The Adventure Overland Show 2017

The weather has taken a much improved turn for the better. That is as well as we have booked tickets and a camping spot for the www.AdventureOverlandShow.net located at the Stratford on Avon racecourse. The show runs on the Saturday and Sunday and we thought we might well stay on for a few days in the Stratford area and see what it has to offer.

Sunday in Stratford on Avon

We were rather late rising due in part to the noise from the beer tent last night which was situated some half mile away. They certainly had the volume cranked up. One of, if not the only downside to the weekend. We had intended joining one of the early planning discussions in 'The Map Room' but as Mike was lacing up his boots his glasses fell off, immediately someone was at my side and picked them up. This was Giovanni with his partner Fiona.

They were interested in our Auto Trail. They had considered this layout but opted for a http://fifthwheelco.com/dream-seeker . They were a charming couple who had just returned from two years in their 5th wheeler in Italy. Previously they had driven home to the UK from Asia. In a few weeks they were off to India and China. Strewth!

They hurried off to check out Trailer systems for their next jaunt and we managed to catch two one hour seminars on trans African travel. Most enlightening.

Yesterday we had been chatting to 'Kevin' about Morocco he was a freelance quide, quite knowledgeable. To our surprise he walked up to us in the lecture room and remembering our names greeted us warmly. Not really that unusual as the ice cream vendor remembered me from yesterday as well!!

The Question and Answer session was most informative with the four panel members having travelled extensively throughout Africa. On completion we needed lunch.

Back at the wagon we sat in the sun and had a healthy option to the burger and fries on offer from the vendors. Again Giovanni and Fiona stopped by, we chatted. The upshot was they presented us with a 'radar scheme key' for disabled loos. All totally legal. Apparently you can buy a key in any tourist office for £3-80. I need to check that!

They took their leave after furnishing us with e mails and phone numbers. The site was emptying now. We walked over to the VW Synchro club 80-90 site and pestered them for info on vehicles for sale. I need not go into details here but the air is slightly strained in the Stopporton household for the moment.

No it's not a tiny doghouse but a wood burning stove in the design of a Landrover. 

Andy Steer please start constructing.

Adventure Overland Show. Stratford on Avon.

Somewhat grey and overcast, no rain overnight. The ice cream lorry doesn't take too well to wet and mud. No traction. We are however parked in a huge field, all around all seems to be 4x4's. So we should be good for a tow!

Every other vehicle seems to be a long wheelbase landrover with roof tent and awnings coming off. Everyone is wearing camo gear, wanky hats and sporting beards and tats. Thats just the women. Wearing what we wore in Sweden canoeing for a week and living out of a bergan we would be considered overdressed.

All around the smell of bacon and eggs cooking is wafting across the campsite, it makes one drool. What R we on? Porridge.

The exhibition stands open at 1000hrs and we are some of the first visitors through the gate. www.camperCulture.com is the first stand we visit. I was introduced to these guys and their website by Les. They are great fans of the VW Synchro. A lovely little wagon. Now as old as me but what great style.

The remainder of the morning was spent wandering the stalls. Much orientated towards Landrovers and accessories. There were numerous bushcraft stalls including many fire baskets, stoves, Dutch ovens and the like. Some great folding chairs but at £52 each not as good as the two Angie and Tom had given us this summer at Limoges.

Lunch was a rather nice Salmon and Brocolli pie purchased from a stall. This we ate with some salad when we returned to the camper. After lunch we returned to the fray.

Despite some considerable time spent on the www.neneoverland.com stand I still could not convince Jackie to trade up for a 110 Landrover. The only vehicle we saw we found interesting was a 4WD Transit. Converted to your spec. www.xploraoverland.com

By 1700hrs the throng had diminished and we returned to sit in the sun at the wagon with a G+T.

Sunny Dorset here we come.

We had been invited to spend a few  days with Pete and Jill in their cottage near Wareham Dorset.

Well what can I say I was most impressed with this area of Dorset.  Corfe Castle, a well known and much visited tourist site is delightful. It also has a private steam railway  as well as a myriad of niknak, tea and ice cream shops.

