Dinnae Fiddle

Staying in NZ

2009-04-29T00:40:00.003+01:00

I've been enjoying my life in Queenstown so much that I think I'm going to stay. It looks like California and American paddling will have to wait until I've done a winter season. Here are some pics from Andy and I up in Castle Rock, and some more from spending time with my sister and brother-in-law.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2252699&id=61012802&l=ee962cac77

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Flying NZ

2009-03-25T05:33:00.004Z

The Remarkables by sunset

So it's been a while, but eventually I found my way back into the skies again.

New Zealand has been one of those places where it's so difficult to fit everything in, and I've been looking at my wing sat in the corner of my room for the last 4 months wondering when I'd get airborne again. You know that when you haven't done something you enjoy for a long time, you forget the enjoyment it brings you. Paragliding had become a little like that for me... I was also a little scared. After such a long time, would I remember what to do?? Is that really a good idea when you're running off the side of a mountain?!

Eventually the weather turned super calm and there was very little wind. My knee hurt too much to run, bike or climb and I had sold my creek boat. I decided it was time to fly again. Near to where I live there is a ski hill called Coronet Peak, from which you can fly, and there's even a convenient patch of grass which acts as a landing zone for a variety of air based activities. I caonvinced my friend Tim to drive my van back to the bottom, laid out my wing, fastened myself into my harness, hooked the wing up the harness and ran off the side of the mountain one evening after work. Luckily I did everything right... and I loved flying again!

I repeated this the following day.

The next day I rested.

The following day, whilst still at work I got a text from a paragliding friend called Ray. I hadn't managed to get up in the air with him yet, despite various attempts. This time I thought it would be the same - he had invited me flying whilst I was still at work. The next text asked if I wanted to get in a chopper after work, fly up to the top of the local big peaks, the Remarkables, in a helicopter and fly off... I had my wing and harness in the van. I was in! I spent the rest of the day at work super excited, to say the least.

The chopper flight next to the cliffs

Stoked to be on the top

I met a bunch of folk at the heli field, it's very unusual for the conditions to be stable enough to allow for evening flights off the Remarks (it has to be in the evening because it is in the flight path for the airport here!). There were in fact 36 paragliders all ready to go. I was in the second group to get taken up, and the heli flight itself was exciting enough, pretty much straight up the sheer sides of the Remarks! When we landed I was blown away by the beauty. When I saw the take-off, I was blown away by my nerves. A rocky slope of 50 yards, then 2000m of oblivion, all in a gully with rocks either side. We had to wait an hour or so for the rest of the group to get dropped and then, as the sun began it's slow dip into the horizon we began to take-off.

Ready to go

The take-off... gulp.

The waiting was terrible. There was lots of happy and funny banter, which I took part in, but inside I was nervous to the core. I'd only been back in the harness a couple of days! People headed out, most getting good take-offs, and only a few false starts. Then it was my turn... I laid out, lined up and ran off the edge.... and soared into the air!! The oblivion turned into a floating playground. I played around the cliffs for a while, soaring back and forth accross the butresses of stone and pillars of sharp rock. One my favorites is taking yourself near to the edge of steep ridges and skimming over them out into the open air the other side. The sense of scale is breath-taking. After a while I noticed the sunset was stunning and I floated away from the Remarks to get some pictures. Hanging in the sky with my camera as the sun set, I was blissfully happy, underneath me was the beautiful landscape I had been a part of, working and playing in for the last few months. Here I was, gliding above it, in all it's glory as the sun-set below the jagged horizon. I thought I was getting a bit low and so I made for the landing, a big field, quite a distance away (10kms). I arrived a lot higher than I had imagined at maybe 500m which gave me some time to play. As the darkness drew in I was spiralling and swinging under my wing, the exhilaration and G-forces bringing a grin to my face. To top it all I had a lovely landing. What a perfect way to spend an evening after work. Even today, the day after, I still find myself smirking that smug smirk of satisfaction at enjoyment beyond the norm.

The lines that held me in the setting sky

Not a bad view for an evening after work

Some random pics from NZ

2009-03-16T23:05:00.006Z

Here's some various pictures of various favorite activities and views out here.

Nice view down lake Wakatipu near the local bouldering spot, Janrdine's.

Colin throwing down at the local wave on the Dog-Leg section of the Kawarau.

Funny faces at the Citroen Race on the Kawarau.

Bouldering my favorite route at Jardine's.

Hanging around at Elephant Roacks, near Duntroon.

Motatapu

2009-03-15T04:51:00.005Z

This was clearly one of those strange ideas that get into your head. In this case it was put there by Jenny, but some of my miss-firing neurones took it on as a "good idea". She had suggested that we run the Motatapu mountain marathon, a full length marathon passing through the mountains of South Island. I agreed to do it.

Quite where this confidence that I could run a marathon, let alone a cross-country marathon which passes over 800m, came from, I do not know. Although I had been fit enough to compete in an adventure race in Edinburgh before I left, Nepal hadn't done my fitness or confidence much encouragement. My knees hadn't stood up to climbing mountains, my steady diet of 'as much as possible', and my paragliders training cigarettes were not a promising start!

Things were a little different here in NZ. I managed to get running again, and I was working outdoors. However the work also meant more money and more play, which in turn made me consume more alcohol at the weekends! I stuck to my rough training regime of a run once in a while for the first couple of months, and tried to eat well. It all took a knock when Jenny and I ran up the Routeburn to the 2nd hut. On the way back down I pushed it a bit hard and my knee 'went'. I'm still not really sure what it is exactly, some failure in my lateral ligaments, but it basically means I lose all power in the knee, and it hurts a lot to move. This didn't look good. I stopped running for a few weeks. With about a month to go till the race, I tested it out again, and it survived. So for the next few weeks Jenny and I worked our way up to a 30km full mountain run. We felt okay, and my knee felt pretty solid. I was running 3 times a week until the final few days when I rested up.

The day before race day I was allowed off work to rest up. I bought a couple of last minute items and generally ate a lot and lay about a lot. Nerves also began to creep in... I had set myself the target of at least beating last years average male time of 4hrs and 25mins, secretly I wanted to get below 4 hrs. I must have packed and re-packed my race bag about 20 times. Eventually it was time to pick Jenny up and drive through to Wanaka, where the race would begin at 8am the following morning. Anj, a friend of ours had generously donated beds to our cause in her home in Wanaka. Unfortunately, and I have already apologised, I do not think me and Jenny made the best conversationalists, our minds finding themselves somewhat pre-occupied.

A fitful sleep gave rise to pitch black alarm beeping it's morning mahem next to my ear. 5:45am, not an hour I'm ever that pleased to see. Both me and Jenny groaned our way awake and got ourselves together. Forcing down a reasonable breakfast and creating the energy drinks to go in the camel-backs which would sustain us through the day, we eventually threw our stuff in the van. It was bloody freezing, let's just say that lycra tights and small shorts did not keep the vitals cosy. We began the drive to the start alone in the cold morning air. Within a few minutes on the road out of town, a convoy materialised around us. Red lights weaving their way towards our first goal, the start-line.

