Monday, 1 October 2012


Life on the Road by Ffion McKeown.
Picture this: You've just had an awesome day out adventuring. The sun's going down and you park up your beaten-up old van in a beautiful spot for the night. The location is discreet, and in the morning when you leave someone could pull up for their lunch and never know that you spent the night there. The night draws in, you close the curtains, and settle into one of those deep sleeps - no alarm in the morning, just the open road and the next day of your adventure. But it doesn't quite work out like that. You wake suddenly. You wonder where you are - in the city perhaps? Sounds like a prolonged car horn. You peer out the curtain and it's someone giving you grief for what has now been termed "freedom camping." If you're really unlucky, it could be a policeman about to hand you a whopping great fine...

Until this time last year wild camping was something we'd never really pondered over too much. Usually on a trip we'd always just get on with it and pull up not far from the road to spend the night. Of course we were always responsible and chose somewhere discreet and out of the way, to make sure we didn't piss any locals off, and also mainly for our own privacy to enjoy the peace and quiet of the hills. The camping life and freedom is one of the best things about holidays. In fact, we don't want to go on holiday to anywhere we can't camp out. However last October we touched down in New Zealand...

Purakaunui Bay DOC campsite, NZ.
We'd been desperate to get out to NZ since hearing all sorts of stories from paddlers, climbers, bikers, students who had been out on gap years, Kiwis working in the UK, shepherds who head out every year to help with the shearing... All raved about the place. Big mountains, roaring rivers, "Adventure Capital of the World!" "Yep, you can travel about in your van and camp wherever!" Whilst getting excited about to the trip we remember reading in the NZ Whitewater guidebook:

"New Zealand is a camper's paradise. Uncluttered spaces, clean and unhassled by the law. It would be very unusual to be woken up at one in the morning by an over-zealous officer of the law and be inspected, inquested, neglected, rejected and finally ordered to leave. There are many such stories throughout Europe and the US - lets leave them there." Graham Charles, New Zealand Whitewater 4th Edition.


Nope, 'cause that just isn't true anymore, is it?

It turns out we weren't the only people going out there with that expectation. In fact, there were so many people out there doing the exact same thing, that New Zealand has found itself with a problem on its hands. Everyone has got involved, and with the mob has come the consequences.  As always seems to happen, it only takes a few people to make a mess to spoil something good for the rest of us. Just to clarify, we're focussing on camping in a vehicle, not wandering off into the wilderness with a tent, which is still more than encouraged in New Zealand.

So where did it all go wrong??

Many people will blame the irresponsible campers leaving litter (and worse) in once pristine spots. Yes, this is the issue, but perhaps they are not the root of the problem. Perhaps the finger could also be pointed at the New Zealand tourism industry. Years and years of advertising hype and countless numbers of motorhome rental companies wanting a piece of the pie have helped to increase the crowds of numpties loose in the countryside. 

Hans Bay DOC campsite, Lake Kaniere NZ.

When we arrived in Auckland, the Rugby World Cup was just coming to an end. The city was booming, and hundreds of people had travelled out and either bought or hired campers. It seemed a bit odd to us that it was only once the rugby was over that the Freedom Camping Bill was introduced. If the reasons for banning freedom camping really are the impacts of people pooing all over the countryside and overcrowding laybys, would it not have important to pass this act before thousands of rugby fans stream into the country and hit the roads? Why deliberately delay it until the the rugby was over? It was as though the country decided to milk the World Cup for all it was worth, and then only once the capital had been obtained, bring the fun to a halt.

Fortunately for us, NZ did have one saviour: Department of Conservation Campsites. Always incredibly cheap and situated somewhere nice - whether just outside a town or along a windy road into the wilderness. A traveller's paradise really. What New Zealand really needs is more of these campsites. In the end, when freedom camping risks fines and nasty wake-up calls, we decided we'd rather just pay up and be reassured that we weren't doing anything wrong. It was just unfortunate that some areas of the country didn't have these DOC campsites, as the price rise for a normal 'campsite' where you would be crammed in between rows of hedged-in caravans, was rather large.

But let's not just pick on New Zealand. What's the score in the rest of the world? 

