I wonder, how many Facebook events have you clicked “attending” to, all the while knowing you have no intention of doing so? I am as guilty as the next man, and so when I responded to LUCC’s invitation to BUCS slalom with an irritatingly bet-hedging “Maybe”, I expected that to be the end of it. Until I got a message from our esteemed vice-captain asking if I was definitely going. Having first made it clear that I would be approximately one-tenth of the use of a chocolate teapot at a fire-eater’s convention (my days on white water can still be counted on a leper’s hand), I said yes, and spent the next few weeks trying to work out what the hell I’d let myself in for.
Apparently it involved paddling down a white water course (the Tees barrage to be exact), while attempting to pass through a series of gates, both in upstream and downstream directions. How hard could it be?
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| JJ's Second Run. |
Duly, on the inauspicious date of Friday 13th, we loaded up and our small band of plucky amateurs (and Emily, our concession to taking this thing seriously- team GB don’cha know), and a couple of hangers-on set off on the long journey to the far north. I didn’t have the chance to look at a map, but I imagine the area where we were headed had “Here be monsters” written across it in archaic lettering. In any case, we arrived at Aycliffe Village Hall, home for the next two nights. But not on our own, oh no! We were bunking with Manchester Uni Canoe Club, who appeared to have brought a small army. Luckily, we had prepared enough food for one, and set about eating. A few days earlier we been issued a stern announcement, the general gist of which was to not imbibe excessive amounts of alcohol the night before competing (representing the uni, AU subsidising the event etc.). For official purposes I suppose I’m obliged to say we adhered to it fully, but there were plenty of empty bottles and cans the following morning. For medicinal purposes obviously.
The next day dawned grey, and as I looked down on the slalom course for the first time, I began to fully emphasise with Sir Patrick Spens (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlococGqzg8 for those unfamiliar with 1970s British folk rock) and questioned what the hell I was doing here. We spent the morning eyeing up the course, possibly hoping something would pass through by osmosis (well, it did involve water!), and some of us tried their hand at judging (i.e. did they hit the gates? Did they go through the right way? Does it count if they’re upside down?).
Anyway, time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana, and the men’s K1 could be put off no longer. My first run was less than successful, my carefully choreographed rolling forgotten in the freezing cold hole below gate 5. Once safely on the bank I located my errant boat and set off back to the start. Matt, Andy and the Bens all made good runs while I psyched myself up for my second. This time I made it to the bottom, though all but one of the upstream gates went west. Next came the turn of our dream team of Emily, Maeve and JJ. Things looked promising until one of them (no names, no pack drill, but it involves a certain treasurer) swam. The all-for-one-and-one-for-all nature of the team event meant they came out with a big fat DNF.
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| Photo Credit- Philip Carr, Unsponsored. |
Paddling done, we rounded the day off with trip to a quiet pub in Aycliffe to watch the rugby and play pool, mulling over the day’s events over a comforting pint. Returning to the hall, more food was eaten, yet more “medicinal” liquor passed our lips, and fun and games ensued with our Mancunian friends both old and new.
The next day, it was the girls’ turn to show their paddling prowess. Maeve redeemed herself with two great runs in quick succession; Emily also turned out an impressive performance, finishing up in 9th place. Alas, Mog was caught by the dreaded gate 5, and suffered the ignominy of being rescued after her boat! Happily, she completed a second run with relative ease. JJ came a cropper towards the end of her first run, but, after a little bit of arm twisting from Mog and your humble narrator, she had another go, and came out smiling at the bottom. Much of the rest of the day was spent spectating and cheerleading, especially for the few intrepid Mancs brave enough to enter the C1 and C2 events. I wore myself out racing the paddlers down the course to get a few photos.
Our gambit for the men’s team was the two Bens and Matt. The trio pulled out all the stops and gave a spectacular performance, eventually coming in at a respectable 14th out of 25. Of course, things can’t go that well, and unfortunately Mr. Waller was caught out by the hole at the end of the course. Minor carnage ensued with Matt and Thwaites close behind, which culminated in a stop off at the Royal Liverpool hospital on our return. That little blip aside, a good weekend was had by all, and everyone could add a few more strings to their bow. Overall, we came 14th out of 21 unis. Maybe next year we will ace it…
By John 'That's the badger' Bickerton
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