Hello and welcome back to the final installment of drive to survive’s significantly less cool cousin: Canoe to do [yet more canoeing but this time at an international]? The name is a work in progress…
Part 3 was supposed to take place on the Trywern, a terrific but technical river. However this was not to be as the water companies neglected to release any water from their dam. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel jealous of the French paddlers and their amicable relationship with EDF. Could you imagine a British water company not just willing to coordinate dam releases for sensible times but also wanting to sponsor events and athletes. What a fanciful thought. Still we can’t be bitter, it’s not like they are regularly dumping shit into the river. Oh wait…
So instead of the might T, we found ourselves on the slightly less mighty Dee. The Dee is still a lovely river. The main rapid, serpent’s tail offers up an experience similar to that of being fired out of a gun down the death star trench. The boils down the bottom combined with a helpfully overhanging rock pesent an exciting little challenge at speed that often leaves you second guessing your line right up to the point where you make it through (or don’t).
This final selection event would be the decider for the World Cup events. For the World Cup all our points from all the previous selection events would also be counted. WIth a couple of good results in the bag and 6 spots to play for I found myself going into this final even in a relatively safe position, bar some sort of major disaster. Thus, it seems inevitable that just before racing started I kicked my footrest out.
With the river being low, most of the lines revolved around successfully dodging rocks, and on one of my Serpent’s sprint practice run I was slightly less successful than I’d previously been. Applying a touch more speed than on the previous run I was dismayed to discover that the pillow wave I’d normally ride was a lot less pillow-y and a lot more rocky than I’d thought. Fortunately, I was paddling my old ‘bash boat’ but the ensuing collision was forcefully enough to remove some of my beautiful repair work from the bow and send me flying through my previous attached footrest.
Being the clever boy I am, I’d forseen this sort of complication and had brought my repair kit. Unfortunately, there was no way I’d be able to resin the footrest back in before racing started. Cut to me, scrambling around the car park for a screw that I could hammer through the side of my boat to provide a rapid but temporary fix. I was in luck (thank you Ian) and with some brute force to reset the fractured footrest and a little bit of trial and error on the screw positioning I once again had a footrest. And it only creaked a little!
First runs were at 4pm, a late start to racing, taking full advantage of the longer spring evenings. My sprint runs were nothing to write home about. I achieved a 7th place finish. However, I was happy to find some time on my second run and even more pleased that my footrest held.
A traditional post-sprint classic practice lap and subsequent paddle back up the canal put the day’s mileage up to around 20km. Not bad for a sprint day! We retreated to a nearby campsite to eat our body weight in burgers and chips before spending the evening on another classic canoeing activity: lying on the floor and groaning.
Normally I like to follow up a naff sprint result with solid classic performance, but sadly I only managed a 6th on Sunday. Blame it on a bug or not having paddled my bash boat enough recently. Either way it was a bit of dud to end on.
Still 6th was enough and I’m delighted to say that I’ve made the Senior World Cup team alongside the Senior European Championship team. It’s barely two weeks now before we jet off for Skopje so while this is the end of the selection series, it’s just the start of this season’s racing!
“Yeah, I pulled hard and took smart lines”, I replied.
“And how is that different from what you did yesterday?”
The past weekend saw part 2 of the British Wildwater Selection Series. This event would be finalising the team for the Senior Sprint Worlds Championships in Augsburg along with the Junior/U23 teams and contribute towards the selections for the World Cup Series. Oh, and the Sprints were also this year’s British Sprint championships.
Having secured a place on the Senior European Championships team last weekend (YAY!) at least some of the pressure had been lifted and I was relieved that this event was happening at my local spot Nottingham and not another 6 hour drive away. The event followed the same pattern as before, with sprints on Saturday (this time in the evening) and Classic early-ish on the Sunday.
You’d imagine that racing on my home ground (or water) would confer a sizable advantage, however thanks to a small access ‘predicament’ we’d only managed to get on the white water course in wildwater boats a couple of times in the last year. This meant, with additional course configuration changes, everyone found themselves on an equal footing. As such I spent the entire hour of our allotted practice time squeezing in as many practice runs as I could, trying to get to grips with the complex boils and eddy lines that define the Holme Pierrepont course.
Some nice photos from the weekend + my “slightly too close to the groyne face”
Between these practice runs, warm ups and the race runs I manage to rack up an impressive 10km of paddling/walking back up on the Saturday afternoon. Some people would argue that this was maybe not the best sprint preparation. Those people would probably say that you should rest between practice and racing. Those people are probably right, but this was all part of my gamble to get as much time on the course before the Sunday’s Classic (my main target) and because I figured there was a greater danger of haemorrhaging time with a bad line, than there was time to gain from being able to pull slightly harder.
