Tummel - Clunie, Summer Release

I got back from the Alps late on a Sunday night and spent the next week trying to clear up afterwards. However, the Sunday of the next weekend I decided that I'd had enough of tidying and cleaning and went to the Tummel with husband in tow. We met Graeme, John and Carl from the Perth club and headed down the river in the sunshine. The first shock was the water temperature. No more balancing on the tiniest rocks because the water has just come off a glaclier - this water has been warmed all summer in Loch Tummel! I'd also decided to bring my Jed and had a bit of an interesting time getting used to how short the boat was compared to my Burn! Still, the Tummel ups its difficulty slowly, so I didn't have any issues until S Bend.

The constriction/slot/awkward b******

S bend/Z bend

S bend did not go well for me. I forgot I was in a little boat and went upside down on the first drop and washed into a rock. Unable to roll, I let go of my paddles and climbed upright using the rock, Only to watch my paddles float away down the next drop! Oh dear. Oh well. I pushed off the rock and floated down the next drop, pretty sure it wouldn't go great. It didn't. It happily backlooped me! I waited a second to let the aeriated water clear, then hand rolled up. Ha ha! First hand roll on a river! I hand paddled round the corner to catch my paddles, which were swirling into the big eddy at the bottom. Determined, I went and ran it again, managing to remember that I was in a play boat and nail the line.
The Linn, while being bigger and more intimidating, is easier and I had no problems. Davey portaged, so I paddled his boat down for him!

Graeme nailing the line on the Linn of Tummel.

First drop in my Jed.

Boof off the second drop!

Paddling husband's boat down.

John coming down.

Les Alpes Part 2 - Day 4 and 5

Day 4 (1st July)

Early morning campsite

A bit more organised today, we head to the Clarée, a tributary of the Durance north east of Briançon. Unfortunately someone managed to read the guide book on the way and much kerfuffle is made about the fact there is a GRADE 6 OH MY GOD below the take out. It takes a while to calm everyone down and explain that the grade 6 is waaaaay below the take out. We meet in a layby on the way up, apparently the put in for the lower.

Put in for the lower Claree

Discussions ensue, a naked photo is taken, and finally we all head upstream to the put in for the middle. We run a quick shuttle and actually decide not to go to the standard take out, as it seems like a really, really long way, instead parking in a large riverside picnic area which seems like it’s arbitrarily far enough down.

We keep the same groups as yesterday, but Sarah is feeling better today. We set off down some deceptively flat water, bounce down a bit of grade 2, only to be stopped by chaos in front. The front two groups are out of their boats and wandering around. Rory drops down to ask them what’s going on just as they all disappear downstream for an inspection. One at a time, Andre, Carolyn, Sarah and me all bounce down the rather rocky rapid with varying levels off gracelessness.

Sitting waiting for Rory to report back.

After we sit, bored in an eddy for a while, Rory comes back and tells us to head to the next eddy, then get out and have a look at the next bit. I set off with Sarah, but she misses the “eddy” and Chris just about leaps in to get her. Undaunted, Sarah has happily beached herself on some rocks, so I do the same. Emily comes down and gives me a hand out. We walk down the bank a bit and see what all the fuss is about.

This is the grade 4 rapid mentioned in the guide book. The cliff on river right has collapsed and most of the river goes under various bits of cliff and tree. Not ideal. Chris gets keen to clear a channel and starts ripping bits of trees out. Realising that we could be here for a while, Andre and I join Sarah and Carolyn in grabbing our boats and walking around. Rory is already getting in lower down. We congregate in a nice eddy just below a footbridge.

Looking down to the next "eddy" before the grade 4.

Rory contemplates the scrapey mess.

Andre, just below the mess of the grade 4.

