ruskin Museum, which houses the tailfin of the famous Bluebird and artwork and books from Ruskin himself. There are copper mines dating back to Jacobean times and the Tilberthwaite Slate Quarries which are worth investigating.
Rowing boats and sailing dingies can be hired next to the café at the northern end of the lake where there is also a public slip way and boat storage facilities.
If you don’t own a boat and fancy taking the children for a weekend of adventure, then ‘Outdoor Connections’ run special Swallow and Amazon weekends especially for families. They visit all the famous places from the book, dress up as pirates, paddle out to the island, make pirate pennants to fly from their boats and have an action-packed couple of days guaranteed. And finally, don’t forget the Micro Brewery. Visits around the brewery can be made by prior arrangement but if you’re happy just sampling the beers then pop into The Black Bull or The Sun Hotel, where you’ll find the famous ‘Blue Bird Bitter’ and an array of other interesting ales.



Additional Info:
Coniston Hall Campsite Tel: 01539 441223
Outdoor Connections Tel: 07875 276607 website: http://www.outdoorconnections.co.uk/
Swallows and Amazons written by Arthur Ramsome available at http://www.amazon.com/

[TR] Paddling In Portugal

Canoe Free Holiday! Not a chance

A canoe free holiday, just for once that’s what we agreed. It was the end of November, hubby and I had literally just come back from an exhausting paddling trip on Rannoch Moor. In fact our past 4 holidays had all been physically hard Scottish trips with lots of wind and rain, so when I saw the words ‘a week in sunny Portugal’ staring out at me from the Travel agents window, I couldn’t resist. In I went and 10 minutes later it was all booked, sun, sea and tranquillity here we come. Excitedly, I got home and searched the Internet for info on the little fishing village where we were going to be staying. It didn’t take long before I found a website dedicated to it. I was gutted. The place looked so dreary and dull. I couldn’t find anything inspiring about the place whatsoever. What would I do for a whole week? I was going to be so bored. Then out of nowhere, a list of Portuguese Canoe outfitters appeared on my computer screen. How it got there, I’ll never know (or admit too) but there in front of me was the address of an outfitters based 20 minutes from where we were staying. It was fate. I was straight on the phone and before I new it I had booked a canoe, all the gear and even transport to the water. I was delighted, warm sunny relaxing paddling for once, now all I had to do was tell hubby.
I have to admit I was slightly apprehensive about paddling abroad. Not knowing the area, the bylaws or the language was quite nerve-racking. But Frank made everything so simple. Frank ran ‘Outdoor Tours’ based in Portomao on the Algarve. I told him on the phone the type of paddling I liked, flat water, loads of wildlife, beautiful scenery, completely stress free and he did the rest. For the slightly less adventurous he runs guided canoe tours for only 25 euro per person but hubby and I wanted to explore on our own and knowing we had some paddling experience he was more than happy to let us go it alone.
Three weeks later and there we were, sat drinking sangria in the village square waiting for Frank to pick us up. Right on time his landrover appeared with a big red Thermoplast canoe of the roof. I’ll be honest, I’ve never paddled a plastic bath before but I was so excited I was willing to give anything a go and as it turned out it wasn’t as bad as it looked. We drove along the coast to a little sandy beach called Praia Angrinha. Frank explained this would be our pick up point at the end of the day. A beautiful castle called “São João Arade” which was a perfect landmark to look out for, overlooked the beach.
We now drove inland for quite a while until we reached the village of Silves. We made our way down a little dirt track and ended up next to a picturesque roman bridge with a tranquil river flowing underneath. This was it, the start of our journey. Everything was perfect. We carefully got into the boat and we were off. I found the boat comfy enough and it wasn’t too hard to manoeuvre although hubby did keep comparing it to our Mobile Adventure Lowline we have at home, which is fitted out with a wine bottle holder and snacks tray (to expect that would have been a little too much I think).
Anyway, off we went down the river. We paddled through the village of Silves and out into the open countryside. The day was getting hotter so I put on my bikini and sunblock and laid back, letting the boat make its own way down the gently flowing river. About a mile down river we came across lots of branches and twigs in the water, that made it feel a bit like an exploration of unchartered waters. The reeds got higher on both sides so all we could see was the blue sky above and winding river in front. It was like being on the Amazon just smaller and without the crocodiles. The reeds were full of wildlife; large butterflies, kingfishers and little egrets all flying within inches of the boat. After about an hour the river started to widen and the odd telegraph pole came into view, all of which had a great big stalk sitting on top. They cocked their heads sideways in order to get a better view of the two strangers floating by in the red plastic tub. You could almost read what was going through their minds from the expressions of their faces.
It was now about midday so we decided to stop for some lunch. There were no pebbly beaches to get out onto so we ended up wedging ourselves on a small muddy bank. Out came the sandwiches and the crisps, oh a word of warning orange coloured Doritoes packets in Portugal are not cheese! Three litres of water later I realised they were Mexican chilli. Half an hour went by and it was time to get moving again. The only problem was we were firmly stuck in the mud. Only then did we remember that the river was tidal and as we’d been eating our lunch the tide had gone out and river had dropped. Using our paddles we tried to lever our way off but they just got stuck deep in the mud. There was nothing to do but for one of us to get out and push. As I was further up the bank hubby decided I’d be the best person to get out. It was disgusting. I put my leg over the side and sank in up to my calve. The suction of the mud was incredible and I was worried I’d never get out again, hubby on the other hand found it highly amusing. Finally after a lot of sweat and tears we managed to get afloat again. My shoes were ruined, so guess what hubby would be treating me to the next day J.
Further down river we came across a little bar, in the middle of nowhere. It had tables and chairs outside and even a small swimming pool. I would have done anything for a cool beer at that point but it was closed. I guess it was Christmas so I couldn’t really complain.
The river now opened up and turned into a large estuary. In the distance we could see a huge very modern looking bridge. As we got closer we saw the motorway that went over it. All the creaks and rumbles echoed beneath and I felt so vulnerable in our tiny little boat as we paddled under this huge structure. As we came out the other side I decided to take some photographs of what was, a very impressive piece of architecture, then ‘PLOP’ and we both fell silent. I’d been trying to change lenses on my camera and somehow the lens just fell overboard. I was devastated. I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t the camera but still it was horrid watching my favourite lens which cost more than the holiday disappear into the deep gloom below.
I think I was more upset because I couldn’t take more photographs for this article and was worried it might not get published without decent shots. I’ll just have to wait and see (<>).
The last part of our trip took us through the city of Portomao. From being in the middle of nowhere we were now paddling through a busy shipping lane surrounded by tower blocks. What an amazing experience. The contrast was spellbinding and I loved every minute of it. There was so much going on all around us. Huge galleons complete with canons moored next to ultra modem gym palaces. Jet ski’s and the coastguard where whizzing about and in the middle of it all a little old man in his colourful canoe, collecting mussels from the estuary bed with long rake, totally oblivious to the noise and bustle around him.
It wasn’t long before we saw the outline of the castle high up on the cliff in the distance. We paddled slowly towards the sandy beach not wanting the day to end, but as we dragged our boat through the scattered lobster pots on the sand we were already planning our next trip back.
Frank turned up shortly after and we all went for a cold beer before he dropped us off back at our apartment. This trip is a definite must for anyone who happens to be in the Algarve this year. To be able to paddle without worrying about gear or shuttles was so liberating and it only cost 25 euro! I would like to thank Frank for such a great time.
For more info on this trip and others (he does a 3 day boating/camping excursion on the Odeimra descent, which sounds great) call Outdoor Tours/Frank 00 351 916 736 226

