Day One. Harkan River Sweden.

Day One.  Saturday 19^th August 2017

0615hrs. Reveille and down to breakfast for toast and cereal.

0730hrs. Trevor drops us at LHR T2 Departures. The great thing about having friends scattered around the country is that all they come in handy as B+B stops. Trevor and Janice do bear the brunt of this as they live not far from the M25 and conveniently close to LHR. The traffic through the tunnel under the main runway was pretty horrendous but we had plenty of time. Arriving at Departures Jackie grabbed a trolley whilst Trevor and I struggled pulling the KE Adventure bags out of the boot. Bidding him a farewell and thanks we fought our way into the departure hall and looked for the SAS bag drop. Walking smartly up an empty aisle to check my bags I was told by a svelte, young looking blonde check-in clerk with a fixed smile that “Sir is in the wrong line and I need to self-check and label my bags before returning to the other line, unless I am of course flying First Class. Back into the throng where another eagle eyed employee of SAS has spotted me. He approaches and within seconds has punched in various codes and flight numbers, the machine spews a succession of luggage tags and labels, these he attaches to bags and passports and we present ourselves back at the check-in desk. A mere formality and soon we are at Security. Straight through. Jackie sets off alarm. “It’s my prosthetic hip”. She proudly exclaims. “No it’s not that lady it’s the silver foil from a blister pack of Rennies in your trouser pocket”.

0745hrs. We are now sat just outside one of the eateries in a very comfortable lounge chair drinking coffee and watching the world pass. All we need now is the Gate Number to be displayed and we can make our way over.

1010hrs. On board SAS Airlines flight to Stockholm. We glance arouind trying to spot other Canoe Cornwall expeditioners. It is of course impossible. Apart from Mel and Les who are flying out of Manchester the only other two faces known to us are Jay and Johan. Neither of which appears to be on this flight.

1100hrs. Wheels up.

1402hrs. Landed at Stockholm. This is a short turn around. There is no need to collect baggage but the crew announcement on descending seemed to mention something about collecting luggage. That made me think! In the terminal I could get no-one to confirm this. Slight worry. I was reasonably confident our baggage would go ‘straight through’. We now need to re-enter another terminal. Here we face through security and bag scan once again. On exiting we are immediately ‘confronted’ by Les. We exchanged a few minor insults as friends do and then walked us the short distance to where everyone else in the party was gathered. Jay introduced one and all. Despite we being only fourteen in the group it seemed to be a bewildering see of faces and names. In some respects we Stopportons were the odd ones out. Everyone else had either meet on one of the training weekends or had been in communication via Facebook. (Other social media sights exist) There had been a few drop outs I believe. Indeed I was close to being one of those statistics. However the surgeon had passed me as ‘fit to jump’ despite recent surgery in France. Our attempt at a group photo outside the security hall brought a swift if casual response from I.S. In his best Terry Wogan voice he said “No pictures” or was that his Arnie impression.

1530hrs. On board seated. Offered coffee on the short flight. Very civilised.

1555hrs. Landed. We move into the baggage reclaim hall and soon all in the party have their kit and we are ushered out to the two waiting cabs by Johan. It is still raining hard. Jumping aboard the first cab and ensuring our luggage was on the same bus we were soon on our way to Lits Camping Site.

Looking out of the window at the passing countryside could see that the ground in numerous places was flooded and sodden. Given that Sweden is a land of water this may not have been that remarkable. The driver a friendly sort of chap who spoke English was at pains to inform us this weather was most unusual. Oh well that’s OK then!



Arriving at Lits Camping, a recognized camp site, after something like a forty-five minute drive we quickly off load the bergans and kitbags and stack ‘em as directed inside the huge tepee that stood next to reception. The reason being it was still hammering it down. Once all are gathered inside Jay gives us a brief on what happens next. Basically we need to double away pick a suitable spot on the field and get our tents, bivvies, hammocks, etc sorted and stove our kit. If we wish showers are available and soon there will be a move as a group to the Pizzeria for, naturally a pizza and a beer. Move out. Construct bivvy. Still raining. Climb inside await move to Pizzeria. Still raining.

Inside the bivvy looking out at the rain. Isn't this romantic.

It has stopped raining and we make our way to the Pizzeria. Jay being a local language speaker orders the grub for all as well as beer. It is a nice opportunity to start to get to know one’s fellow travelling companions. After a nice warm evening and some grub inside we make our way back to the campsite a short thirty minute walk away.

Some wag suggested this was the main railway line to Siberia!



Once back in the bivvy we waste no time in changing and climbing into our new sleeping bags. This will be the first real test of these items. We had decided against bringing either our Arctic sleeping bags or our summer bags surmising that these ranges would not cover us for the anticipated temperatures we would encounter this week. I had suggested to Jackie we pack our bergans as per the usual ten day in the mountains and we would not be far wrong. In the event we were correct in that assumption.

2300hrs. Lights out. It rained all night. I always find there is a degree of comfort in this when you are safely tucked up inside. Having to turn to in the middle of the night for whatever reason of course is a different story. Will it have stopped by the morning?

Can you canoe in a riverboat made for two?

