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09 May 2008
Subject: LOCH ERICHT, SCOTLAND
Time: 15:42:54 o'clock BST
Author: lmanouch
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 andonce 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 tentwrapped 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
Written by lmanouch
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Subject: Caledonian Canal Revisited
Time: 15:25:56 o'clock BST
Author: lmanouch
Caledonian Canal Revisted
In my continuing quest to find easy flat water adventures across the globe, I find myself retracing the paddle strokes of my very first expedition.
It’s been seven years since I last paddled the Caledonian Canal but it’s still my favourite multi-day trip in the whole of Britain. It involves paddling right across Scotland, an amazing 60 miles. Not only are you paddling from coast to coast but 24 of the miles are across the mystical and sometimes quite challenging Loch Ness.
I arrived in the village of Corpach, near Fort William in the late afternoon and headed straight down to the British waterways Office (follow the signs to the lock side), to pick up the free but essential canal licence. You can also get special canal lock loo and shower key here which by day two is an absolute luxury to use.
From there I headed up the steep road towards the row of lock gates called Neptune Staircase and followed the narrow lane till I reached a guest house called Rhiw Goch. I chose this place especially for this article as it’s perfect for tranquillity seeking paddlers, like me. There are only 4 double/twin rooms and children aren’t allowed but what it does have is a fantastic view of the canal, Ben Nevis and all the surrounding mountains. If that wasn’t good enough, Ron the guy who runs it also has a fleet of Wenonah open boats available to hire. I guess the only downside is the portage to the canal. Just kidding, you juststroll through to the back garden, open the little wooden gate and there in front of you is the canal complete with launching pontoon. It just couldn’t get any easier.
So after an evening in the local pub and a scrumptious 3 course breakfast cooked by Ron’s wife, we made the long trek (about 3 meters) onto the pontoon. There we met a team of rowers from Oxford University who had hired boats from Ron, who where doing the same trip as us to raise money for the Cancer Research. We had not planned to be quite so focussed, with our boat full of wine and enough junk food to last a month, until a niggling feeling crept up on me. It must be the Oxford Cambridge thing that kicked in and it’s terrible to admit to, but I felt this passionate need to beat them. As I was trying to put these thoughts out of my head, Chris and Vicky, two friends from Wales joined us with their new red boat. New might not be the right word as it distinctly had a pointy out kink half way along the left side but Chris had picked it up for £50 which had to be the bargain of the year.
We loaded our boats and waved goodbye to Ron and his beautiful Springer Spaniel Sophie, when I realised that the Oxford lot had got a good half hour lead on us. I remember thinking, they had youth, rowing coaches and a passionate reason to finish the trip on their side but we had something they didn’t have. The pierce of resistance, the one thing that turns this particular trip from tough and challenging to something your gran could do on a Sunday afternoon. A set of canoe wheels and Sails!
So off we set on this first stretch of canal. Every so often we would catch a glimpse of the Oxford guy’s boats in the distance just as they rounded the next bend, which seemed to trigger the competitive natures in all of us. I’m guessing the Oxford guys were totally oblivious to our desire to overtake them and they’re probably sat reading this article now in total bewilderment. Even I feel slightly daft now remembering how important overtaking them was and the delight I felt when we caught up with them at Geirlocky, the first and most challenging portages of the trip.
We only caught up with them here as it’s quite an awkward get out, with a choice of a far too high pontoon or going through the disused lock gate and dragging the boats up the steep bank. I’ve always found the steep bank the easier option, especially as it cuts down on the walking when you reach the path. So with the help of our wheels, we were soon stood on the banks of Lock Lochy along side the Oxford Guy’s who were enjoying a little sit down after their wheel-less portage. They were a lovely bunch with hearts of gold but I still felt the need to pop my boat back on the water and head off before they had time to put their flasks away.
So here we were on Loch Lochy, 11 miles long, 500 feet deep and surrounded by thick forests stretching high into the mountains. The landscape around here has a tremendous North American Great Lakes feel about it. If you’re lucky enough you may even see one of the Ospreys who nest nearby, fishing in the loch itself. All we saw during the day was a couple of buzzards and two little kids in kayaks, paddling way to well for their small sizes. Someone needs to tell them to make it look harder so people have respect for us intrepid explorers!