Peter, doing an excellent impresion of a local tour guide took us on several walks. The highlight of which had to be the walk from Spyway across farmland to Dancing Ledge. This is an old quarry where the stone was cut from the cliff edge and lowered straight into the waiting boats for shipment through to France. Bordeaux especially benefitted from this ballast as they sent wine to us and we returned Dorset stone. Most of the grand buildings in Bordeaux, and there are many are faced with this cut stone. It is also famous as a climbing and scrambling spot. Mike even managed a small thirty meter scramble before we continued on to the stone caverns then up onto the ridgeline for a pasty and pint of cider at The Square and Compass pub.  Along the way we saw Roe deer.

Great weather, great location and great company.

Oh the cider was pretty good as well.

The Provedore Tapas Bar and Cafe

Falmouth for the weekend. We had booked into Menehay Farm at Falmouth. http://menehayfarm.co.uk/ We had intended to go last weekend but the tail end of various Atlantic storms decreed otherwise. This weekend we hoped would be better weather. It wasn't.

However it was more than compensated for by the meal we enjoyed at Tim's Tapas Bar in Falmouth. You will recall Tim was our expert chef on the recent Harkan River trip to Sweden.

http://www.provedore.co.uk/

This very popular Tapas is to be found at 43 Trelawney Road Falmouth. It  embodies exactly what a tapas bar should be, an eclectic mixture of décor and tastes.

The menu, for a surprisingly small venue was extremely varied. The calamari with house speciality sauce was delightful. Jackie's Beef Bourguignon melted in the mouth. Mike opted for Pollo Pasta. Delicious. We were both as full as eggs. The bottle of Rioja we had drunk, which came highly recommended by Issey Tim's young daughter and waitress for the evening was being consumed at an alarming rate. It might well have been the filled fillo parcels for starters that was our undoing!

How could one refuse the signature dessert, A Turkish Bath Bomb. We didn't.

Perhaps I should have opted for the cheese board.

 

What would you have done?

If you are down this neck of the woods, get yerself over here, tell Tim the chef Mike and Jackie sent you then sit back for a roller coaster ride of an evening. Two things. It's cash in a flash only and get there by 1830hrs for dinner, leave it till 1845hrs and the chances are all 30 seats will be taken. There is no advance booking.

Day Eight. Harkan River Sweden.

0720hrs. Awake. It was so hot in the room last night we had to open a window. With all packing being completed last night we had plenty of time for a leisurely coffee. Once finished here at the cabin we strolled across to the kitchen for some breakfast and another brew. 

0855hrs. The two mini bus taxis arrive. Here we took our leave of Jay and Lewis. They were staying on to meet with family and friends later today before setting off up river again Sunday to repeat the adventure. Johan, like many of us had to return to work on the Tuesday. Monday being a Bank Holiday in the UK so he would be accompanying us.

0950hrs. We had cleared baggage check-in at Ostersund airport. This self-check and labelling is great. Jackie manages to set the alarm off yet again. “It’s my hip”. Les had his carry-on subjected to a double scan. Looking not only nervous but very guilty, he was called across to open the bag and show the contents. Inside, the offending items were identified as a knife and fork. The ‘go to’ weapon in a terrorists arsenal when taking down an airliner. If that was not bad enough the Stopportons could not find their passports that the security agent had placed in the tray on the belt. Having once suffered a major incident in an airport many years ago I am usually most protective in an airport and especially of docs. (Tamil Tigers my arse!) Asking all nearby had they picked up our PP’s they all replied no. In desperation I asked all again. Les who was now sweating like a suicide bomber in downtown Bagdad had, it seemed picked them up and pocketed them. Not unlike the fiasco that ensued after the sauna last night when he walked off with the wrong towels causing Ben, I and Johan to go searching!  If I was running the Security Team here I would have had Les in for a cavity search! Once that has been visited upon him he might take a slightly keener interest on whose PPs he was picking up in future! As an aside, I trust you all have at least a colour photocopy of the relevant page of you PP laminated and stashed somewhere. Best memorise your PP number.