As SAS flight number SK526 took off from Heathrow's Terminal 2 runway headed for Stockholm and an onward flight to Ostersund, just short of the Arctic Circle, we looked at each other and said, "It's too late to turn back now".

We were headed off on another, some might say, hair brained idea. We were to undertake a six day expedition in Canadian style canoes down the Harken River in Sweden living out of the boat and in a tent. Well, in our case under a poncho and a couple of bivvy bags.

Somewhere along the way we would be catching salmon, reindeer, bears and skinning anything that swam, crawled or flew past us for our scran.

Might not be that basic but then again do you remember 'Deliverance'?

Scran

Dinner and Lunch

We are always very fortunate staying with Trevor and Janice at Chorleywood as there is always an inexhaustible selection of restaurants, brasseries and eateries within a relatively short drive of 'home'. Seldom do we return to the same place. Perhaps the only exception being The Grove. www.thegrove.co.uk.

Thursday evening saw us navigating some very narrow twisty back lanes that would have been a credit to Devon. Seemingly mile after mile of one car width road with nary a passing spot. Eventually we arrived at 18th Century Bricklayers Arms. What a quaint name for a country pub that is mentioned in the Good Pub Guide for 2017 and is the winner of the County Pub Dinning section for the forth year.

It boasts many accolades from the Times and Telegraph foodie writers. The warmth of the reception was most heartening as was the rather nice selection of gins available. An extremely varied menu was offered and all agreed it was cooked to perfection and presented in a timely manner with great smiles and attention to detail.

Mike as usual managed to 'forget' what his choice for main course was and insisted he take Janice's Bass and clams. She meanwhile very diplomatically suggested he was wrong and he was the trout in almonds. After the trout had been returned to the kitchen, our waiter returned with his 'notes' he established, Mike was, once again wrong.

The trout was delicious. As indeed was the whole meal.

Lunch on Friday.

The Riverside Brasserie at Bray. www.riversidebrasserie.com Bray is a small village with a  marina situated on the River Thames just upstream from Windsor. It is Heston Blumenthal's latest venture. He already has The Fat Duck nearby, for which you need to book weeks in advance as well as various eateries in London.

The Shillabeers had booked an outside table but as we drew closer to the venue so the grey and thundery clouds seemed to follow us to the Thames riverbank. Here we had the option of sitting outside, which we choose and then opted for the £25 lunch menu. Three courses included various champagne cocktails. The cocktails arrived with the first clap of thunder. By the time we were part way through our first course the rain had started. Deciding to 'tough' it out beneath the huge umbrellas our determination soon waned when the rain came down in torrents. Even the huge square umbrellas seemed incapable of holding back the storm. I say storm as now the wind had risen and was blowing the rain in upon us. We like many of the other guests opted to move inside. It was toasty warm. The décor inside was smart and chic. The service faltered somewhat for thirty minutes whilst the staff relocated the various diners but it made no impact upon us. We were sat at a cosy window seat and could happily watch the pleasure boats cruise up and down 'Old Father Thames'.

A very pleasant lunch with a delightful Rioja for Mike which he felt complemented the meal. Alas we were unable to walk around the Marina and admire the various craft as it was still raining. Nevertheless a most delightful lunch.

The Arnhem Room at Moorpark Mansion and Golf Club

Moor Park Mansion is a Grade 1 listed Palladian building, set within over 300 acres of landscaped Hertfordshire parkland. Originally built in the late 17th Century for the Third Earl of Bedford, Moor Park Mansion has had various renovations and extensions over the centuries to become the building it is today.

The artwork that graces the interior of the building was painted by Italian artists. Some of the most famous paintings are in the Thornhill Room which also has a stunning ceiling painted by Verrio in 1684-5.

The ceiling to the Main Hall and its Gallery gives the illusion of a dome. This was painted by Cipriani in the 18th Century following the style at the time. Visitors are encouraged to look up when entering the Main Hall, to fully appreciate this magnificent piece of art.

Moor Park was opened as a golf club in 1923.  The Rickmansworth Urban District Council purchased the Mansion and surrounding acres of land in 1937 to stop any further development which was then leased to the golf club.

The Mansion was used during World War 2 as the headquarters for the 1^st Airborne Corps between 1944 and 1945; the Battle of Arnhem was planned in this room at the Mansion in 1944 during this time in the room now known as the Arnhem Room.

Named after The Battle of Arnhem and depicted in the film “A Bridge Too Far” the Arnhem Room has been restored to reflect this history. 

We were fortunate that Trevor is a member of the Tennis Club here and so after coffee we were permitted access to various members rooms throughout the Mansion. The Arnhem Room is situated on the first floor and overlooks hundreds of acres of parkland. In addition to it being a function room it also houses a 'mini' museum of paintings and press clippings from operations conducted by The Paras from Arnhem up to present day operations around the globe.

The first floor entrance to The Arnhem Room

Inside The Arnhem Room

Canadian Canoe on the Tamar

Mike was anxious to get out in Les's Canadian with a view to testing out recent surgery. We were off to Sweden in three weeks time and had the green light from the insurance people as well as my GP. Although he was fairly non-committal. "Give it a go locally before you commit yourself, if it hurts stop". Five years at medical school to tell me that!