By late afternoon we were approaching the headland which separates Loch Lochy from Laggen Lock. Anywhere around here is good to camp, with choices of pebbly beaches, little wooded nooks and even golden sand if that’s to your liking. We choose a pebbly beach, with loads of driftwood to make building a fire less strenuous. The tents where soon up and the fire was blazing as we sat there waiting for it to go dark. I always find this time of day strange. I’m tired and want to go to bed but can’t because the sun’s still up. But then as soon as the sun does go down I feel wide awake again and stay up till the early hours talking complete nonsense and drinking way too much. This night was no exception. Chris got a bottle of whisky out, Al had the red wine and me being the classy chick I am, drank baileys out of a plastic water bottle. Vicky then emerged from her tent with a set of Boules!! Ok I’m not one for travelling ultra light on paddling trips but a set of Boules!! The weight issue aside, it did turn into a great game. I lost each game with great skill and efficiency and did even better at loosing playing Hattijack later in the evening. By midnight we were all huddled round the fire again, eating toasted marshmallows off pointy sticks the boys had expertly whittled for us.
The following morning we were up at 6.30am and were packed and ready to launch by 7.30am. For those of you with plenty of time and aching arm’s from paddling, there are some great Munroe’s to be bagged from here. From Glasdhoire NN254933, a pebbly beach with an old ruined cottage on, about a mile back from where we were camped, there’s a small path which joins onto the Great Glen Way Footpath. From here, with a good map you can go up the steep valley of Cam Bealach to the summit of the pass at 660m. From there you have a choice of two paths, one leading to Sron a’Choire Ghairbh and the other going to Meall na Teanga. These are both tough treks so if you’ve forgotten your walking boots, keep paddling.
Anyway for us, it was portage number two at Laggan Lock. This is a straight forward portage up a tiny incline with the luxury of real toilets and even a shower when you reach the other side. (TOP TIP: the shower rooms here are always really warm, so a great place to sit and thaw out after a night’s wild camp).
The next stretch of canal looks more like a beautiful river, with high trees either side and the only bit of sky visible is directly above. This then leads into the start of Loch Oich. This is a well sheltered and photogenic loch, which often has mystical puffs of mist floating just above the water.
Until now the weather had been really quite nice which was great for the others but I’d recently kitted myself out head to toe in new paddling gear and was desperate to try it out. So when it started to rain, I was quite happy. My new Artistic cag kept me dry and was comfy and my new negro pants worked well too. I even moved my junk food bag so I could kneel down in the boat to try the removable knee pads. I definitely made the right choice. I’d even brought my new helmet which I new I wouldn’t need but it did look good on the front on my boat.
As we reached the end of Loch Oich, I looked round to see Chris stood up in his boat reading a map and looking towards the river on our left. The River Oich is a great option if you feeling a little tired and need some white water action to motivate you. It saves about an hour padding time and is mainly grade 2 with a possible grade 3 depending on water levels. Me being the white water wimp I am, decided to continue along the canal and agreed to meet them in Fort Augustus for lunch. I have to admit I didn’t enjoy the next section of canal at all. Every now and again we’d get a glimpse of the others from over a weir and they were just sat there letting the river take them along. Al and I though, worried about how late we’d be getting to Fort Augustus where paddling like crazy. We’d taken a huge dry bag from their boat to give them some freeboard, forgetting that westill had another 3 portages to do. On the up side, I did get the chance to lend Vicky my new helmet so it has now seen its first and probably last lot of white water action.
For us though, the wind picked up and we were having to work our socks off. To make things worse we met an elderly couple leisurely walking the Great Glen Way footpath alongside the canal. We were paddling like crazy and we still struggled to keep up with them. We would just get in front of them (not that we were racing a pair of 80 year olds of course) when huge gusts of wind would hit us and leave us 20 meters behind them again and this went on for 4 very frustrating miles. The only thing that kept us from screaming was the thought of a huge bag of chips for dinner. Don’t get me wrong, this stretch of canal is lovely and if we hadn’t been rushing to meet the others and if those old codgers hadn’t looked quite so smug at the fact they were walking a lot faster than we could paddle, we would have enjoyed every minute of it.