[TR] Llangorse Lake

A Weekend in Wales

Hidden away in the heart of the Brecon Beacons lays one of Wales’s paddling jewels. It is the second largest lake in Wales and also one of Britains most important canoeing sites in history.
I first heard about the magnificent Llangorse lake, from Tony Robinson on the tv show Time Team back in the early 90’s. A small island in the middle of the lake had been identified as a ‘Crannog’. An iron age, man made island, which they discovered during the programme had been a Royal residence back in early medieval times. This was all quite interesting but what really caught my attention was the mention of the prior discovery, of an old canoe underneath the water. Way back in the 1920’s a local carpenter had spotted what appeared to be a dug out canoe at the bottom of the lake. After the long dry summer of 1925, the water had receded enough and a successful excavation was made. It was in remarkable condition and can now be seen at the Brecknock museum, a few miles down the road in Brecon. Initially they thought it was a roman craft but in 1970, it was radio-carbon dated at a staggering AD800. Well over a thousand years old.
OK so enough of the history lesson and back to the trip report.
I arrived at the lake on Saturday evening and received a lovely warm welcome from the staff at the Lakeside Caravan and camping site. I pitched my tent in ‘The Orchard Field’, which was literally a minute’s walk from the water edge. There was an excellent vibe in the field with a mixture of tents and caravans and people of all ages from all parts of the country. We even had a nightingale singing for us. The campsite has an excellent Bar, mini supermarket and a café for a late morning (or early, if you have kids) fry up and they serve an excellent mug of tea.
Sunday morning I took the short walk down to the lake and met Tabby, Callum, Jules and Tom who live in the nearby village and had come to show me around and keep me company on the first part of my journey. At the lakeside there is a large Round House visitor’s centre which is full of information and pictures about the lake and surrounding area. There’s a replica of the dug out canoe which was found in the lake and you can even buy some bird food and feed the very friendly ducks and swans. You can hire everything here from fishing boats to pedaloes, lasers to mountain bikes. I chose a Canadian 16 foot canoe which cost £20 for the whole day. A bargain considering that included hire of the paddles and buoyancy aids. Boats can also be hired by the ½ hour for a mere £4.00 so ideal for families wanting to give paddling a go for the first time or for carbon footprint fighting folk who like me, travel there by train and bringing their own boat isn’t a practical option.
The section of water around the Round House was bustling with different craft. There was one lady trying her wind surfer out for the very first time, a couple of quite large guy’s squashed into a tiny Laser that they’d just restored after 8 years and then there were the canoeists, the pedeloists (if there’s such a word) and some kayakers. I stayed around here for a while with the kids and we had a fantastic time. We’d tried loads of balancing games which ultimately ended up with all the kids getting totally drenched. It was great to see teenagers having so much fun on the water and not sat transfixed behind the latest video game on tv (gosh I sounded like my mother then).
Anyway, after an hour or so with the kids I decided to leave the bustle behind and paddled through the crowds past the Crannog and towards the furthest end of the lake. The scenery is stunning around here and the lake soon become peaceful, apart from the odd water skier that sped past every now and again. About half way down the western side, not far from where the ancient canoe was found, there’s a couple of small beaches ideal for a picnic. There is also a very rickety looking landing platform floating on the lake if you fancy stopping somewhere slightly different for lunch. I chose the beach as a pair of Swans had bagged the platform and I wasn’t feeling brave enough to argue with them.
As I ate my lunch I noticed some otter tracks on the beach and the remains of their last meal shoved between two rocks. I’d heard there was a good population of otters here however they tend to be nocturnal so imagine my delight when, just 20 meters away I spotted one coming out of the water. I got my camera out which, sadly disturbed it and he soon disappeared back into the lake, leaving me with only one slightly blurry photo.
After lunch I paddled to the furthest end of the lake which was a popular venue for fishing boats. According to one of the fishermen, the largest pike ever caught by rod in the UK was caught here, back in 1846 and weighed an almighty 68lbs!
Everyone I’ve met on this trip have been so friendly, even the fishermen! It really is a lovely part of the world.
I carried on around the lake past a church and some fields and then some towering high reeds. Unfortunately, landing on the eastern and southern end of the lake isn’t allowed as the reed beds and shore line are designated SSSI areas. A pain if you need to pee but fantastic if you enjoy bird-watching and looking out for rare mammals like the water vole.
I arrived back at the Round House in late afternoon, totally relaxed and happy from a wonderful day on the water but it was time for me to leave this fascinating lake.
The history which surrounds you here is incredible. To paddle, where our forefathers had paddled thousands of years ago and to sit in your boat knowing they had sat in their boats in that exact spot is absolutely mind blowing.