 We now walk into the departure lounge, all seemingly styled and furnished by Ikea. There is a delightful café and the usual gift shop.  Reindeer skins adorned walls and seats. Posters and pictures showed local scenes throughout the seasons. Upon each of the low lying coffee tables was a small tea light set inside a small piece of Silver Birch trunk. Ben was telling me how last Xmas he made a few of these guys which his wife sold at the local craft market. He reckoned he made a killing. What a great idea I thought. Turning to Jackie to tell her the story, I was amazed at what I saw. She had a knife off the table and was stripping the bark off one such decoration to keep for later as tinder. I gently removed the knife from her and told her she need not worry about that sort of thing for a few more weeks! Dave also seemed to be slightly melancholy. When I asked why he replied he had so wanted to see a reindeer. He was beside himself, until a little while later when I spotted him munching on a reindeer sausage wrap. He seemed pretty content then!

1045hrs. Aboard seated in the emergency exit seats. Result. Within a few minutes we taxied out and turning onto the main runway went straight into the take-off roll no messing. Full throttle.

1103hrs. Wheels up.

1148hrs. Wheels down. Brilliant sunshine at Stockholm Airport. We have quite a few hours to pass till our flight out to LHR. We all seemed to bomb burst in different directions. We last spotted Steve being dragged upstairs into the McDonalds by young Casper. Apart from passing Johan at some point we did not see any of the others until the boarding gate. We bought a rather twee stylised model of a Viking on the prow of a longship which we thought might act as a figurehead for the camper.

We checked that T5 was our next stop and then made our way to a rather pleasant café with views out over the apron. Here we bought a ham and avocado on granary bread sandwich and a rocky road brownie. I’m uncertain whether it was the seeds in the granary bread or the price at £9-50 for the sandwich that made me cough! It was very pleasant sat here with the sun streaming in through the windows. After some time we decided we may as well make our way through to T5. This entailed quite a considerable walk crossing various terminals etc. Again submitting to passport and security checks and exiting into the obligatory duty free hall. How can so many different perfumes be produced by so many different companies? Perfume booze, perfume, booze and so it continued down the length of one of the largest Duty Frees I have seen in a long time.

1410hrs. Eventually we arrived at Gate F68. If I had walked out that door I reckon I would have been in Norway we walked that far. The gate had hours to go yet before it opened, indeed even the gates waiting room was locked. We found seats outside. I had a strange craving for chocolate and so bought some of the Liquorice salted choco bar as recommended by Tim earlier. I thought I might have a quick kip but was approached by a chap, certainly not of Swedish origin, in a distressed state chuntering on in Swedish. I told him I only spoke English. His English was limited in the extreme. He was from Kurdistan and was panicing cos his gate was closed and he thought he had missed his flight. I took him to the display board and after checking his papers managed to convince him his gate F67 opposite ours was yet to open. At this he seemed to relax somewhat when a passing airport employee confirmed this he threw his arms around me and gabbled off for ages. He was flying to Bulgaria. Had left home ten years ago, fleeing persecution and now lived in Sweden where he had taught himself Swedish and was happily married with a young family.

1645hrs. On board our Boing 737-600. Steve and Casper are seated in front of us. Casper now sporting a new ‘Sweden’ winter hat. Dave sat across from us to talking about moose. That can only mean one thing, he fancies a moose burger. Good luck with that at LHR!

1717hrs. Wheels up.

1831hrs. Landed LHR. Sunny and warm. Well at least that’s something. We made our way to baggage reclaim and for the last time on this trip met up with everyone. There was time for a last hug and best wishes for a safe onward journey before we took our leave. Sarah, Trevor’s daughter would be collecting us in the arrivals hall if her flying schedule permitted and would then whisk us back to her parent’s house for the night before continuing our journey on to Plymouth tomorrow.

1950hrs. Sat at Trevor and Janice’s house enjoying a Ruby Murray.

Day Seven. Harkan River Sweden.

0725hrs. Awake. There was a fair amount of condensation on the inside of the bivvy this morning. Due in part no doubt to the fact we were producing heat inside and we were camped next to the river and cold air. Somebody was to remark later that morning about the mist that had settled on the tree line earlier that morning. Crawling out of the bivvy, Steve, Johan and Les were already up. Whilst Mike and Jackie struck the bivvy and laid it out on some rocks in the sun to dry off young Casper and Steve, who were the duty fire lighters this morning set about their task. With consummate ease they had a roaring fire going in minutes. 