Eventually we reached the lock gates of Fort Augustus. The pontoon on the left is the easier get out as you don’t have to struggle with a tiny metal bridge ramp. But the get out on the right has the advantage of passing a pub and a great little chippy, so obviously we took the hungry person option.
It was a heck of a struggle to get our ridiculously laden boat up the pontoon and over the ramp. I even tried to phone Chris who’d been chilling for the last hour on the banks of Loch Ness a few hundred yards away to lend a hand but his phone was switched off. We did eventually manage to get the boat onto the road. It was all well worth it as we parked the boat outside the Chippy and filled our faces with hot salty chips and cans of coke.
The Pub is virtually next door and I would have popped in if Chris had had his phone switched on but he didn’t so we made our way through the centre of the village over the swing bridge and down along side the loch gates and to the banks of Loch Ness. There waiting for us were Chris and Vicky and my newly baptised helmet. They were all slightly wet from the river trip but it sounded like they had a great time. They even saw deer on the banks of the river, which I was quite jealous about.
The first time I did this trip 7 years ago, I booked a B&B in the town here and split the trip up into 4 days but this time, time was at an essence so we needed to get going.
So off we went, over the choppy water where the River Ness meets Loch Ness and onward past Cherry Tree Island. There is a red buoy on Loch Ness which is soul destroying as you can paddle for what feels like hours without it getting any closer. It even crossed our minds that it may be a little red boat sailing away from us but eventually after what felt like an eternity we reached it and decided to have a well deserved break. By 4pm it was time to get going again and time to start looking for a camp site for the evening. The official caravan site on Loch Ness no longer accepts tents, which is a shame as there’s a bar and easy access to the beach from there but there are plenty of wild camps to choose from so on we went. The wind picked up considerably and was totally against us which made this bit quite a challenge but extremely enjoyable as the boys decided to race each other as our canoes ploughed through the waves. After about half an hour of full on racing and both Al and Chris totally exhausted but refusing to give in, we thankfully reached a large pebbly beach perfect for camping. We were only about 7 miles from Fort Augustus but the wind was so strong that if we’d carried on paddling we would have ended up going backwards. So we set up camp and made shelters from our boats for cooking and a big camp fire to dry our socks.
Meanwhile I had to get the mozzie spray out even this late in the year. The smell coming from the drying socks should have been more than sufficient to keep them away but these were tenacious little gits who’d missed the lesson were they’re told to die out by September!
We sat around the fire and ate our tea and for once we all had an early night. The following morning we were up by 7am. Chris and Al were paying for their racing antics the day before and could hardly lift their paddles from aching muscles. Luckily when we set off the wind was blowing, in our direction this time, so we rafted up, put both our sails up and laid back. At first we were gently sailing along but before long the wind had picked up to a force 6-7 and we were tearing down the loch with incredible speed. We literally only got a fleeting glimpse of the impressive Urquhart castle on our left as we zoomed by.
I guess I should say here that Loch Ness is a perfect flat water adventure until you experience Loch Ness on a windy day. The waves here can regularly reach four to five foot and if I’d had children with me in the boat I wouldn’t have been out on the water for sure. For all its beauty and mystique Loch Ness can be a dangerous place in bad weather even for experienced paddlers.
