River Teith Flush - 26/11/2006

Despite the Where's the Water? gauge saying the River Teith was at "medium", I knew from Friday's driving adventure that the water was likely to be spilling into the car park at the get-in and thus the level was going to be somewhere between high and very high. A total of five people expressed an interest in bimbling, but through an assortment of excuses, the bimble was reduced to three. Magnus and Dirk met me at the boat shed at 9am. We were loaded fairly quickly – amazing how small group can minimise faff – and set off with 2 vehicles between us.

Driving toward Callander, I could see rapids as we drove alongside the river. Definitely, the river was high. Normally, the last bit is just one drop into a wave train followed by a few lazy, mid-river rocks. At high water, the last rapid become last rapids, with a longish stretch of waves and such leading to the get-out. The last bit would be fun. We dropped my car at the get-out layby, got dressed for the river and drove up with Magnus to the get-in. The second car park had some water in it and the footpath was underwater, so we unloaded in the normal car park and launched from the footpath.

As we approached the first bridge, I tried to explain the joy of the eddy to Dirk, as it was his first time on a river. He didn’t believe me and drifted downstream well away from the eddy that I caught below the bridge pylon. A second attempt at explanation resulted in similarly sceptical drifting well away from the eddies below the second bridge. Two thoughts passed through my mind. This trip was going to be either very quick or very epic.

After a few bends in the river and some help from Magnus, Dirk caught his first eddy at what is normally the first set of wee rapids. I caught some offside eddies. Though awkward, they slowly got easier as my boat and I bonded. I had to be careful, though. One too many eddies and Dirk and Magnus were gone, hurtling downstream faster than my stubby boat and half a paddle could catch easily. At one point, it took a solid five minutes of work to catch up with them.

Catching up was well timed. I was able to tell them to run right of the big boulder. Turns out, at our level, it was stubby rock, not a boulder. Right we went, through bouncy wave train fun. Dirk followed me while Magnus forged ahead. Again, I ended up chasing to suggest the niceness of eddies. I told them of another bend in the river where they were meant to go right of an island. One too many eddies and I ended up in hot pursuit. I bobbed through wave train mania trying to catch up. Instead of message in a bottle, I felt like messenger in a bottle.

After many bobs through many waves, I got Dirk and Magnus bundled into river right eddy just above the last rapids. I explained the basic line and we decided amongst us that the best approach would be for me to run it first and catch and eddy to watch. Then Magnus would go with Dirk close behind, ducky style. I bobbed, bounced and grinned my way through the first drop and wave train, and slammed into a one boat eddy against the rock face to watch Magnus and Dirk.

Magnus came bobbing along and caught a similar one boat eddy below mine. No Dirk was in sight. We watched and looked for him to no avail. After a minute or so of looking, I saw a small kayaker shaped figure lower down in the same eddy as where we started dumping out a kayak and I realised the one flaw in our plan. I had neglected to mention the concept of the ferry glide to Dirk. He had been manhandled by the eddy line.

After dumping the boat, Dirk got back in and ran far right through the same bit that we ran far left. At normal levels, it’s a rock shelf. At our level, it was a very friendly wave train. Magnus and I broke into the current from our respective eddies to join Dirk. I forged ahead and bobbed through the second half of the last rapids and then semi-flats looking for the get-in. A tree was in the water just a few metres above the get-out, marking it helpfully but making the approach much more dynamic. With everybody safely there, somebody checked a watch. Total time on the water was less than two hours. It was a flush, not a bimble.

Dirk on a calmish section of the Teith. The level was in-the-carpark high, which meant the early stuff was bigger, the later stuff was washed out and the run was more of a flush than a bimble.

Magnus was not far behind me on the last rapids.

Dirk picked a good alternative line after his wee swim.

Sea Christening - Fidra - 25/11/2006

Unfortunate for Callum, his plans for Sunday interfered with my semi-organised bimble for the River Teith. He asked if I would be interested in a Saturday bimble. I suggested a Seacliff trip. Lack of surf near Ali led her to suggest Bass Rock. Abundance of wind led her to change plans to Yellowcraig beach and a paddle around Fidra and other nearby lumps of rock. Ali brought her Inazone for me to paddle on the dark side, figuring with that I had a chance to make it out more than a hundred yards from the beach before dark. Callum let me borrow his daughter Lucy's paddle. After just one detour, I found Callum's house and rode with him to meet up with Ali and Robin at the beach. We had about an hour and a half of daylight left in the day for our paddle.

Once in the water, Robin and Callum helped me get my spray deck on the boat. Unfortunately, I took on one wee wave before getting out to them. Not too much water. Once in, we headed out toward the island. I waited until that point to tell them that I was a sea virgin. Callum had assumed I was hardcore, having been keen for Bass Rock. I told him Ali said the sea was flat. He laughed and said Ali's definition of flat didn't always mean flat as we watched Ali motor into the waves in the distance.