Once directed to the parking spot, listening to a final tune from my iPod, and we gathered our things together. I had a spare bag of clothes to send to the finish - my van would remain in Wanaka, and I wasn't going to run back and get it! We joined the other nervous folk in the line waiting for the bus to the actual start-line, a little further up into the mountains. There were a couple of Kiwis from Invercargill, who made plenty of jokes, and an Irish guy who was looking to get a similar time to myself. We had to wait a while for the bus to pick us up, the sky lightening the whole time, for about 20 mins, but soon we were on our way.

The sunrise was in full swing at the start-line as we picked up our transponders (personal timing gadgets you attach to your shoe) and the stunning mountains were revealed. Rolling, green hills, occasionally climbing and tapering to rocky summits which enclosed the lush Motatapu valley we would be running up. A little behind schedule the gun went, and the 700+ runners sweating anticipation took off.

Jen and I all kitted up and ready to go.

The run itself I found a very personal and strange thing. I found that although I chatted to the folk around me a fair amount, I did not stay with anyone for long and existed mostly within my own eyes and head. I soaked in the scenery rolling past and focused on the rocky path ahead. For the first 30kms it wears relentlessly upwards, torturing you with undulations of steep ascents, often followed by shorter, but equally as steep descents. I was however making good time. The first 20kms rolled past within 1.5 hrs and I was feeling okay considering. The next few kilometres were my undoing as my knee began to twinge, and by 30kms was absulute agony. Stopping me to a walking pace and forcing me to knock back Ibruprofen, I was an angry man, my strongest part, the downhill, would be an agonising slog. I managed a limping half-run which somehow got me downhill, my emotions in tatters, exhaustion and pain mingling with the huge rush of endorphins to leave me realing in the final few kilometres. Although you cross numerous streams through the earlier part of the run, the final 2km takes you through the Arrow River around 7 times. Running thigh deep, and freezing in from the recent snow-fall, this was absolute agony for me. Cramps rippled through me. At this point you're in public land again and people began to line the track, urging you to the finish. I upped my pace to a loping run, and with a grin spied the finishing line. Hearing the announcer calling my name I limped through the finish, a minute or so between other competitors, and so mostly alone. I had managed to get below last years average, with 4hrs and 19mins. I was just happy it had finished! Making my way to the side of the track, I waited for Jenny to appear. Just before the 5 hrs came up she appeared and the crowd clapped and cheared her sprint finish to the line. Colin had also appeared alongside me a few minutes before Jenny crossed the line, so we greated her with a big hug. We then got ourselves a nice, cold glass of beer! Let's just say that for the rest of the day, I ate, I drank and I slept. Today my knees hurt, but the body is still willing. I think I might try another, next time some physio for the knee will get me past that 4 hr mark, but I'll just have to prove that.

The start

Pretty stunning running!

Last couple of km to go. Ouch.

Go on! Jen charging the finish.

Road trip to Akaroa.

2009-02-12T01:19:00.003Z

So I promised to update on any mad missions I've been getting up to... but it's mostly been the general ticking over of outdoors fun and bits of work.

The only major mission was a trip up to the Banks Peninsula, just to the East of Christchurch. I have a friend from Scotland, Pete, who's headed there with his kiwi girlfriend Hannah. He's managed to get one of the sweetest jobs I've heard of - taking tourists to swim with the world's smallest and rareist dolphins, the Hector's Dolphin (or Heckie Ds as Pete affectionately calls them). Since he opened up an invite to come visit and get a free swim, I thought I'd take him up on it.

Both Si and Monica decided that they were up for a bit of a road trip and with just under a week to spare inbetween work off we went. The route we took was a little convoluted, a mixture of my innability to grasp the 3 roads that leave Queenstown and some interesting route decisions by Simon. We did however have plenty of good tunes - I'd managed to fix up the sound system in my van to combat the possibility of us singing the entire journey. Have you ever heard groups of kayakers singing? It'd probably be one of the last things you would hear...

Our route up started by winding our way out of the mountains around Queenstown. We then hit the plains. This was a particularly boring part to drive, although some of the views were fairly fantastic. We were blessed with some splendifarous weather (which luckily for me mostly toasted the passenger side.. unluckily for Si's arm) and super clear views. The became apparent when the mountains reared up again, in the form of Mount Cook from lake Takapu. Although the pictures can't quite convey it - the "blueness" which suddenly hit you after hours of withered grasslands and fields was astounding. Needless to say we all wanted to stop and took a thousand pictures.

The journey itself ended up taking us around 9 hours, which wasn't too bad. After dropping Monica with a friend in Christchurch, Si and me carried on to meet Pete in the pub in Akaroa. No surprises there! A few cool pints put the journey easily behind me and we headed back to Pete's place.

The next few days were a blur of good food, dolphins and sea. I've never eaten so much in my life, mostly thanks to the fact that Hannah's folks own a magnificent delhi in Akaroa, and the fresh fish sandwiches cooked on the wharf by the fisherman's wife, and the BBQs etc. etc. It has to be said that a fair amount of beer may also have been consumed, but this is no surprise when you meet up with your Scottish friends!

A big thanks must be passed onto Pete and Hannah. Not only did we get to follow hundreds of Heckie Ds as they followed behind the local fisherman (although they weren't up for playing), but we also got to go water-skiiing in the bay. Unfortunatley Pete tore some ligaments in his foot, but everyone else had a laugh - even Si, who gave the best impression of an anchor I've seen! We visited a variety of small bays dotted around the place (the Banks Peninsula is dotted with them) and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. When the time came, we were sore to leave, and it wasn't just the hangovers from the night before, or the vague memories of a trampoline...

On the trip back we headed a little further East so that we could drop by some boulders we had heard about near Duntroon, called Elephant Rocks. These are some great examples of the surprises that geology here in New Zealand can throw at you. In the middle of what appears to be relatively rolling hills, you can come accross something like this. Amazing limestone boulders rising seamlessly from the rolling grass. Sculptured by the wind they form all kinds of weird shapes, dotted with holds and the chalk of those that come to scale them. The 2 hours Si and me got to explore them was barely enough to scratch the surface of the innumerable problems (routes) there. But we did our best and left with sore limbs, finger-tips and bruised egos! It was a long drive back, as Simon's short cut took us over Danson's Pass, a 2 hours off-road mission. Luckily it turned out to be beautiful and dramatic to say the least. Work the following day was HARD.

Apart from that, training continues, work continues and our repertoire of friends increases.

Picures will be up soon - I just need a better connection...

For the moment, since I managed to forget the correct memory card and this damn computer won't recognise my hard-drive, here's a link to some pics up on facebook.

New Zealand - a general outdoor paradise.

2008-12-18T21:53:00.010Z

The 4x4 van of terror loaded up and ready to roll... anywhere!

I like spending money and so far in New Zealand I have acheived this with flying colours. Not only have I bought a van and a kayak, but also a mountain bike. I think that maybe I should extend my stay and working options a little further...