But saying that, surfing on huge waves with ferry wakes hitting you from all sides going faster than you’ve ever been in a canoe before is one heck of an adrenalin rush. The boats took in loads of water but still using the improvised cut up plastic bottle bailer I made the first time I did this trip, it was all in control. We travelled 17 miles in 3 hours which was pretty impressive. Only downside was our trip finished way too quickly. It wasn’t even lunch time when we reached Dochgarroch lock and the end of our trip. You can carry on along the canal to Inverness and then on to the sea from here but it’s not the most pleasant of stretches. There are barges and boats moored continuously either side of the canal and the water is very dirty and smelly. So whilst the scenery was still beautiful we dragged our boats up onto the pontoon and wheeled them the 100 yards around the corner to the café. The plan was for the boys to catch the Great Glen bus back to Fort William and we’d wait in the café with the boats and kit parked outside in the car park. We did this 7 years ago and the café owner was lovely and really made us feel welcome. This time however, the new owner wasn’t so paddler friendly. We made the mistake of asking the name of the café instead of calling it a restaurant which didn’t go down too well. Then we discovered it was 2 hours for the next bus. We did the decent thing and all brought a meal as we waited for the next bus which when it did turn up was full! Apparently, you need to pre book seats on these buses now, which we didn’t know about. So then we had a decision whether to wait another two hours for another bus or to phone a taxi. I first phoned Ron the outfitter who offered to come and pick the kit and boats up for £80 but didn’t have space to take the four of us back. I thought that was a bit expensive as we would still have to find or own way back to the cars so we ended up phoning a taxi. £65 and an hour later the boys were in Fort William picking up the cars. Two hours later and 5 hours in the café for Vicky and I, we eventually set off home. Shuttles have to be the hardest thing about tripping so when I returned home I made some enquires and found a fantastic taxi company who will pick you and the boats and all the kit up from the canal side and drive you all the way back to the start for £75 There’s also room for 6 people inside too. So split 6 ways it’s an absolute bargain and no waiting in a café for 5 hours!I do have to say the café owner did warm to us after a few hours. I think the fact we spent a fortune on meals, cups of coffee and cake helped.
So as a summery: This is one of those trips like the Wye and the Spey that every paddler has to do at least once in their lifetime. There’s the fantastic paddler friendly Guest House, to start the trip, canoe hire, easy put ins, simple navigation and now a straightforward solution to shuttles for the way home. Its all so easy.
P.S. The Oxford Guy’s successfully completed the trip without the aid of sails and wheels and raised an amazing £2,500 for Cancer Research. Well done guys.
Written by lmanouch
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11 April 2008
Subject: Kit Review. Werner's Nantahala Paddle
Time: 12:38:36 o'clock BST
Author: lmanouch
Kit Review. Split Nantahala paddle.
Taking paddling kit on planes these days seems to be getting harder and harder and for the bits you are allowed to take, additional charges can easily double the cost of your ticket. This happened to me last year when I flew over to Poland. It would have been cheaper for me to give my paddle a name and buy him a seat next to me on the plane than put him down in the hold with my other luggage. In the end I ended up hiring a paddle from the outfitter out there which was cheaper but the only one he had was 8 inches too long and weighed a ton.
During that week, as I paddled my way down the Obra, I got to thinking; what I need is a split open boat paddle, which I could pop into my normal luggage or take on the plane with me as hand luggage, either way it wouldn’t cost me anything to take it.
So, on my return I gave the guy’s at Werner/SystemX a call to see if they could make me such a paddle and to my delight they agreed. It had to be 55inchs long and split into sections less than 1 meter so it could fit easily into the above seat locker on the plane, the rest was up to them. 6 weeks later and there’s a parcel at the door for me. Excitedly I ripped open the packaging and there in two pieces was my lovely new paddle. It’s based on a Nantahala paddle, which has been cut part way down the shaft and clips together very easily with a simple push in grommet device.
It really did look the business, but when I first took it out onto the lake I was disappointed. It looked great, its power was incredible and I could turn my canoe on a pin head with it, the only problem was, I found the shaft too thick for my little hands. I couldn’t help thinking about the guy’s who’d gone to so much trouble to make it especially for me and here I was able to paddle for maybe an hour before my hands and arms tired too much to use it.
The months went on and the sunny flat calm day on the lake when I first tried the paddle became a distant memory. I was now making plans for winter in Scotland. As I was packing the car, I noticed the Nantahala in the corner and decided to take it as a spare back up. Now this is where things really changed. I’m out on Loch Ericht having been caught in the worst blizzard and winds I’ve ever encountered. My trusty old beavertail just didn’t have the power to cope and no matter how hard I paddled, it couldn’t get me out of the dangerous situation I’d now found myself in. Probably only minutes from disaster I spot my Nantahala poking up next to me. I quickly grabbed the shaft and thrust that paddle as hard as I could into the crashing waves which surrounded me. Within seconds I was in control. The boat was responding to my every move and I was flying through those waves to eventual safety. So here I am now, feeling like I owe my Nantahala an apology.
In my winter gear and my thick padded sealskins gloves on, the size of the shaft just wasn’t an issue. I have to admit, this is a great paddle for white water and in conditions where you need that extra power and control. Even better is, I can take it on expedition with me without having to take out a bank loan to pay for its travel.
