Sunday, October 13, 2024
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Rivers of Love, Life & Something Else... 3...
...perfectly centred in the middle of the river.
By now, almost visibly shaking, I made a hasty exit of my Swallow and breathed a huge sigh of relief as my feet touched solid ground. The adrenaline was still pumping and I surely needed a moment or three, to recover.
And that, my friends, was the real beginning of my kayaking career.
Neil and Richard and Corran Bruce, Graeme and Jane all delighted in the retelling of their own experiences with paddling this awesome river.
"Oh, I meant to tell you all," says Graeme with patience, "That if or when ou find yourself stuckin a hole, it is perfectly reasonable to pop your own splashdeck and let your boat fill a bit with water and thereby cause your boat to be heavier and therefore free itself from the grip of the foam pile."
"Mmm nice one, thanks Graeme," muttered Philippa, from somewhere under her soggy hair.
That moment, which seemed to last half a lifetime, in Happy Hundting Grounds on the Tugela River, was the moment I became hooked on paddling and Heaven became truly manifest here on Earth.
How can one not get hooked on Heaven? Surely it is a Divine Conspiracy?
By now, almost visibly shaking, I made a hasty exit of my Swallow and breathed a huge sigh of relief as my feet touched solid ground. The adrenaline was still pumping and I surely needed a moment or three, to recover.
And that, my friends, was the real beginning of my kayaking career.
Neil and Richard and Corran Bruce, Graeme and Jane all delighted in the retelling of their own experiences with paddling this awesome river.
"Oh, I meant to tell you all," says Graeme with patience, "That if or when ou find yourself stuckin a hole, it is perfectly reasonable to pop your own splashdeck and let your boat fill a bit with water and thereby cause your boat to be heavier and therefore free itself from the grip of the foam pile."
"Mmm nice one, thanks Graeme," muttered Philippa, from somewhere under her soggy hair.
That moment, which seemed to last half a lifetime, in Happy Hundting Grounds on the Tugela River, was the moment I became hooked on paddling and Heaven became truly manifest here on Earth.
How can one not get hooked on Heaven? Surely it is a Divine Conspiracy?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Stanford Bird lady...
Christmas, the cockerel, the main man... Lunch, Fred, Vulture and Baby... the First Five !!Rivers of Love, Life & Something Else... 2...
... at a suitable put-in point, an hour or so ealier.
Of course, I hadn't yet learned the art of Eskimo rolling, the most profficient method of self-rescue, and the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering around nervously at the mere mention of the up-coming "Happy Hunting Grounds".
"You guys should be able to figure out your lines with no problem at all", said Graeme, nonchalantly and so I floated along, bobbing on the bouncy, brown current, staying in the main flow of what is intrinsically, a large, fairly fast-flowing river. The middle section of the Tugela is a one day paddle, known more affectionaately as "The Red Ravine".
I had undoubtedly read about and heard horror stories of people being sucked under by 'Four Man Hole' in the Tugela Gorge section and I was ever so grateful I, as the relative beginner I was, was not expected yet to kayak this fearsome section of river and having to deal also witht the likes of 'Horrible Horace'.
Images of drowning, being pinned, sucked under and totally trashed about flew in and out of my mind.
Corran paddled ahead, so did Neil and then Richard and Bruce. I reasoned that if no-one wa making too much fuss about Happy Hunting Grounds then, in fact, it should e easy enough. Well, from where I was sitting you couln't really even see much of a rapid, so I paddled gently forward, eye darting about, feeling not sure, but ok.
Within seconds, it seemed, I was in the middle of the rapid, muddy brown water was everywhere and I found myself up against a huge foam pile, my kayak had been whipped unceremoniously sideways and before I knew what was happening, I was side-surfing in what felt like a gigantic hole.
I was stuck. I was bobbing around like a cork stuck in a flooding gutter and by some incredible miracle, I was still upright and breathing air. All I could see coming down on my left side, was the full force of the Tugela River. On my right and under my paddle, was a mass of turbulance, more brown, foamy water, coming towards me also, and there I was, stuck in the middle. I couldn't see the light of day, let along Graeme, who, I was convinced, with his tremendous experience, would be able to rescue me from this treacherous situation.
I thought about things for a while, the adrenaline coursing through my body. I was unable to think clearly, but was totally dumbfounded by the situation I found myself in. I thought I may be stuck there side=surfing for an eternity or at least until the river ran dry. What was I going to do, how was I going to get out and when were "they" going to turn the water off?
It felt like forever, but possibly 45 second or so later, my neoprene spreydeck got popped by the continuous punding of the hole's wave on my cockpit. My boat began to fill with water and as unceremoniously as I had gone in, the Hole in Happy Hunting Grounds released its grip on me and I paddled through the remaining part of the rapid and wobbling, in my water-filed craft, made my way to the side of the river. if it hadn't been for the water and my helmet, the sweat on my brow would surely have been visible!