Anyway, within one day of being in the country I hooked up with the local bike shop here in Queenstown and headed off on a biking mission. A really nice blend of steep downhill single-track greeted me in Skipper's Canyon, followed be an hours slog back up the mountain road. I was certainly not flying back uphill - 2 months either sat in a boat in the water, sat in a harness in the air, or sat on my backside drinking tea has ensured the wasting of my legs! Anyway, it was brilliant getting back in the saddle again.

My first river in New Zealand has been the Nevis river nearby to Queenstown. A fantastic and out-the-way run that requires a drive over some stunning hills remeniscent of the Dartmoor tors (except sunny and surrounded by snow capped mountains). I hooked up with Doctor Robin and Ben Hawthorne (previously of Desperate Measures) and it took us 9 hours to complete the run. It wasn't without drama, as at one point myself and Robin waited round a corner for Ben to appear after running an inconsequential corner he had got out to scout. Just as we were getting out to walk back up, Ben appeared on the riverbank, without boat. It took us an hour and a half of exciting rope-work and muscle wrenching to get the boat from out under the boulders and river Ben had managed to sink it under. I was just pleased Ben wasn't still in the boat. Still a glorious run, with a great big water finish running the Citroen rapid on the Kawarau river at over 300 Cumecs (cubic meters of water per second).

Since my inaugeration to Kiwi paddling I've managed to tick off the Waikia and two day Perth off my big list. Both incredible rivers with their own merits. The Waikia for it's first rapid, a 20 foot tunnel formed by a boulder off a 15-20 waterfall, which you cannot inspect. The Perth for being a 2 day helicoptor drop run (provisions being dropped at the hut roughly halfway down) with it's own dreamlike 15ft boof in the centre of the flow.

Colin so fast he's a blur on this staunch rapid on the Waikia

Colin actually pulled this off on the Perth. Nice one Col!

A pic of me doing the Perth boof.

Unfortunately the Perth also proved a little much for my unstable shoulders - pinned on a rock above a nastly choked grade 5 section, after getting a beating on the section above, I shifted to grab a line thrown to me and... washed upside-down off the pin to run the entire following section on my head, one hand on paddle. In trying to get hold of my paddle, whilst being thumped off rock, I subluxed my right shoulder (a partial dislocation) and bruised the ligaments. Luckily I could still paddle the half day out, but it was sore and I've not pushed the kayaking since - giving the shoulder a chance to stabalise again. Everybody else had a storming day, Danny, Colin, Si and Sean all hitting their lines and styling it down the river.

A spot of bouldering near Queenstown

Since then I've been enjoying the myriad of activities that New Zealand has to offer. Within spitting distance of Queenstown, where I have set up residence with Ben, Si and Sean, there's a whole host of outdoor classics. From climbing to frisbe golf, I'm hitting it all as hard as I can. I currently sport hands with all kinds of ridiculous holes and blisters on them - raw fingertips from bouldering on the sharp schist to a strange blisters on the sides of my fingers from frisbe golf. Nights out with the guys from Queenstown rafting is adding to the difficulty in training for the cross country marathon I have, for some unknown reason, entered. The Mototapu Icebreaker marathon runs through Shania Twain's estate out here and is supposedly the 'most beautiful marathon in the world.' I just hope I can appreciate this as I drag my sorry arse through it. We shall see - if you're not too busy on the 14th March, spare a thought for my little legs.

A 20 km practice run up the Routeburn Valley

I'm pretty sure that I should get my updates a little more detailed - but I'm currently spread so thin on many activities that nothing significant sticks out, it's all great! Hopefully I'll get some proper missions underway soon, otherwise I'll try and keep everyone updated with my general activities.

Sirkot expedition

2008-12-14T21:09:00.006Z

My last major trip in Nepal was to Paraglide from Sirkot. I had a brief respite from the air to paddle the normal section of the Marsyandhi in lower water. It was good to note that although the damn has now been closed... there is still enough water to do the lower section! There has only really been one rapid lost.

Sirkot was cool, although I managed to turn up late to leave (I usually wake at 6am - not this time), there were lots of my new friends from Blue Sky Paragliding there. Kayla and Johnny from NZ being two of them. Guillaume also managed to get his wing in time and came along. There was a whole other mix of folk too.

The journey up was, well for want of a better description, bone-shaking. Although we had around 3 hours on the road (remember these are Nepali roads....) we then had to endure another 3 hours on a 4x4 trail. All this crammed into the back of a delapidated jeep, army style. I had the added pleasure of a huge gas cylinder between my legs. I have to admit that looking at the random grimaces of pain from those that hadn't visited back country Nepal before did put a smile on my face. Evil I know, but I've kinda got used to being battered around the place.

Once at Sirkot (a large cone shaped hill at around 2000m) we were greeted by a thousand curious kids and tremendous views. As we set up camp, some folk took a late afternoon flight and I helped get water and wood with our Nepali guides/ my friends Bhoudhi and Babu. On the way back I bumped into my instructor, Patrick, the owner of Blue Sky, David Arufat (ex Acrobatic world champion) and a couple of the other clients. They were off caving and I decided to join them, even though the only torch I had was a little LED at the base of my lighter. The caves were fantastic, we squeezed through holes and crawled through passages underground for over 2 hours. At one point we found ourselves in a cavern where bats roosted (not sure if that's the right word). They were only little bats, but we could get our noses to within centimetres of them and some were huddled in groups of 5 or more. Very cool. David had explored these caves before and is certain that if he can find a way down to the lower levels there will be a huge cavern. I believe him, they seem to go on forever.

Eventually we emerged, blinking and covered in muck, into the evening light. We headed back up to camp for dinner in the dark. I was reminded that crazy paragliders also make mental 4x4 drivers. Dinner was the usual genius combination of wonderful soup followed up by enormous amounts of Daal Bhat and wild pig. A bunch of Babu's special warmed rum punch lubricated and heated our evening by the fire. Mad stories were delivered by Setou, who turned out to be a film comedian of Nepali fame. His transformations of character were quite incredible and occasionally eerie by the fire-light.

The next morning delivered the sun-rise of champions. Once again a low level valley cloud underpinned the scene, as the sunlight slowly made it's way up through it's many hues and painted the himalayas. Quite breathtaking.

I snapped as many pictures as I could and then sat down to absorb the day breaking and let it envelope me as the others stirred. A large and late breakfast then set us up ready for the flight.

We had a briefing of our flight plan from David and then waited for the conditions to become right. The thermals rising up off the hillsides ready to lift us into the air were an indication it was time to go... Although my flight was fun, I didn't manage to get over into the next valleys. Some of the experienced pilots managed to make it all the way back to Pokhara. I landed in a large field and was soon joined by the other new starts. I then spent the next couple of hours on the radio trying to track down the other pilots that hadn't made it as far as Pokhara, picking them up in the van with our Nepali driver. Eventually we collected all those that hadn't made it and headed back to Pokhara ourselves. I opted for a large evening meal of steak with Johnny, Kayla, Guillaume and Patrick. I'm fairly sure there was probably some beer involved too....