Useful Info
BRECKNOCK MUSEUM
The original dug-out canoe is on display just down the road in Brecknock Museum, Brecon. It is incredibly well preserved and well worth a visit.
Opening times: April-Sept Monday–Saturday 10-5pm. Closed between 1-2pm on Saturdays. Tel: 01874 624121. Admission: adults £1.00 children 50p


LAKESIDE CARAVAN PARK.
Caravan hire from £50.00 per night.
Camping £5.75 - £6.75 per adult per night. and children £3.25 each.
Open March til October
Tel: 01874 658226 Email: holidays@llangorselake.co.uk
Website: http://www.llangorselake.co.uk/

FISHING
The lake is purely a coarse fishery offering bream, roach, perch, pike and some unusually large eels. All fish must be returned. Bank fishing is not allowed but hire boats are nearly always available. Permits are required. (small children can stand on the small jetty around the corner from the roundhouse with their little rods and nets)

BOAT HIRE
Kayaks £5.00/ half an hour and £18.00 per day, Canadian Canoes £10.00 per half an hour and £26.00 per day. Rowing boats are £25.00 per day.Kayaks £4.00 ½ hour £15.00 a day
Please go to the Boat Hire Cabin or the reception at Lakeside Caravan Park for lauching permits and boat hire

Many thanks to Melanie from Lakeside Caravan Park and the staff at Brecknock museum.

[TR] Ullswater

24 hours in Ullswater


Ullswater is the second largest lake in the English Lake District, it gently curves through eight miles of beautiful mountain scenery and is an ideal location for a day or two's paddling.

We arrived just before midday at Pooley Bridge at the northern tip of the lake. Not knowing the area we decided to pop into the local tourist info centre to find out about access and camping. They were so helpful. We found out there were countless lay-by’s where we could leave the car and most had little paths leading to the water edge, ideal for launching our 16-foot mobile adventure canoe. We were given a leaflet called "ULLSWATER, A LAKE USER'S GUIDE which outlined privately owned land and the public access area's, which saved us any awkward farmer/paddler situations. We parked our car in a large lay-by just past the Ullswater Outward-bound centre on the A592. Just as they said, there was a short path leading to a lovely pebbly beach where we kitted out our canoe and started our trip. The weather was stunning and the lake was mirror like, a far cry from the wind and rain we had left only a few hours earlier in Wales. We paddled, well more like glided down towards the southern end of the lake. We came across a beautiful little island covered in bluebells and blossom. Our map said it was called Norfolk Island and stated quite clearly that landing on this island was prohibited during April and May. Curiosity got the better of us and we paddled in close to see what was so special. We didn't land and we couldn't see anything from the boat so we carried on our way towards the village of Glenridding. Looking over to the opposite side of the lake we saw the most picturesque camping spot imaginable. It was surrounded by trees, with its own little beach. It even had grass to pitch a tent and a tiny stream for water. It was perfect, until I checked the map and by my reckoning it was just on the boarder of some private land. It was a shame but I didn't fancy trespassing so on we paddled in search of our bivvy site. We passed an official campsite at the very end of the lake which looked lovely but i fancied a bit of wild camping so we did a U turn and made our way up the other side of the lake. We soon came across the idyllic spot we'd seen earlier. Imagine how I felt when i saw 2 canoes and a tent pitched right there. Had my map reading been that bad? Slightly disheartened we continued up the lake, passing the other side of Norfolk Island (still couldn't see anything on there) and landed on a little stony beach, which was to be our camp for the night. There was no grass to pitch a tent so we opted for a tarpaulin tied between two large rocks, we put our mats underneath and hoped it wouldn't get too cold during the night. We decided to stretch our legs a bit and climbed the steep grassy slope, which towered above the beach. It was a hard scramble trying to follow old sheep trails but well worth it. From the top we could see the entire lake and the golden sands of silver point, which was literally round the next corner but had been hidden from our camp. It was at this point, as I was admiring the view and crouching for a desperately needed pee, that I discovered something I'd never seen before, a 'Sheep Tick'. There on my thigh with its head firmly stuck in my leg and quite oblivious to the horror it was causing. I gave it a swipe but it didn't budge. I suddenly had flashbacks to my childhood where I remembered being told never to pull them straight out as there heads come off and rot and festered under the skin. So what was I to do, I really didn’t want to shout for help as I wasn't really appropriately dressed. I finally found two small pieces of wood and made a sort of clamp around its bulbous body, I took a deep breath and twisted and pulled hard. It came out intact, still wriggling its little black claw like legs. What an experience. I was really quite glad to get out of the grass and back that lovely pebbly beach. The light soon faded and it did get a little chilly, so I snuggled up in my sleeping bag to eat my instant mash and baked bean supper. Then out of nowhere we heard faint screeching and squawking and it was coming our way. Within minutes the entire of Norfolk Island, which was about 1/4 mile from our beach, was covered in Cormorants. You've never heard anything like it. Again we thought about the idyllic spot, which we'd missed out on because of my mistake and how we were unlikely to get any sleep if this racket continued. Then, just above the noise of the birds we heard voices. It was pretty dark but we could make out the shapes of two canoes paddling speedily along with the occupants having an almighty argument. To our delight (sounds cruel I know) it was the idyllic camp pinchers, who had been moved on by the farmer who I expect deliberately waited until nightfall to express his feelings for maximum effect. With my map-reading prowess restored we decided to get some sleep. The bird’s squawked on and off all night but we soon got used to it. However, what did keep me awake was the thing I felt crawling inside my sleeping bag in the middle of the night, which went crunch when I hit it. I didn't have the nerve to look to see what it was. We were woken about 6.30am by the chorus of Cormorants flying off into the distance, a pretty magnificent sight even at that time in the morning. The lake was covered in a low mist, which chilled the air but filled us with a sense of awe at the magical landscape, which lay before us. After breakfast and after washing the silvery slug trails, which had appeared in my hair overnight, we launched the boat once more and headed towards the northern end of the lake where we hoped to get some lunch. Just over half way along the lake is Howtown, a delightful little village that is a landing point for two 19th Century steamers! Our map said keep clear of them; give them right of way near the piers and to avoid collisions. Pretty sensible if you ask me. To reach the end of the lake you do have to paddle past a steamer pier, which is scary, especially in the mist. The don't slow down for you so paddle fast and be prepared for a huge wake which follows behind them. By lunchtime we had reached Pooley Bridge but the weather had turned wet and windy so we decided to ditch the lunch idea and make our way back to the car. The wind started to increase a bit so we put our sail up, laid back and enjoyed the scenery. We could see the tiny silhouettes of people making their way down the surrounding mountains trying to escape the thickening cloud. There were a few fishermen on the lake, one of which told us of an unusual fish called a SKELLY, some sort of freshwater Herring apparently, which lived way down in the deepest parts of the lake. You learn new things every day!It wasn't long till we were back at the car. We'd only been gone 24 hours but I honestly felt as if I’d been away on holiday all week. If you have a couple of days off and feel the need to get away from it all then Ullswater is definitely the place to go.