Norway, Sweden and Finland are famously camper friendly. They have official policies stating the people's right to access: The Outdoor Recreation Act in Norway, Jokamiehen oikeude (Everyman's Right) in Finland and the Swedish Allemansrätten. You can park up and camp in a good spot for one night in Sweden (perhaps more if permission is obtained from the landowner), and up to two nights in Norway and Finland. This applies as long as you are a sensible distance from houses and farmland (150m), and the location is discreet and out of the way. In more remote areas, this rule does not apply. If you remain unseen and there is no one around to be disturbed, the campsite is yours to enjoy as long as you like. How is this possible? Do these countries not have the same issues with crowds of campers making a mess? Where are all the litter dumpers and bog paper spreaders? People still shit in the woods, right? Maybe people are brought up with good wilderness etiquette.  Perhaps nature is not so commercialised as a tourist commodity like it is in New Zealand. Or perhaps we're wrong and it's the cost of beer which keeps the foreign hoards at bay.

Home on the banks of the Mår, Norway.

France certainly has regulations, especially in it's national parks. However, they also have a very forward thinking system too with their Aires de Services. These facilities dotted about the country are little laybys and carparks specially set up for motorhomes, with toilets, drinking water and chemical toilet dumps. Some even have electric hook-ups to charge your batteries. Many are free and some you pay a small fee for. By providing such an amenity means that campers go to villages and contribute to the local economy they might otherwise shy away from if free or very cheap camping was unavailable.

In Germany, freedom camping is forbidden by law, but there is no explicit ban on "Overnight Parking". As long as you simply pull into a car park where it is legal to park your van you can spend one night there. The moment you put anything outside of your van e.g. camping chairs, a barbeque, or roll out an awning then this is considered 'wild camping'. Usually it is also deemed 'wild camping' if you stay on the same spot for more than 24 hours. As a rule of thumb, as long as you can drive off at any time without leaving the vehicle or leaving anything behind, then you are only parking. Germany does however provide it's network of 'Stellplatz' sites very much like the Aire du Services in France.

Living out the back of a van.
And what of our own Small Islands? In Scotland, like Scandanavia, one is free to freedom camp so long as the rules of the Scottish Outdoor Access Code are followed. Leaflets are produced so people "know the code." And yet, at the same time, Scotland does not flaunt and over-advertise this freedom. The country has not invested in ridiculous numbers of camper van hires and the over-commercialisation of the countryside. Instead of anti-freedom camping campaigns that have gone all the way to government policy, Scotland asks for responsible camping: if you're going to wild camp, here's how to do it properly. An education in freedom camping for all. 

Yet it's hard to educate everyone. Scotland has had issues, for instance in Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park. There have been a number of instances of people wild camping and leaving terrible messes behind. In the end, the Park Authority has had to introduce a by-law to ban camping in undesignated spots in the east of the park. The reason Loch Lomond has had this problem is almost entirely due to its close proximity and easy access from Glasgow and its urban outskirts. So it's not perfect, but it's a work in progess.

In England and Wales however, things are a bit less clear. Frankly it's all about getting the landowner's permission, unless you're camped high on a hill, some distance from any road, with only the sheep for company. You won't find any "No Freedom Camping" signs, but have a look next time you're out for a drive as we have plenty of "No Overnight Parking" and tipis with red crosses through them. What exactly is the difference between stopping in a layby for a picnic at lunchtime and doing the same 12 hours later only to get some shut eye? Because people can be gross. That's why! Need a poo? Grab a trowel and go dig a hole, nae bother. Problem is people don't do they? After crumpling up their fast food wrappers and dropping them out their car door, they creep off into the boulders behind the car park and lay a big soft curly wurly topped with some fresh white tissue paper. Rightly enough councils and landowners are fed up of cleaning up after such individuals and the only thing they can realistically do about it is put a stop to the main cause: folk pulling up for the night who can't be bothered to find a litterbin and need a bedtime trip to the bathroom. 

Is this our only choice? It's quite frustating that because of the ignorant few we now always have to pay to sleep. It feels as if a basic liberty has been taken away.

So what can we conclude? 

We want our freedom back and the only way this is going to happen is if we show that "freedom camping" doesn't create any issues. So please, find out the rules before you go, camp responsibly, buy a trowel and LEAVE NO TRACE.

Thoughts from Ben McKeown & Rachael Haylett.

Debs and Sandy go to the ALPS!

This year’s summer kayaking trip took Sandy and I to the French and Italian Alps. We were aiming to hit up Slovenia too...but we will get to that later.

