Hey Abel, hope you don't mind if i just post the whole thing... classic man!!!!
Fish River Canoe Marathon 2008<http://bloedenomo.blogspot.com/2008/10/fish-river-canoe-marathon-2008.html> Race : Fish River Canoe Marathon Date : 3, 4 October 2008 Author : Abel van der Merwe *OLD GEEZER ATTEMPTS 80km SWIM THROUGH KAROO * Actually not quite true – *Oupa* managed to keep the #$%& kayak upright for most of the two day Fish River marathon. *Background * You know how one thing leads to another. You look at this sexy chick and the next thing you know you're married, she's pregnant and thirty odd years later you have four grand children and life's an opera. Well this little episode on the Fish was precipitated by *Bloed en OMO's*disastrous stint on the Deliverance canal during the 2006 Swazi. Without thinking the consequences through, Oupa promptly wangled membership of the Centurion Canoe Club for himself and *Little Sh*t* and the winter of 2006 was spent trying to balance a K1. Much to the consternation and amusement of the Rietvlei wild geese and ducks. Be aware that when *Oupa* gets in a K1 it sinks as low in the water as a coal barge on the Yangste. But that's not the real problem. The real problem is that it has about as much inclination to stay upright as a pine log on the Yukon. Those who have been through this, especially those of advanced years and slow firing synapses, will know that reasons for falling out a kayak include - turning the head to greet someone - a reckless rolling of the eyeballs - paddle suck caused by an over-zealous stroke or even just pulling past mid-ships - the tsunami caused by some fisherman on the opposite bank plonking his tackle into the dam - or, just because. So *Oupa* resorts to an unsinkable (un-tippable in actual fact) PVC boat but is promptly reprimanded for un-gentlemanly conduct by some dowager duchess from the yacht club. His next strategy against hypothermia and the Rietvlei leeches is a wetsuit.. Luckily there was nothing in the yacht club constitution condemning wetsuits so only disapproving stares are dealt out until one Saturday Oupa decides that he might as well get some triathlon swim training in and once again breaks some by-law. There apparently being a difference between swimming alongside a submerged kayak and swimming on your ownsome. Since then Oupa's behaviour has been exemplary. By Christmas *Oupa* makes a dash for - and survives - the opposite shore and back. *Little Sh*t* on the other hand soon got the hang of things and almost immediately ventured more than 50m from the shore. By autumn 2007, *Oupa* having attained flat water proficiency, *Bloed en OMO * let themselves loose on the local river races on the Klip (grade C). It's a whole new ball game with rapids, stoppers, eddies, rocks, submerged tree stumps, low level branches – all of which actively encourage falling over. And taking a swim in takes on a whole new dimension when in a river. The water is moving – especially near the rapids where most swims take place - although I did have the distinction of regularly falling over on flat stretches of river for the simple reason that my paddle dug in unexpectedly. The first challenge of a swim is to cling to both paddle and canoe. The second challenge is to find an accessible stretch of river bank for the third and fourth challenges viz. tipping the water out the boat and getting back in again while balancing on submerged rocks or knee deep in the mud in a raging torrent. Be aware, filled with water, the canoe weighs some 200 kg or more. This was done often. So much so that *Oupa* visits the chiro and the conversation goes, after he takes off his shirt, something like this: *Chiro, "You're a paddler?" Oupa, doing his best to sound nonchalant as the discerning doc is obviously admiring his well sculpted paddler's shoulders, "Yes." Silence. Eventually Oupa can't help fishing for a complement : Why?" Chiro " "Because I can see from unbalanced development of your lower back muscles you are doing a lot of canoe recovery"* The third race – in mid-winter – stands out because that is the day that * Oupa* swims early in the race, and soon thereafter again. Then again and again with increasing frequency as hypothermia sets in. He just manages to drag his sorry ass into the finish knowing that he genuinely has neither the energy nor the coordination to handle another swim. *Little Sh*t* drags him and the kajak off the water. He even has to undo his old man's life jacket. Hypothermia is very serious especially in challenging conditions. A valuable lesson learnt. Then there was the day I struck my temple on a rock during another unsuccessful rapid attempt. Its amazing how many thoughts go through your head in a split second: *First thought : This is it. I'm going to black out. Second thought : Its OK. The life jacket will keep me afloat until the sweep boat eventually arrives. Just don't lie face down. Third thought : What about the boat and paddle? Bugger them. Fourth thought : But what if I am dragged under by the next – almost guaranteed – tree block? Will they