[TR] Warm Champagne and Flat Beer Touring

Essential Guide To Paddling

Most of us will agree that alcohol whilst paddling is not a good mix mainly because of the danger aspect but also the major spillage factor.
However, after a good day on the water there is nothing better than a nice cold beer or a glass of wine as we relax on the bank reflecting on our day’s endeavours.
So as a journalist I decided to do some in-depth research into the science of alcoholic beverage transportation and consumption within the realms of paddling. It’s been a tough assignment but after weeks of suffering, having to drink lots of beer and spending many evenings on remote beaches, drinking wine and watching beautiful sunsets, these are the results.
I started with White Wine and Champagne. Placing them in a dry bag just wasn’t good enough. Obviously they needed to be kept chilled so towing them along in the water seemed ideal. The difficulty came when I tried to tie a cord around the neck of the bottle. A clove hitch seemed the natural choice but after loosing a bottle to the depths of a lake (a very distressing moment) I learnt, they do have a tendency to slip. So after paddling for miles towing bottles of different shapes and sizes and surfing the net for different types of knot, I discovered the Constriction Knot. It’s one of the strongest and most reliable of the hitch knots and perfect for tying around bottles.

How to tie a Constriction Knot:
Get a piece of cord. Holding each of the standing ends in the fingers of each hand; stick your left index finger up through the loop from below and your right index finger down through the loop from above. Rotate your right hand in the direction you would tighten a screw, allowing the lines to cross between fingers. Bring the ends of your index fingers together and slide the knot off the right finger and onto the left finger and slide over the neck of the bottle and tighten.
I tried this knot using cord, shoe laces and fishing wire and all worked perfectly. My only problem with dragging the wine this way was remembering to pull it back into the boat before I banged it against the rocks as I reached the shore. (This form of transportation is also not suitable in white water situations)
My next round of research was on cans of beer. Again I thought dragging them behind the boat would be great but in practice it didn’t work. Although they were chilled nicely, the momentum of the paddling shook them up too much and they sprayed everywhere when opened. So after having to drink far too many half cans of beer I came to the conclusion the best way to chill them, was to wait until I was on dry land and lay them back in the water for ten minutes, whilst I set up camp. However, if you’re only away for a single night, 2 freezer packs placed in a sealable plastic barrel works well. I managed to fit in 20 large cans/56 stumpies in one barrel alone. The beer stayed lovely and cold for 6 hours. The freezer packs were still half frozen by then so I’m sure the beer would have stayed cool longer if we hadn’t drunk it all.
Finally I tackled the red wine issue. After buying several bottles, putting some in dry bags and others just shoved in the boat, I discovered the best way of carrying red wine is to buy the boxed version. Usually I’d scorn at such a thing but for canoeing its ideal. Firstly ditch the box itself and you’re left with the wine filled silver bag inside. This bag then fits perfectly on top of the front airbag under the lacing where you can leave it to warm nicely during the day. The empty silver bag also turns into a make shift water carrier or even a comfy pillow when inflated. Which is an excellent excuse for having to finish it all off before hitting the sack.

