Staffs and Stone Summer Trips 2006

Isle De La Serre 2006

When Ruth made a rather desperate request for Natalie and Mikey to write something about the Isle De La Serre 2006 club trip I suspected that I would end up having to write it, as notice was rather short and the weekend of the Interclubs was not the ideal venue for journalistic inspiration. (Mikey’s main concern of the weekend being how high up a tree could he climb and Natalie’s being how on earth do you paddle a C1 in a straight line??) So having survived another weekend at Cardington (with thankfully great weather after last year’s mud bath) I’m trying to focus on what happened in France, which now seems an age away.

I did point out to Natalie that as I was writing the article, I’d get to choose the photos…..you have no idea how much bribery and future promises of excellent behaviour and willingness to cooperate have been made to keep certain images out of the public domain (mainly involving bad hair days and one particularly great chav pose which may well end up on the club web site if any of the said promises evaporate).

To start at the beginning, the Wilson posse were the first to embark on the lengthy journey down to Sault Brenaz. We had the idea that we would get as far down France as possible and then check into a Formule1 or equivalent. Unfortunately this was on the Friday night when EVERY French family was also setting off on their annual holiday and having found that the millionth hotel we tried was ‘Complet’ (i.e. full) we had no option but to get out the sleeping bags and attempt to sleep a family of 4 in a fully packed car. Not the finest moment of the trip, it has to be said. Sleeping in cars turned into a bit of a theme later in the week too, when Baby Royle lost it big time in the middle of the night and poor Kay had to resort to the same tactic to give everyone else a chance of sleep.

The upshot of having driven so far looking for accommodation was that we found we were practically at our destination on Saturday morning so soon established camp and Natalie and Mikey got a good afternoon’s paddling in blazing sunshine. Things were definitely looking up. Phil and Robin arrived later on Saturday, then the Royles arrived the next day and once the Clarkes had arrived on Monday morning, slightly dazed and confused from their all night driving fest, the 2006 club camp was complete and the pattern for the week was established with two sessions a day on the water then plenty of card games, swimming and sunbathing (at least at the beginning of the week) in between. Plus, for the really fit and able, a run to the bread shop first thing in the morning.

The first task of the week was to blow up Joe’s inflatable raft. The night before Phil and Robin had proudly presented their bargain self-inflating mattresses costing £3.50 each. Unfortunately Phil’s lasted 10 minutes before bursting, and Robin’s lasted perhaps 30 seconds longer. Therefore there were very low expectations for the raft when it was discovered it hailed from the same shopping emporium (not named here in case of libel action!). Natalie and Joe were the first to try it, paddling up into one of the stoppers and finding themselves completely stuck, unable to exit due to uncontrollable laughing and, well, sheer lack of skill, until a poor swimmer came down, crashed right into them, and sent them down the river. Jazzy and Mikey were next to try, with more hilarity, until unfortunately they were told that the raft was not allowed on the course so that particular avenue of entertainment was curtailed for the week.

Phil announced that his mission for the week was to turn all the kids into surfing chicks and dudes and so every session involved meeting on the top wave to hone those surfing skills before moving on. Meanwhile, Frank had his eye on the playboat that Robin had brought along (mainly intended to be filled with water to keep the beer cool), so Robin set about trying to keep him upright in it (with limited success). Phil and Robin between them organised some excellent sessions working on different parts of the course throughout the week and it was great to see the progress that everyone made over the week while also having loads of fun. Big big thanks for all that, guys!

One of the highlights of the week was the hydrospeeding session. This involves kitting yourself out in wetsuit, buoyancy aid, helmet and flippers then flinging yourself down the course with a foam hydroski, attempting to surf any stopper you can along the way. Joe and Shaun were already experts, having done this the year before, but it wasn’t too long before Jazzy, Natalie and Mikey were hurling themselves off the rocks and into the stoppers too. Meanwhile Frank discovered he was unable to master the flippers, and having had to be rescued by Mikey(!!) from the river at the bottom of the course, was persuaded by Robin to abandon the footwear and give it another go. There were many bankside shouts of yeeesss…oooh as he manfully launched himself into the stoppers only to be flung on his back and down the course again but eventually he got the hang of it too.