Thank you guy’s at Werner/SystemX.
Werner Nantahala paddle (one piece) £139.95
Travellers Split 2 piece Nantahala £149.95
Available through systemX
(Please mention splits need to beless than 1 meter to fit in aircraft locker when ordering)
Written by lmanouch
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14 January 2008
Subject: Gulf of Gokova, Turkey.
Time: 12:45:52 o'clock GMT
Author: lmanouch
Lazy days paddling the Gulf of Gokova.
Leaving the tents, camp stoves and thermals behind, I set of for a week of pure relaxation. I headed out to Bodrum in Turkey and onto a 100ft wooden yacht which would sail around the Gulf of Gokova in the Aegean Sea as I sunbathed on deck and drank the endless free drinks and ate delightful Turkish cuisine. It doesn’t sound like one of my usual paddling trips but this was a padding holiday, just with a bit of a twist.
The cruise was a bargain at £205 all inclusive and with two kayaks on board it just had to be done. The flight times where horrendous, hence the cheap price, so it was very early in the morning when we arrived on the deck of the Blue Cruise Gulet in Bodrum harbour. Although I was shattered I was eager to see the kayaks they’d advertised and made my way to the front of the boat. As ever with trips abroad it’s always a lottery as to the type of boat you’ll be paddling and this was no exception. The word kayak was slightly over optimistic but in all fairness these fibreglass sit on tops where ever so comfy. They had a solid high back and although they looked dreadful, they paddled easily and where incredibly stable on the water.
After a good breakfast of scrambled eggs and salad and meeting the other folks we’d be spending the week with, the captain came up on deck with his charts. The plan was to sail for a couple of hours each morning then stop for lunch and get some paddling, snorkelling and swimming in before we set off again around 4pm to arrive at one of the remote baysand moor up for the evening, giving me another few hours of paddling before the sunset. There would be no portaging or packing up kit. The deckhands were there to do everything for you, from launching the boats to stowing them away at the end of each trip. All I had to do was get on and paddle, it sounded perfect.
We left Bodrum at 11am and sailed 30 miles to the enchanted waters of Yedi Adalar also known as the ‘seven islands’. It was an incredibly beautiful setting as we made our way from the sea into the mouth of the bay. There were little islands dotted here and there; one could easily spend a week just exploring this tiny bit of coastline alone. I made my way to the front of the boat only to find Jean and Annette (both in their late 60’s) already with paddles in their hands. It hadn’t crossed my mind that maybe someone else would want to use the boats which in hindsight was a bit silly. Luckily though they were only on the water for 15 minutes and no one else seemed eager for a paddle so hubby and I grabbed the boats and headed off. This area is surrounded by lovely little coves and pebble beaches. The water was crystal clear and I could easily see the fish and sea urchins beneath me. We bumped into some other kayakers from another yacht all the way from Canada. This was their 3rd trip to the Aegean and they were already planning their next trip. We spent a good few hours paddling round a couple of the islands and enjoying the gorgeous sunshine. Then I totally managed to ruin my paddling reputation and my modesty in one easy step. I first botched up my exit from the kayak and ended up splashing about like a fool in the sea with an upside down boat and then to top it off (literally) I walked up the steps onto the deck totally drenched, when someone kindly pointed out that my bikini top had slipped up and I was showing a lot more than I had intended. I suppose I have to be remembered for something!
By 4pm it was time to set sail again but only a mile or so into a smaller bay where we moored for the evening. We paddled ashore and took a rocky path up through a pine forest. This forest is famous for its Storax (liquidambar) a rare, endangered tree from which myrrh is extracted. I’m not sure how far this trail goes but we walked for about an hour to reach the highest point and to get the most spectacular sunset view of the little islands we’d paddled around earlier. Back on the beach there was a ‘don’t stroke the seal’ sign’, which was strange as we’d not seen any seals at all. Later that evening the captain explained that a solitary seal was living in that area and had become extremely tame and friendly. I thought this sounded wonderful and imagined how amazing it would be to swim with it. However, the seal was now causing problems for the sailors as it kept climbing into their dingies and refusing to move. I still kind of hoped he would turn up so I could jump in and have a sneaky swim, but disappointingly he didn’t show. That evening we sampled some traditional Turkish Fare. We were all given a grilled fish, complete with head and teeth, which as a veggie wasn’t very tempting so I ended up having broad beans and bread fordinner. As this was an all inclusive cruise it wasn’t long before the beer and brandy started flowing. All 12 passengers soon got to know each other very well, especially Bob who ended up sleep walking naked around the lower deck looking for the toilet at 3am, followed by Liz, his wife in her shower towel desperately trying to usher him back into their cabin.
