Archives for: October 2007

Sunday afternoon at the end of October in Scotland. Is there anything you'd rather be doing than sitting in a raft with colleagues from work, paddling until your arms ache while being drenched with cold, muddy water? A group from work (DC, DV, EC, KMcK, LD, NT, SF, and I) went white water rafting at Grandtully at the weekend.

I wasn't thinking much about the actual time we'd spend on (or in) the water when I arrived at Grandtully. I'd inherited organising the event from SF when he handed in his notice at GBU. Had all the payments and paperwork gone through? Was DC going to have any difficulties driving the masses north? I was nervous something would go wrong, but the worst disaster was that the "vegetarian alternative" to the bacon rolls available on arrival appeared to be chocolate bars.

We donned damp wet suits (we'll have no comments about how to make it warm, or why it was wet in the first place) and along with the other teams were taken about six-miles up river to Aberfeldy to be introduced to the raft and given instructions on how to paddle, how not to fall into the water, and what to do when you do fall in. Okay, now I was getting worried.

The first half (or maybe three-quarters, or maybe four-fifths, or maybe a lifetime) was paddle fast and hard: a race. The only white water came off the back of the paddles (opponents and our "friends" in our own raft) as the race part is a contact sport. One of the teams seemed to give up early on leaving us competing against a raft of anorexic youths. We won. I don't know if that was because the other team's instructor deciding to lose it for them, or thanks to the motivational yells from the back of our raft. How do they have the lung capacity for yells of "keep it up", and "we need to try harder"?

By this point the worries of six miles ago had been replaced with simple exhaustion. I'd even considered "falling" into the water for a bit of a rest. However, as we waited for our turn the instructor reintroduced the fear: a rock called magnetic (because everything is drawn to it), when he tells us to "get down" we really are to get our bums as low into the raft as possible, and a repeat of what to do if (when) you fell out.

How long did the final white water section last? Thirty seconds?

Back at the hut the wet suits came off, showers were taken, and more rolls and coffee were consumed. I have to admit those bacon rolls with the limp, grey fat hanging out looked rather appetising.

If I was ever to have children...

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