Another diversion was a trip to a local climbing spot. Phil and Dave, the club experts, produced copious amounts of gear and set about establishing top ropes. This was made more difficult since a shower of rain coincided with our arrival. Nevertheless Phil and Dave bravely battled on up the cliff face until the ropes were set. Most of us had a go with varying degrees of success. Mikey earned a fresh nick-name “Monkey” for his exploits. However his reputation was slightly tainted when he resorted to using knees round one of the overhangs.

Wednesday involved a rest afternoon and a group trip into Lyon, stopping on the way to look at the impressive ‘Hawaii-Sur-Rhone’ wave. Arriving in Lyon in convoy we attempted to find parking, but all the car parks had height restrictions. It was looking quite desperate until Phil got out and raised the barrier, as it was hanging by a chain. Robin and Shaun drove their cars into the car park but meanwhile our car was still too high so we set off to find a spot elsewhere. This turned out to be a wise move as the only way out of the car park was through a low tunnel and so all the roof racks, top boxes and boats had to be unloaded from the cars and then reloaded after exit.

By this point in the week, the weather had unfortunately started to deteriorate. It did so the moment Phil mentioned the word ‘group barbecue’ and never really picked up again until he flew back to England. His constant reassurances that there was blue sky in the distance were really just a figment of his own imagination and by Thursday the rain had set in with a vengeance. Of course if you are on the water this doesn’t really make much difference, but for us poor bank side people it can get beyond a joke….especially when the rain is so unrelenting it starts to exceed the hydrostatic head of your tent fabric. It’s amazing, though, how a little retail therapy can really brighten the spirits so a quick trip to the local Decathlon and a hefty credit card bill later we were all feeling much happier and Natalie and Jazzy were parading round in their completely matching outfits of fleeces, shorts and plastic shoes (sadly one of the photos I am not allowed to publish due to the hairstyle, which looks fine to me but is apparently absolutely not to appear anywhere in public).

Nevertheless, some poor weather did not spoil what was, all in all, a really great holiday for us. Good company, great food, and excellent paddling for all the canoeists. We are already saving up our Tesco vouchers for next year’s ferry crossing, but next time we will book our overnight stop in advance, as Natalie has already announced that if she has to spend another night in the car she’s seeking an alternative family (any takers?).

And Further Afield ...

… So I flew off in the closest thing possible to a private jet having made use of the valet service. Okay, I knew that evening’s destination but hadn’t a clue how I was going to get there. And as for where we’d end up in the next two weeks, well the whole of Europe was our oyster. This was the start of the road trip 2006!

I’d been quite cautious to commit to the trip knowing that I’d frustratingly not worked since finishing my masters last autumn, galebranting around Europe was certainly not going to enhance my prospects of cracking the environmental sector and it definitely wasn’t going to improve my bank balance! But it had evolved that I was going and there was no escape route now. Things changed significantly when the Queen decided to employ me, so now the money wasn’t an issue, nor too the need to check those monotonous grad job websites. However, of greater concern was how to fit this trip, plus another committed trip to Corsica, plus a Christmas holiday, plus some skiing in the arctic, plus Easter in Tully into my 25 days plus 10 and a half days bank and privilege day holidays (the Queen’s quite generous in that respect!), I’ve still not fully worked out how I’m going to pull this one off but I didn’t quite have the heart to own up to Robin and Pete as the whole thing would have fallen through without me. Anyway, who cared, I was off to Bourg!

For those of you who haven’t been or heard, Bourg St Maurice is generally acknowledged as one of the biggest and greatest slalom courses in the world for good reason. For all but the very best, paddling there involves quite a large element of survival! And that’s what Robin, Pete, Joe and Myself did. One creased tail and a snapped paddle was probably a good return for a weeks paddling for the four of us. To celebrate our conquering of the Isere, we (though it must be said that some of us certainly consumed more than others!) together with the support team of Shaun and Mandy, toasted our success by imbibing a 5 foot giraffe - performance enhancing, honestly!

