Euros ’23: North Macedonia [Part 1]

I must admit, I’m not sure I would ever have visited North Macedonia were it not for this years European Championships. Unlike its neighbour Greece, North Macedonia doesn’t reside within the popular coniousness of holiday destinations (at least for us Brits). There are some reasons for this as it turns out, but when I mentioned where I was heading to my friends and family I was usually met with raised eyebrows and the guilty admission/question; “and were exactly is that?”.

I must admit, had you asked me last year I would have been unable to answer.

But that is one of the fantastic things about kayaking, it takes you to far flung and hidden destinations you never would have thought to visit.

Those who I spoke to that did know North Macedonia sung praises of their food and wine, but also tales of stray dogs communist blocks and the helpful tip not to drink the tap water. As we touched down in the airport encased in mountains all I really knew is that we should be in for an adventure, and Macedonia did not disappointed.

We were of course here for the 2023 Wildwater European Championships, held in Canyon Matka, just outside of the capital Skopje. We were fortunate to fly out to this which even with an extremely tight transfer in Warsaw involving drowning lieters of water to get through security again) was far preferable to the 3 day drive. Unfortunately, we still needed to get our boats out and so our voluntary support staff (made up of Billy, Williey and Peter) undertook the heroic treck across Europe with the Minibus and trailer. Prior to leaving a special appeal had to be made to British Canoeing to take a more discrete Bus as the three ex-RAF lads didn’t fancy driving through Serbia with a bus that had Union Jack plastered across its sides. Luckily, while their journey was not without incident they arrived safe and sound to collect us from the airport.

Here was our first taste of Macedonian driving, which I can only describe as ‘assertive’. After a week we were still unsure as to what exactly the rules were, if they existed at all. Yet, while spicy, the driving wasn’t aggressive. The cars were some how less banged up than their parisian counterparts and there seemed to the genral consensus that if a pedestrian was ballsy enough to step out into the road you should probably stop for them.

We toured past restaurants, coffee shops, street begggars and, what was quite frankly a staggering number of chandelier shops before arriving at our apartment. Upon arrival we realised somthing appeared to have been lost in translation and the 4 bedroom appartement we had booked, turned out to be more like 4 beds. But with the addition of a few mattresses on the floor we were able to settle down for the evening.

Practice

Canyon Matka, where the competition was being held, is Skopje’s number 1 tourist arraction according to various online sources of variable reputations. And we were lucky enough to be headed there every day for the whole week.

After a what felt like a particularly long winter of paddling in the UK we were all excited for some medetrain warmth, arriving only to find some overly familiar damp and dreary weather. An old man I’d later meet exploring Skopje’s old bazaar attributed the unseasonable weather to Putin’s cloud seeding to support his war in Ukraine, although the veracity of this statement is hard to ascertain. Inevitably back home for the first time this year the sun was shining and delivering temperatures of 20⁰C. Still  Macedonia’s 15⁰C was not bitter enough to break out the winter kags, and I was just pleased to be paddling in the double digits.

The course in the Matka Canyon is roughly some 500m bellow a dam that controls the flow, giving an ample area for warming up.

The couse starts with a small drop into a wave train that leads to the 2nd feature, a small stopper. From here the water flattens out before being split by an island, then its 30m of flatish water before the course drops into an S-bend. Theres a pillow on the right before a series of diagonal waves try to force you left into the final stopper. Finally there is a mad and painful dash around a slight bend to the finish where you slot through a small and swirley gap. The classic coruse continues for another few kilometers below mostly consiting of small wave trains and flow ladders, an island that could be taken either side and a few last corner cuts to the finish.

There wasn’t anything difficult on the course, but that also means that there is little room for error as every 100th of a second matters in the race. Quick to learn difficult to master.

The crux of the  course was the the S-bend to last stopper section. This took some work and even some of the bigger names could be caught being forced left into he meat of the last stopper or spinning out into the eddy on the left.

Swimming here was ill advised as Katie managed to find some sharp objects in the bottom pool. Not that this advice was well headed by paddlers of assorted competences.

Katie’s fun didn’t stop there as on the second day her seat dislodged on the first drop. This led to a frantic fixing frenzy between the morning and afternoon practice sessions. This would have been a difficult task in the rainy damp weather, but fortunately she managed to find a friendly Macedonian man who let her and Billy into a cave below race control so they could fix the boat in the dry.

The cave had previously been residence to an old artist who had decided to decorate his abode ‘a la serial killer’, with mannequins dressed in a unique and “slightly sexual” manner. Despite the disconcerting decorations the cave provided the required shelter and the seat was (re-)secured in time for the afternoon.