Coming to the end of Nepal

2008-12-03T11:59:00.004Z

It's pretty sad thinking that I'm going to be leaving Nepal soon. It would be sadder if I wasn't heading onto New Zealand, but this country holds a fair amount of history for me now, and friends too. I still have some updates to do, for my final couple of trips, but I might not get a chance to do this until NZ. I leave you with a pic and a poem that is typical of Nepal's mosty beautiful landscape...

The kings may rise from the sun
In gleaming fortresses,
But their little brothers deepen;
Veiled ghosts in the distance
Solidifying into existence.
These foot-soldiers march behind each other,
Out of step,
With crystal clouds lapping against them.
Legions of watercolours
Layering themselves
Into the days unfurling scene.

I love to get air.

2008-11-20T10:14:00.005Z

Looking cool(?)

That's me!

This last week or so has been pretty incredible. Patrick and Janic, our trusted instructors have taken us on leaps and bounds. It hasn't been entirely smooth; at one point I had to wait for 15 mins to take off, since Milan (who took off before me) had managed to land/crash into a tree on the side of the mountain. Luckily he was ok, and off I went, a little bit more nervous than before! I was particularly surprised when Milan landed after me - straight back into the saddle for that Slovakian.

The team

After about 17 flights in total, from the first flight, to the fantastic feeling of catching my first proper thermal (spiralling up into the air), I agreed to go on a small expedition. The plan was to drive to the hot-springs on the Seti Khola (Tatopani) in the morning and then walk up to Korchon that day. Once there we would bivvy out for the night and then fly the next day. Korchon sits at 3250m. We started the climb at around 1000m. Only 2000m to climb then! Of course I agreed that it would make sense for a porter to carry my wing, whilst I carried myself and, errrm, my sleeping bag. And some water. And my camera. I was well loaded.

Sweating on the way up the ridge

The walk was fantastic, fairly strenuous and steep, and interspersed with food. When we arrived at the top the clouds had formed a "sea" around 2000m so that we could only see the ridge we had walked up and, of course, the Himilayas above. As the sun dropped, we were witnesses to one of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen. Matapuchre and the surrounding mountains changing their colours and softening in the dipping light. The temperature also plummeted with the sun, leaving me wishing for my down jacket I've put in storage in Kathmandu. In fact it dropped to -6 celcius. One campfire quickly turned into 4 campfires as people struggled to stave off the cold as we waited for dinner. Popcorn and tea kept us going, soup and pasta heating me up ready for bed. Bed, by the way, consisted of wrapping me and my sleeping-bag inside my wing. Nice. I only actually woke a couple of times: Once when condensation was dripping on my face, so I opened up the wing, and second when it stated to snow a bit.

My watch tells me I'm high

Nice camping spot

Doing what I do best

The ridge we came up

Spectacular sunset

Simple sleeping arrangements, trying to avoid the morning pee

Morning shafts of sunlight

Luckily breakfast was plentiful and arrived quickly and steadily - it never seemed to end. We waited for the weather to settle a little and to see what was going on. We had winds up high and not many thermals, but at least the blanket of clouds had gone. They can obviously make navigation a bit of an issue! We had a simple flight plan: Head down the valley towards Pokhara and then find a safe place to land. It was gorgeous. I took off after Patrick, and soon there was over a 1000m under my feet. The views were spectacular, although because of the lack of thermals and the wind ceiling being quite low the flight itself was pretty simple. Searching for a landing was new to me, but since the rice had recently been harvested, landing spots were plentiful. I was the first to land, with Patrick soon after and in the same place. We waited a while to find out by radio where the others landed (a few km away) then hopped on some local busses to get home. Total flight time was around 45mins and I don't think I'll ever forget it.

Take-off spot

Patrick showing me the launch

My smelly feet spoil the view

Matapuchre by sunset

From water to air...

2008-11-11T05:42:00.003Z

I've always thought that there was something missing from my life. You see, in all the sports that I've grown to love, I get to play with the elements. I love climbing, this is clearly earth/rock. I love kayaking, this is clearly water. I enjoy my fire staff and fire breathing, this is (you've probably guessed it, or I worry about you) fire. I enjoy mountain biking, this is earth, air... and ouch... so maybe not really air/wind. I get some air in the sports I've done, but never enough. So whilst out here in the Himalyas I have decided to get more air. I'm learning to Paraglide.

So far it's been a pretty amazing experience, and it looks set to improve. I'm learning with a company called Blue Sky Paragliding based in the foothills of the Annapurna, in Pokhara. They were set up by a Swiss guy called David, and are mostly French and Swiss instructors. My particular instructor is called Patrick, and I'm pleased to say he has got me into the air, from A to B, and back down to ground again in one piece. In fact he's managed to get me to do this 4 times. It's been great, and I've not once been in the air tandem. He's got me and the other 4 guys on the course flying straight off by ourselves.

This first course that I have done starts 0n the ground, thank-god or whatever. You learn the safety features of your harness (like a big rucksack with leg straps), your lines, and your wing. You learn the basic theory of flight and design behind your wing, and you learn a little bit of Aerology (local wind differences). Then you head off to gentle slopes, with predictable thermal winds, where you practise launching, controlling and running with your wing. For us we spent 3 days doing this groundwork and on the final day we received the wings and harnesses we'd actually be flying with. Then on the 4th day it's up the mountain....

Our instructor, Patrick, show's us how it's done.

Milan tries to copy him

This is where it all happens. You can't learn to take-off without taking off, you can't learn to fly without flying, and you can't really learn to land without first being in the air. With a radio attached, you get instructions from an instructor at take-off and an instructor at the landing site. Which is nice, since you're about to run out into nothing! You clip yourself into the left lines and the right lines, which attach you to the wing, take the brake lines in your hands, lift them and the rest of lines above your shoulders, wait for a thermal to bring wind accross your face; then launch. The wing rises behind you, and as it reaches above you, you take control of it using the brakes and start to run, and then the ground buggers off. You're flying. F***ing flying. Once you're heading the right way, you sit back into your harness (which turns into a comfy seat) and try and enjoy the ride, as the radio crackles information in your ear. It's not as smooth as you think it's going to be. Thermals buffet you, swinging you like a pendulum under the wing, lifting you and dropping you. You follow the instructions bringing you towards the landing site as planned, you do figure of eights upwind of the landing site to lose some of the 600ft of air you've had sitting under your bum. Suddenly the ground gets near as you swing around for approach, heading downwind, making a turn until you head back upwind to land. You twitch at the controls trying to come in nice and straight, then stand up into the leg staps as the ground approaches. As the rocks and grass blur below you, just feet away, you push your hand and brakes all the way down. You gently stall and still, and you feet touch the ground, the wing falling behind you. Unless you're me, you come in cross-wind, don't brake enough and that blurring ground becomes a spray of dirt, grass and tangled human. I got it right the next few times!

Take-off.....

FLYING!!!

