River Findhorn – 10/8/05 or 8/10/05 if you’re British

We went on a weekend away with the kayak club, with the lot of us (22, I think) sharing a bunkhouse in Aviemore, which is about three hours northish from Edinburgh. I wasn’t driving, so “ish” is as definitive as I’m going to get. It was a bit of a fiasco getting organized, but by Friday morning, we had a plan and by Friday evening, we were in the back of Robin’s car heading north. These things tend to work themselves out. Usually. Hopefully.

Not knowing the rivers or the levels (except that not much rain had been collecting), we opted for solo kayaks for the weekend instead of round 2 with the Topo Duo. Bob and Jean might be a bit disappointed? Then again, given Bob’s minimum levels with the Duo, they might agree.

How does one fit twenty-two kayakers into approximately three rooms? Carefully and creatively stack them. The bunkhouse claims to sleep twenty-four, but several perches are strictly for couples who don’t believe in claustrophobia.

Saturday divided into two groups. The grade 4/5 paddlers, and perhaps a few aspiring wannabes headed for the Meig. The grade 2/3 paddlers and the faint of heart headed for the Findhorn. The River Meig is a little bit more than a micro-creek, but is never too low to run. It’s dam release, but because of the salmon, there’s always a minimum trickle from the dam, making a scrape possible on the Meig. Mind you, a scrape on the Meig still has plenty of challenging rapids and big drops. It’s a solid grade 4 run. The River Findhorn is sort of like the River Meig in that you can scrape down it nearly year-round, but it’s a free-flowing run, so that’s not a guarantee. We headed for the Middle Findhorn along with fearless leader Andy, Jenny, Andrea, Callum, Amy and Ali.

Bump and scrape on the River Findhorn reminded me a lot of bump and scrape on Jett to Lilly. Nothing was too pushy, but there were plenty of little rocks to inspire the most creative of non-threatening pins. Except perhaps for Carnage Corner, but we’ll get there later.

We put in at an old church near a slightly famous bell tower. Names may be added to that description later, but for now “old church” will suffice. The first rapid gave us a taste of the bumps and scrapes to come, and provided the most difficulty until about halfway through the run. I gave up on eddy hopping through a lot of the rapids because that was the easiest way to get stuck on a rock. The rapids were probably longish shoals at higher water, but at our level, they were games of pinball around every corner. I did Diann’s hoochie coochie as best I could, but occasionally enjoyed an extended scout perched atop a no longer submerged rock.

After several kilometers of bumping and scraping, we passed under a bridge. Lucas asked Andy if it was made of sandstone. He said yes. Then Jenny said it was granite and commented about how boys just make stuff up if they don’t know the answer. After the bridge, the difficulty increased a bit, with a rapid that Lucas thought was similar to Rock In The Way on Whites Creek. I think it’s more apt to call it Rock Not Really In The Way, because RITW feels like you’re going to hit it, even though you really won’t. RNRITW doesn’t feel like that at all, but there is indeed a big boulder that you won’t hit as you run the rapid.

The shoals got easier to run as we headed downstream. More gradient seemed to lead to narrower passages in the crucial spots, although some extended scouts continued to be enjoyed by all in the group. A few more technical drop/pool rapids and shoals led us to a big, nearly 180o curve into a large eddy that signaled the big rapid of the day was just up ahead. All of the flow runs through a mini-gorge within the gorge that’s probably twenty feet across and provides the steepest gradient of the day. The guidebook names this rapid Wall of Death perhaps because as the river drops the fifteen or twenty feet in perhaps fifty or so feet, it runs past a wall that’s difficult to not scrape a paddle against. Is that the Wall of Death or are the stoppers that form in the channel at higher water? Either way, I wasn’t all that intimidated. As I was running the rapid, Andrea gave me the gentle reminder to paddle. I really didn’t need it, but I thanked her anyway so that in future situations, she wouldn’t question whether to remind me or not.

If I might digress for a moment, the Scots need to learn a few things about naming rapids. Not everything has to be fierce and manly. Perhaps they can take a few lessons from Southeastern boaters? Wall of Death reminded me of a Middle Tellico rapid called Fat Man’s Squeeze, because the boulders on both sides of the rapid neck the line down to a fairly small slot before opening back up to the big friendly pool. Fat Man’s Squeeze is much more fun of a name than Wall of Death. Then there’s the custom to name something after someone having an epically bad run. That’s sort of a dubious honor, but makes for fun stories down the road. Now granted, Wall of Death is supposed to have some pretty good stoppers at higher flows, but still! Terry Johnson should come out here and rename some rapids to his naming scheme of Big Fluffy Puppy and Big Fluffy Kitty. Although, at our water level, Sweet Scrapey Puppy was more like it.

After the big Wall of Death, we had a few more bumps and scrapes before the last big rapid of the day. Andy said start just right of center but definitely end up left. About halfway through, I saw why. River right was just a big pile of rocks. The guidebook describes it as a natural weir and that seems about right. Some water trickles through but it’s really not such a fun place to be. I made it just left of the “natural weir” rocks and saw Callum upside down in the pool below them just above another shallow pourover. He must have gotten turned around in the big eddy. He couldn’t run the pourover upside down. He couldn’t really roll either. He was just sort of sitting there upside down. In the split second I had to decide about the big eddy line that flipped him, I decided I couldn’t really do anything useful in that pool except add to the carnage, so I continued down the last drop and caught the river left eddy in time to see Ali self-rescuing in the distance. This was the Carnage Corner and it claimed two that day.

Below the Carnage Corner was a long friendly pool that led to a short grunt of an egress to the lay-by at Relugas Bridge. We found dry clothes and then ate lunch while shuttle was being run. I’m not sure I like this custom of not eating lunch mid-trip, on a convenient river bank. I can understand it in the middle of winter, when the clock is ticking, but not in the early parts of October when there is plenty of faffing to be enjoyed without the pressure of the clock.

Once we were all packed, we headed to Jenny’s to celebrate Charlie’s birthday without him. He organized the weekend away, but opted out of it to work on his kitchen remodel at home. I understand the need, but he missed out on some fine carrot cake.

Our otherwise nice trip leader had a fit of macho idiot syndrome, so I opted out of day 2 on the Upper Findhorn. Lucas went, so perhaps he’ll have some words to say about that trip.