At the mercy of the River God

I’m in a Canoe Club from Rugby (birthplace of the sport - Rugby) and we went into Wales to do some white water Kayaking. I just love that place, for all that it’s small, it’s very beautiful and green. On the way there we had to stop outside a shop in a place called Knockin. This shop is probably the most photographed shop in wales as it’s called the Knockin Shop (to the non-British, a Knocking Shop is a Whore House).

On Saturday morning I was forced to eat Humble pie as the River God Tryweryn bashed me over the head, cut my legs and smashed up my paddle. We were just a group of friends and colleagues looking out for each other on a river I gradually found out was 2 notches above my comfort zone. I like to stretch one notch and start pushing out there, but this was 2. A river shrinks in intimidation rating as you get used to it. I suppose it’s a little like the garden you used to roam as a seven year old and visit it 20 years later – the world as you knew it has shrunk as you got older. We know it never changed in size, but you were the one who was growing – a paradox shared by early thinkers as to the relationship between the sun and the earth. i.e. the sun moved around us, when in fact everything moved and spun. Back to rivers.. I remember one river in particular; the Iller which winds and ambles through Bayern and over which the A7 motorway crosses numerous times. From Oberstdorf to Kempten to Ulm. A Wier near the village of Bihlerdorf put the fear of god into me. It was the roar and the thunder of the white water that would spume over the rocks. I swam that river then, like I swam the river Tryweryn on that weekend just gone. It’s good to get back in tune to your fear, it sort of puts you in your place, it reminds you not to mess with the power of nature or think that you are better than it. I never harboured these attitudes, but I do know that some dead people did before they died. I was asked at the cafe by Dave if I’ve canoed anything like that – he pointed to the raging, white tongues of froth that were boiling over rocks and crashing off the walls....

“Uhh... Yes. I’ve done that before,” I said trying to sound as nonchalant as a confident chess player who says, yeah I’ve played a few games, when in fact he was the world champion that took 5 hours per move. Despite my calm and humble exterior, I trembled inside. It was something I hadn’t really felt often – I felt it stood in the doorway of a perfectly normal aircraft with a parachute on my back, on my first solo Glider flight and when I got blown up in Ardoyne, Belfast. I think it was fear mixed with exhilaration. That exhilaration soon went when I bobbed up and down in the river trying to stand up risking my legs snapping had they been trapped in a rock.

I managed my first roll at the first bit of surf. My main problem I was to find out was that a. my boat was of low buoyancy, b. My paddle was too small and c. My roll wasn’t effective – I was waiting to completely submerge, but by that time my head was being smashed off rocks and boulders.

There were nine of us; a Health & Safety Officer, a bathroom fitter, an Engineer, a Mechanic, a University Student and the others I wasn’t too sure about. A pretty mixed bag really, but very competent. Two others were to swim the river also on this little trip, but to my dismay they would swim less than me. I managed to slice my thumb open: a minor flesh wound and get back into the Kayak again for another go. There were spectators on the cafe walls looking down on us like it was a gladiatorial ring, the water was the Lions and we were the victims. I can imagine some of them saluting us, those of us who were about to die. We were (or I was) being fed to the river God and it was in the manner of this crash that formulated much of their entertainment.... as they calmly sipped their cups of tea, as I 20 metres away attempted a ferry glide/ high cross - bow rudder (no sweep stroke!) and bash the bow into a rock.. I then go down into the watery maelstrom backwards and disappear into the frothy bathtub of doom. I’ve still got hold of my paddle and manage a half roll and there I see Dave holding out his paddle like it’s a rope to a quicksand victim. I breathe and take the paddle blade, but then I’m back under, the boat is being pulled and I’m taking in water – gulp, gulp – spray deck off, head bashed – bang, bang, scrape, crack! Paddle gone. Hold onto the sides and slide out. I’m up and out on my back, but being carried on down this roller coaster. My legs are up now, but I feel the bottom and attempt to stand.

“Get your feet up! Feet up!” Dave shouts. I try to stand, then think – feet up! So I’m back on my back, feet up and feel my arse on a rock. Ouch! I realise I’m holding onto his cockpit – shouldn’t be doing that so I’m hands free and see a rise of water – that’s a rock and I brace for an impact that might break my leg, but nothing. Stop being a wuss, I think before dropping and going into panic stations. But I’m soon in slow moving water and holding onto the back of a canoe and Dave’s paddling to the side. I stand, compose myself and make a decision not go back in. Too much chasing the kayaks for the other guys and a bit much for me. Tryweryn smiled at me as I decided to call it a day – a bit like Robert DeNiro missing the Deer out of Deer Hunter. I saw first hand the power of nature and came back, bloodied and bruised. There was a renewed, or should I say rekindled respect for the river and what it can do and today it was merciful to me as it was so unforgiving to many others. My paddle didn’t survive the ordeal. There was a gouge out of one blade and it was bent slightly. I’ll make a point to do some silent prayer to that serpent of water before I paddle in it again. It’s going to be my personal pagan ritual as I’m sure many ancient welsh folk did and I’m sure people still do. It just might grant me some leniency at the River God’s mercy.

I worked it out. The river had been there a lot longer than me and the rocks had been bashing heads way before I was born. Who was I? A fraction of a lifespan, a blip on its course and as infinitesimal in consequence as a drop in the ocean.