It’s been tough assignment but someone had to do it. No more flat Champagne or half empty luke warm cans of beer need to be endured. Can I relax now my job is done? No, my research goes on. Chocolate, Spirits and ice cream next, I think. Wish me luck

Norfolk B&B Canoe Trails

NORFOLK BROADS

With Winter now upon us the thought of going on expedition sends shivers through my bones. That was until I heard about a new canoe holiday company down in Norfolk. Their aim is to make canoeing expeditions as comfy, warm and luxurious as possible. So with my case in hand I hopped onto a train and headed for Norwich Station. At the station I was met by Dave from the Moorhen Guest House in Horning. 20 minutes later I arrived at the guest house and met the rest of my group and Mark ‘The Canoe Man’ who leads the trails. Over dinner he went through the itinerary for the next few days. It sounded wonderful. In the morning we’d be picked up at the guest house and taken down Buxton Mill. We didn’t need to take anything with us except some warm clothes. So the following morning after a huge delicious breakfast we made our way to the mill. Everything had been laid out for us, the boats, the buoyancy aids, paddles etc even our packed lunch had been made for us by Christine from the guest house. We all paired up and I hopped in a boat with Mark and Darcey his adorable Spaniel. Within minutes of being on the water we passed a nesting swan and a water deer, which I’ve never seen before. The Broads are certainly a nature lover’s paradise as another delight appeared around every corner. After a short while the river turned into a canal with beautiful fields and forests either side. It was perfect paddling territory for a white water wimp like me, well so I thought!
As lunch time approached I could hear the faint sounds of rushing water in the distance. I turned round to see Mark with a very sly look on his face. He had somehow managed to find the only white water in the whole of Norfolk for me. The little git! I have to admit, I got out of the boat and made an excuse of having to take photo’s as the rest of the group got totally drenched going through the little tunnel and then continueing to play on this great wave. I hate to admit it but Darcy the dog does harder white water than I do and he loves it too!
After Lunch we headed off the ‘beyond navigation’ area and onto the main section of the Wroxham broads with all the canal and narrow boats. Some of the boats where just like floating pieces of art, so colourful and with such intricate detail. As the sun started to set we were met at the side of the canal by Dave and all taken back to the guesthouse for Dinner. What a lovely way to finish the day. A long soak in the bath, a lovely hot dinner and a warm and comfy bed, who could ask for more? The following day we were picked up by Mark again and continued our trip along the broads. Today we stopped off at the Hoveton Great Broad nature reserve. You can only access this reserve by boat which makes it something special. We saw Marsh Harriers and Terns and only just missed a visit from the resident otter. Later in the day we visited the Sal House, home to the 16th biggest tree in Norfolk! From here we walked up a small path through the trees to the Fur and Feathers for a well deserved pint. As I sat there with my Lager Shandy I couldn’t help thinking of my past trips at this time of year. Dirty finger nails, uncomfy nights sleeping on freezing ground and eating instant mash potatoes and beans out of a tin. I think there’s a good chance that may well become a thing of the past for me now I’ve experience the comfy and warm way of doing things. After another lovely organic packed lunch made by Christine we headed back to the boats and headed off towards Decoy Broad. Again we paddled past so much wildlife and I even saw a Great Crested grebe catch a fish and pop up right next to my boat. Later that afternoon Dave was there again to pick us up and take us back the Guest House. If you are celebrating a special occasion there is an option of booking into the Broad House Boutique Country House 5 star hotel. One of the get outs is actually in their grounds so you could even do it as a surprise for your partner. It’s a magnificent hotel, I only sneaked in to use their loo but if the toilets with their chandeliers is anything to go by, it is very very posh.
That evening we chose to eat out at a local Chinese restaurant based in an old train carriage, it was very nice.
Day 3 and our final day on the water. It was another sunny day and there was an excitement in the air as I was going to Bewilderwood. If you’ve never heard of Bewilderwood before then you’re in for a treat especially if you have children. It’s a magical place situated at the edge of the broad in an old forest and is home to crockle’s and twiggle’s who live in tiny houses high in the tree’s or in amongst the crocklebogs. It’s an incredible place, with zip wires and treehouses and jungle bridges, definitely somewhere you can let your imagination go wild. I loved it.
It’s a shame but this is where my trip to the Broads ended and way to soon for my liking. I’ve never paddled on the broads before and I was surprised at just how much there was to see and do there. And as for the B&B canoe Tours you just can’t beat it.

Additonal Info:
East Midlands Trains http://www.eastmidlandstrains.co.uk/ Tel: 08457 125678
Moorhen Guest House http://www.themoorhenhorning.co.uk/ Tel: 01692 631444
The Canoe Man www.thecanoeman.com Tel: 07810 838052
Bewilderwood http://www.bewilderwood.co.uk/ Tel: 01603 783900
http://www.visitnorfolk.co.uk/