The following morning we headed off to Ballisu, 13 miles from Yedi Adalar. We were there by 11am so we had plenty of time paddling and swimming. This time I persuaded Bruce to come out in one of the boats. Even with a really bad back he paddled effortlessly around the bay, thanks to the high back design of the kayaks. We paddled along the coast and came across some cows with bells around their necks on a shingle beach, one of whom looked rather moody and started to stamp his hind leg at me as we got closer, so we decided not to land. The others were enjoying a swim and a bit of a snorkel back at the yacht. I can’t say the fish were terribly exciting to watch here but there were sea cucumbers and a fascinating car tyre with things growing off it down in the depths. Excitingly though Bruce and I came across something I’d never seen before and which made the others leap from their sunbeds to see. It was a mobile ice cream boat; the only thing missing was the music. A cornetto and calypso later and we were heading back to the yacht.
That evening we moored up in one of the coves in the English Harbour, so called after the area was used as a shelter by British warships during the Second World War. This was a great place to paddle with little surprises around each headland. We paddled straight across the bay past a small statue of a mermaid and into a small port. We were on a chocolate mission and had heard there was a shop in the vicinity. It was only just over a miles paddle to reach it, but it certainly felt a lot further and challenging than if I’d been in my sea kayak. Getting in and out of the boats here was quite nerve racking too as the water around the port was filled with unusual looking blue and white jelly fish. We got our chocolate much to the delight of Liz, our token chocoholic who seemed to be able to turn any conversation back onto cakes and chocolate within seconds. We even found a restaurant and bar at this port but the sun was about to set and we had to get back to the yacht before dark.
The following morning I was up at 6am. I had my early morning swim and even managed a solo paddle before the others woke up, which was so relaxing until the clouds came over and thunder filled the sky. When the lightening started I got a little concerned and hurriedly paddled back to the yacht. We set sail next to Cleopatra Island 6 miles away. This island is said to have gold dust in its sand, which was shipped there by Anthony for his new bride Cleopatra for their honeymoon. You have to pay £4.50 to land and there are strict rules to abide to. Strictly no towels allowed on the beach, no smoking, everyone must shower if they’d been swimming in the water and shoes and pockets must be shook out before you leave. The Island is also home to an ancient Roman amphitheatre and is well worth a visit.
Jean had a swim here and said the water felt unusually smooth and silky and when she got out her Arthritis pain in her hands and back had virtually disappeared and she could use her fingers properly again. It must be something to do with the minerals in the water but she wanted to return the next day so I’m guessing the effects didn’t last too long. The thunder storm we had that morning didn’t really clear and the Captain decided we should moor up at the port of Sogut with lots of other vessels to shelter from the storm. Wow what a storm it was. We were treated an incredible lightening show right into the night. Kaye, Dave, hubby and I took this opportunity to go to shore and discover the nightlife of Sogut. This consisted of one bar, with lots of flashing lights, a huge dance floor with disco ball, loud music and an elderly man sat in the furthest corner watching telly. We’d already had quite a few drinks on the boat so didn’t care and made full use of that dance floor. I can even remember us inventing a new dance called the ‘meercat’, probably doesn’t need much of a description and looking back I’m glad no one else was there to see. Ozer the chef off the yacht showed up for a while, he was an incredible dancer, a bit like Michael Jackson on speed, but with plenty of style.
The following morning we were moving again by 7am to make the 21mile journey to Gukertme. We paddled ashore to find a quaint Turkish village complete with little old ladies spinning and weaving rugs near the beach. There wasn’t much more to see and we were soon on our way to Kargili, a cove I’ll never forget.