Once everyone is ready we set off in a line. The river from here is continuous grade 3 boulder dodging, really fast and intense! I can just about keep Carolyn in my sights in front and occasionally check that Sarah is still behind. In probably the only deep bit of river for a few miles, Carolyn capsizes and I have to franticly scrabble to eddy out into what I’m pretty sure is an imaginary bit of slower water so I don’t crash into her as she rolls up. The pace doesn’t relent for another kilometre or so, and I have occasional frights as I look back and see Sarah pinned on rocks, but somehow we’re all still upright and ok by the time the river starts to slacken off and we find an eddy big enough for us all to sort of fit. We reach the village of Plampinet, signalling the end of the middle section. There’s one last obstacle in the form of a pine tree blocking the whole river which Rory gets us to bump up and over no bother, having pre-scouted that bit on the way up.

Up and over!

The lower section begins, an easy floaty grade 2 with the occasional small tree hazard on bends. Andre discovers his boat is leaking again and stops on a sand bank to empty it. We haven’t seen any sign of the others behind us, but they’re probably ok. Soon we’re getting hungry. And some of us (including me) didn’t put enough thermals on and wince at every splash of ice cold water.

There’s another problem. While Rory and I were on the shuttle and parked our cars by the river, neither of us can remember whether you can see the cars from the river. Or if there are any landmarks nearby. Or anything to tell us we’ve gone too far… We spend about half the river nervously peering at the right bank as we power down because cars equals food.

After about the fiftieth “Do you think we might have passed them?” we see a glint of car. Our cars. In full view of the river. No way you could miss it. We leap out joyfully, drag our boats the whole two metres to the cars and pull off wet kit. The sun is beating down, especially on Rory’s lunch. It’s in the back of his car and the keys are with Jon. Who’s not here.

Fortunately, I have my keys, which means Andre, Carolyn and I can get to our food and dry clothes, so we share with Sarah and Rory. Dave’s hat is co-opted as well. About half an hour later the next group arrives, and Rory and Sarah have an out-of-proportion celebration about being able to get to their clothes and food. Soon enough we head back to the campsite.

Some of the others decide to go and do the Gyronde as a small team, even though it’s getting a bit late. There’s carnage. When they finally return to camp dinner is ready and we are regaled with tales of derring-do. I have some gluten free pasta with sauce stuff since the group meal involves sausages.

Day 5

Time for some proper alpine action – let’s go to the Onde. After a bit of confusion about where to go and whether anyone knew where we were going, we actually arrive without incident.  The put in is either below the car park for grade 3 or above the car park for a grade 4 start. We’re split into new groups and I find myself heading up to the grade 4 with Rory. We sit in an eddy waiting for a signal. Eventually, after a lot of sitting and Rory dropping down a couple of eddies to see if he could see anything, Chris comes running up the bank to tell us that they’d had a bit of a nasty incident with Carolyn getting pinned, then Jonny also getting pinned. This sounds like a nice rapid then.

Eddy of nerves at the top of the Onde.

Rory heads down and I follow him. The first couple of waves are cold but I learned my lesson from yesterday and put on my fleece thermal. The first problem presents as two offset boulders with a diagonal boof move between them. I nail the boof and clip the eddy behind the right boulder, carving out to the right and perfectly away from the left side. Then it’s keep right through some waves before the crux move right right right! Under the tree branch marker, around the fence of rocks and down the last bouncy bit, scramble into a micro eddy beside Gina. I’m buzzing. Now I get it. Alps paddling is awesome.

John paddles out the bottom of the grade 4.

Raffa, Onding it up.

Our group is all down apart from Jonty, who bounces down the line with James no bother soon after us. Chris gets us all vaguely organised and heading downstream. We set off into the maelstrom. The water is non-stop, constant grade 3 rock dodging and line picking and spinning, boofing, flying awesomeness.

“Stop, stop, stop!”

Chris gathers us in an eddy and lectures us like children. “You don’t need speed, stop paddling so fast! Manoeuvrability is what it’s about.” Or words to that effect. So we peel out again, this time more accustomed, less focussed on the desperation, more focussed on “Is this right? Chris?” The river keeps going, bouncing down through the trees, constantly exciting, never desperate. Back paddling and draw strokes with the occasional boof over the edge of a boulder get us down with much more grace than the initial frantic windmilling along.