Dave, flushed with the ‘success’ of his Kelly Kettle last night was sat with yet another brew going. The sun was now peaking over the head of the dam. Most people were now up.

Breakfast. Last morning on the river.

0820hrs. Everyone is sat on the canoes around the fire enjoying a brew. Still in the shade and despite the fire the air temperature was lower. Many moved onto the rocks to one side to sit in the sun and finish their drink. Jay moved off to collect firewood whilst Tim announces this morning’s breakfast will be Bacon, Chorizo sausages, Salami, with scrambled eggs, tea and coffee. A veritable feast for our last morning on the river.

There is a relaxed air to this morning’s events. We do not have far to travel to base camp at Lits Camping.

https://litscamping.com/  The thought of finishing is what makes many tarry I suspect. With time in hand Jackie enquires of Maisie if a visit to ‘the salon’ is possible?

Time enough for another visit to the hairdressers.

Tim, the newest member of The Harkan River Fishing Club.

Whilst others take care of the more mundane kitchen tasks, Tim grabs a finishing rod and within seemingly minutes of casting has a small brown trout on the line. Another newly enrolled member of the Harkan River Fishing Club. Unfortunately this little guy was a little too keen in taking the lure, a triple hook, which entered his gills. He was in a poor way and so he was quickly dispatched.

Gotta love sashimi. Straight from the river It doesn't come any fresher.

Jackie was less than keen on handling the fish and declined Jay’s kind offer of poking his eye out and eating it. Not Maisie, who once she realised giving the trout the kiss of life was not going to revive it set about examining his teeth. Now viewing this as a food source she soon followed Jay’s example, had poked out the little guys other eyeball and before we could scrabble for the delicacy had popped the eyeball in her mouth and it was gone. Nature’s chewing gum. Please though do not stop buying Wrigley’s Gum as Jackie’s pension relies upon sales.

Despite his size it was decided we would not waste him. Dave produced a ‘plate’ of Silver Birch bark upon which Les laid the fish and under Jay’s tuition he soon had the guy filleted. Whilst Maisie took him down to the river to wash him off, Tim doubled away to one of the barrels returning with some soya sauce into which we dipped our sushi before chewing away.
Much to my surprise even Jackie attempted a chaw. The first piece I ate whole but the second I found it easier to strip the scales off with my teeth and just eat the flesh.
Jackie took this to a whole new level though.
Still the party atmosphere prevailed with Les offering impromptu golf lessons on the beach. Mike never one to miss an opportunity to try something new enrolled and was soon teeing up. Suffice it to say that Rory McIlroy need not worry about his title.

1200hrs. It was time to start out on the last few clicks of our journey. This took us into the gorge. Not as dramatic as perhaps its name suggests but in comparison to the country travelled this last week it was slightly more enclosed

There were some minor ripples to run but by now we were confident in our improved ability.
The river widened once again and occasionally we could hear, somewhere beyond the trees, the sound of lorries travelling on a road. Houses now sprang up with regular monotony at the river’s edge. These were not the weekend or fishing huts we had been seeing but full blown year round dwellings. Ahead, spanning the river was a large bridge. No sooner had we passed under than Johan shouted over “Make your way to that landing point”. Without realising it we were at journey’s end.

EndEx.

As we in turn pulled the canoes up onto the grass, for we were on the rear part of Lits Campsite on the river, Johan asked that we empty the canoes of all kit and clean them out together with the barrels. The canoes we could place in a neat row to one side whilst the paddles, BA’s and sponges needed to be returned to the paddle store. Meanwhile he had some admin to attend to. We set about our tasks. The day was clear and bright and despite saddened by the fact it was the end of the journey it was comforting to think one had completed it.
Johan returned and called all in for a quick brief on what was to follow. I fully expected to be allocated a section of the camping field upon which we could erect our bivvy but no. It seems he had been away organizing four cabins for our use that night. Each cabin, all with en-suite facilities would sleep four. We were to organize ourselves. The next bit of news he had was that the sauna was up and running and as soon as we had settled into the cabins, showered and changed we were welcome to use the sauna. He would collect us all and take us over and give instructions. Whoopee!