even find the body? Then a funny peacefulness descends over me and I imagine I can hear Don McLean sing" Bye bye miss American pie …. this is the day your gonna die" * After about a second I realise that I haven't passed out and I better go fetch the boat and paddle before its too late. I now always wear a helmet even if no one else does. I still have little twinges of fear at the start of a river race – almost as bad as the days when *Little Sh*t* and I used to take part in show jumping and it was my turn to report to the start line. But that is a story for another day. Eventually by the winter of 2008 Oupa completes his sixth C grade qualifying race and he promptly steps up the challenge and enters the Fish River marathon convincing himself that its A grading is because of the endurance aspect not because of the technical level. After all there are 14 year old girls that do the Fish. Endurance? Anyway, *it can't be an adventure if you are not out of your depth. * *Fish Preparation * While *Ouma* straps the canoe onto the car's roof and packs the padkos, * Oupa* checks out the Fish photos on their website realises that he is truly in for an adventure. This is not the Klip river. The day before the race is spent cruising the route along with the multitudes (1400 of them). First stop is at *Soutpans bridge* and *Oupa*realises that photos don't do justice to reality. There's an old concrete structure just before the bridge. Consequently, up until few meters upstream from the bridge, the water is almost level with the bridge. Then it abruptly drops and comes out at the other end as a 100 m long rapid of tumultuous waves and holes and other frightening stuff. And, there is only one very narrow cleft in this "weir" that can be taken. <http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9aLEwbiZ_0A/SP22r9EEmrI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/iGaJyWXKJ84/s1600-h/Soutpans2.jpg> Soutpans Bridge We move on to *Keith's*. Caramba! The young bloods are all going for test runs down a canyon of wild and roaring water. A rat on a bottle cap has a more chance of staying upright in a flushing toilet. Broken boats litter the Karoo landscape and the race hasn't even commenced. We move on again, in a caravan of cars kicking up clouds of fine dust, to * Toastrack* - a low level bridge with narrowly spaced concrete pillars supporting a slab that is barely 3 feet above the water. In a fit of excitement *Oupa* hauls the canoe off the car, walks upstream and, in accordance with website instructions "paddles boldly" for the bridge and at the last moment catches *Ouma's* adoring eye – which is enough time for the cross current to swing the canoe around. The nose hits the pillar and the whole bridge loaded with hundreds of on-lookers shudders. As the boat wraps around the adjacent pillar *Oupa* falls out and bounces down the rapid. * Ouma's* scream alerts the *manne* who haul the broken canoe out of the water. On the drive back to Cradock, *Oupa*, ever the stoic but secretly relieved, silently composes a speech for *Ouma* about how much he had looked forward to this event; the years of preparation; and how he will be a man and not shed a tear. In Cradock, before *Oupa* has a chance to launch his speech, * Ouma* makes some enquiries and takes the canoe Marlow High School where it is repaired before nightfall. That night I wake up in a cold sweat. Private Frazer - the dour Scottish coffin maker in the BBC sitcom Dad's Army - has just thrust his long face with the deep set, wild staring eyes at me and droned "you're doomed". I nevertheless sleep like a baby - nappy changes and all. I keep reminding myself I have a survival strategy. It is a simple matter of half a dozen compulsory portages plus half a dozen voluntary (representing all the mean and nasty stuff listed on the internet) and the rest is a mere paddle down the river. *Day 1 : 46 km * The first realisation of this day is that, while the water may appear wilder standing on the shore than the internet photos, it is even worse when your backside is below the waterline in a canoe. The third realisation of the day (the second one will be covered just now) is that 5 hours of paddling is a lot of work even on a fast river. The second realisation is that whilst the website and other Fish folklore gives the impression that there only half a dozen or so specific weirs and bridges to worry about, the whole blooming river is in fact covered with wild and overenthusiastic rapids. Then it dawns on me. The Fish river, as nature intended it, is a, usually dry, stream that meanders picturesquely hither and thither. Through the millennia it has dug, with the aid of occasional flood waters, a vertical sided mini-canyon into the Karoo landscape. Then came *apartheid's *engineers **and they meddled with the natural order by digging a tunnel that diverts the waters of the mighty Orange to the Fish via the Grassridge dam. Hence on race day some 26 cusecs of water come storming down to simulate a flood and the little meandering stream takes on the characteristics of a super