The rafting trip was conceived as a departmental get together for our marketing department. I couldn't have believed that it would turn out so well. The whole weekend (which included an ascent of Snowdon) was a huge laugh and I think everyone got something out of it.
The National White Water Centre is near Bala in North Wales and is set in some truly lovely countryside. As we made our way down the A5 the sky was cloudy and I had a horrible feeling it was going to rain. We arrived an hour early due to Matthew's fantastic navigation and bolstered our spirits (and energy levels) with a whole host of fried food and MSG laden snacks. The sun came out and spirits were visibly lifted.
Sitting out on the patio we watched lots of Kayakers in their unfeasibly short boats (how do they get their legs in?) taking turns to battle against the raging torrent and dodge rafts full of accountants and data processors as they hurtled unannounced round the corner shouting 'you are very manoeuvrable'. At least one young lad wasn't manoeuvrable enough and got swatted out of the way.
A few minutes later Matthew turned up waving a clipboard. He divided us into two groups of five and we foolishly signed the 'it isn't your fault if we die' disclaimer...
Now it was time for the real humiliation to start. The water in Snowdonia is cold at the best of times, in March it is VERY cold - consequently we had to wear wetsuits. Now I don't know whether you've ever worn a wetsuit but if you have you will realise that almost nobody looks good in one. I, for instance, looked like badly knotted liquorice. Even Duncan, who normally has the looks of an NBC anchorman crossed with some obscure member of a boy-band, looked a right pillock in his. The wet suits were underscored with some dreadful rubber duck feet (Rachael's being easily the funniest) and topped off with a sort of unglamorous ice hockey helmet. It is difficult to say who looked the worst in the helmets but mine made me look like I was mostly face while Amanda's slipped down and covered her eyes.
As dreadful as these outfits sound I think they should be compulsory office wear. Any tendency towards pomposity and self-importance would be immediately expunged leaving behind only love and joy. (Try taking yourself seriously when you look like something nasty that got left behind on the slab at a whaling station.)
Finally our turn to raft came and we were loaded into a minibus that smelled like a mouldy cave. Driven by our allegedly handsome host we travelled a mile or so up a narrow road to the head of the river. (I was just about to order a pint of London Pride and plate of Nachos when I realised that it wasn't the Head of the River I was used to.) Our instructors oversaw the unloading of the rafts and commenced a safety briefing.
Any of us who still had romantic notions of a raft as something that Robinson Crusoe might use were now enlightened. The centre uses large heavy gauge, self-bailing, inflatable rafts, which I assume are pretty much unsinkable. Sadly however they are not unfalloutofable so we were briefed on what commands would be used, what they meant, and how much we would regret it if we didn't do what we were told.
With that we slipped the raft down the ramp into the water and got in - jamming our feet under various thwarts as instructed. We were off. Matthew and I were immediately aware of a primary reason why being at the front is not a good place to sit (we had to sit with our feet in 4 inches of freezing water). However, the first bit of the river seemed quite tame. We were soon paddling forwards and backwards at our instructor's command and the raft seemed to do what it was told. However, as soon as we entered the rough water it appeared that neither we nor our guide was fully in control.
We shot the first rapid going sideways. This sent a modest amount of water down our right sides. We then jammed firmly on a rock and had to wriggle and bounce in order to get the raft afloat. We had just about got ourselves straight when we entered the 'Ski Slope' . It was at this point that I realised that going straight had its disadvantages. We shot down the ramp like a greased weasel in a drainpipe and smashed into a wall of water coming the other way. It arched over Matthew and knocked the breath out of us. It was fantastic. This was only the first of the eight runs that the boats made between them and each one left somebody with a particular memory. The objective level of danger may have been quite low but the exhilaration was quite high.