And suddenly there’s the bridge. We eddy out early, because there’s a queue for the small get out. Eventually my turn comes and I beach on the shingle, hop out and do a happy dance. This is kayaking!

Gina, nearly missing the take out, gets mobbed by "helpful" boys.

We change and run a quick shuttle. I have a which-side-of-the-road-am-I-driving-on-again moment on the single track bit and pull over into a passing place the left, garnering a despairing look from the French driver going the other way. Fair dos.

Man-wiches for lunch. Salami, mozzarella and tomato on a hunk of gluten free bread. Yum. Discussion ensues, and eventually an afternoon plan appears. Some people are heading to the Gyronde, others to the Gyr, while me, Sarah and Izzy and keen to go do a Via Ferratta. Chris, who has a Via Ferratta guide in his car, offers to take us along one above the Gyr. So Chris, Raffa, Rory and James’s cars all head to the Gyr put in. The river is apparently really quick to run, so one group sets off while the others run the shuttle. We take pictures as they set off and wave from the bridge as they paddle out of sight. The other group gets back and the same happens, though we do shout abuse at James while he has a nervous pee by the bank.

Group 1 sets off down the Gyr.

Group 2!

Bye bye Raffa...

Amazingly quickly Chris arrives back with John, both buzzing. Apparently Cami had an epic swim, but all kit was retrieved. We squeeze in and head up to a climbing shop to hire Via Ferratta clippy thingees, then up to the car park for the route. Sarah and I are a bit nervy, having never done a Via Ferratta before, but Chris explains it all in about thirty seconds. It’s not hard to grasp. We get onto the route just behind a large school party who’re alternately terrified and annoyingly unconcerned, and seem to take forever to do anything. Thankfully, the views down into the Gyr gorge are pretty amazing and we amuse ourselves trying to figure out lines down the rapids which are basically just syphons filled with strainers. The route is a easy one, mostly traversing. Sarah, who’s afraid of heights, has some chattery moments as that seems to be her coping mechanism, but the rest of us do ok. Eventually we make it to the big climb out and find out why we’re all wearing helmets as the lovely school children in front kick mud loose and it rains down! Don’t look up. We saunter back down the return path and drive back to the shop to return the clips. Good fun!

Me on one of the bridges. Photo by Izzy Tween.

Photo by Izzy Tween.

Climbing down! Photo by Izzy Tween.

We have a quick stop on the way back to admire the grade 6 on the Gyronde.

Looking down on the top of the grade 6.

"I can see a line down each bit, but they don't match up at all..."

Back at camp Jon Wyles and James have taken the €1 per person limit a little too much to heart and we are served vegetable curry for dinner. I rebel and put some ham in mine. It’s tasty, but I object to the vegetarianism. I need meat in my meals! We admire the epic bruises the Gyr inflicted upon Cami's legs and hip and make plans for the Ubaye tomorrow.

Foooooooood.

<-Part 1 Part 3 ->

Les Alpes - part 1, day 1-3

Day 1 (28th June)

Saturday started bright and early as I threw the last few things in the car and hurried the husband out the house. Up to St. Andrews and drop Davey off on South Street for his 9.30am start. I nip into the shop with him to buy a new pair of sunglasses as mine have disappeared into the ether. I drive round to Andre’s house and call him to see if he’s awake, then belatedly remember while the phone rings that I was supposed to pick him up from Jon’s. Oops. So, round to Dave’s place, then up to Scooniehill road to get Andre and Carolyn. Finally, we’re packed and ready, just don’t look too hard at the car’s (lack of) suspension.

We stop at Glenrothes Asda to fuel up on snacks and coffee, then head off south. I drive to Abbington, then Dave gets his first turn behind the wheel as we hit the M74. I attempt to set up the sat nav, so we know where to go once we hit the chaos that is Englandshire, but it keeps telling us to turn off the motorway. Eventually it transpires that, due to some unfortunate settings being switched certain ways, the sat nav wants us to turn around, go to the airport and get on a plane. So begins the saga of us vs the sat nav.