We arranged to meet Les and Margaret at their house so Mike could lift the Canadian and sit-on down from the patio onto the boat trolley and wheel it down the road and hopefully if all went well back again.

The weather was good and we were soon on the water and before long landing on a small pebble beach on the far side of the Tamar. Here we sat for an hour or so. Brewed up, made bacon and egg banjos and generally took it easy.

The return journey was now into a fairly strongish wind and waves. Although the water wasn't breaking over the bow it was choppy enough and we lent to the oars as they say.

Soon we were back at the Saltash public slip and ashore. Not a long paddle but enough to give me confidence in myself and the recent op.

Margaret, Les and Jackie.

Day 51 Wednesday 19^th July 2017              From:Roscoff To: Plymouth

Mile: 16880-16888    Daily:  8               Meteo: Overcast but warm

As might be expected from a docks area in the later part of the early morning there seemed to be vehicles moving about with all the attendant noise.  Despite me peering out through the window nothing was apparent. It was now 0600 hrs and there was nobody parked, waiting or sleeping in the ferry lanes. Indeed, on this official waiting area for ‘Camping cars’ we weren’t that many. Maybe ten. We had deliberately left the roof light blind open last night so as to allow in the light. We were afraid we would oversleep. Silly really. We had set three alarms for 0700hrs. The reception booths were not yet open. We secured the bed and sheets etc switched off the gas and checked all the windows and cupboards were locked down. All part of our moving off procedure. Mike even walked around to next door and knocked on the door to ensure he was awake. I had promised him I would not forget when once again he asked Jackie and I to join him and the boys and by now several 'girls' for a drink last night. We declined as gracefully as we could. After his mammoth session last evening I'm surprised he was alive let alone awake.

By now the lanes were open. Earlier than they had said and queues were forming. We joined in. Soon we were through check-in and passport control. It was now 0715hrs. We were one of the first vans onto the ferry and soon parked and on our way up to breakfast. We went for cereal and coffee. Not for us the full fat boy fry up so many were having.

Leaving the French coast far behind.

Somewhat confused as to what was the sharp and blunt bits we sat at a couple of panoramic window seats. There was plenty of choice as the boat was only one third full.
Imagine our horror when who should sit in the seat immediately in front of us but our boozy neighbour from last night. He promptly fell asleep for an hour. Waking, one must assume fresh or thirsty, he walked over to the bar and returned with a huge glass of wine. Then proceeded to drink another 4 or 5 till lunchtime.

We vacated these seats before lunch and made our way to the cocktail bar and ordered a couple of Margaritas with the two complimentary drinks vouchers Dawn had 'left' at reception for us some seven weeks ago. Resisting the temptation for another couple, they were quite strong, we made our way to the restaurant for lunch.
Can you believe it we had fish, chips and peas. It looks more elegant written in French I can assure you.  In truth we did not fancy the lamb which was the alternate offering. It was enjoyable. Not for the first time Jackie had a glass of wine with her chips.

We barely had time to finish lunch, take a quick walk around the ship before we were called to the car deck to prep for disembarkation.

One of the first off again, it was a quick drive through the customs and immigration booths and another fifteen minutes later we were home and had the kettle on.

Already the last seven weeks seemed just like a memory.

We now had to prepare ourselves for a 'Ruby Murray' we had organised for family and friends later this evening.

Better to wear out than rust out!

Day 50 Tuesday 18^th July 2017              From: Mousterlin  To: Roscoff Ferry

Mile: 16791- 16880    Daily:  89               Meteo: Overcast but warm

Depart 1000hrs Our next stop happened to be Decathalon in Quimper. Jackie buys some new flip flops and a swimsuit. We pass a pleasant hour or more wandering the store. There is anything and everything here that you could wish for if you're an outdoors sporty person.

We arrived at Roscoff at 1400 hrs. and drove straight to the ferry terminal. Brittany Ferries have made provision for overnight 'camping car' parking. We pulled into one of the empty bays. We were subjected to a ' Deviation' via three villages  on the way here, all in the backend of nowhere. If that was not bad enough we were followed, right on our bumper by an artic, which like us, barely fitted on the road down country lanes We were point goodness knows how many were stacked up behind him.

A huge catamaran in Roscoff Marina.

We make  lunch then went walkabout over to a resto that came recommended in anticipation of this evenings meal. It was closed and certainly looked as though it would remain so. We sat at the marina and had a couple of 'Monaco s'. Surprisingly cheap given the location.

We returned to the van where we read our books. By now quite an enclave of Brits had gathered. The men, armed with chairs in one hand and a beer or bottle of wine in the other sat around telling their respective stories. One guy in particular seemed friendly enough but was he loud! A northerner! At about 2030hrs a lady appeared from one of the campers and asked them to keep the noise down. It wasn't that bad and any case, 2030hrs?.

Mike thought he would treat Jackie to one last exceptional meal in France. He boiled the kettle and made Pot noodles for dinner. Not your ordinary PN but gourmant PN's. I cubed some cheese and with a flourish lobbed it into the top of the pots.