The waves got bigger closer to the island. The wind said hello, too. Callum hung semi-close to me, occasionally asking if I was ok. My answer: sort of. It took a little while, but I made it to the island. I was happy to have a kiddie paddle, but definitely slow for it. I paddled up to a biggish rock eddy to take a few bird photos. It was too dark for me to guess what kind of birds they were. The swarm of herring gulls was easy to identify but the birds on the island looked a bit more graceful. At least graceful until they noticed me and bellyflopped into the water to get away from me.

I left them and rejoined the rest of the group to paddle around the outside of the island. The surf got bigger and I got more nervous. Again, Callum asked me if I was ok. I shook my head no and said yes. He laughed. We continued an awkward ferry glide through the surf. We had to turn to stay with the island so we got to ride the waves between some sharp pointy rocks. I wasn't exactly keen for the surf, but didn't have much choice. Robin laughed and said he felt as nervous as I looked.

After three or four waves chucked me forward, I sort of got used to it. I never really got used to that little backward pull at the end but otherwise it had its uses. Around the corner was sort of a wavy eddy. The big swells stayed on the other side but occasionally waves found their way in for us to bob around. There was a small cave on the right that Robin and Callum peered into. Robin, Callum and I each had a go paddling through the big natural bridge sort of thing. Once on the other side, a biggish wave found its way through and beached me on some rocks about six inches out of the water. It was a good perch for a photo.

We ventured out and around to the next eddyish place and saw more birds, this time a bit closer up. Aside from the seagulls, I could only guess what the others were. The Scottish Seabird Centre suggests they may be guillemots, but it was a bit dusky for me to know for sure. Speaking of the Scottish Seabird Centre, I wonder if we showed up on their Fidra webcam. Its unfortunate that we can't access archival footage.

Sunset made it darker still and we decided to head back to the beach around the other nearby island. The surf never got as eventful as around the Firth side of Fidra, although one wave made a loud enough crash against the island behind me to get my attention. I didn't stop paddling as I took a quick peek over my shoulder. Bark bigger than bite. The paddle back to the beach didn't seem to take near as long as the paddle out. Robin gave me a tug onto the beach itself and I took an extra minute to extract myself from the kayak. Ali or whoever used that boat last is a tad shorter than me and outfitted it in such a way that I couldn't move the bulkhead out. My legs needed that minute to wake up again.

After a very long hike back to the cars, we changed out of wet and sandy gear and then headed for Callum's. I had brought the second tray of not-really-pumpkin custard leftover from Thanksgiving, which was promptly divided into four portions and demolished. I was asked when the next Thanksgiving might be and informed that I don't really need an excuse. They would be happy to let me cook for them anytime.

Ali was first in the water, waiting patiently for the rest of us.

The birds seemed to be enjoying the sunset until they realised I was taking their picture. Then all of the close ones chucked themselves in the water to get away.

The crack in the rock didn't quite go through. One of the waves coming through was big enough to pick me up and deposit me on the rock about 6 inches in the dry. It was a good perch for photos.

The eddy behind the big rock was a good spot for bird watching.

Figuring short, stubby C1 would be dead slow, I took a turn on the dark side with a borrowed kiddie paddle and was marginally faster.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Miki and I decided Thanksgiving was a good excuse to have people over for a meal. Nothing was traditional. Miki chopped and mashed. I fried, stirred, arranged and baked. Our contributions were guacamole with veg and tortilla chips (are they tortilla crisps here?), Tortilla Azteca and wheat-free squash cake. Pilar and Juan brought Amish Corn. Amy brought raspberry pavlova. Juan and Jason each brought wine to share. Everything was yummy.

Friday, I took Miki for a one-day tour of the Highlands. As Miki had picked up Hostel Cooties somewhere in Italy, I decided against dragging her up and down a cold hill. A shame, really. We wandered around the village of Callander for a little while. Then we headed north to Rannoch Moor and Glen Coe, one of my favourite areas in Scotland. Approaching dark suggested our turnaround point. We took a pitstop in Green Welly Land before making the drive home. Dinner at the Sheep Heid Inn gave Miki a taste of (good) Scottish food before her early Saturday departure.

South Americans Juan and Pilar, as well as Europeans Jason, Amy and Bram joined us for a non-traditional Thanksgiving meal. Colin and Tanya, Charlie and Emily, Ali, Tracy and Agnes sent their apologies.

The original photo from Miki's camera was more like Thanksgiving with the Antichrists. Amy and I look especially keen for world domination.

Hamish the Immortal Cow sends his regards.

Miki strikes a familiar pose for her time in Scotland.