Did this plan pay off? In short, no but also possibly yes? My first sprint run was very clean, however I managed to guff the start which cost me vital seconds. My second run had a much better start but I had to scrub off some speed to avoid piling into a groyne, which screwed up the next bit of the line and also cost me vital seconds. Somehow both runs ended up being roughly the same time. I did manage to slightly improve my position when compared to the previous weekend, and it was a good learning experience, but one that has probably cost the selection for the World Champs this year.
Okay, disappointing. But did the plan pay off for the main target, Sunday’s classic? Well this is where the ‘proverbial’ boat gets lodged across the entrance to the white water course.
Somthing somthing, shit creek
This was somewhat suboptimal. With an entire flock of fire engines descending on the scene and few other options, the decision was made that we would be racing on the flat. While this will probably go down as the worst classic course in wildwater history, after my disappointing sprints and a 2nd place the previous weekend I felt like I had a point to prove.
There is arguably one positive of not having anything substantial at the end of the Classic: there is no need to worry about leaving anything in the tank for trivial tasks like controlling the boat. You just pull as hard as you can, safe in the knowledge that if you can see when you cross the finish line you’ve done a bad job. I’m happy to say that I did a very good job and once my vision returned I was rewarded with a 1st place, an Easter Egg and 25 points towards my World Cup bid. A strong finish to a good weekend, but with lots of lessons to learn. (Thanks to Orange for the debrief.)
A selection of atheletes and Easter eggs
While I haven’t done the maths, I’m reasonably confident I’ve missed the selection for Worlds. On reflection I’m in two minds about this. I have a somewhat complex history with Augsburg, a course which was largely responsible for this blog’s hiatus. It would have been a great story to return after everything and enact my revenge, but I’m not a great sprinter and I prefer classic racing. With limited annual leave and money I’d still probably choose Euros and World cups over a purely sprint event. Still, it’s always nice to have the choice.
It’s a slightly weird world in which you compete against your friends to see who gets to go on a ‘holiday’. What often gets left out of these posts are the pre-race board games, chaotic cooking of saturday night dinners and the pungent ‘naughty kids on a sleepover’ vibes that we exude anytime we go anywhere. I’m very excited for Euros. I have never been to North Macedonia before and it looks like we’re going to have a cracking team for it.
Shortly before that we’ll be having the third and final selection race to decide World Cups. With a 1st and a 2nd, I wouldn’t say my selection for in the bag, but it’s definitely bag adjacent. That said it’s not over till its over and racing on the Tryweren can be spicy! (If by spicy you mean, full of rocks!)
It was 5am when we crawled out of our tents. We’d arrived at 11:30 the night before and did not have nearly enough sleep. Regardless, we clambered down below the lifeboat station with our boats. As we put on our decks the sky had begun to glow but the sun had not yet seen fit to emerge above the horizon.
I have a little bucket list for canoeing, and for as long as the list has existed the Bitches has been near the top. For those not in the know, the Bitches is a tidal rapid that forms between the most south west tip of Wales and Ramsey Island. Named by old-timey sailors who swore like old-timey sailors, the Bitches is a formidable stretch of water and has been the ruin of many craft over the years. But, for plucky kayaks the waves formed on this rapid offer some of the best surfing in the UK.
Tidal rapids are something special. They seemingly spawn from nowhere as the moon and sun literally align to haul oceans over otherwise unavailing rocks, and where once sat quiet and calm water emerges a beast foaming at the mouth.
That metaphor may be a slight hyperbole, but fortunately like their werewolf brethren, tidal rapids follow the lunar cycle making them pleasantly predictable (unlike the rest of the UK’s rain fed rivers). Unfortunately today’s ‘pleasant prediction’ was that the bitches would be running around 6am-ish. Thus we found ourselves taking our first paddle strokes somewhat unsure as to whether we were the early birds or the worms.
From the get on its roughly a 3km paddle up the coast and across the Channel to the Bitches. This is best done while the water is still fairly slack and it can still be a bit of a slog, particularly in short boats. The paddle adds a small level of jeopardy as it’s impossible to know the form of the feature until you get there. This elevates the Bitches a mere park and play into a propper adventure.
We passed snoozing seals and hugged the coast, eddy hopping up the sea as the tide started to move like a great lumbering freight train beginning to depart the station. Across the channel we could begin to see the white caps around the black needle like rocks that form the Bitches, and so we left the comfort of the mainland and departed into the nearly 1 kilometer ferry.
And it really is a ferry glide. As soon as you pull out into the channel it becomes apparent how fast the water is already moving. It is here that you may start to understand just how exposed you are, floating in a tiny boat in an ambivalent ocean. But stomach that feeling for now, keep paddling and eventually you’ll find yourself in the large swirling eddies below the rapids. It will all be worth it.