Lunch was laid out next to the Tepee and was devoured as though by a plague of biblical locusts.

1445hrs. Saw us in our respective cabins. Mel and Les bunked in with us and before we had an opportunity to check anything out Mel had ‘shotgunned’ the double bed. Mike was relegated to the top bunk in bedroom two after Jackie laid claim to the bottom bunk. It was cosy warm inside, the heating was on and it was only then that you realised that the outside air temperature must have been lower than we thought. Our bodies had become accustomed to the lower temperatures I suppose.
Whilst the girls took turns in the shower, Mike set about repacking all kit for the journey home tomorrow. There was very little wet kit but most stank of seven days sat in front of a smoking fire. The items of greatest concern were knives, saws and axes. These we were reminded by Johan to pack inside the hold luggage. I had decided to take home my lucky Irish golf club but realised it was far too long to fit into my hold luggage. I took out the Bahco and cut off enough to enable it to fit.
Now showered we sat in our lounge with a coffee, made in the kitchenette and recapped on the week’s experiences. It is claimed I fell fast asleep. I maintain I was conducting an eyelid inspection. “Heavy lies the responsibility of command upon one’s shoulders and with that burden lifted one invariably relaxes. Sometimes this is manifested as a kip”! I suggested. “Nonsense”, says Jackie. “What responsibility, I’ve been carrying you all week. You feel asleep you old fool”.

1745hrs. There is a knock on the door. It’s opened, Jay and Johan appear. “Sauna in five”. It is apparent they have not yet stopped and changed. There must be more admin we were not aware of. Jay’s wife, family members and some friends were arriving tomorrow at Ostersund and they had been into town purchasing rations for a trip down the Harkan River on Sunday! Lucky ducks!

1750hrs. We all traipsed towards the sauna beside the lake. Johan had the key and unlocked the door. Those of us assembled arranged ourselves on various seats at different levels within whilst Johan gave us the safety lecture. It was a wood burning Sauna. “What else in Sweden? Water in here to heat, water poured here for steam, keep the door closed, cool off by a quick dip in the lake outside. Any questions”?

From out of the steam filled room someone asked “Do we need to keep our strides on”? “Most certainly” one of the girls replied.

Young Casper was missing. Steve informed us that the TV held better pull than a sauna. Understandable perhaps. He had done remarkably well during his journey down the river. At first he must have been a little in awe of us adults but gradually as the days past one could see his character emerging together with his sense of humour. Not once did I hear him moan or whine, he was also keen to help around the camp. As much as any ten year old boy might. Ask him what the best part of the whole trip was and he would proudly tell you the last two nights when he slept in a hammock on his own. Selection for that boy!

Maisie took her leave. As she was sharing with three lads it gave her a degree of privacy for a shower. This did not turn out well as she didn’t check the temperture of the water before she stepped in and received a nasty burn on her chest. Those of us remaining in the sauna took turns heating the room to even higher temperatures or running outside to jump into the lake. This continued till about 1850hrs when we all realised we needed to be changed and ready for the short walk into the village for a Pizza and beer in a short while.
As agreed we gathered for the walk into the local village for scran and a beer. The weather was dry if a little cold. The talk seemed to be centred around beer by some of the guys and no sooner had we arrived at the Pizza bar than Ben and Rik set off across the road to the local petrol station cum ‘offie’ to stock up. They rerturned shortly with enough beer to sink the Bellgrano. As had been the case with our first meal here on arrival last week the pizza and a beer was included in the catering. However with a great show of generousity Dave insisted on buying the first round of drinks and Ric the second. We were the only people on-board dining and once again the meal was very well received by all.

2245hrs. We return to our cabin. Pleasantly contented. A couple of beers works wonders I must admit.

2310hrs. Lights out.

Day Six. Harkan River Sweden.

0650hrs. Awake. It was drizzling slightly and it would continue to do so intermittently all morning. It had been agreed last night we would be off early this morning. Early being a relative term!  

