LUUCC

The muchly anticipated Lakes weekend of madness and destruction was finally upon me after a gruelling examination period of character building authority. I was to drive up in my passion wagon filled with Max and some fine young ladies from goldsmith’s canoe club. After the pick up from the station, Where we were shouted at by a security type guy who said we had been there for more than 3 and a half minutes, Bothered. Well after that the passengers felt the need to obtain airbags anyway they saw fit so we stopped of in Asda for some boxed wine. The plan being to drink it all before we got up there then use the containers as airbags!

A fine plan to be sure; the journey and the drinking…had begun.

Max during the journey, selflessly, took it upon himself to drink as much wine as he could to enable the hot ladies in the back to use the receptacle as an airbag. However this meant that Max’s navigation rapidly went downhill. Awareness of where we were and more importantly where we were going progressively were becoming less of a priority as the wine poured. It was a race against time to get there before I lost Max completely as a navigator and the only one in the car who “knew” the way.

Predictably we arrived.

“Nice place”, I thought as I stepped out of the car stepping into a thick gooey mud puddle. With mud squeezing in between my toes and working its way around my sandals I threw my stuff into a corner. I surveyed the scene, sleeping bags and mattresses everywhere.

Max kept drinking…

Started chatting, Tom gave me a beer (thanks Tom), and the party ensued-more beer was handed to me. To the Pub I heard exclaimed, and that we did. The pub was most excellent with carpet and wooden tables to set your drinks upon. Here were the majority of the peeps who arrived in the minibuses. We must have been taking up at least, the entire pub apart from a guy sitting at the bar who was looking disapprovingly at us. The carnage began to escalate with exam stress being replaced with alcohol, I was loving it; the canoe club at its best. Drinking games and a much needed who can tell the best joke session (featuring Jesus IV, Nick from York, Dr Tom and another person who I can’t remember). I am unsure about who told the best joke but some of them were a little bit special.

Drinking games leapt up from the other end of the pub, with hats and other interesting items being stolen, dares with kissing and other such affectionate behaviour became common place. Ah the joys of the canoe club.

Max kept drinking…

In addition someone gave him a shot of tequila…

Remember that guy sitting at the bar issuing disapproving looks at a whim? Well Max soon sorted out the public relations by securing a conversation with the man even though he told him to go away and that he didn’t want to speak to him. I think he loved it really.

Max went to sleep…zzzzz

Everyone filtered back to the bunkhouse. More drunkenness ensued. Sarah gave Max a boobing and Sam did something funny, I can’t remember what?

Zzzz

Early morning run was Faff central. We ran a river it was flat for the most part but had death parts in it which made it more interesting. I refreshed myself with 4 rolls (deliberate of course)
The days paddling resumed back at the hut with the novices going on the Crake (sp?). Me and a few others found a waterfall and did a park and huck type arrangement. Good fun all round. We then paddled the Crake after the main group, I can safely say that it is a tree infested ditch. Interesting in some respects though, (read pinning).

More drunkenness…

Zzzz….

But wait Sam is slapping me in the face and riding me like a pony! What a way to wake up…Sam was intent on capturing me and bringing me back to the party that was raging downstairs. “I’ll drag you if I have to!”. I think that would have been painful and bad if he had succeeded in pulling my naked body from my sleeping bag and throwing me downstairs, party or no.

We awoke and paddled the Lunne, hard work in low water if you ask me! Everyone did really well especially the novice chaps who dealt with all the river had to offer. Then some peeps paddled the Kent, Awsome, the get in for many was a 4m overhanging seal launch. Katy and Claire the Goldsmith fitties both face planted. Quality. Max boofed it flat and broke his seat and hurt his coccyx, but it was worth it hearing the mega boom!

The run was pretty cool, lots of interesting rapids and drops. One interesting rapid…Max and I were sat in an eddy at the top, “Let me ‘ave a look” I said, Max wanted to know if a line was boofable so I enthusiastically wanted to scout it for him and then give him the thumbs up or down. Off I went round the bend over the horizon line, Big stopper EEK! I tried mightily to punch through but it held me fast. I felt that oh so familiar feeling of going under. Rolled up 3 attempts later with major brain freeze, Max paddled past obviously not needed my scout. Punished.

Last drop was super fun too, and seriously scared the shizzle out of my bad self. Grumpy laughed in my face after, he said my face was a picture and priceless.

We went home dropped the girls off, didn’t get shouted at by the disagreeable man.