The drive down is fairly uneventful. We are less than complementary about the scenery (three scots and an Irishman, what do you expect). Somewhere around the black hole of Birmingham the sat nav decides to take us on a tour around some villages. The twisty roads don’t agree with me, so we swap drivers. Dave has apparently been ignoring Amy’s instructions to drive efficiently, as the mpg is way down. We fiddle with the sat nav some more and get back on the motorway. In the distance between there and Ascot I actually manage to get the mpg up to 50, an impressive feat.

Ah, Ascot. Well. It’s an interesting place. We see a sign on a pub that says “Horses welcome, have a drink with your horse!” and wonder what strange dimension we have accidentally fallen into. Houses are the size of castles, and hidden by hedges the size of forests, crenelated walls and turrets that probably contain anti-riff-raff guns. Needless to say, some of us feel mildly unwelcome…

Jon’s house, when we get to it, is actually quite normal, though massive and surrounded by houses with columns and 4x4s with blacked out windows. His family are very lovely and make everyone else pizza, while happily instructing me on how to use the microwave which has more buttons than my tv remote. I have gluten free pasta bake for tea, leftovers from the night before. After dinner we chatter for a bit, then realise we have to get up before 4am tomorrow and go to bed. Well, get into sleeping bags and slump all over the place. Somehow I manage to get the sofa. It’s like a big marshmallow.

Day 2

3.45am comes around with an incessantly beeping alarm clock. I go upstairs, manage to get my contacts in my eyes and shove my face under a cold tap. I’m vaguely awake. It’s still dark outside. I don’t think my brain can quite cope with this. Somehow we manage to end up in Dover, having stopped to get ridiculously over priced fuel on the way. The ferry is supposed to be at 7.30, so we have a while to wait. It’s drizzling a bit, but we cheerfully wander around and chat. James and Cami’s car is here (they were picking up Emily from Southampton yesterday, so weren’t at Ascot), so we get to hear all about their journey. Someone discovers Costa in the P&O terminal. Coffee!

Waiting to get on the ferry at Dover.

For someone who gets motion sickness easily, the wobbly crossing to Calais is torturous. I just manage to keep hold of my meagre breakfast. I’m sure everyone else is having a nice time. Dave takes over driving and I’m so happy to be off the ferry that it seems quite exciting to be in Calais. We’re not there long, though. Soon, we hit the road south and motor off. I doze off and on, draw doodles in the expenses record, hang out the window and try to figure out toll machines and chatter about nothing and anything. We admonish science for failing to have come up with teleportation. Service stations are raided for coffee. Dave insists he wants to keep driving. Andre’s sat nav gets confused by the new Lyon bypass.

Sleepy Dre.

This driver is brought to you by caffeine.

Look, Alps!

At Grenoble we can finally see the Alps! We stop for diesel, which is the same price in Euros as it was in pounds this morning. I finally take over from Dave after his epic 10 hour drive. From Grenoble the motorways give way to ordinary two lane roads, climbing up, up, always up. Carolyn and Andre play a rather competitive game of Uno in the back. The temperature drops as we climb, as does the sun. At about 10pm I realise that I’ve had my contacts in for about 18 hours when they’re only rated to 12. We have a stop and I take them out. It’s 3.5 degrees outside and the car warns us about ice.

Finally we’re going down. The road winds down for a long way until we get to Briançon. We leave the town with excitement and a following truck, which tail gates us all the way to Roche de Rame. Given that it’s after 11pm and I’ve been up nearly 20 hours, I am not in the slightest bit bothered by his insistent honking and flashing of lights. I slow down for the turning into the camp site a little bit more than necessary.

Our instructions for the campsite consisted of “Go in and turn right”. This resulted in only a couple of wrong turnings, and soon we had found the others. Taking note of our impressive 62.5 mpg for the day, we threw tents into a vaguely upright position somewhere near the car and fell into our sleeping bags, exhausted.