Breakfast was a delicious mug of porridge, into which one could spoon some jam. Washed down with a mug of Tea. The beauty of using a mug as we Stopportons always find is that you can eat your main meal first, followed by any desert etc then a mug of Tea to ‘wash’ it out and then a quick rinse in the river if water available. Occasionally of course water might be too precious to waste in this respect. Hence the Tea wash.

Before launching Jay calls us all into the Old Fisherman’s Hut and invites us to sign a piece of wood that has been fashioned large enough to take all our signatures. This is then placed somewhere on the rafters for other visitors, maybe even other generations to view in years to come.

Johan

0915hrs. We are afloat. The sky is grey and overcast again. This perhaps reflects the mood of us all as we leave this place. Somewhat saddened to be leaving. The paddling is gentle and we pass through many kilometres of tree lined river.

1045hrs. Somebody decides they need a stop to attend to a call of nature. It has for the last thirty minutes been raining more than drizzling and those of us not needing the facilities a nearby bush might provide remained in the canoes. Whatever reason Mel decided she was going ashore for there seemed to be some sort of commotion followed by a shout of “Les grab me I think I’m falling”. Or words to that effect. This was followed immediately with an all-mighty splash.

Mel had landed butt first into the water jammed between the bank and the canoe. Once it was established she was OK the humour of the situation dawned upon me.

There was Mel like an upturned turtle flailing around in the water. I’m not so sure Les didn’t deliberately take his time ‘rescuing’ her. Willing hands eventually tugged her up and out.

That was it. We needed to get her out of her wet clothes and into dry kit. A fire was needed. Everyone now made their way ashore and up quite a short but steep bank. As luck would have it here was a wind-hut with a fire spot beside. Dry kindling and timber would be hard to find just now. Everyone bomb burst in an attempt to find dry dead standing.

Dave knelt down and started to get a fire going with some Silver birch someone had in their sky rocket. Scratching around on the floor of the vindskydd produced some tinder to add and I would like to say before long we had a blaze going. Yes we did but it took a lot of work. Seemingly everyone had an opinion on how to keep it going and many got down on their knees and added their own expertise. Steve shouted out, “Make way” and pursed his lips. I thought he’s either puckering up to kiss me or Mel, but no he formed a triangle over his lips with both thumbs and forefingers, at the same time dropping to his knees beside the fire and blowing like a bison. This seemed to do the trick. This was a more direct method of getting the air where it was needed. Yes, you can use a hollow reed but none were to hand. It took some effort but it wasn’t until Johan started fanning the fire with I believe his hat that the fire really got going. By now someone had produced the kettle and a brew was on.

Mel now announced to all and sundry that her pants were not as wet as we would think. No, thought Mike casting his mind back to the tiny pieces of string he had seen floating around in her bowl that passed for her smalls. There wasn’t enough material there to get wet!

The weather brightened somewhat and it was decided to continue. The bank had become very slippery now and was a likely source of injury if one was to slip. With this in mind Jay and Johan had rigged a fixed line from the top of the bank to the water’s edge. ‘Climb when ready’.

1230hrs. We were back in the canoes and continued our journey.

1400hrs. Finnsvagen vindsydd. GR5031.

This was supposed to be our next night’s bivvy but once ashore it was obvious this was totally unsuitable. The ground was damp to the extent it was almost marshy. It was a tiny island that was bordered on three sides by black swampy water, a likely home for mossies and nowhere near large enough for us all. Whilst Barrel number 1, the lunch barrel was rolled out Jay, Johan and Lewis canoed across the river to the opposite bank on a recce. The area also proved to be impractical for 14 of us. A fire had been started and a brew was on its way.

Out came lunch and we munched on that whilst that well known and respected music hall duo, Lewis and Jay gave us a fine performance of that old Victorian play ‘A Man and his moustache’. Well Lewis, in charge of props, had fashioned a very respectable moustache out of ‘old man’s beard’ and stuck it above Jay’s top lip. Type casting? I think not. Jay’s entreaties to the ladies to “Give us a kiss darling” was refused outright. However I note that an eager queue of some rather rough looking men soon formed. A look of hopeful anticipation upon their weather borne faces. At this point, in the best traditions of a News of The World reporter, I made my excuses and left.