We were lucky enough to be in the possession of my brother's van, which was VERY kindly lent to us after my brother had driven it out for his wedding in Provance. However, it wouldn’t have been a kayaking trip if nothing had gone wrong with the transport! So a fixed exhaust later alongside the assurance that our extremely noisy breaks would go another 5000km yet, and we were ready to go on our Alpine adventure.

It was a very different trip to the one two years previous where I had been a beginner and Sandy had spent the whole time rescuing. I would have liked to say that I didn’t swim this time and he didn’t need to rescue me...but a pin in a tree at the bottom of a small drop on our VERY FIRST RIVER had other things in mind.

We had a lot of fun boating with Edinburgh, Aberystwyth and St Andrews Uni clubs, with the usual carnage that is associated with uni boating! We had an absolutely amazing day on the Guisane after an early morning run down the Briancon gorge, for which I was unbelievably nervous, as I'd had a very painful swim there in my first year and was afraid it might happen again. However, it seems I have come on a little since then and there wasn't anything to worry about. The lower Guisane, on the other hand, was high and never ending, and I was boarder-line terrified for the whole 8km section. But it was just incredible! I hadn't done many rivers before where it was so continuous for so long with very few breakout opportunities. Great fun, and by the end I was knackered! Sandy had been more reserved with his paddle strokes and had just cruised down watching me paddling frantically away from, through and into the many holes that litter the river.

After a week in France we were really keen to continue our adventure in Italy, as we had seen it had had some rain. So with Callum, Sam, Rory, Max and Kestas we headed to Val Sesia and the beautiful Campertongo Campsite where we ate many a pizza and enjoyed many more beers. Italy is cool, and we loved how lush it was; deep green trees covered the mountainsides with crystal clear water in the rivers below. The extremely clear water makes you think the levels are lower than they actually are, as on arrival we had been slightly concerned that the levels had subsided. 

 We had a very fun time sliding down the Egua, practicing flares and boofs down the alpine sprint section of the Sesia, and just generally having a great laugh. For Sandy the trip was about getting back into paddling after so long out, and Italy provided the perfect place to start this. However, with levels dropping we turned our attention back towards France where there was more water. We decided that Solvenia was too far to drive so have saved it for another trip in the future, along with the Verdon Gorge as the dam wasn't releasing while we were there. 

We then met Ty. He was an American over in Europe with only a mountain bike, and a trailer for his kayak. By the time we had met him he had already been to Italy, Switzerland and just cycled up and over the southern Alps to Briancon. AMAZING! He soon became part of the team and it was a pleasure to have met him. Hopefully it won't be the last we see of each other. We spent the next few weeks together, and had a trip over to the Romanche Valley where we had a GREAT time camping and running the Veneon and Romanche Rivers. It was definitely my highlight of the trip. 

We had a great time paddling all the classics in the region. My personal favourite was the Guardian Angel section of the Guil. Even though Sandy spent the previous day ill at the campsite and was lacking energy for most of the run, he enjoyed the tighter lines inside the gorge. This section was amazing run with Chateaux Quayas as a warm up and then finishing with a blast down the middle Guil. We didn’t manage to see the rock shaped like an angel as we were leading the gorge though so if anyone knows where it is can they let us know?! 

This finished our trip and we started the long drive back to the UK.

by Deborah Perry and Sandy Douglas

Thanks to Ben Morison for the van and Level Six

Photos: Deborah Perry, Callum Strong and Ty Overeem.

Rum, Whiskey and RAIN!

The last two weeks have been fantastic. The weather gods have blessed Scotland with both sun and rain in almost equal amounts. This is a stark contrast to the grey drizzle we are usually treated to.
Ed Smith - Below Double Drop on the Lochy
Last weekend saw Me, Debs, Sandy, Joe and Dom heading for a sunny low water weekend camping in Glen Etive. The Etive, as all British paddlers know, is the classic low water run or scrape. Despite the low levels we had a lot of fun and Dom and I even set a Strava time. Hopefully more people will give it a go and dethrone us as Kings of the River soon.

