It was meant to be a training session for the upcoming Alpine trip - a weekend on the fast-flowing cold water of dam-released river Washburn. And here we are at some uncanny time on a Saturday morning - 5 people, 2 vans, ready to face that four hours drive north. It is rain, rain and more rain. When the rains stops, the mist comes in. “… beautiful scenery...”, the BCU Guide Book said - well, maybe so.

We finally find the access point with the help of some friendly canoeists met at the bottom of the run: a towering dam spewing a never-ending supply of icy waves into a tiny riverbed and a sign inviting us to scan the paddle section before taking it on. “Not suitable for white water novices - we recommend you follow the public footpath along the river for inspection!”

Eventually, the sun honours us with its presence and off we go, winding our way along the banks of a scenic little river with lush vegetation and a happily running flow. Really beautiful, but - hang on – where are the eddies for breakouts? Yeah, there is one, might just fit a boat. Another one there… The lads discuss the fact that there are no major rocks in the current, really not a technical piece. I go quiet. Halfway down the river path the rain starts again and we end up wet before we even get onto the water. No worries… Things can only improve.

Once in our boats, we take to the challenge. For most of us, the rapid flow and the lack of decent sized eddies is new and awesome but soon we get used to it and enjoy what we can hardly find at our usual paddle spots: clear water, scenic surroundings and space (surprisingly, the little river is not crammed with canoeists at each playspot!). A little stopper and a wave provide some diversion from eddie-hopping and a six foot drop into an easy plunge pool is commonly seen as the highlight. Then the paddle section peters out through some minor rapids towards the exit point where an annoyingly tiny car park brings us back to reality.

Since the dam shuts at 4:30 h we will not have time for another run and decide to go camp-site hunting instead. It had never occured to us that this could possibly be a humiliating experience! We consult the map and find that there are various camp&caravan sites in the area. But then... For some reason we are unable to find the closest one, so we cross it off the list. In pouring rain we arrive at camp site number two where the lady at reception tells us: “Sorry, but we do not take canoeists!” Excuse me? “We had some upset with the organiser once...” Does that put a mark on the species CANOEIST? “Well, sorry...” Camp-site number 3 apparently does not like the looks of our transport, they put it down as “Sorry we do not take commercial vehicles (=vans).”. Why is that? “Well, regulations, you see...”. Okay, there is a camp-site just 2 miles up the road. Very friendly people, but “Sorry, we are a caravan club really, and non-members are not normally welcome, apart from which our toilet facilities are overloaded, so even if...”

There is another camp-site in the next town, so we finally find a place and make ourselves comfortable. It is fried mackerel and baked beans for supper and the rain keeps off long enough for some entertaining games of Black Jack -again a novelty for some of us. As usual, we slip into our sleeping bags early. **Never believe a canoeist telling you all the exciting things he is going to do after a day on the river!!!**

The next day brings us sunshine and all of a sudden, things look much brighter. We enjoy the lovely river and joke about the night’s experience. “We may be canoeists,” Cid says, “But we do have rights!!!”

By Petra Hudson, July 1998