Everyone in my group was exstatic to have flown. The Swiss guy Sandro, with his shaggy blonde hair and straggly beard, the two Slovenians, Michal and Milan, Budhi, one of the Nepalis working at Blue Sky - even the Belgian, Guilaume, was smiling and laughing. We had put the biggest part behind us, now we could really start. We've all agreed to do the first couple of courses and get to grips with flying and how to use thermals to take you higher up into the air. Who could turn it down? It's amazing what you can do with a paraglider; the distances you can travel, the heights you can acheive, even the acrobatics you can perform (I was watching a glider the other day doing front somersaults... hmmm...).

So pay for Nepalese children to pack my wing... what?!

All in all, you can probably guess that I'm enjoying the flying. It doesn't compete with kayaking, it's a whole different ball game entirely, it's just as good, but it's a whole different element entirely.

P.S. Colin and the boys are off out West doing the Thuli Beri and the Humla Karnali. I hope everything is going well, although the last I heard from them was a phone call asking me to post the massive tarpauline they'd bought in Pokhara, and subsequently forgotten. I was told in the post offices it wouldn't get to them for 2-3 weeks. Pretty pointless then. Now I have a massive tarpaulin in my room.

P.P.S. I'm also spending lots more time with different people. Thank-you Sunni at Guru Lotus restaurant for making me fat and going on the town (despite his Dad being the local Hindhu Guru). Earthquake (his names means this in Nepali, and it's too long to remember) for again trying to make me fat. And thanks to everyone I've met that has to put up with me banging on about flying - the Brazilians at Guru's, the Americans in Once Upon a Time etc. Thanks also to Ashley and Anita, from all over Europe, for teaching me flying jargon, and for entertaining me with multi-coloured beards (not Anita). Sorry guys, this is all for the benefit of my memory in case I lose my diary.

The Upper Upper Madi Khola and the Upper Marsyandi.

2008-11-02T04:56:00.006Z

A pretty tree to start the tale

I've managed to start writing this straight off the back of the last installment, I should probably go and get myself some masala tea (I'm addicted again) and roti, but here I am. It's probably becasue the interenet connection has actually remained good and seems to be uploading my photos quickly and not crashing!

So the date had reached the 24th Oct and we had been back in Pokhara for a day. Munched food by the lake in the Pumperknickle and probably had a few beers. We also chatted to Babu (crazy Nepali who used to work in Charlie's kayak shop) and formulated the next plan. I also signed myself up for the paragliding course I wanted to do - 10 days training and I can fly by myself anywhere in the world... don't look up!

The new plan was to get a taxi to Lamarquet, hire porters, head up to the top of the Madi Khola, Sickles powerhouse, paddle the entire section (60km or so) to Darmali, catch a bus to Dumre from the roadside, catch another bus from Dumre to Besisahar, get a jeep to Bhule Bhuli and then walk to Ngadi to paddle the Upper Marsyandi. Easy. We got ourselves some permits for the walk on the Madi Khola (super last-minute, our taxi driver ran in and pushed to the front of the queue to grab the forms and information we needed, needless to say he got a big tip) and away we went on the 25th Oct.

We left kinda early and got to Lamarquet in pretty good time and started searching for 6 porters willing to lug our kayaks up the 'hill'. After an hur or so we had them all and started our ascent. One of the porters was a 13 year old with wild eyes and massive hands. Apparently his father had died recently and he was now the main bread bringer for his family, he was adament he could manage a boat, and we were more than happy to give him the work.

The views back down the valley on the walk up to Sickles (first image from Sean).

The walk was long and tiring and wound it's way up over 2000m, that day we climbed 1000m pretty much straight up stone steps. The views were however absolutely stunning and we managed to reach a guest house in Sickles as the sun set. Daal Baat for dinner and we all crashed out pretty early. Sleep did not come easily that night as dogs barked all night and from about 5am the porters started making a hell of a racket. Although we had agreed breakfast for 8am and away by 9am they wanted to leave earlier. We reluctantly dragged our lazy arses out of bed around 7 am and then waited for our breakfast. It didn't appear till after 9am. All pretty typical.

It took another 2/3hrs to drop back down to the river and so we didn't put on till around midday. The river itself was super clear and cold, and fairly fell downhill. It was also full of badly placed rocks! I actually seemed to hit form on this river and really started to enjoy myself in my new boat weaving around all the roacks and puching the holes. I even ran a drop that nobody else did, a tight line through boulders and sieves. Everything was going really well until we ran a stickier drop, most of us had run it and it was just Colin and Sean to go. Unfortunately things didn't go so well for Colin. A rock at the base of the drop forced him sideways and he got stuck in the towback. We thought he should be able to work hiself free, but after a while with his head underwater and not much progress, I jumped out of my boat and onto the banks with a throw-bag. Very shortly after he pulled his deck and popped up, and I threw him a throw bag. Although he pulled me off my feet, it swung him into the eddy and as his boat drifted past I grabbed that too, Emrys helping to drag it out of the river. Danny and Si took off after his blades and Emrys and I had to deal with an angry Colin. Luckily, Danny managed to catch Colin's paddles and we were soon back on the way.

Time moved pretty quickly and we soon found a village to stay in which we had been through on the walk up, called Souda. They cleared out a room for us (6 in one room - 4 on the floor, 2 on beds) and made us some fish daal baat. Whilst we were having a few drinks and some smokes after the meal a local teacher came in to chat with us. He told us about the local youth group and explained that they would like to put on a bit of a show for us. I agreed and after an hour or so, and a few more beers, we headed to the tiny village square. Massive speakers appeared, a tape deck and benches were brought out for us. Villagers seemed to appear out of the stone-work. A mad, young Nepali guy welcomed us through the booming speakers in some of the funniest, broken English we have heard. He referred to us as "Belly and his friends, from England and Scotland". He would then introduce dances and dancers, "Welcome, please, Miss .... and Mr ...., who dance this very nicely dance.... AND.... clapping lots please as they dance this Souda dance". It was certainly an experience as loud music from a tape blared into the night as young Nepalese teens danced for us. We couldn't wait to get up there too, and soon enough we pulled up in front of the village to fully embaress ourselves dancing with the local girls. It was great. I ended up donating 2000NRs to the youth group, and even received a letter of thanks/ receipt from the village. I also developed a gum abcess that evening in the back of my jaw. I guess that's the pleasure:pain balance in action, although I thought had generated some good karma fro the donation.

The next day we were slow getting going, Danny had a dodgy belly. We eventually got on the river to run the regular Upper section. Within a couple of minutes, my belly gave out and I had to find an eddy to ruin.. the first I picked had a snake chilling in it, so I had to make the next eddy my toilet. It was a beautiful day with lots of read and run grade 4, and we only got out to snack. Around 3pm we reached Karputar, where I had stayed last year, and we decided to chill here for the night, rather than paddle the 30km of easy water to Darmali. I had forgotten what an idyllic spot the guest house there was, and as we sat on the roof surrounded by rice and wheat fields eating some noodles, we all agreed it was our best stop yet. The daal baat they served later that night concreted our opinion.

The view from our guest house in the morning.

