Nestling in the foot hills of the Brecon Beacons lies the small market town of Crickhowell, the destination of the 2015 HCC Christmas gathering. Some two and a half hours from home, it was to be an action packed/restful few days in the bronze and green autumnal countryside of Wales. Campers (bunkers doesn’t quite sound right) had the option of one or two days kayaking or walking with pub trips thrown into the latter. This was to be punctuated by the much-anticipated Saturday night fancy dress party and hopefully a visit from Santa. The excitement was building on Facebook as the messages flew between members.
And so it was that I found myself in a van full of gear on the M6 with Fraser and Abigail. The sat-nav spent a short while deciding which way it wanted to take us before we finally settled in to the journey ahead. The usual Friday traffic on the M6 gave way to the same on the M42 but we were moving and that was acceptable. The drone of three boats on the roof a constant accompaniment, we paused briefly in the ebb and flow of the commuter hustle. Moving away and the noise had changed, and not for the better. Pulling onto the hard shoulder to investigate we found a rather large hole in the rear tyre. Not the best start to our weekend. Thirty minutes of grovelling around in the dark, just feet from massive lorries, and with an assortment of tools (a battery powered angle grinder was used) and we were back on our way seconds before a torrential downpour.
Upon reaching the bunkhouse gates we found a stranded car about one third of the way up the rather steep access track. We assessed our options and decided to go to the pub and come back later after some food. Returning an hour or so later we successfully negotiated the climb and we were greeted by lots of happy smiling people all seemingly excited about the impending festivities. Split into two separate building with two separate communal areas, one had been chosen as ‘Base of Operations’ so we settled in for a relax and a catch up as the stragglers arrived. It’s fair to say that some of our number were more ‘relaxed’ than others.
Saturday morning started as it meant to continue. Wet and windy. With two activities on the cards decisions had to be made as to what you wanted to do. I’d planned to paddle one day or the other due to not being in the best of health, my preference being to paddle on the Sunday. A brief chat with the esteemed Mr Aldridge soon put me right and it was time to kit up and ship out to the Usk where the majority of us mere mortal paddlers were to be spending the day. A bit of shuttling of vehicles and waiting around and we were on the water.
Splitting into small groups of three paddlers and a leader, I was teamed up with Abi and Sarah (presumably to protect them from) and our leader Phil Riley. With various sets of rapids and small features to negotiate we made relatively slow but steady progress. A little bit of waiting around being necessary to let the leaders check what was coming up. A couple of small waves were being played on, a first for me at least, to help us hone our skills. Then onwards to the first main feature of the day, a moderate (to us relative novices at least) set of rapids that were just before a much larger feature known as ‘Mill Falls’. With a couple of routes through of varying difficulty, we waited as members of the other groups picked their lines and invariably missed them. We had a swimmer, our first of the day, who was promptly scooped up and then Abi and I negotiated our way through to safety. Last woman through was Sarah Powell who was on her first whitewater trip. Sticking closely to Mr Riley she paddled through and made the eddy with little trouble and much applause. An excellent show I’m sure we can all agree.
At this point we all got out and walked to have a look at Mill Falls proper. Now while not exactly huge, this was above the pay grade of most of our group. So it was left to our group of trip leaders to negotiate with a footbridge providing a convenient viewing platform for everyone else. Moving from river right to river left was done with some trepidation as they lined themselves up on the most straightforward route through. With Martin Aldridge covering safety half way through, the group moved through the various drops and rapids with only Mr Riley auditioning for the role of river bed inspector. A successful roll had him right side up and paddling away with little outward drama.
Back in our boats, a small stretch of easy water led us to the final and most sustained feature of the day. This was a long stretch of rapids that went out of view around a curve in the river. Waiting in an eddy for our safety cover to get into place we suddenly found that someone had missed the eddy and was off on his way causing a small flurry of activity amongst the leaders. Being one of the less experienced on moving water, our intrepid paddler made a pretty good fist of things making his way through the vast majority of the section before taking an undeserved swim in and eddy. This is where the fun and games started.
Having lost some safety cover, the main group waited for the remaining cover to reorganise. This meant we all had time to study what lay ahead as much as we could but it also led to cold setting in. We lost a couple of paddlers at this point who chose to portage rather than paddle mainly through cold. Penny soon had us organised into small groups and off we went. Myself, Abi and Rob led off after getting caught on rocks in shallow water. Clearing those we kept moving only to find Rob stranded on the top of a rather large rock right in the centre of the river. The look on Robs face as I paddle passed was priceless. Confusion mixed with amusement and a little bit of fear all rolled into one.