Ah Paris! – 17/11/2006-19/11/2006

My friend Miki decided she needed a vacation, so she booked a trip to Italy, France and Scotland for two weeks. Paris being cheaper airfares than my choices in Italy, I chose to meet her in Paris for the weekend, simultaneously ticking off #2 of 3 of the European cities Miquel told me I have to see. We met up Friday night at the hotel and she joined me for the blandest Indian food I have ever eaten for dinner late that night. I felt bad for laughing at her tales of lost luggage and not-really-astonishing bad customer service from Air France. The hotel was not very far from the Eiffel Tower, so we could see it looming overhead on the walk back to the hotel.

The next morning, I enjoyed a 5K run around the perimeter of the Tower and back, only getting slightly lost once. Large pointy thing looming in sky tends to help with navigation. The Tower is big. Really big. I’m not sure how big I expected it to be, but it was big. The day started warming up during my run, so I was excited to get out like a mad tourist and not be bundled up in wooly everything. The rest of the morning was a leisurely start.

First up, La Cathédrale de Notre Dame de Paris. And breakfast. It took us a little while to figure out how to get on the Metro, specifically because we could not buy tickets at Pasteur station. We walked to a bigger station and figured it out easily enough. Once we were on the metro, we had to change trains at one of the bigger stations. It had tunnel after tunnel leading to a moving walkway. The moving walkway had this rumbly stuff leading up to and away from it that was so much more fun than the regular moving walkway. We surfed. Nervously.

Once at Notre Dame, we took our breakfast outside of the café Esmerelda, overlooking the Seine and Notre Dame’s back garden. Most importantly, we enjoyed the bright, warm sun. After sun, we wandered the grounds and then the innards. Saturday mass was ongoing while we were there, so we ogled old things and stained glass with praying and chanting in the background.

After Notre Dame, we hopped back on the Metro and headed for the Catacombes. My map of the city wasn’t the most informative thing in the world and neither was the big map on display at the traffic junction, so we took a few wrong turns finding the entrance to the Catacombes. The entrance that was just across the street from the Metro Station we exited.

The Catacombes were really interesting and eerie. We wound down many stairs into the tunnels under the city. After mining the bedrock for its limestone, the city decided to empty the graveyards and entomb the remains there amongst the empty space. If I can read my roman numerals correctly, the first remains were brought there in 1786. I felt very very cold down there. Miki told me I was crazy, that it was nowhere near that cold. We followed the labyrinth of tunnels with piles of bones surrounding us. It has to be haunted. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I still believe it’s haunted.

Outside the tombs, we wandered through more catacombs. Looking up, we saw the aftermath of a few cave-ins. Limestone is a bit fragile for that. It was a long climb up twisty, claustrophobic spiral stairs back to daylight. Two thoughts floated through my head. Don’t stop and don’t anybody touch me. Yay claustrophobia.

After the catacombes, we continued our trend of zigzagging across the city with a zag north to Monmartre, home of Amelie. Our first impression of Monmartre was the promenade of sex shops. It reminded me of red lights in Amsterdam, though I was happy to not be heckled in Monmartre. At the corner of La Rue Epic stood the famous Moulin Rouge. After obligatory tourist duties, we turned there and followed the street up to the Café de les Deux Moulins, where we stopped for a snack. Crème Brulée de Amelie Poulain, of course.

We wandered more of Monmartre. Miki got hit on by one of the market owners. We stopped for dinner at a café called The Marmite, which led to an interesting discussion about the perplexing, foul smelling Australian “delicacy” over dinner. Thankfully, marmite was not on the menu.

After dinner, we headed for the Champs Elysées and the Arc de Triomphe. We did a tourist lap, stopping for another tourist moment to take Arc photos at the tiny space between lanes in the centre of the Champs Elysées. Miki and I made friends with two other tourists there, swapping cameras with a Chinese guy and an Ecuadorian (if that’s a word?) guy. The Ecuadorian guy liked us so much that he insisted we stay and be in his Arc picture with him. After Arc photos, we did something I have not done in all my time in Europe. We set foot in a McDonald’s. To take advantage of their loo, not to eat. The McD’s was massive. It still smelled bad, the usual more like chemicals than food smells, but being in Paris and the Champs Elysées, it had a café as well. Mc Pastries and Mc Expensive Coffee to go with the usual grease. We escaped quickly.

At the far other end of the Champs Elysées, we found a big traffic circle and more old buildings at Concorde something. We admired the fish people at the big fountain and took some more photos before deciding to call it a night. Our plan for the morning was to get up reasonably early to tour the Eiffel Tower before I had to head to the airport and home.

Sunday morning looked nothing like Saturday morning. Ok, it sort of did, except for the overcast, rain and wind. Great time to be wandering around atop tall buildings! I decided against a second morning run – not hugely interested in carrying around wet gear all day or being cold(er) all day for that. We headed for the Tower anyway. Only the lifts were open, so minimal stairs but plenty of overcrowded elevators for our enjoyment.

