So, a bright morning, and Myself (Simon), Martin (the hobbit) Harrall, Ross (the stopper probe) Tiley, Michael (baaaa) Napier, Martin Croucher (the man behind the media) and Soaking Steve thought we would see in the new year with a Paddle of the River Tawe, in south Wales. This trip marked somewhat a milestone for most of the group, as Simon, Ross, and Michael witnessed their first grade 4, and Steve returned to the waterways of Britain after a year with his feet up. Martin and Martin were quietly confident, both having ran the river before in all sorts of conditions, and so were on hand to answer the nervous questions from the group. These consisted of “So, are we all going to die” and, “Can we go home now? I miss my Mummy”. Martin Harrall, ever the encouraging leader, responded ‘yes’ and ‘no’ respectively to these questions, and so it was with white knuckles that the younger members of the group gripped their paddles as they launched into the river at the get in near the pub car park.
As Martins (plural) ran the shuttle, Ross, Simon, Michael and Steve hopped in onto a small section of weirs, and began to ‘play’ in the friendly stopper at the top. Though shallow, a nice deep slot allowed them to sink their bows nicely into the water. When Martin and Martin arrived, they hopped into the water, but decided playing on the stopper was not such a good idea at all, as a friendly local informed us that under the water were metal stakes, the remainder of an old railway line. Damned silly place to build a river if you ask me, government planning these days.. I don’t know. Anyhow, the group assembled and began the descent right away. The river continued in a similar fashion as described above. Drop, break out, Play, repeat. This was rather fun, and the group were lulled into an (albeit false) sense of security.
Just as the group managed to build its confidence up, a sharp horizon line appeared on…. Well the horizon, causing Martin H to hop out of his boat to inspect. Inspection revealed that the drop was after all safe, and naturally, Ross was the first to paddle over the brink. Having seen that all was safe, Simon followed, with the rest of the group in tail. Once satisfied that their feet were not broken (the bottom met the paddler with a lovely array of rocks on which to break his feet), the group continued downstream.
The next notable feature was a nice reminder to the group of what grade 3 felt like, as the river dodged round a small corner, and under a bridge. The upper section of this rapid offered an enticing play wave and stopper, once again probed (as is everything) by Ross Tiley. Deemed safe, the stopper and wave were enjoyed by all, before the group paddled down and under the bridge. This all went very smoothly, until the rock wall on river left shortly before the bridge wrenched Simon’s paddle from his grasp, and he was forced to descend (rather skillfully, even If I say so myself) the rest of the rapid empty-handed. Once at the bottom, he succeeded in breaking out, and Ross returned his paddles to him.
A few more grade 2 and 3 rapids led the group around a corner, beyond which stood an altogether more intimidating horizon line. As Martin ordered the break out, it was told to the group, that this was ‘Pen-y-Cae falls, easy-ish grade 4’. As Simon and Ross stood apon a rock overlooking the torrent of crashing water, what they heard was ‘Pen-Y-Cae falls, grade 6+, see you in the next life’. However, once the paddlers had time to adjust themselves, and come to terms with their inevitable mortality and impending doom, they saddled up, and one by one began to disappear over the edge. Martin Harrall went first, and expertly picked out a smooth, albeit scrapey line, and emerged smiling at the bottom. Ross was next, followed by Simon, Michael, and finally Steve. The success rate of the group varied, gradually become more and more catastrophic through the group. Martin shot the fall with ease, Ross and Simon paddled through with the odd recovery stroke here and there, before breaking out halfway down the grade 3 rapid following the fall. Michael however, managed to hit the small cliff face at the bottom of the fall, which flipped him. However, Mike managed superbly to roll back up and join the others in the relieved atmosphere of the breakout below. Then it was Steve’s turn. His line was similar to that of Michael’s, and was flipped in an almost exactly similar fashion. His roll however worked the exact opposite way to Michaels, that is to say; it didn’t. As he came round the corner he was greeted by the sound of jeering from his fellow paddlers, and several knocks on the shin as he floated down the rocky rapids, before finally beaching himself, rather awkwardly, on the other side of the river. Martin Croucher followed, having taken some brilliant pictures of the rest of the group.
As I’m sure you know by now, Martin Harrall is a Hobbit. And, reminiscent of his days in ‘The Shire’ he hopped gracefully across the river to retrieve a shivering soaking Steve, and his kit, which had naturally scattered itself over a large area. After a brief period of recuperation, Steve was placed back into his boat, and the group continued. More of the same followed. Big rolly wave trains, on which Ross and Simon threw their weight around in a less than graceful manner in attempts to score some ‘big air’. In fairness, this worked reasonably well, and as the group descended down the gorge, they were splashed and deafened by their not-so-smooth landings.
