It was always my brother that took to canoeing more than me – I’ve always been more of a kayak kid. I used to tell myself it was because he wanted to be better than me but I was too good in a kayak, but in truth I never really got the hang of only having one blade (particularly on the rough stuff). And yet, despite this, I found myself on the start line of a world championship in a C1.
How did I get here?
Along side canoes, sprint has never been my forte. So at the start of the year I hadn’t really planned on going to a sprint only worlds. But plans change. Suddenly, somehow, I found myself with a deep desire to go to the world champs at České Budějovice.
Throughout the 2025 I’d seen a dramatic improvement in my K1 sprint results, often beating some of the other ‘sprint specialist’ Brits throughout the season. And it seemed like there was an outside chance I could make the team for České Budějovice.
Alas it was not to be. Despite all the practice runs, and sprint gains I finished down in 8th, one and a half seconds off the mark. But not all hope was lost; there is always the canoe classes!
Since our success at the World Champs last year I’d become a regular at the infamous Canoe Thursdays sessions. The premise of these sessions is simple: on Thursdays we go canoeing. The session itself is adapted on the fly to accommodate whoever rocks up. From star studded international paddlers to new novices, which is fortunate as when it came to canoe I was definitely in the latter camp.
My intention for the year had been to pin down a C2 partner and attempt to retain our bronze in the C2 team sprint, however despite flirting with a few combinations nothing really stuck. As such I found myself increasingly often in a C1. I even entered the odd race, wobbling my way down increasingly larger rapids usually repeating to myself “you’re a big boy, and you can do this.”
By the time selections came around I’d managed to improve my canoe paddling into something that could almost be described as competent. It was enough, and thanks to convincing Pat Marriott to do C2 at the eleventh hour my ticket to the world champs was punched! There was just one issue though, just-about-competent is not really good enough for the world champs, at least for me. Thus I hit play on the training montage swapping most of my kayak sessions for canoe and enlisting the help of the best canoeing coach I know; Viktória Scholczová from the Slovak team.
Viki had been over for our selection race which also doubled up as an ECA cup and eagerly signed up to whip me into shape. It’s hard to believe but over the next couple of months she returned twice to the UK for the sole reason of teaching me the dark art of canoeing.
Her favourite game to play was the ‘switch’ game. Basically every time she yelled switch at me I had to swap the side I was paddling on. As somebody who until then could only paddle on the left, I did not enjoy this game but it did substantially improve my abilities.
We spent some time on the flat looking at technique, and canoe specific fitness, but the bit that needed the most work was the bumpy stuff. I am fortunate enough to live a mere stone’s throw from the whitewater course in Nottingham, and we spent near every day on the rough. Trying to adjust how the C1 moves in the moving water was a challenge and learning how to live without my other paddle blade was an even bigger one! But, slowly ,the wobbles disappeared, the confidence came and I was able to properly race the boat down the white water. Now I was ready(ish) for worlds!
The course at České Budějovice it tight and steep. In some ways that makes it easier than Nottingham, there are no big boils pushing from side to side, but in many other ways it is much much harder. In fact when some of the local slalom paddlers heard where we were heading it was met with raised eyebrows. “I didn’t even realise you could get a river racer down there”. Well you can, or at least some can.
The first few days were a baptism of fire. The racing line seemed obvious enough, but sticking it was another matter. Even the K1s would struggle at times. The tight and steep nature of the course meant that the racing line was constantly riding the eddy lines, slightly off to one side and you’d get buried in a wave coming to a screeching halt. Slightly off to the other side and you’d catch the eddy, spinning out coming to a screeching halt and potentially smacking a wall in the process.
Kerry Christie has been running a swim chart for the British paddlers and I managed to add nearly a swim a day we were in České Budějovice. With the majority of the British ‘Canoe team’ being relatively inexperience we managed to rack up enough swims to rival Adam Peaty. Most of mine happened in the bottom pool just above the finish. apparently I could manage the big bumpy bits but there was something about that last eddy line I just couldn’t master. My only other swims was one team run induced collision with a bollard, and one just above the start line (but we’ll get to that later). None of this particularly impressed Viki though. Her mantra of “No Swimming” would often float through my head as I floated back to the surface. Evidently I needed to spend some more time with in rolling lessons.
In truth I was having a bit of a mare. Pat, who lives in Switzerland had been relying on me to load a C1 onto the trailer for him. A task I failed at. I only realised the mistake once we’d arrived in Czech but fortunately, thanks to our good relationship with the Slovak team (and a few bribes) we were able to borrow Pat a boat. (Not that it mattered in the end…)
Off the water we were staying just outside the old town of České Budějovice. The old town is a small but beautiful part of the city that we took a lot of joy in exploring on our rest afternoons and evenings. Many a misadventure occurred during our week in the city; A team trip up the rickety ‘Black Tower’; somewhat accidental ‘breaking and entering’ into the Dominican monastery under Viki’s Guidance; and just wondering into a random festival the night before finals (sometime competing really gets in the way of being a tourist!).
We were staying in some remarkably swish apartments (at least for our standards). Sleek and modern our only complaint was the weird frosted glass doors (or sometimes general lack of doors) between the bedrooms. A clear style over substance choice by a designer who’d never considered that flicking on a light in the night would wake up the every occupant in the apartment. We weren’t the only ones to find such premium digs though and we found ourselves sharing the block with the German and the Spanish teams. The latter of whom attempted to burn down the building the night before the racing started by attempting to incinerate some popcorn. What ensured was the most lacklustre and confused building evacuation I’ve ever witnessed and a brief visit from some disgruntled firefighters.