End

By Chris Stevenson

I had been looking forward to the Lakes Weekend for absolutely ages as I didn’t get to experience the infamous Tyne tour and I wasn’t to be disappointed. We were only 30 mins late leaving the chapel with minimum faffage which is pretty good by canoe club standards! Drinking on the bus commenced pretty much immediately as everyone was pretty hyper due to it being the last day of exams. Scarily, Gilly was even more hyper than usual, but this may have had something to do with the bright yellow hoody she was sporting which came in handy later on in the trip because we could tell she was coming from a mile away. After a few stalls and subsequent spillage resulting in a socking wet Gilly(sam’s fault), getting lost (my fault) and other delays (lets blame Gilly for these) we eventually arrived at the hut after 3.5 hours. It took us all of 5 minutes to get in the pub after we had arrived and we pretty much stayed there all night. Some of us that were too tired to carry on drinking retired to our sleeping bags at about 2am but the hard core ones carried on downstairs.

The wake-up call the next morning came far too quickly for most people’s liking but after a bacon sarnie (sp) we were ready to go. After sorting out kit and being one of the unfortunate people to be stuck with a left handed paddles (for the first 20 mins anyway) we all got on the lake for a quick paddle around and so the captain could split us into groups. I ended up in the middle group and was feeling calm as the first little section was easy. That was until we hit the first rapid that went around to the right. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was convinced I was going to swim but luckily not even going backwards or the very fast water managed to capsize me this time. So we carried on down the river, dodging trees and gates and struggled to find eddies that were actually eddies and where we could all fit in. After half was down I was naively thinking that this would be my first river without a swim but this was soon to be squashed. So after being attacked by a large tree and the last- but-one rapid I had had a total of two swims and we were approaching the final rapid. Once again my heart was pounding but I was determined not to let this one get me. So after lots of jokes about grade 6 death traps (it was a grade 3), I got into my angry paddling mode and made it to the bottom fine which was very pleasing.

After getting changed, a quick nap and lots of interesting A-Z games, we were heading back to the pub for more drinking and pie which wasn’t bad at all. It wasn’t long after the food had been consumed that the drinking games began where a lot of mixing took place. ¼ pint of beer, ¼ Malibu and coke, and half a glass of wine was the concoction I had to consume in the end, but was very proud not to chunder all night. Once again we were not the last to bed that night but we all had to get up once again the next morning for the next river. I was not paddling today as it was the other half of the group and I could feel the bruises starting to appear. Instead we enjoyed a very nice and relaxing 3.5 hours in the pub. Unfortunately that meant the end of the weekend, so after loading up the vans we headed home but it was definitely a weekend to remember.

By Claire Booth

Exams are over yippee! So what does the self respecting/abusing paddler do with the free weekend they have before the new term starts? Go to the lakes with the canoe club! Advantages include sheep, air so clean its like scrubbing out your lungs with a bristle brush and um…..the chance to spoon with the entire club!! (see photo gallery)

The “love bus” left the chapel on Friday, when some poor slaving students had just finished their last exam, and made its way to Spark Bridge in Ulverston, Cumbria. There were about sixty of us all sleeping in one scout bunkhouse so things were quite cozy, more for some than others, ;o)

The weekend centres around a very cozy pub, more than happy to accommodate us. Previous years have seen an amicable relationship between the pub owner and one of our female members resulting in extended hospitality for the whole club, the kissing of every OAP in the place following a game of “21”, and a poor stuffed fox also falling victim to amorous paddler lips.

Saturday morning. The hardcore paddlers, lead by Laurent, supposedly left with minimum “faff” to do the Kent, Lune and Leaven, I was asleep, but I believe them because they were all wet when they got back. Traditionally the soft core paddlers go for a country walk, which is really refreshing and a good chance to get to know people who have joined late in the year.

After lunch, cheese sandwiches and world famous brownies kindly made by mummy Bina, I paddled the Crake. Less experienced paddlers are always put into groups with grade-6-fuck-yeah-could-do-it-with-my-eyes-shut-strap-on* paddlers, and I was feeling strangely calm under the guidance of Adam and Kev.

There were a series of gentle drops, some paddling though really nice wooded areas, and between scenic cliffs (one good thing about paddling is the way you see things from a new perspective, a bit like a hobbit in a boat or a duck). The final drop was big by my softie standards, but I followed the line of the person in front of me without any problems, so it was exciting rather than scary.

Best of all, the “get out” was right by our hut, so I could relax in the knowledge that I would soon be back in the pub, playing darts, and drinking old man ale, and later on, trying to avoid naked whipping. The lakes has rivers for all levels of paddlers, a shower so you can wash your hair, and is sort of like being on a brownie camp, except everyone is a grown up and they don’t have to listen to brown owl….…anyway …the lakes weekend, you cant beat it!!

*Paddling language is something mysterious, that develops and ferments over time. You could write a phd on its origins, probably, and people in the future on geekarama challenge will be answering questions on how the term “strap on” first came into usage when the renowned paddler monsieur Laurent unwitting told his fellow paddlers to “put a strap on” before a rapid. So don’t worry if it seems just a little bit confusing.

By Jennifer Coles