Wayne called me yesterday to say he'd been tempted to have a cigarette, but the spectre of the "Quit Smoking, Keep Paddling" walk had instantly banished the thought.
On Saturday, 28th May 11 at 9am, Wayne and I set off down a crystal clear and friendly looking Gairezi. The creek-boats were proving worth the extra weight, and the scenery was excellent - unspoiled countryside, with magnificent trees on the hillsides.
Then we reached the "waterfall section". We'd gained a lot of confidence from the fact that it only took us an hour to cover 5km's and, despite the copious white water visible on Google Earth, we'd only had to bank-scout two drops. We checked in with Ken on the radio and sent him ahead to the take-out below the gorge, assuring him that we would be there pretty soon.
Two hours later we'd covered about 300m, most of it while clinging to the sides of steep, smooth boulders the side of your average Borrowdale mansion. Wayne was colouring the sky with his language, and I was puffing and panting like a smoker too.
Which brings me back to the smoking thing. Wayne had set himself the deadline of quitting smoking on Sunday the 29th. I suggested he bring the quit date forward by a day and not restart after spending a whole day without smoking on the river. Wayne agreed, and set about attempting to finish three packs in the two-hour drive before we started paddling in the morning, giving the rest to a grateful Ken.
Back to the waterfall portage: This section of river drops 40 meters in 350 meters, has sheer banks on the right, cliffs on the left, and is liberally sprinkled with huge boulders. A few drops are runnable, but the larger ones are probably not. Midway through the portage we did the arithmetic and decided we would run out of daylight well before the takeout. Even if things settled down and we were able to get onto the river again, once in the gorge proper there was no walking out, so if we ran into an obstacle.....
So we radioed Ken to come back to the waterfall section, while we started up the extremely steep bank of the river. The steep terrain was one thing, but the thorny vines were in a league of there own. We made extremely slow progress for about an hour. I'd hack at the undergrowth with my paddle, go forward/upward 20 paces, then haul my overweight boat up behind me - and repeat. Wayne soldiered on silently below me, having the slight advantage of a cleared path. Finally we made it to slightly less steep and overgrown terrain, having covered about 100 horizontal and 150 vertical meters.
Ken radioed to say he could see us, but he and the porters he'd hired were having difficulty finding a way down the mountain (on foot). Wayne and I propped the boats up where the porters would see them, and set off on the 4km hike up a steep incline, and were soon overhauled by the porters carrying our boats. I'd identified a less inclined path around the back of the mountain on Google Earth, and three hours after we started (five including the portage) we all collapsed at the Landy. My legs were so worn out that I got cramps in my thigh from raising my foot on the accelerator on the drive back to the Hut.
Wayne swore he would never smoke again, and if he was tempted, the memory of that walk would soon cure him.
Next time we plan to be on the river earlier, take overnight kit, and possibly harnesses and climbing ropes to make the portages safer and easier.
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