[TR] Loch Shiel

Tent’s, Tipi’s and Tarp’s

Earlier this year the guy’s at Pro Adventure in Llangollen invited me to join them on the first of their new range of Wilderness 5 day expedition courses up in Scotland. As part of my eco-friendly family holiday search this trip sounded perfect and with trains running straight into Glenfinnan, the location was perfect too. The expedition was to take us the entire length of Loch Shiel (better known these days as Hogwarts Lake in the Harry Potter films) and all the way down to the sea at Moidart.
It was early April and bitterly cold and here I was in the Scottish highlands about to go camping again! Is that dedication or what?
I have to admit to being slightly nervous about going on holiday with a group of people I’d never met before and I really didn’t know what to expect. I was about to say ‘not knowing if there was a mad axe man in our midst’ but there were plenty of men and a few axes so that probability seemed quite high! In reality though, everybody seemed lovely and in no time at all we were wheeling our boats down from the Glenfinnan Hotel car park to the waters edge.
Scotty our canoe guru for the 5 days, soon had us on the water to see what skill levels we were all at. There was Helen, a Vicars wife from the West Midlands who had been kayaking before but canoeing on open water was something completely new to her. There was Joel her 14 year her old son. Me, who virtually lives in a canoe but has the laziest style of paddling possible and finally there was Richard, an Ecologist who had never set foot in a boat before.
Even at this level Scotty soon had us prepped up in no time and it wasn’t long before we said goodbye to the shore and headed off on our adventure. As this was day one, we took it easy and our first stop for lunch was only 45 minutes later, less than 2 miles down the Loch. There was a nice pebbly beach, some rocks and bushes and a lovely little island about 50 meters away. From here you would normally be able to see for miles down the loch but all we could see was the weather closing in on us. With this on our minds we didn’t stop long and sure enough within minutes of being back on the water, the snow began to fall. I adore snow flurries so I was in my element paddling through this magical winter scene. As the snow got heavier it formed a thick blanket around us but it was fine as we could still make out each others brightly coloured Buoyancy aids shining through. Then suddenly the wind picked up and we were paddling in serious blizzard conditions. Waves were splashing over the gunnels as the winds swirled around us. I looked over to Helen knowing how she’d feel, her first time in open water with her young son in the boat and being faced with conditions like this. She was amazing though, she kept her calm and held the boat firm until the worst of the winds had abated and then followed us into a sheltered bay to safety. I would have been terrified if that had happened to me on my first outing.
Anyway, after a quick assessment of the conditions it was decided that it was time to find our first nights camp. I’d read about a lovely camping spot about 6 ½ miles from the start, which if we paddled hard enough, would only be an hour away. According to the map there was a river running alongside which when we arrived, made it really easy to find. It was a lovely sheltered spot surrounded by woodland (firewood) and a sandy beach which made landing simple. The snow was still falling heavily which made the tarp building and fire lighting a bit of a challenge, but eventually Tom our bushcraft instructor for the week managed to sort it all out and we all had a relaxing albeit an eye watering evening (from the smoke) around the fire.
The following morning we were all up fairly early and were treated to a tandem paddle stroke session from Scotty. The sun was shining and spirits where high as we packed up camp and headed off to what has to be one of the most picturesque campsites ever. It was just under 5 miles further down the loch and we came across it by accident really. We’d stopped for lunch on a little pebble beach and were having a demonstration by Tom on how to filter water using moss and sand when Scotty appeared from over a hill saying he had found an amazing site. Ok so it was only lunch time and we’d only paddled 4.7 miles but this spot was just too good to leave. It was on a little headland (featured in the Highlander movie), surrounded by trees and even had perfect little spots already laid out to erect our tents, tipi’s and tarps. Helen and I soon commandeered a small hump to be the ladies bathroom, which had stunning views and the guy’s were left to trek over to an old fallen down pine tree on the other side.
We had such fun that day setting up camp and learning loads of new bushcraft skills.
I think the idea was to acquire sufficient skills during the day so that we could all build shelters that evening and sleep out in them. This didn’t go quite according to plan though as we kept getting side tracked and the urge to make fire without the use of matches soon took over as the main objective of the day. By early evening we decided to head out in our boats again and paddled over to the island of Eileen Fhionain. On this sacred isle lays the ruins of St Finan’s church surrounded by some magnificent Celtic Crosses. The views from here alone were well worth the 2.2 mile return paddle. When we arrived back at the camp Pete, who owns ProAdventure had a big roaring fire waiting for us and lots of hot water on the boil for tea. We all set about making our own dinners whilst sat around the fire and watched in awe as the sun set over the loch. It was absolutely fantastic. Well apart from poor young Joel who was sampling his first ever Wayfarer meal. Soon after the words sickly gooe and child abuse were whispered, which made us all laugh.
Later that evening Tom taught us how to make Birch Bark Torches. With only a stick a sharp knife and some carefully folded bark these torches were great and lasted so much longer than I’d ever of imagined. This was followed by some toasting of marshmallows, a few glasses of good wine and a really nice chilled out evening was had by all.
Day three and we woke up to quite a grey day with strong north westerly winds. Today was a canoe skills day and no sooner where we on the water than we were learning all about trim, wind and ferry gliding. We were heading straight across the loch to paddle up the River Polloch. Here we were taught the art of Poling then later had a nice picnic under a tarp followed by an afternoon of Tracking and Lining. I can’t say I’m much of a fan of this and for me its something once learnt you only ever do again when you need it. However, everyone else had a great time and amazingly no one fell in.
Back at camp and it was straight into bushcraft skills again which I love. Joel started to build his own shelter out of branches, moss and rhododendron leaves and within a couple of hours he had a structure that Ray Mears would be proud of. I was quite jealous as I would have loved to have slept out in one myself but I’d been too busy enjoying making pot hangers with Richard that I ran out of time for shelter building. It was another great night around the fire and Joel who slept soundly all night, declared his shelter was warmer and comfier than the tent he’d used the previous evening.
The following morning I was woken up by a text from a friend warning me of a huge storm and gale force winds which was forecast to hit Loch Shiel that evening. It all felt quite dramatic as Pete phoned his office to see if he could find out some more details. And true enough a storm was coming and the effects were set to last a few days. It was a tough decision especially for Pete who had everyone’s safety to consider and also the logistics of how to get us all back to Glenfinnan the following day. So disappointingly but very sensibly it was decided to make the most of the days good weather and paddle the 6.4 miles to the bridge at Acharacle (which had access to the A861 main road). Pete set off early in the opposite direction towards Glenfinnan to pick up the minibus and planned to meet us at the bridge at the end of the day. We were going to be cutting the trip short by 24hours which meant we wouldn’t reach Moidart or get to paddle with the seals but safety had to come first and we were all happy with the decision.
So with the sun still shining and not a breeze in the air we made our way towards the end of the loch. The scenery was stunning as we paddled between the huge snow covered mountains towering above us. We even saw a Golden Eagle which certainly made my day. The conditions were so perfect that we reached Acharacle in just a couple of hours so after 4 days of camp food we decided to treat ourselves and walk into the village to find the chippy we’d heard about. It’s a good 30 minute walk, which was quite uncomfortable in my pink paddling wellies but on tasting those chips, they was worth every one of the blisters. A couple of hours later, Pete arrived with the mini bus and this excellent wilderness trip was over. Pete offered everyone a free day’s activity and tuition back in Llangollen to make up for cutting the week short but everyone had had so much fun they were already booking their next courses.