"Well done, Philippa, that was brilliant" says Graeme, grinning slyly from ear to ear and obviously delighted that one of his students had "fallen into" his trap. He didn't think I would see the hole, it being so perfectly centred in the river.
Of course, I hadn't yet learned the art of Eskimo rolling, the most profficient method of self-rescue, and the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering around nervously at the mere mention of the up-coming "Happy Hunting Grounds".
"You guys should be able to figure out your lines with no problem at all", said Graeme, nonchalantly and so I floated along, bobbing on the bouncy, brown current, staying in the main flow of what is intrinsically, a large, fairly fast-flowing river. The middle section of the Tugela is a one day paddle, known more affectionaately as "The Red Ravine".
I had undoubtedly read about and heard horror stories of people being sucked under by 'Four Man Hole' in the Tugela Gorge section and I was ever so grateful I, as the relative beginner I was, was not expected yet to kayak this fearsome section of river and having to deal also witht the likes of 'Horrible Horace'.
Images of drowning, being pinned, sucked under and totally trashed about flew in and out of my mind.
Corran paddled ahead, so did Neil and then Richard and Bruce. I reasoned that if no-one wa making too much fuss about Happy Hunting Grounds then, in fact, it should e easy enough. Well, from where I was sitting you couln't really even see much of a rapid, so I paddled gently forward, eye darting about, feeling not sure, but ok.
Within seconds, it seemed, I was in the middle of the rapid, muddy brown water was everywhere and I found myself up against a huge foam pile, my kayak had been whipped unceremoniously sideways and before I knew what was happening, I was side-surfing in what felt like a gigantic hole.
I was stuck. I was bobbing around like a cork stuck in a flooding gutter and by some incredible miracle, I was still upright and breathing air. All I could see coming down on my left side, was the full force of the Tugela River. On my right and under my paddle, was a mass of turbulance, more brown, foamy water, coming towards me also, and there I was, stuck in the middle. I couldn't see the light of day, let along Graeme, who, I was convinced, with his tremendous experience, would be able to rescue me from this treacherous situation.
I thought about things for a while, the adrenaline coursing through my body. I was unable to think clearly, but was totally dumbfounded by the situation I found myself in. I thought I may be stuck there side=surfing for an eternity or at least until the river ran dry. What was I going to do, how was I going to get out and when were "they" going to turn the water off?
It felt like forever, but possibly 45 second or so later, my neoprene spreydeck got popped by the continuous punding of the hole's wave on my cockpit. My boat began to fill with water and as unceremoniously as I had gone in, the Hole in Happy Hunting Grounds released its grip on me and I paddled through the remaining part of the rapid and wobbling, in my water-filed craft, made my way to the side of the river. if it hadn't been for the water and my helmet, the sweat on my brow would surely have been visible!
"Well done, Philippa, that was brilliant" says Graeme, grinning slyly from ear to ear and obviously delighted that one of his students had "fallen into" his trap. He didn't think I would see the hole, it being so perfectly centred in the river.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Rivers of Love, Life & Something Else...
I read of the different names for Heaven: Olympus; Valhalla; Asgard; Elysian Fields; Elysium; Happy Hunting Grounds; Earthly Paradise; Eden or Garden of Eden; garden of the Hesperides; Islands of the Blest; and in fantasy, Isle of Avalon.
According to Webster's Dictionary, Heaven is the abode of the Deity, and of the blessed dead. A place of supreme happiness.
So it is with thanks to Rosemary Altea, Grey Eagle and their book, "Proud Spirit", that I begin my journey with you at a particular place called Happy Hunting Grounds.
"Ok, you chaps go on ahead" and with a smile on his face Graeme pointed in the diection of Happy Hunting Grounds.
The water of the Tugela River in Kwa Zulu Natal was a muddy orange-brown and not ideal for quenching one's thirst.
My blue Swallow was starting to feel a little more comfortable and apart from wobbling over a couple of eddy fences, I had manages to remain upright in my kayak since putting on the river at a suitable put-in point.
According to Webster's Dictionary, Heaven is the abode of the Deity, and of the blessed dead. A place of supreme happiness.
So it is with thanks to Rosemary Altea, Grey Eagle and their book, "Proud Spirit", that I begin my journey with you at a particular place called Happy Hunting Grounds.
"Ok, you chaps go on ahead" and with a smile on his face Graeme pointed in the diection of Happy Hunting Grounds.
The water of the Tugela River in Kwa Zulu Natal was a muddy orange-brown and not ideal for quenching one's thirst.
My blue Swallow was starting to feel a little more comfortable and apart from wobbling over a couple of eddy fences, I had manages to remain upright in my kayak since putting on the river at a suitable put-in point.
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