The next day we stealed ourselves for lot of flatish water and a long paddle. It turned out to be quite a pleasurable float with beautiful views and gorgeous little beaches where we'd stop every hour or so for snacks and smokes. By 3pm we reached Darmali. There were lots of kids there who played with our boats and even managed to make us a bit angry, as they tipped a couple of our boats and soaked some of our gear. Back up at the road it took us an hour or so to stop a bus that would take us to Dumre. The next few hours was spent jumping buses until we reached Besisahar on the Marsyandi, I was pre-occupied with the pain in my gum, which was spreading into my jaw, throat and ear. We found a hotel and I found a pharmacy and I stocked up on Ibruprofen and mouthwash.

(A pleasurable float)

The following day we scored a miserable jeep to take us up the road to Bhule Bhuli, which took about an hour, and whiched we managed to sneak past the trekking check point where we would've needed another set of 2000NR passes. From here we ended up having to walk for about 2.5hrs in the midday heat to the put in a Ngadi. Our first lot of walking carrying all our own kit and our boats. It was pretty hard going, but we all made it and were really raring to get on the cool river.

Sean with the only carrying harness tromping up to Ngadi.

Danny on a typical Nepali bridge next to the put in for the Marsyandi (image from Sean).

The Upper Marsyandi is indeed one of the most fun runs I've ever done and lived up to all expectations. This was despite managing to start the river by missing the last eddy above the first grade 5 and running it blind by myself. Apparently I was heard to matter of factly state, "Oh sh*t, I'm dead" as I increased my paddling rate and fired over the drop between a couple of boulders. It turned out fine and I didn't ever get my head wet. I grinned as Colin and Sean followed me down, I was going to enjoy this. Si didn't have so much fun, listening to a description by Danny he clearly hadn't understood and blasted over the mddle of the drop, straight into a rock. We held our breath for a second, as we feared he'd get pinned, then he reappeared, with a big dent in the front of his boat. Other than that he was fine, although he did have a word or two with Danny about about the line....

Me in the 2nd grade 5... Photo by Sean

The next big rapid flowed shortly afterwards and tuned out to be enormous fun. A couple of huge offset holes, with a massive diagonal cushion wave exploding off a boulder between them. Most of us ran this right to left, using the diagonal to throw us between/ over the holes. Danny chose a line down the left boofing/ punching the first hole to hit the chute past the second hole. This was gorgeous, steep, big white-water. Now happy in my boat I relished working our way down this run, eddy hopping and boat scouting (not getting out of the boats) great grade 4/4+ rapids. Dinnae fiddle, down the middle! When we weren't skirting the edges of huge holes, we were throwing ourselves into their smaller brothers for play sessions and entertainment. By the time we reached the dam which separates the top section from the rest we were grinning and shattered. We climbed up out of the river on a path and walked along the raod to find a guest house, but none of them would open for us!! This must be a first in Nepal!!

In the end a ridiculously friendly bus driver, with a huge bus, persuaded us to head down the road to Dumre, and we decided to sack the bottom section in. We had already paddled the best bits. On the journey the bus driver called a friend at a guest house down the road from Dumre, I think it was called Bandipur, booked us cheap rooms and some food. Diwali festival was on so it was lucky to get this, and the place turned out to be nice and quiet and a much better place to pick up busses from. I didn't notice a huge amount as my gum had turned into a world of pain, of which my only escape was Ibruprofen and Codeine. A massive breakfast of banana pancakes cooked by a festively drunk and hugely fat chef got us to flag down a bus and comandeer it to take us to Lakeside, Pokhara and home. This was good news for me, as I had resorted to using one of Sean's syringes to take various diffenernt mouthwashes and inject them underneath my gum to irrigate the abcess. I needed antibiotics. Once we hit pokhara I got them. And here I am, writing this a couple of days later with just a dull throb in the back of my mouth, waiting for my paragliding course to start on the 5th, the guys planning their trips to the Thuli Beri and Humla Karnali.

Ok, let's think back to the Kalighandaki

2008-11-02T03:18:00.007Z

So, I've managed to sit down in the internet round the corner from where we're staying in Pokhara instead of munching my breakfast. I guess I better consult my notes and rack my memory for what has happened since I last made an entry.

After we had got back fro the Modi Khola we had a bit of a relaxing day (monday 20th Oct) and came up with the idea to go run the Madi Khola and Marsyandhi rivers. We sent Danny and Si off to go and sort out the details and a couple of hours later an entirely new plan emerged - we were going to head off up the Kalighandaki and the Myagdi Khola. Sweet. The plan was to go high on the Kalighandaki, something I've wanted to do for a while. A jeep was booked at 7am the next day for 8000NRs to take us up the new road that would get us to the hot spings at Tatopani.

The following morning we loaded up the jeep and squashed ourselves inside. I plugged into my iPod for the 3-4hr ride taking in the bizarre mix of Underworld and Van Halen. Don't ask. When we eventually reached Beni we weren't allowed to go any further in the jeep we had hired. Beni is not a great place and we decided it was a s**t-hole. They made us re-load our boats onto a small local bus that would take us up the road.

The "road" turned out to be one of the worst I've come accross in Nepal, which is saying something. At some points it would climb a 1:6 incline though muddy ruts on a road only a foot or two wider than the bus and a 500ft drop beside it snaking on it's bald tires all the way. We were well and truely tenderized by the 2hrs in the hot and dusty bus and were super happy when we arrived at the hot springs of Tatopani. Of course we made full use of the natural resources. Again we were dealt great views of the Annapurnas and I got a clasic 'kid in kayak' camera shot, keeping the inquisitive locals happy.

The Upper Upper Kalighandaki is a great run and definitely put the fear in me a bit. The water was a muddy brown and it charged downstream over huge boulders that formed the major rapids. Needless to say, much of the run has blurred into memory, but it was a classic river. I did a little more walking than I would've liked, but I still fired up a few great lines. I distinctly remember one rapid where the whole flow slammed into a central rock: The left side slammed into a sharp looking, undercut rock and the right side had a sizeable hole to negotiate with. It was so satifying to hit the huge flying boof over that hole and into the eddy. The paddle out downstream was underneath a huge mountain of a rock overhanging the river, creating a kind of tunnel (see pic, courtesy of Mr Sean). There were many other big rapids and Colin fired them up in good style. Sean did the hardest parts of one of the rapids and then found a hole downstream, a few of us 'ooooed' and 'ahhhhed' at the multiple ends and loops he got in the Everest (big boat) and after a minute or so he washed out. Emrys and I had an interesting portage we took on the road as the others did it riverside. Trying to get back down to the river was hard work and involved ropes and spiders. I also had a moment towards the end when I was getting really tired. Heading straight towards a rock that was splitting the main flow I failed to avoid it, capsizing and disappearing from view the others thought I was pinned. Luckily, I had anchored my outstretched arms in the main flow, and although underwater pulled myself around the boulder. It was definitley time to get off the river! (Any pics of me are by Sean, cheers buddy!)

We took out above the S**t-hole and found a brilliant guest hole, Paradise Hotel, which fulfilled all our needs. We got a big dinner of Daal Baat and got chatting to the other guests - a couple of guys biking round the Annapurnas and a Canadian lady who was trekking.