After half an hour of this, Martin at the head of the group went for another break out. This was because the river apparently disappeared, and was replaced by a large cliff face. This was not actually the case. They had arrived at a waterfall, at which the river chicaned right, and fell an estimated 10 feet (probably grade 4). Now, 10 feet is not a huge distance, but when you are scared, or as short as Mr Harrall, it seems a hell of a lot further.
Once again, our resident hobbit picked his way along the lip of the waterfall on foot to inspect. Thankfully, as it happened, the waterfall was safe no matter where it was shot. It appeared, dare I say it, nothing could go wrong. For Martins part this was true, he found a nice line, and shot expertly, only briefly disappearing underwater, before popping out again, smiling. At this point, something very rare happened. Martin Harrall displayed… ‘Emotion’. His merry laughter filled the valley and all creatures were united in harmonious joy. Ok, so it wasn’t that good, but he did laugh, and say “you have GOT to try that”. So we did, and this is what happened.
Ross was next up, and shot the fall with a nice line, plenty of water, and landed at the bottom, appearing on the surface after a short dunking. Steve followed, stylishly shooting the fall on edge, which turned him nicely ‘parallel-park’ style into the eddy. Then it was Michaels turn, who after Martin probably ran the best line, his I3 carrying him peacefully into the eddy below the fall. As Simon got into his boat, he saw Michael disappear over the edge, and set off into the flow with fear in this heart, and something a little less pure in his boat. Very nervous, he focused on the wise words of Martin Harrall. “Just shoot it far left, then you won’t get pinned in the slot” ran through his head with the mysterious echo like you get in the movies. You know, like when Rocky is getting pummeled to the floor and he remembers some inspiring words from his trainer, and he gets up. That sort of thing. Anyway, he maneuvered his boat far left, only to become stuck on a rock. After 30 seconds of awkward embarrassing wiggling (caught on camera, of course), he freed himself, only to become momentarily stuck on the edge. He was caused to knife drop into the water, totally disappearing, before popping up upside down. Thankfully, he was able to roll, which he was proud of since he was tired, the water was more air than anything else, and his deck had come off. All the same, he resurfaced smiling, and paddled into the eddy to empty his boat. Just as he was being congratulated by his peers on having the ‘roll of the day’, Martin Croucher bombed round the corner, through the central slot, and landed upside down, and was dragged under the waterfall which was rumored to be undercut. However, he too rolled back up, causing the water to push him out of the fall and into the eddy. All credit the Martin for this, and for the excellent photography he conducted from apon a rock above the fall.
After the fall, lunch, and a bit of messing around paddling behind the waterfall (we all did, because Martin told us it was ‘cool’. Actually, it wasn’t that great, but we all had fun sticking out hands through the curtain of water and generally getting wet), we headed downstream through a gorge full of fun wave trains and stoppers. Ross, Simon, and Michael all had a go at leading the group down the river, and for them at least, nothing went too spectacularly wrong. Meanwhile, just as Steve has assured himself in his mind that his swim was due to back luck, he was flipped on a big, rolly wave train, and swam again. This swim was rather scarier than the previous one, and Steve emerged coughing and spluttering some 50 yards downstream of where he popped his deck. Simon and Martin guided him and his boat to the shore, where he got to his feet, only to stumble over saying ‘ouch my ankle’. Mr Harrall took a look, and rather expertly diagnosed that he had in fact, hurt his ankle. For this he prescribed a piece of Mars bar, the power of which enabled Steve to return to his boat, with his ankle, and his confidence, slightly battered. The last feature before the get-out was a 6 foot sloping stepped weir, with a gnarly looking stopper at the bottom. All shot this, but weren’t up for the play, as even the stopper probe himself deemed it too big for his liking.
Following the weir, the group enjoyed a short grade 1-2 section down to the end of the trip, where they were met with a muddy scramble, where climbing equipment would perhaps have been more appropriate, rather than boats and paddles. However, they made it to the top, with nobody falling to their doom, where everyone agreed that it had been a fantastic trip, the best all season. Even Martin Harrall said it was the best trip he had been on in years, a testament to the river, and to the atmosphere created by such a motley crew of paddlers. (Especially seeing as this was up against the Mighty Morphin Marden paddled just two weeks prior!)
Simon Roberts
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