We awoke on the first morning of the competition to our apartment still vaguely smelling like a burnt out cinema but our thoughts quickly turned to the day ahead. The competition was to be held over two days. The heats would be held on the Friday with finals and team races on the Saturday.
Friday morning was dedicated to the K1s and the C1s. The first runs were rough, for nearly everyone. In the Men’s K1 some of the big names missing from the top 5.
My first run went surprisingly smoothly. I kept the boat under control with a reasonable amount of speed although unsurprisingly it was a long way off the mark. I’m immensely proud of the progress that I made over the summer and the week at České Budějovice but it was humbling to see how much further there was to go.
Meanwhile, Pat had an absolute shitter. He somehow missed boat control before getting on the water (which to be fair was poorly signposted). This was only picked up just before he started, which meant a DNS, and consequently no 2nd heat either.
While warming up above the start line, minutes before my start, I lost control on a ferry glide. I collided with one of my fellow competitors, before slowly and inevitably turning turtle. I reached for a roll but somehow, in the confusion, I lost my helmet. I grabbed for the pull tab and popped my deck, fearing if I was underwater for any longer I’d flush across the start line (an instant DNS). What followed was an Olympic level swim.
I may not be a pro-C1 paddler. But I’ve certainly become a pro-c1 swimmer. Before my head had even breached the surface I’d already flipped the boat and launched it into the first available eddy. The only issue was even if if morphed into Michael Phelps I wouldn’t make it to the same eddy before swimming over the start line. I resorted to the other bank, crawling our completely out of breath. Another more competent paddler managed to retrieve my helmet and chuck it to me, but now I had the second stage of my triathlon.
Stranded on the opposite bank to my boat and with the time rapidly ticking down to my start I had to run down the course, over the first bridge I could find and back up to my boat. Then it was a mad scramble to empty the water and strap myself back in.
I made my start. Just. With about 30 seconds to spare.
Already exhausted there was no time to recover before the third stage (the actual race) began. I ploughed on to race what will go down in history as ‘a C1 run’. A largely unremarkable run, but with no major errors or mistakes and finishing upright. Which, to be honest was an upgrade from the start! Unsurprisingly I was miles off the finals, but satisfied with the runs I’d put down and the improvement I’d made over the week.
Now it was time to turn our attention to the C2. Our runs were again unremarkable. Although given some of the incidents the other teams had that was a blessing in and of itself. We put in a good effort and even improved from one run to the next. But the French and Czech C2s were in a league of their own and our (albeit far fetched) dreams were dashed against the rocks like some of the less fortunate C2s.
It was a similar story for the whole British team. Close but no cigars (and no finals). The feeling of disappointment was palpable, particularly given all the success from the previous years we’d almost become accustomed to. Fortunately for me, Viki provided a silver lining, making her final in the second heat. That’d give us all something to root for in the morning, before the team race in the afternoon.
The other, questionable, sliver lining was the invite to do the commentary for the live stream. The English language skills of the British team are (fortunately) unparalleled. Although our media training could probably use some improvements. Some of the highlights of our commentary was picked up by planet canoe. Some of the slip ups and swears did have to be dubbed over though. We will see if they ever have us back.
After the disappointment of the heats we all hoped that the finals day would provide some reprieve at the end of a hard week. Unfortunately it was not to be, and more heart break would soon be upon us.
For me this began with Viki’s final. Sometimes it feels harder to watch than to race, because in the the moment there is nothing you can do. I ran down the bank cheering and shouting as loud as I could as Viki powered off from the start. Her top section was strong. She was flying. But, a small mistake at the crux led to a spin. To Viki’s credit she got the the boat turned and kept the power on to the finish but any hopes of a medal had been evaporated. At the finish there was frustration and tears. České Budějovice is a punishing course. Viki was in good company with many of the favourites having spins or major mistakes. We were not the only red eyes in the finishing zone.
The day seemed to fly by with some incredible racing and one of the tightest MK1 finals I think I’ve ever seen but soon it was time for the team races. It was our last shot for glory and in the C2 our one chance at a medal.
The WK1 and MK1 teams, were met with disappointment, but they at least finished something our MC1 team unfortunately failed to do after Regan took a swim. The British WC1 team did technically finish in 3rd but this was 3rd out of three. Unfortunately there need to be at least 4 teams in the race to be quorate so there were no medals. This was extra painful for Viki as had the Slovaks managed to put together a C1 team they almost certainly would have slotted into the medals.
Its always sad to see events not be quorate. One thing that the we as the British team pride ourselves in is out willingness to stand up and race in situations like this. If we as a community to not try to reinforce and grow these categories they will slowly die. I love this sport and it would be an unspeakable shame to loose it. Those who’ve trained hard deserve races and a shot at the medals. We’re doing our part and I hope other nations will step up too.
Finally at the end of the day it was time for the MC2 team. The last race, the last hope and a bronze to defend. As we lined up on the start we tried to channel the memory of Spain. Paddle hard, fast and smooth and clean. That was the dream.
I’d be lying if I said it was a perfect run. We definitely hit some waves and took on too much of the bottom eddy. But it was a respectable run and one we were happy with as we crossed the line. But it would be a bitter sweet feeling. We may have finished just 2 seconds of the Czechs, but the Germans had put in a storming run, knocking the Czechs into 3rd and leaving us in 4th.
It would be a long drive home across the Europe and the team were packed up and ready to leave before there was time to process everything. The sudden departure felt like a shock as I said goodbye to Viki. They were solemn miles of motorways. But there is always next time.
River Stench 