The Eiffel Tower was my first encounter with Japanese tourists in ages and I wasn’t totally ready for it. While queueing for tickets initially, I was nearly impaled by umbrellas six time. I envied Miki her stature. She was slightly out of range for most passes. We came, we queued, we conquered. The first lift was unnerving but big enough to not be too freaky. We queued again on the 2nd “floor” for the next round of lifts, deciding to conquer the top first and then wander the 2nd floor on the way back down.

Our turn came up. The lift went ding. A Japanese woman cried eeeee and what felt like forty people squealed in reply and stuffed themselves in and around us into the lift to the top. The lift flew to the top, not giving either Miki or me time to adjust to the changing height. We clung to each other as our fellow sardines chattered or shivered around us. The tower seemed to go up forever, but finally arrived at the top enclosure for us to unpack ourselves. The arrival area was enclosed, giving me a few moments to make peace with the height.

After a quick lap, we wandered up to the top deck, which was exposed, though fenced. We did a slower lap. Miki gave me her camera to take some photos from the edge, as she was not emotionally ready to be there just yet. After Miki got brave enough to venture out near the edge, I asked one of our fellow sardines to take our photo with the haze and city behind us.

After those photos, we wandered more, took more photos and then headed back with gravity. The first elevator was still scary though less sardiny. I was happier on the second floor than the top. Took more photos. Made peace with the height easier. We had entertained the idea of getting off at the 1st floor to wander around, but the lift to the base was too crowded for us to realise we had arrived there until the lift was departing again. More photos from the base, with gravity unable to play too many more tricks on us.

Sadly, it was time for me to go. The joy of Ryanair meant taking the bus to the plane to the train to get back to Edinburgh. On my journey home, I lost a karabiner thanks to the friendly security staff at the Beauvais airport calling it a weapon. I was annoyed and argued with them about consistency or lack thereof, but in the end they won. I was not prepared to check my backpack, break my camera, break my glasses, miss my flight, etc, to make my point.

For all of the negative stories of American tourists in Paris, my airport experience was my only problem. Everyone in Paris was very nice. I got to practice my appalling French. They humoured me. Some replied in English straight away. Others replied in French until I said, “Je ne parle pas français,” and then they switched to English. Once or twice, I didn’t need the translation. Not bad for 14 years out of practice, unless you count Belgium. Then it’s only a few months out of practice. Sadly or not, I never really got to use my favourite phrase from that trip, which was, “Je me suis perdue,” although we could have used it to find the Catacombes sooner.

Both Miki and I were fascinated by the rolly floor leading to and from the moving walkway. We hoped all Metros would have such fun toys, but alas we found just the one.

The Metro signs were very cute!

La Cath�drale de Notre Dame de Paris

If I tried to frame this photo better, I would have been swimming!

I like stained glass.

Here I am squinting in the glorious, warm sun outside Notre Dame.

It was a long walk down to the Catacombes.

I see dead people. (Les Catacombes)

The brightest light in the Catacombes is amongst the oldest of the remains there.

Inscription at the exit of the Catacombes. I am a bit afraid to babelfish it, as it may translate worse than my appalling French.

Le Moulin Rouge

A photo with the Cafe des Deux Moulins was a must!

Amelie's cafe is very cute.

Miki and I made some friends while taking pictures at the middle of the Champs Elysees intersection in front of the Arc de Triomphe. One guy was from China and the other from Ecuador. The Ecuadorian (?) wanted us in his picture of the Arc with him.

Man with fish

Il faisait froid sur le Tour Eiffel.

Is that a feather in my hair?

Miki wasn't real fond of the edge.

It's a long way up...

Braid Hills Cross Country Slosh - 11/11/2006

My friend Alan talked me into running a hill race on Saturday. It was not a 5K. I learned that on the race website. Instead it was a 3 mile hill run through the puddles and mud to the top of Braid Hill and back down the other side. The girls' race was 3 miles and the boys' race was 6 miles. I was sad that the girls didn't get to run 6 miles. I nearly talked myself out of it twice. The first time was around noon, when I looked out the window to see spitting down rain and 25MPH winds. The rain went away but the wind didn't. The second time was a little bit later when I finally got to my office and my friend who suggested the run was nowhere to be found. My negativity didn't last. The sun was out, the course was close by. Excuses went away and I signed up.

Alan gave me a lift to the start and ran a short warm up with me. Our sneak preview of the course suggested it would be muddy and wet. The sun held out for us though. After scouting the course, I set goals of less than 30mins would be ok and I would be thrilled with less than 27mins, given course conditions, off road, etc.

I started near the back of the pack, amongst the puddles. Despite the wind, I was the only one wearing a jacket at the start. The first mile and a half was more or less uphill. We ran the perimeter of a golf course. Yes, here they build golf courses on hillsides. :) We ran up a gently sloping hill for a little less than half a mile before turning right and heading up at a slightly steeper angle. Men warming up for their race and a handful of spectators cheered us onward. We weaved amongst trees and beside the occasional sand trap working our way uphill. At about the halfway mark, we passed the radio tower at the Braid Hill summit.