The next day was a bit of a disappointment. When we reached the S**t-hole and made our way to the bridge and road up to the Myagdi Khola, we found out that the road did not go all the way up to the upper section we wanted to run. Not having the funds or energy available, we continued down the Upper Kalighandaki. This time our luck was in, and we bumped into a raft trip which was just putting on. We found out their bus was heading back to Pokhara and so tied on our boats and headed back to town for some R&R.

This has taken me a while, let's see if I have the energy to put up the next installment and get back up to date...

Still going... update soon...

2008-10-31T03:05:00.002Z

Hey hey!

Well we've just arrived back from yet another mission - this time doing the Upper Upper Madi Khola (a day and a half trek up from the normal put in) and the Upper Marsyandhi (from Ngadi down). Both fantastic trips and full of stories... from random parties put on for us in villages, to the first swim of the trip...

"Who was it?!" You ask....

Find out in the next couple of instalments. Here's a pic to wet your hunger from the walk in to the Madi Khola:

By the way Colin's here too....

2008-10-24T04:17:00.010+01:00

I realised that I forgot to mention that Colin arrived before Emrys and Si... he's here and loving it. Enjoying all the food and cheapness that Nepal brings. Of course after spending most of our summer together working on the marquees, our chat is pretty special, and it's certainly lucky there's others here to aid conversation.

Anyway, we've now been in Pokhara for a few days, and it's all I remember it to be. Easy to sort things out, cheaper and cleaner than Kathmandu. We're staying in a place called Hotel City Annapurna for around 100 NRs per head per night, and the owners son has taken to hanging out with us, when we're not on the river. It turns out he's related to the owner of the guest house up the road where I stayed last year, New Future Way, as is the way out here.

The day after we arrived in Pokhara (Thursday the 16th... I think), we had a good warm up run down the Upper Seti. It was nice to do it in the light, since the previous evening we almost sucked ourselves into a plan to do it by moonlight. This plan was obviously subject to the wares sold in the bar we were in. The river was fun, but not exactly challenging, what was more amusing was the young punks at the take-out who charged our taxi driver for the privilage of parking in their playground/ patch of scrub.

That night we hatched plans to do the Upper Modi Khola, we booked a coach with Charlie at Ganesh kayak shop and porters for the walk. We needed the coach as we hooked back up with Sonia and Monica, but also a group of 3 British guys, including Tim Burne. That meant a total of 10 of us heading up... The coach ended up costing us 270 NRs per head (!) and we got porters at 500NRs per day each. We drove to Lumli and couple of hours away and began the days trek.

The trek up the Modi Khola is pretty ace, with views of Mataputchre and Annapurna South popping up around corners and plenty of interesting kids and folk on the trail (see pics below). As usual we got lots of funny looks for hauling kayaks around. We made an hour or so shy of the put in at New Bridge and stayed the night in a tea house next to Old Bridge. My knees gave me healthy gip most of the way... I must be getting old.

The next day we made good time to the put in, leaving Sonia and one of the Brits to meet us at the Bridge, and hideous syphon (where lots of the river headed underneath rocks) at Old Bridge. We were a bit slow getting going, Si managed to drop one of his bags off the edge of the trail, down a small cliff into dense undergrowth. It took him a while and the help of a couple of Nepalis passing by to eventually retrieve it.

The river was a good as I remember it, if a bit lower than last year. I chose to be photographer for the day, which meant I portaged a few drops to get pics and because my camera and lens act like a suicide block in my lap! All in all the river was ace and although we had planned to carry on down the lower section, we ended up getting out at a dam and jumping on a local bus top back to Pokhara. This saved us a 3km walk in the midday heat with kayaks on our shoulders. I felt it was the right move and we got back into town mid afternoon on the Sunday 19th.

I write this on Friday 24th October after we got back from running the Upper Upper Kalighandaki from Tatopani hot springs yesterday.. but that's another story...

Here in Nepal

2008-10-13T08:41:00.010+01:00

I have eventually made it to Nepal, after the fantastic journey through Delhi (20 hours in the Airport). I would like to note that Delhi airport is much improved from when I was there last year - 24hr cafes in the waiting lounge and a re-organised departures building made life loads easier. I had to pay roughly 30 pounds to get my boat on the flight onwards with jet airlines to Kathmandu, but it's all worthwhile and I met lots of nice people on the way from all over the shop.

Upon arrival I settled into my room in Kathmandu, the Holy Lodge, since it's the easiest place for kayakers to meet up. Within 10 minutes I heard a familar voice saying, "Oh, I'm from Scotland, a tiny wee island up north." I went to investigate, and there was Sean, my ginger dreadlocked mate from Edinburgh who I thought I was meeting in Pokhara. Ace. We sat down and caught up and within another 10 minutes, Danny turned up. Time for lunch then. After lnuch we took a trip to the "Monkey Temple" half an hours walk away (see typical pic below)...

The following day we made plans to do the Bhota Kosi with an Amercan girl and German girl that we met at the Holy Lodge. Taxis were booked for 6.30am (ouch) to take us to the local bus station. It was great being back in Nepal as we loaded are kayaks onto a still moving bus to take us to Balephi 4 hours away for a massive 120 NRupees (about a pound).

Once in Balephi after a beautiful roof-top journey on which the weather improved from misty to blue skies and sunshine (we even got views of the Himalayas) we had to pick up a pick-up truck to take us the next 10km or so to the upper part of the river.. 70NR. We put in at Borderlands, a camping resort, where they let us know the river was very high and away we went.

The river turned out to be fantastic, lots of big holes and rolling waves as it crashed it's way down away from Everest and Tibet. With Sean having run the river recently we had a good guide for the smaller rapids, but still got out to have a peak at a couple of the biggest ones. Here's a pic of Sean in the meat of the first one of consequence (see below). This rapid started with a huge hole, with a line over it using a curler. For some reason I manged to flip on the eddyline afterwards, rolling up confused about my line through the rest of the rapid. I personally blame it on my new boat ;op

The rapids continued and it was an awesome river to warm up on.... although I did find myself nervous a few times. Whether it was fatigue or lack of technique after a long period out of kayaking, towards the end of the river I was dished a couple of healthy beatings. Trying to punch holes and failing, the subsequent washing machine cycle reminding me to hit my lines properly! Unfortunately this final stretch of river also undid the girls. Sonia taking a long swim through a grade 4 rapid and Monica a shorter one, deciding to exit her boat towards the end. It was a surprise to all of us, since the ladies had looked stronger than us most of the way down. We managed to collect up all the bits and pieces before the dam, to continue down the lower section and pick up the bus home. Eventually... buses are very busy on a sunday evening, we got ouselves up on the top of a crowded bus and rode the roof home, getting back, starving, to our hotel in Kathmandu by around 10pm.

It's almost a week after these events that I've managed to get the time to put this up... we've now managed to meet up with Si and Emrys, we're in Pokhara, we've paddled the upper Seti and the Upper Modi Khola and we're definitley enjoying ourselves... more updates very soon....

New kit, dodgey pics, and ready to go....

