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like it was going to make it this year. There’s a healthy amount of rain
drumming on the roof even as I write. Here’s Rob in his new Big Dog
Havoc seal launching of Hodges’ Rock (Symonds Yat weekend – see
inside). At least that’s what it was called on the Saturday when Alison
Coles caught the moment on her Canon G10, but I believe it might have
been renamed since.
Once upon a time…….. there was a contented rower – or was he? Was there something
missing from his life? Why could he not pinpoint this source of discontent? What was this
nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he was doing something drastically wrong?
Suddenly, the answer came out of the blue.
Shock, horror – the realization was almost too much to bear. He had been going up the
river the wrong way‼!
Desperately he searched for a solution for his terrible predicament, then
suddenly he saw the light. He would cross to the other side and embark
on a new journey. So the adventure begins.
CHAPTER 1 – NO SPANDEX
He was soon joined by other curious people attracted to the sport of kayaking all of whom
seemed perfectly normal so maybe his initial fears had been somewhat
premature. The day began with meeting course
members and instructors, swiftly followed by the
allocation of strange objects called buoyancy aids.
Surely this would inhibit ones „catch and tapping down‟
manoeuvre he thought to himself. After a brief lecture
CHAPTER 3 – H20
After squeezing himself into the rather confined space of plastic cockpit the rower was
disconcerted to find he was being instructed to „paddle forwards‟ this being a totally alien
method of transport to him. Why would this craft not go in a straight line and where was
his Cox? (Some may say this about all rowers but this is another story). The rower was
desolate without the rest of his crew, but bravely pushed on
alone struggling with the concept of forward paddling. After
practicing this for a while another new skill was introduced, this
being „backward paddling‟ at which he was delighted. This
seemed much more familiar, not being able to see where he was
going. Other skills included using the thing called a paddle to
move his boat sideways, stern rudder and sweep stroke moves
in order to be able to move his plastic out of the way of other
river users. The rower thought this somewhat odd as whenever
he and his crew are on the river they never have to move for
anyone? Taking avoiding action seemed extremely strange.
Lunch came and the picnic table provided was no more than a slab of concrete sparsely
decorated with weeds but the rower was too hungry to care. When all were fed and
watered a whole new array of plastic and fibreglass was paraded before him. He liked the
look of the long skinny one called a marathon boat was disappointed that the budget
seemed not to have run into providing stabilizing riggers.
The day was fast drawing to a close the sky was darkening and an eerie wind began to
howl across the bleak water. To his horror the rower realised that the time had arrived to
get wet. He had heard tales of kayakers voluntarily throwing themselves to the mercy of
the river in some sort of ritual called a „capsize drill‟ but thought it only legend until
now……
There was no escape so following a swift change out of his familiar
spandex and into stuff called
neoprene he braced himself for
the cold, grasping depths of the
river. The rower and the others
duly formed a sacrificial line and
one by one threw their plastic
over into the water coming up
suitably relieved to see sunlight
once again (poetic licence
actually the sun had long gone
Having survived this unceremonious dunking a cold, cold rower was permitted to return to
the salubrious men‟s changing room to don suitable warm clothing before facing the
debriefing and final judgment of his efforts to join the ranks of the roughie toughies. He
waited in trepidation of the result and breathed a huge sigh of relief when told he had
passed and was now officially fledged as a one star
‘Rowaker’
EPILOGUE
Since starting this tale the rowaker was struck down with kayak sickness and felt the need
to pursue his calling to the other side by completing and passing a two star course. This
still not being enough to sate his appetite he went on to teach himself to perform the much
envied and macho „Eskimo roll‟ deftly pulling this off in the river at the drop of hat or should
that be kayak helmet!
THE END
The author would like it known that the identity of the rower
has not been disclosed in order to protect his anonymity
thereby preventing any reprisals from purist kayakers.
Many of the clubs older(?) members will know that each year Andy (my husband) & I tend
to go off sea kayaking somewhere warm enough that you don‟t need to wonder whether
your thermals & wetsuit will be dry in the morning, but just pack a swimsuit & carry plenty
of water. I thought I‟d write a quick summary of our experiences for anyone who thinks
they might enjoy sunshine, warm water and fantastic sunsets - from a kayak.
For the last few years,
we have alternated
between Turkey & the
Greek island of Milos ,
in the Cyclades .