Some tips for those wishing to raft:
· The National White Water Centre (Canalofan Tryweryn) provides a good professional service with a reassuring emphasis on safety (www.ukrafting.co.uk)
· If you go elsewhere check what your venue provides before you set off (you might need footwear)
· Don't worry about the weather forecast - you are going to get wet anyway
· Take something thermal or a light fleece to go under your wetsuit (this is what the guides wear)
The National White Water Centre is near Bala in North Wales and is set in some truly lovely countryside. As we made our way down the A5 the sky was cloudy and I had a horrible feeling it was going to rain. We arrived an hour early due to Matthew's fantastic navigation and bolstered our spirits (and energy levels) with a whole host of fried food and MSG laden snacks. The sun came out and spirits were visibly lifted.
Sitting out on the patio we watched lots of Kayakers in their unfeasibly short boats (how do they get their legs in?) taking turns to battle against the raging torrent and dodge rafts full of accountants and data processors as they hurtled unannounced round the corner shouting 'you are very manoeuvrable'. At least one young lad wasn't manoeuvrable enough and got swatted out of the way.
A few minutes later Matthew turned up waving a clipboard. He divided us into two groups of five and we foolishly signed the 'it isn't your fault if we die' disclaimer...
Now it was time for the real humiliation to start. The water in Snowdonia is cold at the best of times, in March it is VERY cold - consequently we had to wear wetsuits. Now I don't know whether you've ever worn a wetsuit but if you have you will realise that almost nobody looks good in one. I, for instance, looked like badly knotted liquorice. Even Duncan, who normally has the looks of an NBC anchorman crossed with some obscure member of a boy-band, looked a right pillock in his. The wet suits were underscored with some dreadful rubber duck feet (Rachael's being easily the funniest) and topped off with a sort of unglamorous ice hockey helmet. It is difficult to say who looked the worst in the helmets but mine made me look like I was mostly face while Amanda's slipped down and covered her eyes.
As dreadful as these outfits sound I think they should be compulsory office wear. Any tendency towards pomposity and self-importance would be immediately expunged leaving behind only love and joy. (Try taking yourself seriously when you look like something nasty that got left behind on the slab at a whaling station.)
Finally our turn to raft came and we were loaded into a minibus that smelled like a mouldy cave. Driven by our allegedly handsome host we travelled a mile or so up a narrow road to the head of the river. (I was just about to order a pint of London Pride and plate of Nachos when I realised that it wasn't the Head of the River I was used to.) Our instructors oversaw the unloading of the rafts and commenced a safety briefing.
Any of us who still had romantic notions of a raft as something that Robinson Crusoe might use were now enlightened. The centre uses large heavy gauge, self-bailing, inflatable rafts, which I assume are pretty much unsinkable. Sadly however they are not unfalloutofable so we were briefed on what commands would be used, what they meant, and how much we would regret it if we didn't do what we were told.
With that we slipped the raft down the ramp into the water and got in - jamming our feet under various thwarts as instructed. We were off. Matthew and I were immediately aware of a primary reason why being at the front is not a good place to sit (we had to sit with our feet in 4 inches of freezing water). However, the first bit of the river seemed quite tame. We were soon paddling forwards and backwards at our instructor's command and the raft seemed to do what it was told. However, as soon as we entered the rough water it appeared that neither we nor our guide was fully in control.
We shot the first rapid going sideways. This sent a modest amount of water down our right sides. We then jammed firmly on a rock and had to wriggle and bounce in order to get the raft afloat. We had just about got ourselves straight when we entered the 'Ski Slope' . It was at this point that I realised that going straight had its disadvantages. We shot down the ramp like a greased weasel in a drainpipe and smashed into a wall of water coming the other way. It arched over Matthew and knocked the breath out of us. It was fantastic. This was only the first of the eight runs that the boats made between them and each one left somebody with a particular memory. The objective level of danger may have been quite low but the exhilaration was quite high.
Some tips for those wishing to raft:
· The National White Water Centre (Canalofan Tryweryn) provides a good professional service with a reassuring emphasis on safety (www.ukrafting.co.uk)
· If you go elsewhere check what your venue provides before you set off (you might need footwear)
· Don't worry about the weather forecast - you are going to get wet anyway
· Take something thermal or a light fleece to go under your wetsuit (this is what the guides wear)
No comments:
Post a Comment