Katie returned, boat fixed in time for lunch and carrying a request from the “Australians” that they’d like to do an afternoon’s classic run with us. This request was met with slightly raised eyebrows given that we were at the European Championships. “Are you sure you don’t mean the Austrians?” But alas we were wrong to question her, as there were indeed a couple of Aussies (alongside the Austrians) at the European Championships! They were competing as forerunners ahead of a 3 month or so tour of Europe and were more than happy to give them some shuttles.

The shuttle was needed. Apparently the Albanian Muslim enclave that was located at the classic get out doesn’t take lightly to indecency. The message quickly propagated through the team leaders, that any paddlers exposing themselves at the get out were potentially in danger of being beaten up or forced to marry any woman who’d been unfortunately enough to see us. Apparently even our towel wrapped British modesty was too much and we’d need to be bussed away before we got changed. Goodness only knows how the French/Czechs managed with their tendency disrobe as the slightly opertunity. Fortunately nothing ended up coming of this, although half naked men Hunting for wives became the running joke if the trip.

Touristing

After two and a half days of practice we had an afternoon off. The dam wouldn’t be releasing water and we needed to rest up before racing commenced tomorrow. This presented two options; either longe around the flat doom scrolling as I had for the last few days or go “Touristing” around skopje with Peter and Willie. Uncertainty whether I’d ever visit North Macedonia again I chose the latter.

The centre of Skopje is a little weird. A lot of it was flattened in an earthquake in 1963. This means a lot of what you can see is relatively new, with a relatively recent neo-classical facelift. In places this this leans into the uncanny valley where glass facades are fronted by Greek columns. However, overall I think I like this and it is refreshing to see new buildings that are not an amorphous collection of glass steel and concrete.

Also scattered throughout the city are a collection of statues, similar to what you might see while wondering through Vienna. But again these statues are new. They as many statues do they often depict national hero’s of old. A taxi driver later described them to us as a but “kitch”, and while they make good tourist attractions, perhaps they are. To my uniformed eyes it seems somewhat symptomatic of a country attempting to regain a sense of cultural identity after that was oppressed while in the communist block. But then again what do I know?

As we toured through the old bazaar Willie befriend an ancient antique dealer, who refused to sell him a carving of a dog. As well as informing us of Putin’s cloud seeding efforts he told us of the greek-macedonian civil war from which he had once been a refugee. The Brits had supported the Greeks, hence why Greece has become the popular tourist destination. Being Irish Williey gets a free pass on the old colonial oppression front, but Peter and myself offered what little our apologiesare worth.

Pondering history that we knew little of we accended the hill to the fortress. The outside walls are old, ottoman, probably. But the inner walls are older still, roman? Greek? From the parapets we surveyed a city in the process of reinventing itself for the 21st century. We looked out across the sights we had seen, the statues, the old bazaar, the new mall and up the valley to Canyon Matka. Most prominently of all, the sight of our hire car, just as it was about to get towed.

Instantly the sight seeing tour was over and my afternoon of rest was punctured with a brief cardio session as I ran down the hills in an attempt to avoid the inevitable. It was too late. The car was gone.

Peter, Williey and myself regrouped around the location where our car had previously resided. When we parked there, it had been surrounded by other Macedonian cars that we had assumed knew what they were doing. These too were now missing.

In a weird coincidence at this point we bumped into Billy and Jamie driving the bus to try and get the trailer lights fixed. We were able to relay the issue and that we might need rescuing after they’d fixed the lights but all we really succeeded in doing was spreading the panic that we’d lost one of team transports the day before racing commenced.

We assessed our options. Asking the Macedonian team for help? Going back to our friend the the old bazaar? In the end some Willie had the quick thinking to flag down a passing taxi and request that they take us to the police impound.

In broken English the taxi driver ‘educated’ us on our choice of parking as well as giving us his thoughts on the statues and recent developments. But in a short journey away from the city centre we were at the police impound, neatly situated bellow a large railway overpass. Have you really expreinced a place until you’ve been to the police station? I think not. A few jumbled conversations and a fine or two late (there is a silly foreigners tax) and we had the vehicle returned.

Incidentally this wasn’t the first time Peter had a car towed while on an international canoeing event. If you are curious he says that the Macedonian beaurocracy surrounding this issue is far more sensible than the Italian!

Tragically after this little incident we no longer had time to see the aqueduct or grab a coffee in the old bazaar, but to everyone’s relief we did make it home in time for dinner and the opening ceremony… just.