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.
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!
 |
Casper after his encounter with Jaws. |
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.
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!