Sandy prepares the fire
Debs happy as larry!
Camping - Photo: Joe Lee
After buying the traditional bottle of rum and a nice Scotch we settled down for a night around the campfire. On Sunday with almost no water Dom and I went for another race run in which Dom overtook me on triple step and managed to keep the lead to the end of the river. Racing is so much fun! Joe decided to paddle on his own with Sandy on the bank for safety - a bold move for someone who only started paddling a year ago. He met us with a splash in the eddy below the last waterfall with a big excited smile! The only downer was the demise of my trusty Nomad which now has three cracks in the hull....oh well time for a new one I think.

The Monkey and the Kraken
Mid last week the weather turned and severe weather reports were issued for the whole of the northern UK. The rain which actually hit Scotland was a little less than we had hoped but it was still pretty dam wet. After eagerly watching the gauges Sandy and I decided to go to the Clyde. At 6am with pouring rain I set off to ride across town to get my car which is parked outside the permit zone (yes I am a student!). By the time I picked Sandy up my jeans were so wet I may as well have been swimming.

Joe on Right Angle

The Clyde was at the perfect level for what we wanted, reading Huge on Where's the Water and 1.4 on the gauge. Sandy has had his eye on a decent of Bonnington Linn for a while. Bonnington Linn is emerges out of almost nowhere and forms the start of one of the most intense sections of water in the UK. The Linn itself is a double stage drop the first of which is roughly 10ft high with a shallow landing followed by a big enough gap so that you can set up for the following 30ft stage. With both landings of a questionable depth a good boof is key.  After the drop you are immediately into a committing grade 4/5 gorge.  Following the gorge is Corra linn, a mental drop which only goes (and its questionable even then) at enormous flows (3 or so on the gauge). The last rapid on the gorge looked messy as hell and with just the two of us Sandy and I decided to try and make the only other exit point from the gorge which is quite a bit upstream, about 500 meters below the falls.

After a quick game of rock, paper, scissors I watched Sandy drop off the first lip and followed a few seconds after, with a team run being the only option for safety. A quick recovery from a less than perfect boof saw me in the perfect place on the second lip to take off. A well planted stroke saw me fly off the face of the 30ft drop with my boat past horizontal. No time to linger and grin though as the river pushes immediately into the first rapid. In the eddy for the exit it was all high fives and hugs before heading back to Edinburgh for afternoon lectures.

Eoghain on the Kinglass
Dom on the first drop of the Lochy
Once again this weekend the rain hit hard and we put a group together to make the most of it on Sunday. We headed out of Edinburgh a different way than usual. This had us in a right flap as it meant we wouldn't be going to the pie shop. This ended very badly for Me, Sandy and Dom. We chose the most expensive petrol station in Edinburgh and spent all of our student loans on three sandwiches and a bag of crisps at Marks and Spencer.

Quite a lot of nervous inspecting above Boof or Die
Me on Boof or Die - Photo: Sandy Douglas
The six of us (Me, Sandy, Dom, Dave, Eoghain and Keith) had a slightly lower than optimal run down the Kinglas. A fun 4/5 run with a few harder rapids. One of these rapids claimed Dom as a victim with a scary moment involving a siphon and a death pit. Thankfully ropes were on hand and before long we were finished and lining up the second river of the day.

Dave on a really fun drop!
The second river was the Lochy, one of the harder and more scary rivers Scotland has to offer. Keith unfortunately simply did not fit in his borrowed salto and decided to give it a miss, but the team was bolstered by the addition of Ed Smith and Dave Martin to make us a seven. The Lochy lived up to its reputation and Boof or Die had us all a little scared! Unfortunately the bottom drop was full of wood and we didn't have time to mess around removing it so a hungover portage was executed with much groaning. A fantastic day on the river by all accounts!

Well I am now very tired and have a pile of work to do to make sure I can up and leave next time it rains!

Nick Bennett

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Don't you know I've been up Denali?!

By Joris Volmer.

We stand there and watch the Havilland Beaver take off into the cloud. It wasn’t the amazing Alaskan wildlife, it was our ski plane dropping us off on the East Fork of the Kahiltna glacier. We have arrived in the Denali range and have about four weeks before we run out of food. There is no saying if we will manage to suffer for that long anyway.

Panoramic view of Kahiltna base camp, the airstrip and the sun above Mt Hunter
  There is no way of walking out of here. The crevasses are massive. It is either do our route and come back for our estimated finish date or a rescue helicopter. All I can hear is the chatter of voices in multiple languages - people putting up and taking down tents, packing up bags and loading up pulks. It’s time for us to set up our own tent and come up with a plan.