Meanwhile, our swimmer had been rescued and was safely on the bank thankfully none the worse for wear. His boat however was still having fun. Having shepherded us to the get out, Mr Aldridge was now trying to work out what to do about the errant boat. The bow bags didn’t seem to be playing ball and the rear hatch had popped so it was by now totally swamped. Then, from stage left, chasing what appeared to be a green plastic submarine came Neil Smith, another of our group leaders. Elliot, who had arrived moments before took off on foot chasing Neil and the submarine. Neil survived a drop off a sizeable ledge followed by a roll and was starting to flag when Martin joined him and they both managed to suppress the errant boat and the rescue was complete. A small (!!) yomp back along the path to the group we found that all had either portaged or paddled to the end and it was back to the cars for the short hop back to the bunkhouse.
Overall there was a good mixture of abilities on the water. Most having done at least some whitewater previously, we had two complete novices in our ranks but hopefully the group managed to reassure them that all would be well, no matter what happened. We had great leaders throughout the day and hopefully everyone had fun and learnt some valuable skills as we went. Now it was time to relax, eat and drink and meet (pervy) Santa.
Sunday dawned brighter than predicted although it wasn’t to last. Again there was a choice of activities with myself, Abi and Fraser opting to join the trip to Cardiff Whitewater Centre, an hours drive south. Having previously paddled the back channels at Holme Peirrepont and a disastrous trip to Nene (the least said about that the better) I was benefitting greatly from the successful trip on the Usk the day before so as we arrived I was rather excited to get going. We paid our dues and got kitted up and onto the water. By this point various other member of the club had turned up to watch so it was almost turning into HCC day.
To those who’ve never paddled the course at Cardiff it is a strange place. Being down in the old docks area surrounded by the smells and sounds of the sea. Given your surroundings you’d be forgiven for assuming that the water would be salty but it isn’t. In fact it’s like whitewater kayaking in your local swimming bath. Which is a little strange.
Another unusual experience is the travelator. Where as at every other place I’ve been you get out and walk back to the top, Cardiff has a conveyor belt that you paddle onto which magically transports you to the top of the course. So you never ‘have’ to get out of your boat. We had also been pre warned that the course itself is pretty shallow. They weren’t kidding!
The first run was more ‘white-knuckle’ than white-water but we got from top to bottom with most of us still sat where we were supposed to be. A short moment to regroup and we were on our way up for another run. This time it started well although we rapidly (geddit?) started to bunch up. With the first couple of drops successfully negotiated we had a swimmer. Passing them I continued on my way with the intention of making a later eddy a little further down. Upon making the eddy I decided that I was a little hot with the only solution being a quick dip. Purely to check the water was ok you understand.
That over and done with it was back in the boat and on with the show. Several more runs were made with some swimmers and some paddlers led to our penultimate run. We knew that at some point the flow of the course was set to increase by 50% but we hadn’t really been paying attention to the time. So with flagrant disregard we climbed the travelator high on the adrenaline of our success/failure from previous runs. A moments pause to allow others to clear the way and off we went. This is where it all started going a bit wrong with swimmers left right and centre. The levels were on the up it would seem. Another frantic run down with massive grins and a little luck saw me still in the boat at the bottom and once all swimmers were reunited with their boats we went up for what would be the final fling. This time the levels were definitely up and we had mixed results but I stayed in the boat and was massively pleased with myself for only the single early swim. I was keen as mustard for another run down but fatigue had got the better of me and a lot of mountain biking has taught me never to be tempted by ‘one more run’. Fate takes a very dim view on this type of enthusiasm.
And so it was done. A slightly more sombre affair than the trip down, fatigue was taking its toll as we journeyed back home. I’m sure that on reflection, the weekend itself meant different things to each of us. I know I was really pleased with the weekend’s successes. My first proper moving water trip went well with me giving a pretty good account of myself in the boat. Not being one for large social gatherings I forced myself to face a few demons there too. There was disappointed too. Seeing new friends frustrated and dejected took the shine off a little bit but I’m sure that time and experience will sort out their white-water demons. For now I will leave you with the most troubling aspect of the weekend. One for which no one had planned or prepared. And that is the sight of Dave Garland in a long wig, high heels and a little black dress looking WAY too sexy. There are pictures somewhere. But I wouldn’t if I were you…
Nick Topley