So far, the trail conditions weren't terrible. Puddles were easily dodged. Mud wasn't too slippery. Just past the summit, we started on our way rolling downhill and that changed totally.

I passed a bunch of people on the uphills and a bunch of them passed me again on the downhill. A few people who burned themselves out at the start were walking as I ran past them. I took each of the steeps as fast as I could, and sort of flailed my arms like wings a few times. After the steepest bits, the trail conditions got really nasty. Deep, muddy puddles spanned the trail width in a lot of places. I ran around them as possible but sometimes through was the only way. My socks were quickly soaked and my shoes no longer the shiny white they were for the marathon.

I took my jacket off just before the 2 mile mark. It got covered in mud as I spashed through more puddles. The trail turned right again and our track followed a road to the finish. We splashed through more mud as the cars drove beside us on nice, semi-dry pavement.

In the last half mile, the trail occasionally opened from woods to grass, so we had the opportunity to pass. Much of the last stretch was single track, so passing was otherwise very difficult. My pace was erratic as those in front of me slowed and sped up. The occasional small hill slowed the pace more. I got around a few people on the last hill, but otherwise was trapped. Just before the finish, we splashed through one section of trail. I felt bad for kicking water at a guy with a camera, but it was his foolish choice of location. The trail opened up for about 10m to the finish chute. I gave one last push, couldn't pass anyone, but didn't get passed either. We sort of jammed into the finish chute, apologising as we crunched.

At the finish, they tracked our numbers, but there wasn't a clock to tell us our times. I finished before the men's race started, so if they were on time (likely), I knew I achieved goal #1 of <30mins. Based on the post-finish faff and gentle cooldown run I got to start, I thought goal #2 was likely, too. I cheered Alan through the start of his race and then took a gentle run back downhill to my office. It was a nice, though still windy cooldown run.

Back in my office, I made a small pile of muddy gear. My running shoes were brown. My socks were brown and crunchy. My jacket looks like I slid 100m downhill on my backside through mud. My legs had a thin crust of brown to the knee. It was a good run!

My friend got back a little over an hour later -- his race was 6 miles. We just now got back from the awards ceremony at the student centre. My time was 24:16. I placed 84/101. I'm thrilled. This was a cross country club race, extremely competitive (winning time was 17:26 for the women) and I was racing mostly 18-24 year olds who take their training far more seriously than I, not to mention up and down a hill through mud and slosh.

Somebody posted pictures from the race. The black and purple smudge in the background of this photo and the tiniest bit less blurry smudge in this photo is me!

The aftermath of the run...

River Tay (Stanley) Lather. Rinse. Repeat. – 5/11/06

My original plan for the weekend was to find my way into the Pentland Hills, finally, for the bike trails. I had two possible ways to go, either with Neil and the boys or meeting up with the weekly Edinburgh Road Club group like I’ve meant to do for ages now. Then Amy called. She, Bram and Tracy were planning for Stanley on Sunday for Tracy’s first time on a river. Stanley won.

The plan was to pick me up at 9am, swing through Auchtermuchty to show Tracy and me the cottage-in-progress and pick up Bram’s paddle, and then drive to the Stanley get-in. Between morning faff (or is it pfaff?), retying boat faff and cottage faff, we rolled into Stanley village just a few minutes after noon. Normally, the drive takes about an hour. We decided to run shuttle at the end, so into the water we went.

Bram attempted to give Tracy some introductory tips. I talked him out of trying to get her into the top eddy below the weir. Given that as her first ever eddy to catch, I thought it would have been a yard sale. Instead, we planned for one on river left, as soon as reasonably convenient for her. The plan was for Amy to lead, Tracy to follow, Bram to clean up and me to stay out of trouble in the back. My dry top did not arrive on time from regasketing, so I made due with fuzzy rubber and fleece and made not swimming an important priority.

Stanley weir was good fun. Once again, I bobbed like a cork through the biggest of waves. I caught the river left eddy that would have let me get over to Charlie’s group from the week before, but instead had to paddle downstream a bit to the next eddy on the left. Tracy was struggling to get there, so I told her to pick a point on the bank and paddle to it. It worked: she arrived upright, though feeling a little out of control.

After Amy played in some of the surf near the top of the eddy, our next move was to paddle through a few more waves and stoppers to the next friendly eddy on the left. Amy led Tracy through the meat of it. She got sideways and then upside down quite quickly. She and her kayak caught the eddy separately, with some help from Amy and Bram to get there. Overcast and lack of sun made for a lack of warm rocks to slither onto, so Amy shared around some tea.