I don’t really know what to say about the surfing. You know, it’s kind of the main event, the reason you’d go. If a bunch of white water paddlers are willing to subject themselves to well in excess of 10 paddle strokes to get anywhere it’s got to be pretty bloody good. And do you know what? The Bitches is really bloody good.
I think Jack’s photos speak louder than any words I could muster. We had hours of gorgeous soul surfing on beautiful glassy waves.
It really is the land of the long boats and I had a great time ripping around in my RPM, hoping over the central shoulder, to crash down in the curler on the far side. Some slightly more competent freestyle paddlers (looking at you Harry & Jack) were even able to pull off some blunts in their long-boats and the slalom boats could tear up even harder than my old plastic with their added speed. But, above all else I was probably most jealous of the surf kayaks.
Curious and reclusive beasts not often spotted in the UK, this was truly their natural habitat. Their flat bottoms, and knife sharp edges seemed to offer an unparalleled amount of fun on the fast green wave, even if it does take an unparalleled amount of concentration to avoid being power flipped into oblivion.
But fear not there are spots for short stumpy boats too, and portaging over one of the rocky outcrops means you’ll always be able to make the wave even if your boat or your biceps are not fast enough to ferry onto the main wave. There are also other features and waves to be found along ridges of rocks. These include, but are not limited to a curling wave that had a tendency to randomly swallow people and one that Harry Price described as ‘interesting’. So, make your own decisions on that one.
The main wave was by far the friendliest although, off the back of it the sea could be a little ‘‘munchy’. I definitely scored one or two mystery moves, and another member of our group actually suffered a deck implosion, so maybe remember those air bags. This was probably the first time most of us had ever had to use an x-rescue in anger. But not me, I was too busy eating sandwiches on a rock.
I’m also reliably told that a little bit of swell makes everything a little spicier and complicates the eddy access, as everything surges up and down several feet. It also increases the likelihood and size of the ‘way-home-whirlpools’, but more on that later.
Harry proving he can paddle short boats anywhere and “Mr Teapot” about to get swallowed.
Once everyone is knackered and the fun is over and done with, your paddle is not over and done with. While the paddle out is a sedate slog, the paddle back is certainly spicier. The route back to St. David’s lifeboat Station looks simple, but by now the tide is pumping even faster than before and will do everything in its power to flush you out into the Irish Sea or drag you towards some inconspicuous looking white caps.
It was just as we were considering these two fates that a certain Mr Teapot mentioned the way home ‘way-home-whirlpools’. “Way-home-whirlpools?”, I answered. “I hate whirlpools” replied jack”. And just like that all three of us were headed round in a big circle as a ‘way-home-whirlpool’ opened beneath us, threatening to suck us all in. These delightful features can form as you pull out of the relative calm behind the bitches into the main current and are certainly something to keep an eye out for. I have long been a believer that swans make the best sprint coaches, but they come second only to large whirlpool spouts that are already grasping at your tail.
Having survived our little ordeal, our attention was drawn back to the whitecaps. In actual fact these are far from inconspicuous and once in the current they barrel up faster than anticipated. As you rapidly draw closer you might make out a suspicious horizon line in the middle of the sea. This is Horse Rock, a series of underwater stacks in the middle of the current that form far less friendly whirlpools big enough to sink actual boats, let alone kayaks. Going through this is not recommended.
Thus there are 2 options. Option 1, a mad ferry above horse rock where you’ll be convinced you’re about to be flushed into it regardless. Or option 2, a mad ferry below the whirlpools where you’ll be convinced you’re about to be flushed out to sea. Personally, having now flirted with both options, I’m an option 2 man. I think the lifeboat will do a much better job of rescuing me if I’ve not been pre-drowned by Horse Rock. Plus, I’ve been meaning to visit Ireland some time regardless.
With only a few brief moments of panic we made it back to the lifeboat station, and clambered back up the steep steps. With the early start we were off the water by 8:30am. Just in time to grab Breakfast in St. Davids and spend the day doing whatever it is normal people do at the beach. Later we bag the evening tide and then a slightly more sociable 7am session the following morning.
With all the hazards and a veritable sea of consequence the Bitches is a highly recommended trip, but only for seasoned paddlers. There are local boat tours of the rapids and wildlife if you want to see the spectacle. If you pick a good tide, you may even see some paddlers out for a play. Or perhaps myself as I will definitely be back.
Thanks to everyone who made this trip.
The best Biteches!
Side Note: If traveling down from the north be sure to swing by Gloucester Services for what can only be described as an enlightening experience.
River Stench 