super-tube. Every bend is a gurgling cauldron of boat spinning and oar sucking eddies whilst the straights are avenues of standing waves and holes. A further consequence of the big water is that all, except the largest, of the boulders are submerged (often only just). So too are sand banks and other picnic spots. Which means that if you fall out there is nowhere to park the kayak, tip out the water and get back in. The banks themselves are near vertical and almost always buffered by two or three meters of dense reeds whose roots are far below the water line. To complete the picture, the river is littered with semi-submerged trees. For the most part these are large willows whose fronds are not too serious. But occasionally there are banks of thorn trees, their branches dragging in the water. For *Oupa *its thus not just five hours of paddling. It is five hours of intense concentration occasionally relieved by a swim. Less than an hour into the race I am spun into thorn branch which is too thick to give way. Luckily I am not snagged when the canoe and I roll under the branch. On the other side I grab the semi-submerged kano and frantically look for the paddle and discover it is 20m upriver, hanging in the thorn tree 3m from bank. Ha, I had a spare hidden in the bowels of the K1. After this the tactic, when confronted by an unavoidable thorn branch, was to paddle like crazy then lean low with paddle held forward like a lance. Every so often I pass a broken boat, drifting along with no sign of paddlers. At one stage I come around a corner and a deserted and buckled K2– all shiny and brand new - is jammed crossways against a log island, almost blocking the river. As I decide which way to go, it silently rolls over twice and is sucked under the logs and other debris. This was the instant that the river most frightened me. But it does wonders for my focus and I paddle on with re-awakened respect. After a heavy rapid a few k's after Soutpans two lads in a K2 pass and the one shouts, obviously having observed *Oupa's* unorthodox methods of dealing with large water – "*Swaar* you must be a Catholic – because only the grace of God got you through that one" Day one is completed in 5:06, of which at least one hour is spent swimming and tipping water out the boat. *Day 2 : 36 km* *Oupa* is now in the last batch on account of several batches having being cancelled due to withdrawals (paddle-speak for "broken boat") plus *Oupa*having being shifted down for lack of speed on day 1. On the one hand this makes for exciting times as we are apparently all palookas so there is no following somebody else's more experienced line. But on the other hand it is also amusing to be amongst a concentration of the inexperienced. Many display *Oupa's* "*oh sh*t here comes trouble *" paddling technique and after every fast corner there is a semi-submerged boat allowing *Oupa *to surge ahead to glory. It turns out to be a successful leg (3 hr17) as *Oupa* does not fall out the entire day– even at Gauging weir and Marlow chute. Only Cradock weir is optionally portaged - on medical advice. Perhaps next time. <http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9aLEwbiZ_0A/SP23RiSXibI/AAAAAAAAAEg/JAq-64vwxm4/s1600-h/gauging.jpg> Gauging Weir - *Oupa* gives an one handed salute (its apparently a cardinal sin to let go the paddle like this) <http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9aLEwbiZ_0A/SP24ZXfxgYI/AAAAAAAAAEo/mPXQG8p2Ucc/s1600-h/Marlow2.jpg> Marlow Chute *Little Sh*t*? He wasn't there. He had more important stuff to do. ** ** *The overriding memory * The awesome beauty of every turn of this river - especially the deserted bits - and the privilege of being able to have been part of it. Sorry, no photos possible. But Imax should make a movie of it – albeit perhaps in small screen format. Big screen would frighten the kiddies. *Closing comment * If Martin Dreyer is bored of winning the Dusi or wishes to take on a real challenge he should consider teaming up with *Oupa* next January. Posted by Bloed en Omo 0 comments<https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6817752532550649153&postID=6716110078785871408&isPopup=true> <http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6817752532550649153&postID=6716110078785871408> ---------- Forwarded message ---------- From: Sysdel <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Date: 2008/10/30 Subject: [advracesa] Re:Race Report : Fish River Marathon To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] OLD GEEZER ATTEMPTS 80km SWIM THROUGH KAROO Actually not quite true - Oupa managed to keep the #$%& kayak upright for most of the two day Fish River marathon. Some weekend reading for the terminally bored at www.bloedenomo.blogspot.com Cheers ________________________________________________________ Sysdel cc cnr. Melville & Venter Streets, Pierre van Ryneveld. 0157 Republic of South Africa. Tel : +27-12-662-0994/5 Fax : +27-12-662-0998 P.O.Box 60205, Pierre van Ryneveld. 0045 Republic of South Africa. 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