Day 3

A rather relaxed start is suddenly interrupted by all the students suddenly running around and trying to get out of the campsite and off to the river really quickly. Eating my porridge, I refuse to be hurried. No rush.

We stop at the Carrefour in L’Argentierre and it comes out that the reason for the rush was that no-one else had thought to bring any breakfast. Students.

We head to the slalom site at L’Argentierre to let everyone get a bit of practice and a gentle introduction to Alpine water. When I was last here, in 2008, the whole region was experiencing some serious flooding. The slalom site was a churning grey obstacle course of huge holes and very few visible rocks. Today, however, it’s blue water, clean eddies and fluffy white waves. I snap some pictures of the others, then walk my boat up and accompany James on an eddy hop down. The water is fast, much more powerful than what I’m used to, so I decide that I want to try my other paddles, Werner Sherpas. Mostly, they have just not been used much, unlike my Robsons, so they have a larger blade size and more powerful strokes as a consequence.

This turns out to be rather fortunate for John Rothwell when his home repaired paddle suddenly becomes unrepaired. Looking pathetic carrying his two bits of paddle, he asks if he can get the spare club paddle out of my car. I offer him my Robsons and one run with the club Ainsworths later he’s back asking if the offer is still there. Of course!

Jonty looking back up the slalom site.

Jonny playing in the waves.

Lunch chaos.

Lunch! We spread out all over the grassy area by the car park and make sandwiches. The alps veterans discuss the afternoon’s options. Eventually they decide on the Briançon gorge, so we pack up and head north to Briançon. We leave Raffa’s car by the take out and shove his boat on Chris’s car, so we can do a shuttle later. At the put in, Sarah nearly throws up (again) and decides to have a sit in the shade and read her book before someone tells her another Game of Thrones spoiler.

The put in is properly Alpine. There’s no eddy, just some rocks to balance your boat on and the promise of micro eddies downstream. My group consists of Rory, Carolyn, Andre and me, as we were meant to also have Sarah. Some bouncy, fast grade 2/3 passes in a blur and we are sitting nervously above the barrage.

Rory tries to be confidence inspiring above the barrage.

Rory tries to inspire confidence, but Carolyn and me are wide eyed with terror. Once the group in front has been gone for a while, Rory paddles off to lip, telling us to “leave ten seconds then just go for it”.

Rory has gone. Oh god, that means I have to go now! I paddle over to the horizon line. It’s a long way down, longer than I’d imagined, but I’m way past the point of no return. I slide over the edge and onto the canoe shoot. The acceleration is incredible and I come flying off the end with a high pitched squeak, drop the five or so feet into the river and beach onto the shingle beside Rory, who’s grinning fit to burst. Carolyn is already coming down with the most amazing expression of fear and excitement on her face. She’s flying through the air and somehow manages to avoid getting stuck beside Rory. Now Andre’s sliding down, looking cool, but spoils it with a manic grin when he lands. We survived. Whew.

The canoe shoot!

Now the river starts. Unfortunately for us, the other groups, who’re all in front of us, seem to be faffing with something. All the time. We sit in eddies for what seems like most of the afternoon, move maybe a hundred metres down, then sit for a while more. Finally, Rory calls it, and we line up behind him, duckling style, and charge. We come across the group right in front of us. They’re sitting in an eddy for no reason. Bams. We sail past. The next group are eddy hopping. We float through the middle. The river isn’t too challenging, grade 3 at most, but it is fast. Really fast! We travel through the gorge below the Briançon old town, amazingly deep and sheer sided, with an old stone bridge spanning it.

Briancon bridge, high above.

Happy faces deep in the gorge.

Nearing the take out.

Suddenly the gorge opens out and we’re bimbling down easy grade 2. Rory points out the take out and we beach on the rocks and pull the boats up to the layby.

