"From Far Away Lands is a new column supposed to give Club members a chance to communicate their own private paddling adventures abroad. There is a lot of travelling going on, a lot of splendid boating destinations being discovered by our very own fellow members! And if we cannot see them all ourselves, reading about our friends' haps and mishaps is as good as it gets!!!

We start the series off with a collection of stories from yet another Alpine trip: Club Nutters John "Kiwi" Shepherd and Stephen "Seal" Powley went out on their own to catch that adrenaline-buzz. A lot of this is "Don't do this at Home, Kids!"-stuff, so don't think you have to live up to it. We'll have some more sedate adventures for you in later issues as well... But now be taken by the blood-curdling thrills of John & Steve’s adventure:”

We drove out on a Friday night and went straight to the Rabioux, but looking at the washed-out wave, decided to go up to Briancon to meet some mates from Barnsley - Sam, Bob (Sam's Dad) and Malc (Bob's mate) - who I'd met in Austria last year. Supper was pizza from the van in the square, and since John and I hadn't sorted out any accommodation we ended up sleeping under the stars on the lawn outside the Hotel Guisane apartments! This was to set a trend for the rest of the week, accommodation-wise....

We woke up to a glorious Sunday morning. There had been no dew either, for which we were grateful, and we were rearing to get on the water. The first river was to be the Guisane, both Upper and Lower. I ummed and ahhhed at which boat to take (Kendo vs. 007) and opinions were split as to how the latter would handle. I'd never paddled any river in it, let alone a G4 (Grade 4). -- Well, I bit the bullet and took the Bond boat - and it was a dream.

Nevertheless, our paddle adventure started with a bit of a coincidence: John had pointed out to me before that whenever I say I'm going to do something then invariably I will. In retrospect then, it may have been wiser not to send him to get some spare blades from the Club before we left because I thought there was a good chance I'd break mine. But even John was surprised that I broke a big chunk off my paddle on the first G4 of the entire week! Oh great - not... There still was enough left to get down the river, but turning right proofed interesting.

The Guisane river is a superb trip, but we couldn't help feeling that if this was the "warm-up" then the rest of the week would have a lot to live up to! And what a convenient get-out: right by the apartments for lunch - which was where we finally met Mike and Mike, two friends of Bob's. They were supposed to have paddled with us in the morning, but due to the fantastic description of "we'll see you in the meadow at the put-in" we never found them. If you've been up the Guisane Valley then you'll know there are a whole lot of meadows where you could put in...

Anyway, Malc hadn't paddled the Guisane as he was spraying fertiliser at the porcelain goddess all morning, so we took a drive up to do the Onde in the afternoon for something a bit easier. We drove in convoy with Mike and Mike this time! Sam insisted that we have a look at the section starting higher up at the "second" car park, but it was unanimously decided this was way to hard for the first day. It was most definitely pushing a G5 but, we thought, doable. John, Sam and I got on below this for about 200m of G4 down to the "normal" put-in to meet Bob, Malc, Mike and Mike.

John and I went into town to eat. We eventually decided not to drink too much and drive up the Guisane to find a good spot to kip - "au sauvage" as Malc put it. After circumnavigating a power station through a field (!) we found a sweet spot in the scrubs by the river. We didn't bother with the tent, but a golf umbrella from a garage in Wales kept the few drops of rain off. I was beginning to enjoy "roughin' it". Cheers, John.

It was Monday, 10:30, and the full posse was assembled in the car park. We were now all decided that meeting at the put-in was not the way forward... The Upper Claree was the goal for the morning. Well -- not the "LongWayUp-per Claree" -- none of us felt like a trip to hospital. Now I was dubious, as I have heard the Claree bemoaned by people as too easy to bother with. Maybe it was the water level, or maybe those critics didn't take a 007, but I thought it was brilliant. Possibly the best play-river we did all week! Never before had I wheeled so many waves, sort of, anyway. Sam kindly informed me that I was supposed to throw my weight over the front at the top of the wave to get the front end to continue cartwheeling. Or he thought that was it. I just carried on the way I was - good fun!

A quick lunch at the get out kind of extended itself a little. John spotted a wicked 30 foot rock slab slide through the trees into the river. Oh yes! The boys were seal-launching again. The "old guys" decided to abstain from such frivolous games, but Sam took little persuasion and by the time I'd got my Kendo off the roof and up the bank he was sitting in his Spud and ready to go. I ditched the 007 for this, deciding that flat hulls don't make for fast slides, and the full plate foot rest in the Kendo was reassuring, too! Sam and John gave it large, whooping all the way. Then John got me lined up and yee-haaaaaa. Cool buzz, well spotted, dude.