Looking up the “valley of death” to the summit of Denali. 
 Breathing heavily and with a slight headache, we arrive at what is to be home for the next few weeks - 14 camp. We are about 4200m up and it has taken us five days to get here. Better start digging if we want a good camp. As I go to dig for some cooking snow I look up and see a skier crushing a line and the big American cheers follow.

 Looking out from 14,000ft camp to Mt Hunter 
I wake up and think it must be time to get up, as the tent and everything in it is glowing orange from the morning sun. I check my watch - its 4:28 am. It’s a combination of the jet lag and the nearly twenty-four hour daylight (something we would be very grateful of later on). My watch also tells me my wrist temperature is 34 degrees. Time to snuggle back into my big red puffy tube.

All those feathers
Morning tent view 
A couple of guys walk past our igloo, ”Do you want any food? We are heading down.” Score! They tip two sleds worth of food over our snow wall. Getting more food was the next best thing to getting good weather and heading down ourselves. Pancake mix, cereal, smoked salmon, blueberries, pizza base, energy drinks. Wow!

Sorting out food in the igloo
We sit there and wonder what we need to save. Putting some of the food aside we decide we have enough ingredients to try and make a pizza. As we defrost the base and cut some meat we discus how easy a meal pizza is to make back in the real world, whereas up here it’s just about manageable. We add the cheese and tuck in.

8pm means weather o’clock. We turn the radio on. “Stand by for the weather”, our little black plastic box tells us. An annoying American voice speaks again. “The synopsis for the next few days: a low pressure will build on the east of the mountain and bring snow and south westerly winds…cruccch… The forecast for the next three days; today is Friday May 25th…cruccch…14,000 and above, mostly cloudy. Snow, less than six inches. Wind, southerly, less than 20 mph. Temperature, 10º.”

Good weather at 11,000ft camp
It seems like it has been the same weather forecast for the last week now. What is the difference between partly cloudy and partly clear? Nathan and I are unsure of what to do. We go to the rangers for some advice, “Well no one has climbed the Cassin in perfect weather”, a ranger tells us. This is probably true unless you are uber alpinist Ulie Steck and climb it in speed record time. “Most people find climbing the Cassin easier than the waiting” he tells us. We head back to the tent still unsure of what to do. “Do you think we should go?” Nathan asks. “I don’t know.”

Acclimatising before the Cassin
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. I struggle to move under six layers of clothing and a sleeping bag as the alarm goes off. Where are we? The frost that falls on my face as I move reminds me that I am on a small ledge in the small tent in a small sleeping bag. Why, when the mountains get bigger, does the kit and food get smaller?

Hard ice in the Japanese couloir.

Above Cassin ledge searching for a bivi.
We are on the Cassin or “Caa-seen” as the Italian guides told us to pronounce it the previous day. The guidebook describes it as a “career-defining route” ! I don’t even have a job let alone a career. What I am I doing here? We are committed!

Looking down the first rock band and the East fork of the Kahiltna Glacier
I try to move around touching as little as possible. Everything in the tent has a thin layer of frost hanging off of it. Mini stalactites and stalagmites, our breath captured in the night by a bright green force field, protecting us from the wind. I imagine little Lego men ice climbing pitch after pitch, a mecca for them. 

The worst part of the day is getting out of the sleeping bag, along with getting in it. At least you know you're going to get warm when you get out in the morning and start moving, but getting in the tent you get cold from not moving as much and know what awaits in the morning when you wake up. Time to look out the tent and see if the view has changed...

The view from the tent at the triangle niche bivi, about 16,400ft
Day five on the Cassin. What! This was only meant to take three days! Well we have to go up now. At least we have all this daylight to climb such long days and through the so-called night if we need to. I didn’t even bring a head torch.

Nathan climbing through the hanging glacier
Kick, Kick, Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, Punch, Punch. Are we nearly there yet? The weather has really crapped out. Scottish, some would say! We should have had enough training then.

The weather starting to deteroirate, the couloir in the third rock band
We arrive on the Kahiltna Horn, drop our bags, and head to the summit. Wait, which way? I see a wand and head towards it, then another, and another. We play dot-to-dot on the top of America. Finally the last dot. We congratulate each other, hug and take a photo, even though it looks like we could be on the Cairngorm plateau. They say the summit is only half way but it took us six hours to get back to 14 and eight hours to get from 14 to the landing strip. Twenty-seven days up, only fourteen hours down.