2008-10-09T10:32:00.009+01:00

So, it's the day of departure, 9th October 2008, and I apparently have some time on my hands. It's been an interesting few days of catching up with family and trying to pack my kit. For some strange reason I feel like sharing. It's probably because I know over the next couple of days I have to kill 20 hours in Delhi airport - Ouch.

Before I packed my kit I decided to test out a couple of new items I received from Desperate Measures: A Palm Stikine drysuit and an IR Union Suit. Together this is the most comfortable combo I've tried. The cuts of both suits are fantastic and seem to keep a comfortable temperature as well. I certainly advise anyone to get IR thermals if they can - the polartech fleece they use is perfect for kayaking. It takes moisture away from the skin and is supremely comfortable. The best thing about the Union Suit is the lycra neck line - this will remain warm even when it's wet (for those times when any neck seal blows (as they occasionally do) and it works as the entrance into the suit, leaving no uncomfortable seams anywhere.

I will update my experiences with the palm stikine when I get to more extensively test it.

The important thing is that you can look good wearing these items around the city and wouldn't look out of place at a garden party...

Inbetween looking great in my new dinner wear (note the special suit shoes... hmmm) I also got around to packing. This was not as easy as I thought it would be. I had planned on shipping a bike to New Zealand to arrive once I was out there. In this box I would also add extra stuff so that I didn't have to cart my entire life around to Nepal and onwards. This turned out to not be feasible - at over £300 and not arriving till February I decided that it wasn't that impotant. I'll hire a bike. This meant that my packing for a year of travels became much like anyone elses. No frills. A few pairs of pants, a couple of trousers/ shorts, a few T-shirts, socks and a jumper. Then all my kit... sleeping bag, bivvy bag, thermarest, cag, drysuit, thermals, stove, camera (and stupid large lens), drybags, jackets etc. etc. etc.... It seemed an impossible task. A lot of swearing and squeezing later, I eventually squeezed it all in, and according to my scales, it was all under the weight limit. We shall see....

The only things that ended up in my boat were my BA, sleeping bag, and airbags.

Before.....

After.....

Colin's story...

2008-09-26T11:51:00.006+01:00

I'm mostly going to post up some pics of Colin paddling in New Zealand, Washinton State and Africa. I might get him to add some chat of his own in the near future - he's a very busy man, don't you know.

Billy's story

2008-09-24T19:27:00.012+01:00

I'm the one that's writing most of this.... once it's up and running I'm sure Colin will add some input of his own. For now, you'll have to put up with my ramblings.

When we finished at university, somehow getting degrees despite our misdirected efforts, Colin and I really did head in different directions. I decided to get a "real" job working in a lab, and Colin took off to New Zealand for 18 months with a bunch of the guys who we paddled with. We'll pick up his story soon.

Lab work was alright and I became a weekend warrior... however I had lost a lot of my kayaking buddies so focused on other sports I enjoyed. These included mountain biking and climbing, although I still managed to fit in a couple of kayaking trips. I took a trip to Morzine in France (above left) where I thought I got quite good on my bike until the above (right) happened in a race in the UK. It resulted in a couple of broken ribs, a fractured shoulder blade and some weird stretching of my shoulder ligaments.

I climbed in the Alps and Malta (well, there was probably more drinking in Malta). This has really inspired me to climb more, and I really enjoy the physical challenge of bouldering and sport. Traditional climbing is still a little too expensive for me to get into as well, although I can see myself heading down that path as I age.

One of my favorite quick blast kayaking trips was to the Val Sesia region in the Italian Alps. We had past through their too late for their season the last time we were in the Alps, but this time I had 6 days of perfect river levels, even if that meant me bivvying in the rain. Personal favorites included the Egua and the upper upper Semenza.

So although this trip was pretty spectacular I didn't feel that I had managed to get anywhere near enough paddling in the years that working in the lab. As Colin and my other friends returned from their travels, I was in the process of leaving my job. There were other issues in my life at that moment and I had a very stressful summer which culminated in me deciding to get away to Nepal. This was probably the best decision I ever made. Nepal is an incredible country, the people, the scenery and the kayaking are all amazing. I joined up with a couple of friends, and also met folk whilst I was there. I got to paddle the Tamur, Madi Khola and Upper Modi Khola.

The only problem I found with Nepal was that you cannot get enough time there. You're so busy getting immersed in the culture and pace of life, that before you know it, it's time to leave. I have a lot of unfinished business out there and I made the decision that I had to return. I also plan to learn how to paraglide out there, oh yes, I'll try and get some shots from up high from each country we're in. This time we will be in Nepal for 2 months... plently of time to get some good missions under the belt. Time to hit up the Humla Karnali for sure.

So then we went our separate ways...

2008-09-24T18:33:00.004+01:00

The following year turned out differently, although we both went on trips to Norway, we did it separately. Sad times. Well, not really, the paddling and beauty of Norway blew us away. We also got to paddle with a bunch of different folk.

A brief history of grime...

2008-09-24T13:13:00.010+01:00

So a quick catch up... Colin and I met each other avoiding university lectures in Edinburgh. Instead we would chase the worst weather Scotland had to offer and throw ourselves down the resultant swollen rivers. I don't have digital images of our first few runs together, and this is probably for the best.

An early memory of one of the first times I paddled with Colin was piling into a little, red Ford Fiesta and driving to the North Esk. It was the 2nd of January 2002, and it was bloody cold. In fact, paddling the river wasn't really an option, we walked on top of most of it. There was about 4 inches of ice over it. The rapids were runnable, just about. We got about halfway down before our friend broke their nose and we decided this was a stupid idea. On our way back to Edinburgh the boats that we'd attempted to tie down with frozen ropes flew off on the Forth Road Bridge. I pretended to be asleep.

Sometimes we got things a little better....

This Scottish formed friendship lead us to take trips to the Alps in the Summer. We decided that warm weather kayaking really did make things a lot nicer. We enjoyed our first trip to the French Alps so much, the following year (our 2nd of real whitewater), we spent a month touring the rest of the Alps. France, Italy, Austria, and Switzerland all got a look in and it was great. We pushed ourselves hard and managed to stay in one piece.

At the end of our 3rd year of paddling, we decided that we should head to British Columbia, Canada. This was a big trip and lots of hard work raising the money was necessary to raise the cash for 6 weeks in the land of bears. It was also a big step up. Meeting a load of folk that clearly decided we were somewhat mentally unstable, we got sent on some mad missions.

The Whathsan River gave us some 'interesting' falls. I provided some 'interesting' lines (see left). The rest of the river was of similar water - flat sections interspersed with downright frightening drops.

Another river that was recommended to us was Blanket Creek and, in particular, Sutherland Falls. This turned out to be a 60 footer. Colin provided the entertaining line on these (see below).

We also paddled a lot of other rivers (and I promise we did so with a lot more skill than demonstrated here), I merely use these images for your entertainment. I also would like to point out that these imaged are courtesy of Dr Matthew Wilkes, who was along for the ride. He wasn't a doctor then, by the way, so this isn't why he came if that's what you were thinking.

All in all BC was a top destination.. so Col and I plan to return. Oh and it's beautiful too.