An early rise was required for a big day on the road beckoned. First off we had to climb over the Petit pass de St Bernard pausing for a very quick snow ball fight at the top (we were still in shorts and flip flops). For lunch we got to Ivrea in Italy and broke the journey with a quick session. It was impressive to paddle upstream under the old bridge which, a few years ago, during an impressive flood had been a humongous stopper when the river had literally been about ten metres higher. The afternoon took us across Italy over a second pass to Mezzana (venue of the 1993 world won by SSCC’s Richard Fox). One look confirmed that no world championship would be taking place there this week with more rocks than water in evidence. So with gritted teeth we made a long days driving even longer by setting off over a third pass to Merano (venue of worlds in 1953, 1971 and 1983- again won by Fox). We arrived with the sun setting to be confronted by a full campsite and an even bonier river – the day was getting better by the minute! The reason was because Merano was hosting a very impressive and extensive festival; therefore, we overcame our sorrows by eating pizza and tasty strudel type things (again performance enhancing!) and listening to some impressive live music with expert interaction by an increasingly well lubricated crowd and three Brits who still didn’t have a clue as to where they were going to sleep that night! This was soon solved by driving aimlessly into the hills and eventually settling for a forest ride high above the valley with excellent wolf like sound effects – it was good to wake up in the morning to a no camping sign at our chosen spot!

The following morning after an energetic lactic session on the only bit of water deep enough we recovered with a visit to the Gelaterie and another long drive to Landeck in Austria over the Passo de Rombo which, at 2500m, is good enough as twice the height as Ben Nevis. I’m sure that Robin’s car would agree! An endless series of switchbacks stretching up to the sky with a smattering of crazy motorcyclists and even crazier cyclists- much respect!

Pete then decided to up the excitement stakes by getting stung on the lip by a wasp which promptly proceeded to blow up to golf ball proportions. This meant a visit to Dr Chesney via a maternity clinic! With Pete sleeping off the drugs that had been pumped into him, Robin and I set off for an impressive afternoon of paddling on the Tosens section of the Inn. This turned into a 10km adrenalin fest, with wave after wave punctuated with the fastest and most exhilarating breakouts that I’ve seen. Nothing too serious but continuous fun! This culminated with a magical green wave which, after a frantic sprint, gave way to an awesome surf in the middle of a 30metre wide river with about 50 cumecs of water freight training it through. From the eddy below, the paddler vanished from view to be replaced by sporadic whooping and hollering! It was so good that even the river taking a good liking to one of my paddle tips didn’t seem to matter. In such as state of mind Robin and I then hatched forward our plan looking at the Europe wide route planning map. It went something like, drive to Bratislava via Lofer followed by a trip to Prague two days later then to Augsburg the proceeding day before making the dash for home. Ambitious yes, but hey, we were still buzzing from the surfing and who cares, we were on a road trip after all!!!

Pete was a little more cautious than our excited scheming and suggested we get some reassurances that we could actually paddle when we got there, after all 1200km is a long detour to go just to see an empty slalom course! Unfortunately, this reassurance was not forthcoming so we reluctantly upped sticks and left for Augsburg in Southern Germany. Augsburg is steeped in slalom history having hosted the 1972 Olympics, a first for slalom and the 1985 (won by you know who!) and 2003 World Championships and more World Cups than you can count. It’s an incredible venue, a curved concrete box with terraced amphitheatre type surrounds and over 200 slalom gates to get stuck into. Augsburg welcomed us from the heart (herzlich!)! It’s very much a case of paddling with the best (we shared the water with amongst others, three of the four K1M gold medals from the last two World and European Championships!).

So there it was, after a flying visit to sample the bier in one of its natural homes, Munich, it was a long journey and titanic competition of Yellow car (but no Berlingo’s)/ Pink car/ Eddie Stobbart/ DHL/ Ryder Van/ Piaggio truck (narrow cab and bonus with over 60 year old driver!) back to the UK. Six countries and 17 sessions, now that’s a road trip!