Last month we tried out
a little outfit called
Seven Capes in Turkey
.This is run by an
English guy and his
Turkish wife and is a
nice mixture of guest
house & camping, so for
anyone new to
expeditions, it‟s a good
combination. The first
few days were exploring
& camping on islands in
the bay of Fethiye,
where the sea is
generally relatively
calm, then two nights in a guest house with a half day paddle/skills session, before
paddling along the Seven Capes – including the Bad Cape, the Devil‟s Cape… you
probably get the picture. So I learnt more about surf launches, surf landings, and staying
in the boat between the two – but it was never scary. In fact, there were two Russian girls
in the group, one of whom had only been in a kayak a couple of times, and she coped
fine. This may have been because she didn‟t know enough to be worried – so when she
was stuck on rocks with waves breaking over her, she‟d sit smiling & wait for someone to
sort it out.
However – if you
don‟t mind a more
complicated journey,
and want to learn a
lot, have a really
fantastic time, come
home very confident,
learn to roll, be able
to handle a sea
kayak in wind &
waves – get yourself
out to Milos & learn
with Rod, our
favourite guide &
coach! If you are
lucky enough to find
a sea kayak guide in
Turkey with good
kayak skills, this is
often because they
have been trained by Rod. My ambition for next year is to paddle from Milos to Santorini
with him. See seakayakgreece.com or talk to me!
Click on the pic. for a link through to SEA KAYAK MILOS and read about what Rod and
Mrs. Rod can offer. Something for almost everyone it would seem from Jane‟s hoped for
Santorini crossing for the more experienced sea kayaker or one of his multi day packages
returning each night to the B&B.
If enough people are sufficiently interested we may look at a club holiday.
From Marathon Web site:- The story behind the Hasler Trophy
One of the most daring raids of World War Two took place on the night of 11 December
1942 in the enemy-occupied port of Bordeaux in France. Operation Frankton involved 12
men in six canoes being taken by submarine to a position 10 miles south of the Gironde
estuary on 7th December. One of the canoes was ripped passing through the hatch of the
submarine, but the other five then had an 85 mile paddle ahead of them. Two boats were
lost in the tidal race and the remaining three carried on for three days, paddling in
darkness and lying up during the day. One more boat hit a submerged rock and sank and
the final two boats went on to Bordeaux harbour, where they attached their limpet mines
and, assisted by the ebb tide, paddled silently back down the river. The mines detonated
and severely damaged four vessels and sunk one. The four remaining men beached
before reaching the sea, scuttled their canoes and travelled overland to try to reach safety.
Two were captured, but Major „Blondie‟ Hasler and Marine Bill Sparks made their way to
Spain – the only two of the original ten who survived. Hasler was awarded the DSO and
Sparks the DSM.
After the war, Hasler went on to found the Single Handed Transatlantic Yacht race after a
bet with his friend Francis Chichester. The Hasler Trophy was presented by Lloyds
Underwriters to commemorate the raid of the so-called „Cockleshell Heroes‟ and has been
competed for since 1957. Major Hasler died in 1987 and Bill Sparks died on 30 th
November 2002, only ten days short of the sixtieth anniversary of the raid. In 2003 the
Marathon Committee decided to inaugurate a new trophy named in honour of Bill Sparks,
which goes to the highest placed veteran K2 in the highest division at the Hasler Final.
The Hasler Trophy is won once a year by the best Marathon Club in the Country. This is
decided at the Hasler Final, in 2009 it is at Reading on 27th Sept. The Hasler final is a one
day contest between the top clubs from the regions, four from the Southern Region. The
competition for those 4 places throughout the ten Southern Region races of the season
has been very hot. Reading, Banbury, Pangbourne and Southampton made it, with
SINGLE
DATE VENUE DIV NAME RESULT DETAILS
DOUBLE
19.10.08 Longridge 8 Single Andy Cook 8 of 31 Less than 1 min. off promotion
With A Archondakis of
14.06.09 Royal 7 Double Andy Cook 2 of 5
Longridge
Richard
21.06.09 Oxford 7 Single 12 of 25
Hammersley
Steve
9 Single 3 of 37 Promoted to div 7
Backshall
Steve
Backshall
12.07.09 Pangbourne 7 Double 3 of 13
Richard
Hammersley
Steve
19.07.09 Wokingham 7 Single 2 of 22 Promoted to div 6
Backshall
Of the potential seven people who were going on this trip organised by John Norris only
three made it due to illness and other reasons, (John himself being a casualty).