Stomachs full, but still adrenaline-hungry, we headed to the Briancon Gorge. Handily placed just out of town, this turned out to be a nice little ride through an imposing gorge, spanned at one point by an ancient bridge halfway up. Who on earth built these things? At the level we did it this was a G3, but it had the potential to be considerably more if a few of Briancon's residents chose to flush their toilets at the same time! Apart from the smell of the numerous sewage outlets a damn fine little paddle.

We met the "Sheff lot" at the get-out - mates with the Barnsley crew - and after some initial indecision Sam, John and I headed with four of them up to Shleob's Weir for another bash at the Lower Guisane. All went well to start with and continued to be sweet right down the 'crux' rapid which I led. "Safely" through the worst of it I turned round to see that the rest were all following. Only I didn't bother to check for looming stoppers. And dropped right into one - backwards. And got flipped. And failed to roll. And started setting up again. And found the bottom of the river. And thought, "oh, bugger this". And --- swam!!!

Phrases I recall thinking run along the lines of: "Arse!"; "Oh look there goes my boat, doing a better job on it's own"; "Ah, yes, this river's shallow, get that eddy - QUICK". After getting that eddy and retrieving my blades came the most painful part of the "swim". Running a mile down a gravel track barefoot. That'll teach me to buy a boat I can't fit in with shoes on! Well, John and two of the Sheff lot had found my boat. Amazingly, it was pretty unscathed, even the camera dangling from the bottle holder had escaped with only a minor scratch. Phew, well worth the "swim beers". Thanks, lads!

On Tuesday, another glorious sunny day saw us heading out of town to the River Guil. First stop was the (in?)-famous Chateau Queyras Gorge. (Last time I was in the French Alps as a relative Joey I didn't run this, but instead amused myself by abseiling down a throw line into the gorge to take photos.) It was all a bit hectic at the top as nobody wanted to hang around in the midday heat. This didn't suit me - still battered from my Guisane swim. My backside was too sore to sit in the boat so I had to pad the seat. I hadn't slept well, I was hot and — a complete pain in the a... (pardon the pun). Then I lost my keys and went off a bit at Bob who was trying to hurry me up.

Eventually I got on the river in totally the wrong frame of mind in a boat I hadn't paddled for months (I took the Kendo for this) and off we went, Sam first with me second. The reasoning behind this was that we had shorter boats than Bob, John and Mike in their RPMs, so were least likely to broach and block the gorge! I thought this was extremely pessimistic - I mean, what are the chances of being sideways just as the gorge narrows down to less than 270 cm? Never gonna happen? Don't bet on it!

So down I go, first stopper looming up and whoops! Not enough speed and, joy of joys, I'm side-surfing a gnarly hole at the bottom of a 100ft gorge, with John about to land on top of me and 1km or so of G4 below! Deciding it was time to see if those freestyle moves really work I got to the end of the stopper, span the front down into the flow and YES! popped out just in time to avoid kissing an RPM! Only now I was going backwards towards the next drop. The Kendo doesn't spin like the Bond boat, so I only just get facing forwards again when - "deja vu" - I slide over the next lip with about as much momentum as a snail on dope.

This time I flip and as I try to roll, those wonderful Kendo thigh braces let me down (again) and my right knee pops out. No time to change sides, I have to roll as I am and pray I won't pop the deck. Ok, I come up, but now I am going backwards again. Busily trying to fend off undercut gorge walls, to which my boat seems to have developed a sudden attraction, I have no time to replace my knee. Two more flips and two more "I will not come out of my boat" rolls later I see an eddy. Thank God for that.

Deep breaths, knee back in, deep breaths, quick glance at the scenery... That's as far as I got before I saw Bob "sans bateau". Rescue mode straight away: Into the current to pick him up and paddle hard. Not hard enough, it seems, as Bob and I have to part company round a massive midstream boulder! I power to the next eddy to catch Bob again and meet up with Sam who looks like he's about ready for lunch! A good job he's there, because just as I'm about to break out after Bob again I see John swimming with his boat. I hope Mike's alright - we just ran out of fishermen! Sam's closer to Bob so I go and grab John, who's forced to ditch his boat in order to make the eddy. At least we are out of the gorge now! A quick check to make sure he's ok, look round and see Mike's still upright, and I'm off boat-hunting.

No sign of the RPM, but another random swimmer to fish out! When I came back upstream to tell John the bad news, they'd found it pinned on a rock a couple of metres out from the bank. Sam, fresh from his SRT course, organised an exemplary de-pinning. Wow, vector pulls really work!! So what had happened...???

Well, you guessed it: those RPMs proved perfect for damming Chateaux Q. It transpired that Bob had broached upside down across the gorge rendering passage impossible for those above him. Somehow, he'd overtaken Mike and John (who was now last). Next thing, Mike's side-on too, still upright leaning onto Bob's kayak. Along comes John and puts those hours of practice at splat rock to good use, hitting the two boats, back flipping and washing out under both of them. Unfortunately, all this took a little too long, so John bailed. But lucky for Mike, the force of the splat had dislodged the two boats and he was free to paddle. — Goes to show we should never say never!