Ben meanwhile had been scavenging and had found a small hand-made fishing line with a lure.

Lunch over we put back in and with a speed of 4.33 knots as measured on Dave’s phone app we soon covered the six clicks to the dam for Hogfors Power Station. GR5328. This was to be another portage of about 300metres. By now we were used to the procedure and soon had all boats and equipment moved and ready to put back in. It was here that Jay subjected some of us ‘landsmen’ to an impromptu lesson in bowline tying.

The double bowline being an essential knot should you fall into a crevasse and need to tie a couple of loops around yourself before being hauled out. Jay then proceeded to show us his party trick, tying it with one hand! Before I could stop myself I had already asked “Why can’t I use both hands?” Jay with the patience of a wise sage asked “What if you have a broken arm?” I could see the value of learning to tie this knot off single handed. Then a thought struck me. I wonder if he can tie the knot with his other hand? I toyed with the idea of asking the question then decided that would smack of me being a smart arse! I let it ride. “You guys practice those knots whilst we get the last canoes”. With that he was off.

 There were a few tense moments as we tied off our bowlines to each canoe and lowered them down over part of the washed away bank onto a runway of short tree trunks that acted as a ‘road’ over the boulders down to the water’s edge. Those of us on the log road had to step aside pretty sharply once the canoe started to slide. Not only would it not wait, it certainly wouldn’t be taking any prisoners! . This was not to be one of the better camp spots. There was little really wrong. It was fine if you were a hammock person. If you were in a tent or bivvy the surrounding area had very few level spots. Jackie and I had found one near the wind-hut on a slightly sloping spot but it was discovered on closer inspection this was also the path for the ants as they travelled twixt their nest and wherever ants go for their working day.

When I say ant’s nest I mean a mountain.

1700hrs. Back in the water. Being careful of the sluice outrun that took excess un-needed water past the dam we spent some time forming up and recceing the rapid ahead of us. No-one relished the thought of a dip this late in the day. We were at the start of the gorge section and the steep tree lined banks would soon block out the setting sun. To add to this it had started to rain again.

It was at this point that young Casper caught a fish on the line. Now this fish must have been related to Jaws. His rod was almost bent double as he worked away at bringing it in. Everyone was routing for the fella. Jackie shouted over “Your gonna need a bigger boat”. An homage to Chief Brody in Spielburg’s 1975 movie Jaws. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2I91DJZKRxs This fell upon deaf ears as by now dad Steve was also leaping about the canoe trying to lend a hand. Everyone shouted over advice and or words of encouragement. Suddenly the line went slack and Casper tumbled back into the canoe. The fish had snapped his line. “It musta been a biggy” someone suggested. We all felt for Casper.

  

Casper after his encounter with Jaws.

 With that Lewis who also had been casting about caught something on the line. That was it. The command decision was made. We would camp here for the night. The fishing was good. The rapids could wait till the morning. We put ashore and landed about twenty metres down from where we had put in some thirty-five minutes ago.
This was not to be one of the better camp spots. There was little really wrong. It was fine if you were a hammock person. If you were in a tent or bivvy the surrounding area had very few level spots. Jackie and I had found one near the wind-hut on a slightly sloping spot but it was discovered on closer inspection this was also the path for the ants as they travelled twixt their nest and wherever ants go for their working day. When I say ant’s nest I mean…it was a  mountain!

The area did have one saving grace, an enormous fire pit, all set up on the pebble beach. To one side of which both Maisie and Dave had started to erect their respective tents. Rik was having some difficulty in finding a level spot and eventually, very wisely chose a spot back upstream at the put in but well above the river and its low lying banks. He did have some difficulties he told us later about getting his pegs into the ground. He had to resort to dragging logs and huge stones into situ to anchor things down.

Mike was none too happy about setting up on the beach given the water that was ‘sent on’ the other evening from the dam further upstream but casting about there was ample evidence that the beach upon which we were presently stood had not been flooded in several months. Let’s hope tonight would be no exception.