We continued downstream, bouncing our way through more waves as we worked our way around the first riverbend. Amy led Tracy straight through the stopper that ate me on the last trip. It’s quite friendly if you hit it straight on. I made the line I missed the last time and bounced through some friendly waves. We skipped the breakin eddy from the last trip, but found an easier one just downstream. Tracy ended up swimming into it again. I’m not really sure what got her, because she was out of the boat before the eddy line. The swim was pleasant enough. Amy and Bram reunited her with kayak. Then we practiced break-ins and break-outs. I had a little bit of trouble getting across the eddy line, but after about 10 practice runs, I was able to surf out across the top wave and break into the current properly. Amy did stern squirts. Tracy mostly watched, but attempted a few break-ins. When Bram was done with his practice, I gave him my camera to take our pictures.

After turning down another opportunity for tea, we headed downstream for Thistlebrig and the get-out. Amy led Tracy through it and just like Kieron the week before, Tracy was out of her boat by the end of the rapid. Her swim was pleasant enough to the right bank. Amy and Bram helped get her boat to the bank, and at that point, I’m sure Amy was happy she borrowed my tow line.

Being terminally slow with one blade and a short boat, I was on my own through Thistlebrig. The approach was easy enough, bobbing corklike through waves. I managed to hit something just right and lean back enough to stand the boat on its stern through the last of it. First my eyes got big. Then I got the giggles. Now I want to learn how to do it again on purpose. 

The only downside of paddling Stanley is the long hike back to the car. The SCA work over the summer has made the path much nicer, but the hill is still just as big. We got to the top, but couldn’t manage to hitch a lift back to the village. I took over hitching from Amy, since I was dressed slightly more respectably. A first, I couldn’t get a ride either, so Amy and I ran the shuttle, literally. It was a bit more than a mile back to the car, but an easy enough jog even in paddling gear.

The elusive faff (or is it pfaff?) factor fifty was attained at the petrol station when we retied the C1s twice, in between which we tethered the roofbars to each other to keep from slipping.

Bram's and my boats were tied to each other and then tied to the roof, so we thought we might leave part of that setup intact and trial a new tandem canoe.

There wasn't much of an eddy line to show Tracy, but she got the hang of the motions.

30 seconds after Amy told Tracy, don't do what I'm doing, I told Tracy, you can if you want...

Break in practice.

Nice knees...

Very nice knees...

Amy still had the skinned muppet in the boot, so I couldn't help myself.

Bram's car cried out for something a little more creative than "wash me".

Remember Remember the Fifth of November - 5/11/2006

I had made arrangements to drag a very random assortment of people to the top of Arthur's Seat for fireworks and other entertainment. The plan for Stanley was hatched with the caveat that I absolutely had to be home by 6 for the first arrivals at my flat. On the drive home from Stanley, I had to resort to outright bribery to make that happen -- If you take me home early enough, I will make you dinner. We stopped at Amy's for Bram and Amy to get showers, Morrisons for wine and fireworks, and finally mine at 5:45. My first arrival was due at 6:15, which is when we sat for dinner. We fed him wine while we scarfed food, then coordinated the drive to Holyrood Park and rendezvous with half of Amy's house along with finding Neil and the mystery second guest who turned out to be Fraser.

The plan was to meet at the Commonwealth Pool. A first for the day, we arrived two minutes early. Neil was late so we made plans to meet him on the street. Eventually we found him and Fraser standing on a street corner. We chucked them into the boot, where they made like luggage and Amy drove us around to the swan side of Holyrood Park. The park officials semi-wisely blocked off traffic access to the upper car park, which changed our plan. Amy parked on the verge, beginning a new trend. Sarah and kids arrived. Sarah gave Amy her car to park as well, taking advantage of Amy's shamelessness. After hers was parked, we stood around for a little while before giving up on the rest of the house and beginning the trek up the Crags. I brought the skinned Muppet for extra warmth, but mostly entertainment.

Neil led the way. Fireworks were going off all around us but the official Meadowbank fireworks weren't due for another fifteen minutes. Amy carried Alana. Sarah carried Naia. We found a nice spot on the crags and soon the other group of adults and children found us. We watched fireworks and soon discovered Tim from the kayak club was with the group beside us. Then, Amy got out the sparklers. Her planned subdivision of little sparklers for the little people and big sparklers for the big people didn't quite work out as planned but we enjoyed much sparkage nonetheless. In the distance, we watched a small patch of gorse on Arthur's Seat catch fire and grow with the wind. Neil took a lot of pictures.

Neil and Fraser got out their stove and made dinner. Soup. Excellent choice for cold and windy atop the Crags. They were kind to share. While they were cooking, the first of our group, mostly parents with kids, decided to call it a night. We watched the fire grow bigger. We wondered if the fire brigade would bother to show up. Eventually they did.

After much soup was shared, fireworks watched and fire discussed, we decided to call it a night. Juan caught a ride with Bram, Amy and Tracy. I walked back with Neil and Fraser. Neil took every opportunity to play war photographer, taking all sorts of crazy angled photos of fire, fireworks and people. In the midst of our trek to the Commonwealth Pool entrance to the park, the fire brigade and police decided their job was to shout at everyone to get off the hill. They did their job well, shouting as people didn't listen very well. We got to the road heading down the hill and they stopped shouting so we stopped going. Neil disappeared into the crowd for more photos. At one point, he was tackled by a group of yas who thought he might be a reporter and wanted their photo to be the one that made news.

