North Wales December 2000

From ICCC

The usual slick start saw us away early, with a speedy stop at the big green Tesco for food and to fix the no-lights situation on the trailer board. Louise and Sam set off on a mad dash around the shop to buy the ingredients for the chilli, closely followed all the way by a North-American herbivore screeching "but I can't eat that". An uneventful journey up to North Wales followed (?related to the fact that for the first time for 3 and a half years, Garth wasn't driving) and we arrived a pre-warmed hut at 1.30am. As usual a quantity of alcohol was consumed before bed beckoned for most at about 3am, leaving only Erica and Derek to burn the candle solidly at both ends....

After a beautiful brekkie the next morning, we headed off to the Upper Conwy: fast becoming a club favourite, and a fair bet as the water levels were still up. After signing in at Costwolds, we arrived at the put in at Ysbty Ifan about 12.30 and were on the river in less than 15 minutes.

With Sam leading and Stella and Rob in the Duo, it was at least half a mile before the first swim. Asa made an early bid for freedom, choosing his first paddling experience to lead his first river, but he was soon overtaken and encouraged to eddy out. Swims followed from Asa and Old James and Derek. Nick learnt a lot about a particular type of sycamore tree as he followed Derek's boat through its branches and swam after a couple of valiant attempts at rolling. Will and Ruth also swam, but so slyly very few people noticed. No more problems down the next section took us to the lead in to Hargreaves' Folly. This innocuous looking drop goes at about grade IV in high water and most portaged it. With the choice between centre or right hand side being arbitrary, since both dropped you into the same hole, most capsized and rolled. Raph's route involving a brief pin at the top followed by a backwards descent caused a few sphincter muscles to tighten. Theo also provided amusement for the spectators, having forgotten to but the drain plug back in the RPM before the drop. The only swimmer was Baby James, who got solidly gobbled by the hole. Trivial standing waves took us down to the A5 bridge and the take out for most.

The next section of river was noticeably faster and bigger than the previous - no eddies, no stopping, just huge standing waves and a few massive stoppers. Bryn Bras Falls arrived without warning but was run without incident. Buzzing with adrenaline, the elite squad continued down to the takeout at Rhydlanfair Bridge.

After a quick cup of tea at the Conwy Falls Cafe we returned to the hut for chilli, cooked by Ruth and Theo under careful supervision from Louise. Suitably fortified, we headed off to a pub in Beddgelert which boasted both sofas and a ridiculously camp barman. Despite the sorry abscence of "Muggins", drinking games started early and with gusto, the most potent being "Circle of Death". Most people abandoned any notions of staying sober, and consumed lots of pints of beer or even buckets of wine, with dramatic "crash & burn" results.

Back at the hut following an eventful bus journey home (tact is my middle name.....though clearly not Will's), a shortage of beer precipitated an early exodus to bed. Raph, Erica and Rob's quest for an alternative led them to discover the "spiritual fulfillment" of scribbling on each others' faces with coloured pens. This kept them (and Harry, who took photos) amused for hours.

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Plans of "getting up early and doing the gorge" were abandoned in the face of general hungoverness. Still, after breakfast we managed to vacate the hut with fairly minimal faffing, mainly thanks to Sam and Lou being bossy. Our mission? To head down to the coast for some surf. We were nearly thwarted by the trailer's high affinity for the walls on a single lane track, but one flat tyre and rather a lot of pushing later, everything was sorted and were were on our way again.

Once at the beach, most people braved the rather messy surf, though Ruth and Open-boat John wussed out and took photos, and Erica cavorted in the waves wearing only a bikini. When everyone had tired of battling the strong onshore wind or attempting to fly Sam's kite we headed home, via the glorious Caernarvon Kebab house.

No problems catching last orders in Southside, and a quality weekend was had by all.