It was just before lunch when I noticed what looked like 3 shark fins circling next to the boat, I got ever so excited. Dave, who does a lot of fishing, said they were sword fish, so excitedly I ran and got my goggles and underwater camera and waited for the captain to give the ok to dive in the water. Then it all turned into a nightmare for me. I was about to dive in when I saw the chef and deckhand whiz off in the dingy armed with a huge harpoon gun. They were in hot pursuit of the swordfish and where going to kill them in front of us all. I was distraught and apparently a few expletives left my mouth as I ran below deck almost in tears. I was sat there on my bed imagining lots of awful things that could accidentally happen with the harpoon and the deckhands bum when Hubby came down with some fantatic news. The cord had snapped on the harpoon and the deckhand had missed, so the fish got away safely and his harpoon was now lost at the bottom of the sea. That was such a perfect ending. It wasn’t long before I was back on my kayak again, which proved to be quite a strain as the wind and current had picked up considerable so I restricted myself to paddling in the bay. Later that evening two ladies from a neighbouring yacht had to be rescued by dingy as the wind and tide caught them out and they didn’t have the strength to get back to their yacht. For us it was another evening of eating and drinking and talking about good ole British grub especially puddings. We were all craving custard, cheesecake, apple pie, you name it we wanted it. The evening ended by us holding a raffle for the last 3 pieces of chocolate left on board the boat.
The following day we were in Kise Buku, a snorklers paradise. The fish here were so tame, instead of swimming after them, they swam around you. I haven’t a clue what all the fish were, except some had black spots on, others had bright blue stripes and down on the bottom where huge green and orange ones. This was the first proper snorkelling I’d done and I loved it. I was soon back on the kayak though and this time I had Kaye a retired school teacher with me, who’d never paddled before, ever. She was a natural and stayed out on the water exploring the sandy coves for longer than I did that day. I don’t think it’ll be long before Dave will be buying her a sit-on-top when they get home.
Our next stop was Adabogazi, a craggy bay and again fantastic for snorkelling. From the kayak I saw my first even garfish. They look like bright blue stretched out seahorses at first I thought they where eels until I saw their long pointed noses.
I paddled for hours around here, meeting other kayakers from other boats along the way and swapping anecdotes from our week on the yachts. That night we had some music and limbo dancing and hubby, Bruce and Gina gave us a beautiful rendition of the Titanic theme tune sung exquisitely into wine bottle microphones. I wish we had stayed here until the end of the trip but a few people wanted to go to shore to get some shopping done so the following morning we left and ended up on Camel Beach. It sounded lovely, long golden sands with a hundred camels roaming around freely on the shore. In reality it was quite horrid. The water was full of ropes and floats so you couldn’t paddle to shore. There were jet skies thrashing about everywhere and the lovely wild camels I’d imagined, where haggard old things dressed up for the tourists to have a ride on. This stop did give me my first opportunity to try Turkish coffee though. Runny hot compost is the only way I could describe it, certainly an acquired taste. I have to admit I was quite glad to leave this beach but sadly we were now heading back to Bodrum and the end of our cruise.
This holiday was definitely like no other paddling trip I’ve ever done. The purist’s will slate it but for me it was the perfect combination of sunbathing, eating, drinking, relaxing, swimming and of course loads of paddling. All my favourite things wrapped up in a single trip.
Info: This would be a fantastic sea kayaking trip, with plenty of places to wild camp and explore. The locals are friendly and there are plenty of tiny villages on route to top up on food and water.
Blue Cruise: I booked with Thomas Cook. Normal cruise price with nice flight times £450 for a week in October.
Thanks to Onur, Ozer, Hasan and Naki for looking after us all so well. And to Kaye, Dave, Carys, Bruce, Jean, Annette, Gina, Kevin, Bob and last but not least chocoholic Liz for making each and every day so enjoyable.
Written by lmanouch
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02 November 2007
Subject: Paddling in Poland PART 1
Time: 00:16:01 o'clock GMT
Author: lmanouch
PART 1
First British Solo Decent of the River Obra
‘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 reachingthe 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. 
Written by lmanouch
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Subject: Paddling in Poland PART 2
Time: 00:03:40 o'clock GMT
Author: lmanouch
PART 2
 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 <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />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 an | 