The next day, we lay in for the morning to rest our aching muscles and take stock of the week so far. It had been good, too little time left, but we were determined to make the most of it, starting with the Onde again in the afternoon. Sam and I decided to run the G5 at the top and spent ages setting up cover and looking at lines. As I'd gone first when we did the Staircase on the Guil, Sam generously volunteered to be the probe here! He had a perfect line through the train of stoppers leading to the first drop, only for the front of his Spud to find something big and rocky in the last stopper. All I could see from the eddy above was a back-looping green potato splatting a rock downstream. Sam swam, needless to say, but self-rescued to the first eddy. The boat got wedged halfway to the "normal" get-in - complete with a 8" diameter dent in the front!!

After the time finding and getting the boat and given what had happened to Sam I was quite happy to move my boat half a mile downstream to the first car park get-in. Besides, we had Sam's lovely Werner's to find, so an advance party (me, John and Bob) went down while the others recovered abandoned throw lines etc. We didn't find the blades, but hey, Sam's got insurance! Funny, but I'm sure I left my brand new 200£ splits in his boat...

A major bender, involving far too much Absolut Citron (neat from the freezer) on Thursday night rendered most people fit for very little the next day! We eventually drove to the Rabioux, which was still washed out, but on the word of some Cardiff Uni dude got on to investigate the waves round the back of the island. Yawn! -should have stayed in Briancon drinking coffee and eating Raspberry Melbas....

After doing very little for the last two days, John and I were determined to get some paddling in on Saturday. Bob and Malc were supposed to be doing the Guisane with us in the morning, but instead sent Sam (who had hurt his shoulders) to the get-in to tell us they weren't coming. Whilst we were considering the merits vs. safety of running a G4 with just two of us, some French fellas turned up and we paddled with them. Two were relative beginners, so they warned us they would be getting out to inspect a lot. We parted company at their second inspection, both feeling happy enough with our paddling to "do the two".

I'd been determined to run the Gyr in my 007 all week. I did it on my first Alpine trip at the end of Uni two years ago in a Hurricane and remembered the pure adrenaline. I wanted that again!! But still, there were only two of us. Should we, shouldn't we? John and I decided to consider it after careful inspection. We stashed the boats away, drove to the village and walked very seriously up to the top looking at every conceivable hazard there was. We'd done this last time I was here and I hadn't remembered any of it once on the river. But at that time it was the hardest thing I'd ever run (and is still pretty much up there!).

Not much was said between us as we got changed at the top. It went something like --
Seal: "You sure you want to do this?"
Kiwi: "Don't ask me if I'm sure, ask yourself!"
Seal: "I'm sure.",
Kiwi: "Ok..."
Shake hands. Good luck. John goes first, I follow. I shut my eyes for a moment and focus. I think of Ganesh (of ACC T-shirt fame), the many armed God of Prosperity and Wisdom - if you're watching keep me prosperous - and lend me a hand (or two!) if I need them! Then we're off. Next good eddy's about 1k of continuous G4/G4+ away! John leads well. He checks for me often. We are both ok. Then John's broached midstream. It's not major, I try to grab his end loop, miss, turn around and see him get free. I urge him to paddle past me - this order is working well - let's not change. Things calm down, but it's still fast. John catches an eddy, too small for me, so I paddle past and let John leapfrog me at the next eddy. God, this river's steep! I'd be flying down this hill on a pushbike!! But there's the get out!! God, we've made it!!

What a blast! What a way to end the trip! We get out, buzzing, laughing like kids. We even hug each other. Got to hold that buzz, bottle this feeling!!! We scramble up the bank, still high as a kite! Now try and convey this in pidgin French to the gawking grannies on their day trip. "Oui, c'est bon, tres vites! Magnifique!" Doesn't really sum it up, but the look in my eyes probably said more than words.

And that was it! Even with the boats tied up, the car packed and driving away we were still feeling fantastic. Me and Kiwi have done a lot together in the last year, but I think we'd both agree, that was the buzz we'd been chasing for so many months. But whatever “drugs” you choose, you always have to come down and face reality. With this one called adrenaline, it comes as a stark image: 800 miles of tarmac ahead and a desk job in suburbia. The old self-reassurance of "got to pay for the next holiday" seems to be wearing increasingly thin. That next trip always seems a long way off and going back to work is hard, but with every new adventure it seems to get harder. Some day soon maybe I'm not going to come back to face reality. Just stay on the roads and the rivers and see where the search for that buzz will take me then....

We all chase dreams, it's catching them that's hard. But if we don't keep trying what's it all about??? So this is all from me for now, but watch this space, for I'm still chasing and if I make a catch I'll let you know. —

Stay wet, stay safe. Stay happy.

by Stephen "Seal" Powley, October 1999