Team GB and the Weather

Team GB and the Weather

We here at the River Stench secret lair have been avidly watching the Olympic games after the past few weeks and were over the moon when Joe Clarke secured a gold medal in the Men’s K1 Slalom. Everyone except for the dog that is, who didn’t really understand what we were whooping and wailing about.

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Joe Clarke on the podium. Photo credit: Balint Vekassy

After a slow start to the games team GB seem to be in full flow today  (pun intended) with 2 gold and 3 Bronze medals earned today at time of writing. The other noticeable occurrence today is in Rio the weather has been terrible; wet and windy all day. Or as we like to call it British. Quickly the River Stench’s scientists put together the following graph:

GB daily medal average vs Weather

Now as we all know correlation always means causation therefore we can assume that the very British weather is providing team GB with the extra boost they need and is entirely responsible for the day’s success.

One of the more interesting aspects of this data occurs when we extrapolate it. In London team GB won 65 medals over 14 days of glorious sunshine. From our current data we see an increase in medals won of 800% in foul weather. Therefore we can conclude that had it rained for the entirety of the London games, team GB would have won 520 medals in total or roughly 54% of all medals available at the 2012 Olympic games. From this I would strongly recommend the British government to investigate cloud seeding before the Tokyo games or at least dispatch a bunch of people with water pistols to the next games.

The Oxford Incident

So far on this blog I have exclusively written about white water paddling. While this is a part of kayaking that I love, it is not the only area I have dabbled in. In truth while I have had a shot at almost every discipline in paddle sport I have probably spent the vast majority of my time flat water racing. Or to be even more precise marathon racing. While long races are not quite as conducive to silly adventures as trekking around the back end of Wales, it is fair to say that after 10 years or so I have built up a small repertoire of flat water stories. The following story is one of the more infamous incidents. Like all good paddling stories it involves a helicopter or two, except these ones belonged to the police.

The Haslar race series is a set of inter-club marathon races across the UK. Split into regions, each club hosts one race a year with varying courses for Divisions 1 to 9. This particular race we found ourselves in Oxford. Once upon a time Oxford had one of the best courses mixing the width of the mighty Thames, an array of winding back channels and a portage across a field that would occasionally feature cows as one additional hazard.

Unfortunately we are no longer allowed to race this course. Thanks Jason & James.

The briefing was fairly clear: Downstream, portage the rollers, turn around the buoy then back up the back channels, GO UNDER A CABEL, portage, turn, finish. Simple, easy, impossible to go wrong. Yet even to this day Jason & James extoll the similarities of cables and the hazard tape they paddled through. This small directional derailment snow balled out of control as the rest of the field, who Jason and James had been leading, blindly followed the navigationally inept pair.

As the back channel that they were charging down narrowed, stuttered and became increasingly impassable most sane people would probably come to the conclusion that they had gone the wrong way and therefore should turn around and head back. Most marathon racers are not sane people. They are very determined people. Therefore despite the increasing realisation that they were no longer racing down the correct course they continued to race over a small weir and through bushes and trees. The racing didn’t stop until they came across one surprising obstacle: the Oxford to London high speed rail link.

Repots vary on the reasons why, however what they all agree on is having travelled so far in the wrong direction it was physical impossible to turn around and go back. Thus the only logical response was to cross the tracks and continue onwards, and this is how over 30 boats ended up crossing the rails with only one near miss.

For the other, less navigationally challenged, racers everything had continued uneventfully. That is until the race closed in on the centre of Oxford. It was at this point that the not so soft hum of rotor blades appeared above the city seemingly tracking the paddlers as they raced along the river. Suddenly there was an explosion of boats on the banks as out from the centre of the city rushed the lost division and jumped back onto the water, naturally, still racing.

Having portaged the train tracks and narrowly avoided a collision they had cooperated to raise boats and bodies over a barbed wire fence ejecting the lost division into the centre of Oxford. It was here that the racing resumed but, unfortunately, nobody knew where the river was. One can only imagine the bemused bafflement on the face of the poor locals as a horde of kayakers clad in lycra and carrying their boats descended into the centre of the city, regularly stopping to ask for directions to the river.

Inevitably, having raced the entirety of their scenic detour when Jason, James and the rest of the lost division crossed the finish everyone was disqualified. The police were also remarkably understanding about the whole fiasco and no charges were filed, however we are no longer allowed to race through the Oxford backchannels.

Scotland: The Sequel Part 2

Scotland: The Sequel Part 2

When you get on for the Spean gorge it is usually considered good manners to go ask the shop owner if you can use their car park. We did not do this, but that was because we didn’t find ourselves on the Spean. Instead we were sat in the adjacent tea shop. Despite an optimistic sprinkling of rain the rivers had not risen and Scotland was looking bone dry. The Spean was so low that it was revealing an indecent amount of bedrock. At these levels the guide book helpfully recommended ‘reassessing the sport we were attempting’. Undeterred by this we decided we would head back to our new favourite river; The Etive! …Once we had a delicious mid-morning cream tea.

A quick inspection of Triple Step confirmed our initial expectations. The Etive was low. Dog low. Triple step was going but we were sceptical about the rest of the river which had a remarkable ‘cheese grater effect’ on the boats the day before. This didn’t deter a determined Bristol University who we wished the best of luck as they disappeared off down the river.

Continue reading “Scotland: The Sequel Part 2”

Where did River Stench go?

Where did River Stench go?

That’s a question I have heard many times over the past few months.

“When is the next post coming?”

“Are you going to finish the Scotland story?

Admittedly almost all of these questions have come from my good friend Josh, who one of at least three people who read any of these posts (hi Mum & Dad).  I’m fairly certain that Josh’s eagerness for a new post is driven by wanting to read about his daring snowboarding exploits from the day we confused our white waters. Never the less I will explain where this blog disappeared to.

The plan after Scotland was to head to BUCS WWR, then up to Wild Water Selections in Scotland followed by some European competitions. Over the summer I was to head to the alps and then I planned to train hard get a promotion to division 2 in marathon racing. Moving into September I was finally going to attend a sprint event and then maybe, just maybe race at Sickline.

Unfortunately this whole scheme suddenly derailed at BUCS when I got into a punch up with a rock. I like to believe the rock came up a little worse for wear however it was me, not the rock, that was carted off to hospital with a dislocated shoulder. Obviously this meant that my epic tales of paddling were put on hold having missed the selection events. I did still make it to the alps however after one day of paddling my shoulder made another bid for freedom while I was sleeping. These continued problems mean that I am once again receiving treatment on my shoulder which will probably involve some form of surgery in the next few months.

“So River Stench is dead?”

Nope you can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ll probably update this blog over the next few months  with a mixture of shoulder updates and old stories. Maybe I’ll even get some guest writers in so stay tuned. I’m not dead yet.

“Okay, okay. But where is the rest of Scotland?”

Oh yeah, that. I just got a little bored writing it. The whole skiing thing was funny but the other days aren’t really worth talking about. I’ll post up our mounting mountain incidents up shortly, but lets face it nobody wants to hear about the following days of left over tartiflette and that time when Mason didn’t fall off a bridge.

~River Stench is written in front of a live and extremely bored studio audience~