Raffa’s car isn’t here. Huh? Confusion ensues, with everyone else stopping at our wrong layby. There are many discussions. Most of us take our kit off and sit in the sun. Rory runs off down the road to find Raffa’s car. Chris’s group, who were at the front, have clearly gone to the place where Raffa’s car is, but since this is the actual guide book take out, they should obviously bring the car here! I lie in the sun with Andre and Dave, staying out of it. Raffa’s car arrives!

We shuttle, pack up and head back to the campsite. Dinner is cooked for us, a tasty chilli with no chilli powder, no gluten, no lactose, no egg, no fish and no poultry. Friendly for all!

Part 2 ->

The Mighty Etive

Parking at the put in starts to get a bit rammed...

If you ever go kayaking in Scotland, chances are you'll end up on the Etive at some point. Touted by many as the classic Scottish kayaking experience, it's certainly an awesome river. The typical English boater, up for a bit of boating over the Easter break, might happen to head here on Easter Sunday, when it just so happens that nothing else worthwhile is running. Well, Scottish boaters do this too.

Get in the queue for Triple Step!

The river starts with Triple Step, a sweet grade 4 that's sticky at higher flows and fairly amusing at lower flows. It was low! The first two drops are in quick succession, then there's three pools to gather pieces before the third drop. I ran the section twice - the left bank is easy to walk up for multiple laps.

Jon on the first drop.

Cheeky roll in the pool below the second.

Boofing the third.

The next section is shallow and rocky! In low water it can be a bit of a grind (literally), but with a bit more water it's fun grade 2/3. Today it wasn't worth mentioning...
Next up is Letterbox, a mean drop that tends to recirculate paddlers, in and out of their boats. Most people portaged as it was looking particularly hungry today. Maybe next time!
Just round the corner is Ski Jump, the easiest drop in low water - the line is just right of centre and is best approached in the "paddle over and fall off" mindset.

John falls off the Ski Jump... in skins...

An amazing mini gorge follows this drop. There are no real rapids in here, and the still waters are so clear you can see far down in to the depths. There are some small grade 2/3 rapids that are rocky scrapes in low water, before you come upon "The Crack of DOOOOOOOM". It's actually a very nice grade 4 rapid, with very little doom about it.

Rory in the Crack of Doom.

Jon boofs off the second drop of Crack of Doom.

A couple of corners and some rock scraping later and you come to Crack of Dawn. This used to be runnable down the main drop, but the cliff collapsed a while ago and now the main shoot isn't an option. In high water a line opens up on the left, but I've never had the guts as if you get it slightly wrong you end up going down the main drop backwards. In low water the only option is a fun seal launch off the now dry left hand line.
It was at this point on the river I found out that Rory had decided to paddle naked, due to forgetting to bring a change of boxer shorts. As I pulled my boat out of the river and looked over at the edge of the fall someone was just about to be pushed over the edge, assisted by Rory. Who had just bent over. Enough said. Scarred for life.

Crack of Dawn (behind the vegetation).

Seal launch!

Patrick goes flying, assisted by John.

A bit more scraping down and we got to Rock slide. Aptly named. Start at the top. Slide to the bottom.

Boof left to avoid the wall!

A couple of hundred meters downstream and you're here. The big one. Right Angle Falls, aka Easan Fir Mohr (Big Man's Falls). It's about 20ft high with a tricksome lead in. Boofing flat makes you shorter via compression of the vertebrae. About a year previously I over-rotated in the air and landed on my ear, imploding my left eardrum and doing a bit of damage to my ability to hear! I wear earplugs now, funnily enough. Today my line wasn't bad, though I came up upside down, at least it was in the nice calm eddy on the right hand side of the drop and I could just paddle happily out.

John pulling out of the middle eddy. The right angle is just visible behind him.

Free fall! Picture from Dave Manley.

Patrick taking a risky boof stroke!

Packed with paddlers.

A good day!

It's worth noting that with a bit more water you could paddle down to the Allt A'Chaorainn confluence as there's a nice grade 4 fall before the bridge called Twist and Shout. You can do it when it's low, but it's really shallow and really rocky, although the fall still runs fine.

Pictures by me, my husband Davey, and Dave Manley.