The Summit Marker.

Hero shot!
We arrive back at the landing strip at 7am absolutely knackered, travelling through the night being the safest way. The lower glacier has changed lots over the previous weeks. We can’t ring to arrange our flight out till 8 am - some people live in the real world you know.

Sunset on the way down.
Time to dig up our emergency food and have a rest. We sit there and have what feels like a banquet fit for alpine kings. I can hear the annoying buzz of airplane propeller. “Well that’s it!” Malcolm says, and I think: All that planning and training, all that money, all those dreams gone. That’s it, we did it! WOW, THAT’S IT!

Time to pack the bags onto the plane and fly to shower village, food town and beer city. We arrive back in Talkeetna. Ahh civilization! Every thing is so green!

I have a shower and wash the weeks of dirt and grease off. Time to get a Seward’s Folly, the legendary burger we have been dreaming of. We wait for our food but beer will do for now. She brings the stacked tower over. "Ooooohh" everyone in our part of the restaurant mutters. We scoff it down. “Just come off the mountain?” the table next to us asks. We tell them a little about our adventure and they take some photos.

Enjoying some real food and drink
My alcohol tolerance isn’t very high at the best of times, but after a month of being teetotal, wheeeey! Everybody thinks its time to move on to the next pub. At this stage I wonder why they classify alcohol as a depressant?

Feeling Merry!
Next pub and everything is a blur. We have some more drinks and chat to some more locals but no one is actually from Talkeetna. Like the north west of Scotland it attracts the weird and wonderful. We try and work out how long we have been awake. We can’t manage, but it was thirty-seven hours. “I think you need to go home,” someone says. ”Don’t you know I’ve been up Denali?!” I yell at him. I somehow manage to find my way back and pass out on the floor of the bunkhouse.

Waking up the next morning in a half drunk half sleep I think…

What next?

Watch the video here.

Sunday, 19 February 2012

An Ossian and Ghuilbinn Adventure

Having talked of paddling the Ossian for so long, it was great that finally Dave and I were heading to Fort William train station with rain pouring down all along Scotland's West Coast. The put on for Loch Ossian and the start of our adventure is located two thirds of a mile from Corrour train station, high up on the edge of Rannoch Moor. We took the late night train and arrived at Corrour in the pouring rain and gale force winds. As we hid in the shelter on the platform we decided that it would probably fit our tent, so we set it up inside and had a cosy nights sleep. Walking up in the morning the wind had fortunately died down but the rain had turned to snow showers, so we started the cold walk to Loch Ossian to warm ourselves up and dragged our boats along the track. This turned out to be a mistake as the plastic on my poor old boat's hull was very thin and the rough path managed to wear a hole below the seat without us noticing.

As we started to paddle the Loch I began complaining that I had a cold bum. With the realisation that I was sinking we made a dash to the shore to assess the problem and fixed the hole in my kayak's hull. Having only paddled about 400 meters of the 15 mile trip this wasn’t an ideal start, but with no way to back out we kept going.

Once across the loch, which wasn't too bad with the wind helping us, we started down the river Ossian which is a gentle grade 2/3 and a lot less rocky then we were expecting, having read the various guides and letting us know that it was a high water level. The only interruptions were the occasional empting of my boat as the duct tape was scraped off. The river then flowed into Loch Ghuilbinn, and a bit more tape on the bottom of my boat ensured I made it across the loch without sinking. We could now finally enjoy the stunning scenery between the snow storms that surrounded us as we paddled towards the more exciting section of our trip: the Ghuilbinn river.

After a flat start we reached the first main rapid which Dave ran first, making a bit of a mess, but he signalled for me to follow, which I duly did and managed to have a similarly messy line. It turns out that paddling with the weight of camping gear in the back of your kayak makes a big difference to its handling. This rapid then led into a continuous gorge which looked like so much fun with several big long rapids, but with the duct tape running out and the hole in my hull getting bigger I wasn’t keen to run it with a boat half full of water. Dave got a super line on a lovely double drop but with his back band broken from a previous rapid we chose to walk some of the harder stuff, leaving it for another trip and ensuring we finished with only our boats broken rather than us as well. Watch this space, we'll be back...

Sandy Douglas

Thanks David Maltby for the photos and to Level Six for their support