INFO:
ProAdventure: Tel: 01978 861912 Website: http://www.proadventure.co.uk/
Course dates 8th-12th September - Loch Shiel 17th-21st November - River Spey
Glenfinnan Hotel: Tel:01397 722235 Website: http://www.glenfinnanhouse.com/
Excellent hotel that is happy to let paddlers leave their cars in the car park as long as they have no big functions on. All they ask is for you to fill in a special form at reception before you set off.
Tourist Information: Tel: 0845 2255121 Website: www.visitscotland.com/adventure

[TR] Loch Ericht, Scotland

Knowing When to Turn Back

In my mind I had the image of a lake full of reflections, surrounded by snow covered mountains and clear blue skies above. My boat would glide forever with a single stroke, leaving me free to take the most wonderful and inspiring photographs I could ever dream of.
“You must be mad”, “you’ve not been to Scotland in winter before then!” Were the comments I got when I excitedly announced my latest trip to colleagues. I’d checked the 10 day weather forecast and it all seemed fine. So excitedly I got in the car with Al, for the 400 mile drive up to Scotland. We were heading for Loch Ericht, right in the heart of the Scottish wilderness. There was a little bit of snow on the hills to start off with but as we made our way through the highlands and darkness fell, the snow started to fall heavily. By the time we reached the Drumochter Pass on the A9, visibility was poor. The car was starting to slide all over the road and things where getting quite scary, when a faint light shone through the blizzard and the letters B&B appeared. It was a bit like one of those corny movie moments when help appears from nowhere but just when you thought you where safe a huge monster comes out and eats you! Thankfully we saw no monsters but we still had 200 meters of deep un-snowploughed road to get through before we finally reached the warmth and safety of the Balsporron Cottages B&B. We were greeted by Ann and Phil who made us feel right at home in front of their real log fire and even made us a very welcome hot meal. After a lovely night’s sleep we were up early, ate breakfast and headed outside to an incredible snow-covered landscape. Everyone helped to dig the car out and once back on the A9 the road was clear and we were only a few of miles from Loch Ericht itself. Ann kindly printed out an up to date forecast for us which took us slightly by surprise. 35mph winds with gusts up to 70 and snow was forecast for the next two days and I guess if we’d had any sense we would have turned back then, but we’d driven so far, taken time off work, spent all that money on petrol and there wasn’t a breeze in the air, so we decided to carry on. We left our car just behind the Petrol Station in Dalwhinney where the guide book suggested and loaded up my brand new Wenonah Prospector canoe. We then made the 600 meter portage down the lane under the railway bridge, through the barrier and down to the lochs edge. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to drag a fully laden boat over snow by myself.
At only 14.5miles long, I’d given us a couple of days to complete the round trip of Loch Ericht with the highlights being a nights stay at the famous Ben Alder bothy and a visit to Bonnie Prince Charlies caves at the furthest end. The sky was grey and it was bitterly cold but even at the lochs side the wind was barely noticeable. So off we went, all wrapped up in the latest winter gear, paddling past huge lumps of ice floating in the water, hoping to reach Ben Alder by teatime.
We’d only been paddling fifteen minutes when we passed the first headland and the full force of the weather hit us. It was blowing a hoolie out there on the main part of the loch and it took all our strength just to stay head on to the waves. Being sensible we should have turned back there and then but we didn’t. As the weather got even worse and we started to tire we realised that we had no choice but to continue as both sides of the loch where by now, too steep for a safe get out, with such big waves breaking on them. The sun was disappearing fast behind the mountains and the temperature plummeted further. I have to say, my new Wenonah prospector (quick plug) handled amazingly in what has to be the worst conditions I have ever paddled in. My old boat would have been swamped in no time but this new baby just glided up and down the waves with astonishing stability (plug over). It was after 4 hours of battling through hellish conditions we finally found a beach we could land on. It was starting to get dark and I had an uneasy feeling inside, things where not looking good. Al got out of the boat first and soon realised there was no way we could get a tent up on the rocks where we’d landed. Further up there was some grass which looked perfect until we stepped on it. The thin layer of ice it was growing through cracked and we were stood in 5 inches of water. The sheer hard work of paddling had been keeping me warm in what was now below freezing temperatures. But now I’d stopped I desperately needed some shelter. We found a spot on a slight incline where our feet only sank about an inch and decided there just wasn’t time to look for anywhere else. My face was raw, my feet were numb and my whole body was hurting and aching from being too cold. All I wanted to do was roll up into a ball, shelter my body from the bitter wind and close my eyes. For a split second I thought ‘gosh we might not get ourselves out of this’. Then something inside kicked in, and with a sudden rush of adrenalin, my frozen paddling mittens came off and we fought like hell against the gales and the failing light to put that tent up. All I could hear in my head was my heart pounding, for that single moment nothing in the world mattered more than getting that tent up and somehow, we did it. I have never felt so focussed on anything in my life. As the final peg went in, almost like a cruel joke, the wind dropped. Then as I looked up around me into the fading light, I realised we were surrounded by deer. There must have been 200 of them, mainly stags, all watching as we finally took refuge inside our tent.