So I joined up with Jane Oxley and Mark Steel at the campsite at Corfe Castle on the
Saturday morning of a very promising sunny day. Although Johns plan was to do some
training in the harbour we had all been in the sea recently and decided on a trip. ( Poole
has a double high tide, one was 10.15am and the next 14.22pm with not much fall.) We
drove to the Studland bay side Poole Harbour parking up near the harbour ferry. Carrying
the boats through the bushes we found the harbour choppy, cold and windy compared to
every else. We loaded up (including some warm gear just in case) we paddled through
some chop to the harbour entrance just as a cross channel ferry was entering. Ploughing
through the waves we made it through the entrance and out into the open sea. After
pottering along the first piece of coast we then paddled directly across Studland Bay to a
small beach just before the Old Harry rocks. After a short breather we then had to decide
what to do about the overfall / race at Old Harry rocks. The first attempt was to go through
the gaps in the rocks but not enough water so we paddled straight through the
overfall/race which was quite mild as it was only just after high water. We then followed the
cliffs along towards Swanage and stopped at an isolated beach for lunch/cigarette/ sleep/
tan top up.
We then continued on towards Swanage but eventually turned back and headed for Old
Harry Rocks. As had been happening all day the sea was moving/ changing not helped by
the wake from the power boats, jet skis‟ and everything else thrashing up and down the
coast. Closing in on the rocks Mark stopped to talk to a sit on top paddler who had just
been terrified paddling through the overfall/race so we decided to have a look for a better
way. (For those who might not know the water from Studland bay was trying to get into
Swanage bay as the tide went out, down the English Channel, creating the fast water
overfall and basically we had to paddle “up stream”.) Yes there was a gap in the rocks,
Mark with a lot of scrapping and manoeuvring eventually managed to make it back into
Now this is where it started to get interesting. All the big power boats heading for the
Harbour entrance were making waves and the closer to the entrance the bigger the swell/
waves, so much so as we passed a point of land a wave dumped into the boat having
popped the spray deck. Reverse paddle, quick pump out and carry on. How do you get
through the harbour entrance with all the turmoil, ferry etc? We edged closer, the ferry
went across the entrance to the far side, it seemed like a good time, Mark went through,
followed closely by myself, unfortunately at the other side was a massive stopper. Mark
eventually paddled out, Jane somehow avoided it but I was stuck. Paddling flat out for 30
seconds I had not moved an inch! Fortunately the ferry started coming back and it
disturbed the stopper enough to paddle through into the harbour, quite tough really.
Eventually landing, dragging the boats over the exposed shore, through the bushes to a
much relived seat in the car.
So we returned to camp, reflected
on the day, planned the next and
then took a mile and half walk to a
pub in Corfe Castle. Lovely
seafood meal, a few drinks and
taxi back.
The Sunday also started very
brightly and we set of for
So all in all a great week-end, and almost two days‟ solid of sun.
Having planned to camp I arrived late on a very windy but cloudless Wednesday afternoon
at a campsite high up on the Downs overlooking Fleet Lagoon and Portland Bill. After
some searching I found a sheltered spot for myself as well as Jane and Mark who were to
come down at different times. A beautiful evening was followed by a glorious red sunset
and a clear sky in which you could see the Milky Way.
Thursday dawned windy, so down to the Centre and off to do some Rough Water
handling. However the morning was quite tame and the afternoon trip to Portland Bill was
called off as being to dangerous, BUT the surf was up in Weymouth Bay! So after lunch
we drove down to the Marina on the River Wey and paddled to the open sea. What are
those big humps going up and down, a hollow pit in the stomach at the sight of the five foot
swell. Ah well lets give it a go, so out we paddled across the swell with the aim of getting
some way down the beach before surfing in. After a time there were yachts bearing down
on us from the World Championships that were taking place in the bay. Quick change of
course and the threat went away. Right says the leader Paul “spread yourselves out and
try surfing in”. A few short runs but soon there were bodies in the water all over the place,
a couple of half attempted self rescues but we were all swept into the beach. Empty the
boat, re-launch, spray deck on and paddle out through the pounding surf. As you paddled
out, the breaking waves gave way to bigger breaking waves and bigger rollers, all of a
sudden it was exhilarating paddling over and through these waves with a satisfying thump
each time you pounded through one and the bow thudded down onto the back of the wave
ready to attack the next, you just wanted to keep going. Then turn around (not an easy
task, wait for a lull) then try again. Another short run then all of a sudden you are going,
disappointment turns to elation as you are moving and continue riding that wave, cries of
“whoopee, ride „em cowboy etc” and you run for ever, then you notice the bow gradually
turning into the wave, how do I get off, too late its tipped you off, so what only a foot of
water, boy what a ride. Back to base for a hot shower and reminisce.