Not satisfied with merely shouting at people, the fire brigade brought out one of their toys, a really odd, big wheeled trike forklifty thing, to get closer to the fire. Their guy managed to stall it half a dozen times, tear up the grass getting started and eventually get most of the way to the top of the tiny entrance hill before stopping again and sitting there. Well done!

Eventually, the circus got boring and we decided to call it a night. Following the road down, someone with a reflecty vest and camera ran past us in the other direction. We wondered if the yas would tackle him, too. Fireworks still surrounded us on the walk home, but the Sarajevo-like enthusiasm was dying out for sure. I was home before 11 and the mortar fire seemed to stop well before midnight.

Neil's photos are here and his blog entry about the evening can be found here

Neil and Fraser brought soup and a stove to heat it atop the otherwise cold and especially windy Crags.

Fraser improvised a spoon for stirring.

Happy Halloween! - 31/10/2006

On Halloween night, before the weekly EKC pool session, I went to Amy's for her hippie housemates' Halloween party. The theme of their costumes was Autumn/Winter, for a pagan ritual they were planning for the back garden. The weather for the evening definitely favoured the Winters. It was damn cold! I showed up with an alligator piñata attached to my neck. Sarah had fake blood that gave it that extra special look. Tuni was fascinated by my alligator, and he was my best friend ever that night. One of the younger girls was a little bit skeptical and didn't want to be anywhere near me. Naia, Sarah and Craig's baby, didn't care either way, so long as I kept walking her around the garden.

For the ritual itself, the Winters hid behind the wish tree while the Autumns danced. My costume didn't quite fit with either group, so I chose to run with the Autumns. Then the Winters popped out and chased down all of the Autumns. I was the last to be caught. Feel free to imagine me with alligator piñata attached to my neck being chased around somebody's backyard screaming, "Last holdout for summer!" while being chased by a bunch of people painted ghost white. After they caught me, we danced around the wish tree and then set it on fire. Foof!

Bram arrived just after the wish tree was tossed on the fire. He tied his ribbon and made his wish just in time for the wish tree to really catch fire. Foof became big foof.

After the tree extinguished itself, Amy and I dragged Bram to the pool. He ate his dinner and drank his wine in the car with me partly sitting on his lap because Alana and her car seat got the only back seat.

Alana seemed to enjoy her time in the pool itself a bit more than her time in the kayak, but she was reasonably happy for much of the evening, until evil Derek splashed her and made her cranky. Early on, a few people saw the fake blood on my neck and no alligator, and figured I did something stupid to hurt myself. After one older guy freaked out and started telling me stories of other older people falling and hurting themselves, I decided to wash away the blood. My skin remained a slightly stained pink, but not nearly so conspicuous afterwards.

I was about 50/50 on my roll, not bad considering I forgot some essential foam. Especially not bad considering I rolled when I needed it -- when the same muppet who kept screaming "I'm scared!" on Stanley tried to teach me to do a new kind of rescue. Rolling meant I didn't have to rely on him to rescue me.

I shot some video at the pool before being politely told off for having a camera there. Something about pools, changing areas and cameras all in the same proximity at a council pool gets them a bit riled up. Nevermind that most mobiles are camera phones these days. Oy. Anyway, videos can be found here.

Amy and Tracy (arm on right) played guitars and sang while we danced around the wish tree.

I think Tuni fancied himself my boyfriend of the evening...

Close up gator view.

Bram tied his wish to the tree...

just in time

River Tay at Stanley, as a beginner again - 29/10/2006

The annual SCA exhibition in Perth and EKC trip on the Tay at Stanley provided the perfect opportunity for me to christen my new-to-me Drakkar Wheelboy C1. The Drakkar is a huge change for me. All of my previous boats fall more toward the small aircraft carrier side of the whitewater spectrum. In comparison, the Wheelboy is a stub. It’s still taller than me, but no longer by all that much.

My shopping list for the SCA canoe show was small but important. Airbags, not for me but for those who might be fishing me out later, a D-ring, a paddle more visible than black and lighter than aluminium, a big sponge. I found the first two easily enough. The rest were not meant to be. After much miscommunication-induced faff, Callum, Ali and I found our way to the get-in chaos and added a little of our own. I think the final tally was 21 boats in the water, but don’t hold me to that.