Mike and Jackie dragged over the nearest canoe which happened to be Tim’s, ensuring all his ‘traps’ were out, and used one side of it as the wall for their bivvy. Tying one end of the ridge line to the  bushes in rear, the other end ran to a constructed  tripod and stake on the beach side. This would hold the poncho up tonight. In shallah!

It's a lot of work for a brew I must admit!

 

Tim's hammock in left rear. Dave's tent left Mike and Jackie's bivvy then Maisies tent on the right.

Dave who had finished erecting his one man mansion now set about using his mini Kelly kettle to get a brew on and asked if I wanted to join him in a ‘field trail’. This was all the excuse Mike needed to lie on the pebble beach and do nothing. Or so it seemed at the time.

https://wildstoves.co.uk/product/mkettle-sas-the-mini-kettle-500ml/

Why is it that everything seems to come with the regiments name attached somewhere on it these days? I know why. It still irks.

Things did not go as well as they might have with this splendid looking piece of kit. The principle is brilliantly simple. You do not need lots of timber to get the water hot. The upper detachable black mug is twin walled. Through the centre runs the chimney and around this centre is the water jacket. Leaves, twigs etc are fed into the hearth hole in the base and within minutes you have a brew going.

Could Dave or I get this thing to fire up? No! I must have peeled back no end of silver birch to get this thing to light. Dave even used some of his supply of fatwood. Forty minutes later, zilch. What had started out as a relaxed cup of coffee now turned into a personal challenge. Individual pride was now at stake. By now both Dave and I were stretched out on the ground feeding this thing with whatever we could get our hands on. We nearly wore a ferro rod down to its nub

At one point Jay appeared over my shoulder, the camp kettle in hand and enquired “Fancy a brew boys”? We gave him short shrift. Eventually, despite sniggers and some rather pointed remarks from the assembled onlookers we managed to get the thing to stay alight. It, once lit boiled a mug of water fairly quickly, into which Dave poured some fresh ground coffee.

It may not have been the best coffee I had drunk on the trail but it certainly was the hardest worked for!

The others had been busy whilst Dave and I had been taking things ‘easy’. Three canoes were arranged around the fire pit and up-ended. These provided a work surface for food preparation and a social seating area. Jackie, Maisie and others collected firewood whilst Ben started the fire. Tim having completed his hammock and shelter sheet now arrived on the scene and started preparing the meal for tonight. Mel, Maisie and Les sat down and started chopping, dicing and slicing. Tim’s offering ‘ce soir’ was Carbonara Chorizo with bacon bits and a medley of fresh vegetables.

Once again tantalising aromas arose from the cook pots. With dusk now upon us, all sat on the three canoes, we felt remarkably contented. Good cooking always, or should at least always, I believe, have that effect upon a person. Tim’s cooking had never failed and this evening was no exception. Fresh brewed ground coffee was offered and gladly received as was the passing around, once again of Tim’s Bota. Quickly followed by Johan’s ‘flask’. There was a decided air of relaxation this evening. Partly due to the fact this was our last night on the trail. Or rather on the river.

Les made a small impromptu speech of thanks to Jay, Johan, Tim and Lewis which seemed to encompass much of what many of us would have also voiced. Their reply, totally in character, again deflected praise from themselves and implied it was all down to us. This is in part true. One must face life’s challenges, whatever they might be. This invariably takes strength of character and fortitude. To go forward when others around falter, doubt you, or offer poor counselling does take courage.

This adventure down the Harkan River, to be completed on the morrow had, I am certain been an adventure and a fantastic opportunity to learn new skills, practice old ones and make new friends in a most beautiful setting. For this we must give thanks to Jay and Johan, for without their organization, vision and insight many of us would not be here.

In salute to all, the flask’s were passed around once more. As the flames started to die down we all started to drift off and crash out for the night.

2250hrs. Mike was just about to nod off when he had a thought. “Dave” he whispered in the direction of his tent, through the fabric of the bivvy, “If I hear you squeal like a girl in the middle of the night I know the water level is up dangerously high and I’m bugging out”. There was no reply. Either Dave was mulling this over or was already sleeping the sleep of the unperturbed!