Friday dawned grey and windy, there were supposed to be two groups but all fourteen of
us piled into a minibus with a trailer carrying fourteen kayaks and set of for Kimmeridge.
The trip was to be Kimmeridge to Turners Pool a trip I had done with Mark and Jane some
weeks before. It started off flat with a slight headwind which grew in intensity, hence the
chop increased. The problem today was having layered up against the wind and cold I
Saturday was a bright cloudless day and we drove to Ringstead, just east of Weymouth
down a narrow road to a reasonably priced privately owned area/ car park where we met
about ten other paddlers from South East Kayakers. Launch and then east to Lulworth, a
bit of chop but soon we were passing glorious chalk cliffs‟. A short stop on a steep shingle
beach then off again rock hopping, through arches, through beds of sea vegetation where
you had to wait for gaps in which you could place a blade. All of a suddenly there were
climbers practising their skills on the cliffs, (with the odd one falling into the water as they
tried to negotiate an overhang,) and there were excellent examples of rock formations
where millions of years ago shifting Teutonic plates (earths crust) pressing together had
created great folds in the surface of the earth, to a glorious sundrenched Lulworth Cove
where we stopped to lunch. Laying back looking at the sun beating down, a conversation
overheard between a Marlow member and another member of the group….
The trip back had more rock hopping, more sights but overall a bit of a haul back to
Ringstead for tea.
There were more things to do at Weymouth such as the Saturday night paddle and round
trip of Portland Bill on Sunday but after three great days I headed for home.
AND ON SUNDAY
Sunday 10:00am at Symonds Yat and 10 souls from beginners to coaches gathered for a
day of basic instruction, skills refreshing and just plain remembering what WW is all about.
The first thing you notice upon entering the car park is that the slide is closed (boo) but
after enquiring the one at the other end of the car park is open (hurray).
After some basic introductions, swapping of objectives and what to do if at the receiving
end of a throw line, there was the slide and a refreshing splash to get us in the mood.
More basics on horizon lines, ferry gliding and inspecting the rapids then first move of the
season (or ever for some) into the rapids with ferry gliding, crossing, eddy hopping etc.
However, whilst we were there it became busier as more groups arrived. After completing
the first set of manoeuvres, it‟s down to the beach and a portage back up to the top. JP
encouraged everyone to try out the rapid in their own time. However, it kept getting busier,
every time you looked up you could see helmets and paddles as another flotilla came
downstream. This was not helped by the odd canoe getting in on the act as well as quite a
few sailing through. With all the gear they were wearing Davy Crockett could have slipped
through unnoticed. Beach, portage and lunch.
The afternoon started with a trip up to the rock, most had a go being led by JP, entering
the river almost vertically with the grace of an Olympic diver (and almost no splash) to be
totally submerged, the remainder registering different levels on the splashometer.
Then back to the rapids which by now were almost deserted. So with the sun shining
brightly the Marlow paddlers had another hour or so of uninterrupted paddling. There were
a few swimmers in the afternoon but this was testament to the effort being applied. So
ended a very enjoyable day out.
P.S. The KARNALI owners club all enjoyed their new toys.
NEWSLETTER DELIVERY
Following a short trial which was generally liked by those that viewed it, I‟ll be posting
future newsletters on a community publishing site – SCRIBD – where the newsletter can
be viewed in book layout. It also makes it easier for others to view our newsletter as well.
I‟ll probably be giving up the newsletter soon (it‟s time for me to take a back seat) so would
hope this would allow a new editor to advise of a new edition by e-mail but not eat into
their usage allowance. Fortunately, I enjoy virtually unlimited usage so it‟s not been a
problem for me.
If you are interested in putting together the newsletter (4 issues per year) then I‟d be happy
to hear from you and would look forward to working with you over the next year to achieve
a seamless transition.
Please advise the editor if any contact details are incorrect or if you wish to add an alternative no. / e-mail address to the list.