It was a reflective evening in the tent that night, with neither of us knowing quite how we’d let ourselves get into such a dangerous situation. Thank goodness we’d bought the tent as a back up in case the bothy was full. We’d at least done something right. As my body warmed up I realised I’d quite badly pulled the muscle in my left forearm and even Al was feeling pretty sore in his shoulders and neck from 4 hours of hacking.
The following day we woke up to find everything frozen. My gloves, the toothpaste even the rice pudding I’d decided to cook for breakfast was frozen solid in its tin. The cold was affecting our gas cooker too which was barely alight and certainly couldn’t cook anything. Luckily we had a spare trianga, meths stove with us which although classed as a bit old fashioned these days, worked a treat. Outside the windchill temperature had been -14 degrees Celsius. The wind was strong but not gale like, like the day before so we had another decision to make. If I didn’t make Ben Alder Bothy, with all its history of ghosts and ghouls and didn’t climb the mountain to see Bonnie Prince Charlies cave, what would I write about? We got out my GPS and we’d only managed to paddle 6.9miles the day before. We usually paddle three times that distance in that time and the weather was slightly better so we decided to give it a go.
So with another great decision under our belts we decided to leave the tent where it was, paddle the 8 miles to Ben Alder Bothy, get the photo’s I needed for an article then sail back, have a late lunch at the tent, pack away and sail the 6.9miles back to the beginning.
It was so cold though, even with all the high tech kit we had on, I still wasn’t warm. I even ended up putting on the £2.99 last minute back-up balaclava I got from the garage in Capel Curig on, over my scull cap. I have been umming and arring about whether to submit the photo of me wearing this ensemble and I’ve been persuaded too against my better judgement, just remember it was really really cold!
Anyway, off we set towards the Bothy. The snow covered mountain Ben Alder towered above us but offered no shelter from the strengthening wind. My forearm was agony and I found it difficult to paddle on my left side but we still carried on. The waves got bigger, the wind got stronger and I was exhausted after just an hour. Then a snow blizzard started and I just couldn’t do anymore. Al was gutted that we’d come so close and I just couldn’t find the strength to paddle another stroke. He tried to carry on alone but the wind was too strong so reluctantly with only a mile to go he turned the boat around and sailed back to the tent.
As I sat exhausted and motionless in the boat letting the sail take us back, I was totally unaware the effect the cold was starting to have on my body. My toes were numb but that had happened the day before but, about an hour later, when we’d finally reached our tent, I tried to get out of the boat I couldn’t straighten up. My body felt rigid. I tried to ask Al for help but my speech had gone all slurry, this really scared me. When I did get back to the tent and laid down my body started to shake uncontrollably. It only lasted a few minutes and I was then ok but, its frightening to imagine what would have happened if we’d stayed out on the water even a few minutes longer. By 2.30pm we were both in the tent wrapped up in our sleeping bags sipping hot sweet drinks as a freezing blizzard howled outside. We should have been back at the car by now and I was worried the guest house I’d booked for that evening might call emergency services if we didn’t turn up so I routed through my dry bag and found her details, only to see that I had her address but no telephone number. My mobile reception was intermittent so I texted my friend the address and prayed he would find the number, before a big helicopter came in search of us. Luckily he found it and a quick call later everything was fine. I soon fell asleep and incredibly 17 hours later I woke up. I do like the odd lay in but that was pretty impressive even for me but I guess my body must have needed it.
It was 9am on day 3 and as I looked out of the tent I couldn’t believe my eyes. The sun was shining. The loch was flat and I was surrounded by beautiful snow covered mountains. We’d not seen a top of a mountain since we got there; the landscape was breathtaking. I could finally get my camera out and take some photo’s.
With such lovely weather we could have easily paddled to the Bothy, seen the caves and paddled all the way back to the car and still have hours to spare but my body had had enough and we finally made the first sensible decision of the trip and paddled straight back to Dalwhinney.
As we gently paddled back through this astounding scenery in beautiful sunshine I got to thinking ‘was it all worth it?’
Things could have turned out so badly but through sheer luck rather than judgement they didn’t. My sense of adventure has gone up another few notches and I’ve certainly leant not to under-estimate the British weather. But my head is filled with incredible achievement knowing I paddled and survived such harsh conditions. And now I’m paddling through some of the most magnificent scenery I’ve ever seen in my life. This is the bit I’d dreamed of and I guess it’s made even more spectacular by what we’d endured to get here.

2 days later at home: Without realising, twice during this trip I was showing some classic signs of the first stages of Hypothermia. My naivety of canoeing in cold weather screams at me as I proof read this article. Even with all the right clothing, and without capsizing, my exhaustion and inexperience of freezing temperatures left me in what could have been a life threatening situation. And what for? A few photographs! It’s just not worth it. Saying that, paddling the entire of Loch Ericht is still high on my list of trips to do, I’ll just be waiting for the weather to warm up a little bit first, I think. X


Useful info:
Balsporran Cottages B&B (just round the corner from the Loch) Tel: 01528 522389
www.balsporran.com
VisitScotland (tourist information, accommodation, bus times etc) Tel:0845 2255121

www.visitscotland.com/adventure