Derek organised as far as the SCA show. Charlie sort of took over after that. I am not sure if that was meant to be the plan. Once everyone was happily in the eddy and some of us had some practice with the almost eddy line at the get-in, Charlie asked us to organise into two groups, beginners and non-beginners. I weaved my way through the sea of plastic to take my place as a beginner. Yeah, I knew the lines but I wasn’t ready to promise I would make them. Charlie had us migrate from the get-in eddy to the big eddy above Stanley weir. In the meantime, he took the greenest of beginners for a quick tutorial in strokes and concepts. Rather than subdivide, he chose to keep us all as one big disorganised group, with smaller pods of the experienced coupled with the green. My pod was last. Ali, Jean, the kids (Rhian and Kieron, hardly beginners) and me. By virtue of being slowest, I found myself running sweep, but only the most useless sense of the word.

About ¾ of the way through the pods running Stanley weir, we had our first swimmer. Our pod had just begun to ferry glide from the eddy to set up for the middle chute through the weir, so we changed direction and went back to the eddy. The swimmer looked contained, so I actually started the ferry glide first even though I would be last running it. Ali went, followed by Rhian, Kieron and Jean. I saw Robin sitting in the right eddy watching as I hit the chute right in the centre and began bobbing through the wave train that followed.

One big difference in the jump between aircraft carrier and eeny weeny boat was the size of the waves. The waves were massive because I spanned nothing. I didn’t crash. I bobbed like a cork over every single wave. It was freaky. But fun. Sort of. A little more practice, a little more comfort in the boat, would make them fun.

I sort of caught an eddy on river left. It was a moving eddy. Charlie beckoned me to join him and his pod in the river left eddy at the bank, about fifty feet away. I couldn’t get the angle right, kept losing ground, so I shook my head no and said it wasn’t happening. Difference number two between aircraft carriers and corks. Corks take longer to get anywhere. I found the rest of my group in the Plan B eddy and had no trouble joining them.

We ran the next wee stretch of waves on the left and caught the next friendly left eddy. I was happy that I had some say in where I went, though not always.

The next stretch was bouncy waves and weird water approaching and tracking around a bend in the river. Derek told us to work our way right by the bend in the river. Don’t go left. I didn’t quite remember why, but took his word for it. He told us to stay with our pods and then proceeded to cut in front of me as I tried to stay with mine. I lost them pretty quickly, but saw Chris and Callum in the distance behind me. I started working right and getting pushed back left. I bounced through a few waves looking for this important right line. Instead, I saw a big stopper on the right as I flushed left. I asked Callum to please stay with me as I got flushed far left and poised to hit another stopper sideways. Note to self, don’t listen to Derek. That stopper was friendly. Having experienced the far right stopper as well, I like the leftish one better. It was a pleasant enough swim. At least I got it out of my system.

Callum, Alan and later Russell accompanied my boat and me to the river right bank, where I saw other swimmers slither onto the bank as well. Yay company! Once my boat was mostly empty of water, Callum offered me a sip of my water that he was carrying. I said, thanks, I’ve had a few sips already. Back in our boats, we paddled across to a nice big eddy on river left for break-in practice. Someone else swam getting there. Possibly more than one. Leaky dry top gaskets meant my dry top was no longer dry. I started to get cold, so I opted against risking swim #2. I took some photos and paddled around a bit. Next up was another epic ferry glide to river right, for more break-in, break-out practice. Callum hung semi-near me once he saw me struggling. I kept losing the angle and my lack of speed didn’t really let me make up for it. I found my way into the next non-fishing eddy below the rest of the group, apologising to the fishermen who were politely waiting for me to get out of their way.

Callum, Amy and eventually Kieron joined me in my friendly eddy. The rest of the group left their eddy and headed toward Thistlebrig. Derek paid no attention to his child as he paddled away, leaving Callum, Amy, Kieron and me as the last four of the group. Callum was left in the role of Papa Duck to Kieron. Amy, aka Mad Amy to the EKC, went first. Kieron followed her. I sort of trailed behind Callum, knowing I couldn’t keep up but knowing where to go.

Thistlebrig rapids are most fun on the left, with a big bouncy wave train curving right and leading into a frothy mix of wee stoppers and waves. I bobbed right and then left of the biggest waves, trying to aim myself just right of centre after the curve. I thought I blew it when I ended up left on the approach, but my ferry glide worked and I got right quicker than expected. I watched Callum get flipped by one of the weird wee stoppers and did a quick pry to push myself just right of his line. Thanks Callum! He rolled up, so all was good.

Sadly, Kieron’s fate was not as fortunate. Following Mad Amy, he swam and ended up being rescued all the way to river left. The get-out was river right. It took a little while for him and his boat to get across. He was not the only swimmer, but he was the only far left swimmer. Everybody else was rescued to river right. I think. :)

After swims were recovered and last photos captured, we began the long slog back to the car park. As always, the boats were heavier on the way from the get-out than to the get-in. I was slow carrying the WB, but happy that I could carry it myself! Yay independence!

The Thistlebrig car park was littered with boats, paddlers and kit, with everybody swapping stories and catching up. Much more so than the expo itself, the end of the river trip felt like like the best part of every other big paddling event, catching up with old friends, making new friends and trying to recognize each other in street clothes and not just paddling kit.