North Wales February 2001

From ICCC

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled through the rigging and the waves crashed against the hull. The captain came onto the deck and said "crew, crew, gather round crew, I want to tell you a story." "It was a dark and stormy night, and the wind howled through the trailer straps and the rain lashed against the wind screen. The driver drove into the petrol station and he said "Bru, Bru pass me the irn-bru, I am really thirsty." So the wind howled through the trailer staps and the rain lashed against the windscreen and we all thought "The rivers are going to be full."

The uneventful journey brought us to the bunkhouse for an arrival before 2am, and with Nigel not having left his wallet or glasses anywhere en route.

Equipped throughout with sticky carpets, gas cooking facilities (oven, even) and convertible sofas, the most striking feature of the bunkhouse was evidently the three ‘booths’ underneath the main sleeping platform. These were immediately assigned to the three couples on the trip, Ruth and Theo, Garth and Harriet, and Rob and Nigel. Many threats from above about what should and shouldn’t be done in these little havens was studiously ignored, and after a suitable amount of faffing and the evil brown eye from Harry, all the signs of life were snoring, and some unidentifiable sounds from Erica and Louise!

Saturday saw us crawling out from our sleeping bags bleary eyed, with questions about Rob’s view first thing in the morning. Apparently he didn’t see a big, brown eye. Poor chap. Despite getting out the bunkhouse only a fraction before midday, the proximity of runnable rivers meant we were paddling pretty soon (well, everyone except Louise, who came for other reasons it seems), and bimbling down the Eden. Possibly in need of a little more water, we managed to get in well above the designated get in, and avoid all contact with persons claiming to be water bailiffs. The club on the Eden. (F->B Rob, Erica, Raph)

Minimal swims, huge numbers of pins, and overall a very pleasant paddle was had by all, down to the confluence with the Mawddach. This added all the extra water required, and immediately presented us with the famed ‘Public Toilet Falls’. Fortunately there was no repeat of the incident last year involving the Topo duo and large numbers of missed throwlines.

The falls were ran by most, and John looked glad he’d had a warm up on the upper parts of the river as he rolled his boat... at last. Some of us took out there and then, others continued on at increased pace before wondering where the hell the take out was. Nigel put out his radar and pinpointed it with alarming accuracy. So he can feel at least partially justified in nicking all the chocolate for the rest of the weekend.

A scout party took the quick route back to the hut, to prepare the chili, while the bus took a more ponderous route via petrol and the pub. Eating dealt with, we finally got down the road to the Prince of Wales, a pub with a seemingly cheerful landlady. Usual games and other shenanigans done, Nigel talked down and the bus moving mystery unsolved, we got home and went to bed.

Well, not everyone. For the audience in their sleeping bags, another group stayed up long into the night branding one another’s backsides with a burning cork. This provided far too much entertainment for anyone to complain, and none of Nigel and his mates seemed to complain.

The guitar’s arrival at 2am was not as welcome and eventually all went quiet after it was suggested it would be harder to play after it had been put on the fire. This was not actually the end as Rob performed an Encore at 4.30 excellently backed up by Louise, for an ad lib it was quite impressive, though the repetition of "I put it on the chair" began to grate almost as much as "where’s my sleeping bag?".

The following (same) morning some brave souls decided to awake at 7 in the morning. So we drove down to the beach to pick up some juicy peeling breaks, to find 6" ripples. After very little thought we decided against surfing but elected to drive off to the Aberglaswyn Gorge. Running the breaker before breakfast. Double ‘ard. And noone swam!

Returning to the bunk house after it had got light enough tosee, it seemed better not to have seen, the smell of stale booze and the sight of prostrate bodies spread all over the floor (remember the sticky carpet). Action was stirred by the smell of cooking breakfast gradually overcoming the smell of second hand chilli. Soon we were ready to leave.

Erica glides down the Confluence Weir John in his new boat, on the Eden Garth and Harriet taking the bumpy line down Public Toilet Falls

OK, about 2 hours later we were ready to leave and wandered off to paddle the Twymyn . We arrived at the river and Louse demonstrated her unwillingness to paddle again. managed to recruit a few more followers to her merry band of shuttle bunnies, while we put in and bounced off downstream. Meeting the only stopper on the river, Harry pulled off his first roll in anger, while Ruth didn’t. A little more went wrong in the little gorge section, and Ruth stopped off to do some train spotting above it. Yet another swim for Garth, who is getting himself a reputation, well another one, this time for swimming.

Nige "I’ll hide the chocolate" Thacker and John appeared at the take out a bit later, we loaded the trailer and set off for home. Those in the minibus stopped off in Birmingham for a curry. And very good it was too. The largest Naan bread you could possibly imagine. It all disappeared and we got back to London in time to miss the non-existent tubes on a dark and stormy night. The wind howled through the rigging and the waves crashed against the hull.

The captain came onto the deck and said "crew, crew, gather round crew, I want to tell you a story." It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled through the rigging and the waves crashed against the hull. The captain came onto the deck and said "crew, crew, gather round crew, I want to tell you a story." ...