Clare's cra-a-zy adventures

Dear British Airways,

2007-10-26T15:50:00.000+02:00

As some of you may know, British Airways are banning kayaks from next month. Here is my letter to them, highlighting what they will lose. I just hope they change their minds, because if more airlines do this it is going to make it very, very hard to live our kayaking-travel dreams. I don't want play boating in Africa in a 10 year old play boat big enough for an elephant....

Dear British Airways,

I am strongly dismayed by your decision to no longer allow surf boards and kayaks to travel on your air-crafts. As such I regret to inform you that I will no longer choose to fly with you.

This is a pity because in the last year I have made six flights on your airline and I have enjoyed flying with you. Of these flights, only once were you inconvenienced by my kayak. However, your actions affect me in such a way that I have decided I will not fly with you again.

I find your decision a little hard to stomach, since my plastic white water kayaks is in many ways very suitable baggage. It is no longer than a pair of skis and very easy to carry with a handle at each end specially made for this purpose. Furthermore (unlike skis) my kayak is almost impossible to damage - even when I hit rocks at high speed when paddling it is not damage. I also find it astonishing that an airline with your reputation of service will not take such baggage when budget airlines such as RyanAir and EasyJet are no problems to fly with.
Basically if all airlines follow your line of reasoning I will no longer be able to explore new places with my kayak. This will be the death of my dream. I find that particularly sad because through my blog about paddling and climbing I inspire over 1000 visitors a month, to travel and explore the world too.

I may represent only one kayak trip to your management but that is only the beginning. Next week I am flying to London to New Zealand, I am just glad that I've chosen this time to fly Air New Zealand.

Thank you for your time,

Clare McLennan

Climbing in Lofoten

2007-08-15T19:51:00.000+02:00

Our days climbing in Lofoten were characterized by long days with beautiful sunsets. Gone was the midnight sun, we were a few weeks too late, but it was more than made up for by the magnificent sunsets.

A local who helped us to jump start Myrtle, our van, told us that last year they had only had one and half weeks of “summer” last year, but we got lucky this year. While the south of Norway had unusually high amounts of rain (even by Norweigen standards) we were enjoying great weather that made us want to jump in the cold lakes to cool off.

The climbing was fun, mostly 3-5 pitches long, and all trad climbing. It was nearly all crack climbing. In the beginning I was a bit of a crack virgin, not comfortable with painfully twisting my feet into the cracks, but by the time we left I was much more comfortable with it. On the plus side, the friction was brilliant on every single route we climbed, and that made climbing a pleasure.

Two of my favourite climbs were bare blueberries – This superb climb takes you up a huge slab split by a crack that changes from a hand crack in the beginning to a finger crack. It’s the sort of route that screams out from the valley “climb me”. And when you get there it doesn’t disappoint, as it is fun and varied climbing.

Another very long day saw attempting a sea to summit ascent of The North Ridge of Vågakallen. This was an alpine climb with all the best stuff, a long walk in, blue berries to eat on the way, a few loose rocks and a couple of huge chimneys one of which finished in a tunnel!. While it was rated just 4+, I felt that the harder pitches were much harder than many 5’s we’d climbed. (Maybe it was just my short legs in the very wide chimney!)

When we were tired and though we’d finished the worst we came to our crux. It was a huge cleft in the rock that spanned the whole ledge and which was too wide to step across. To get across this cleft would definitely require a committed jump. Having declined to jump the horns of the goat (Greig said “We’re climbers not jumpers, but I knew we were just wimps) we searched for another way, but there really isn’t one. We didn’t fancy abseiling down, so in the end we steadied our nerves and prepared to jump. Greig went first and then I followed. It was a moment of careful relaxed concentration and then pure exhilaration! I loved it.

The rest of the trip went pretty well, except for spending half an hour finding the descent route down. And then it was a long way down, so it was getting dark and starting to rain when we finally made it back to Myrtle only to find that the lights were on and our battery was flat! Thankfully we found a friendly local to help us out. Needless to say it was a great day out, but a very long one!

However, all good things must end eventually, and so after about three weeks we decided it was time to move on. We were a little sad to be leaving with so much rock rock left to be explored. The place had become nearly like home, and we loved camping at the place called Paradise. But as always there were more adventures to be had and one final, spectacular, route in the North of Norway was beckoning us further.

More information about the climbing
Lofoten is 100% trad climbing, although there are bolts on some abseils. I recommend that to get the most out of Lofoten, someone in the group should be able to lead 5+ crack climbs on trad gear though there is plenty of opportunity for leading up to 4+ pitches on many of the routes. For complete beginners there is plenty of leading practice on the rocks around Paradise where I loved climbing. I simply found a line that appealed to me and started climbing! We used the book, “Climbing in the magic Islands” to get around.

The routes we climbed:
Piano Handler Lunds Rute (Pianokrakken) A nice warm up.
Bare Blåbaer (Pillaren) Unmissable!.
Apa(Paradiset) Hard and committing.
1910 Ruta (Svolvaergeita) Classic or simply classical? – A polished, squirming up the chimney, and a very committing move without great protection!
Apple Cake Arret (Pianokrakken) If you go up the arete at the start the first pitch will seem much harder.
The Swedish Corner (Paradise) Challenging and easily top roped.
Gollum (Gandalfveggen) Lovely!
Gandalf (Gandalfveggen) Varied and challenging
RapellRuta (Svolvaergeita)
Forsida (Svolvaergeita) Nice but loose in places. The easy first pitch seemed very commiting in places to me.
Guns n’ Roses (Gandalfveggen) Nice.
Skiloperen (Store FestVågvegg) Watch out for the very last move!
NordRyggen (The North Ridge) Vågakallen - Long but fun.

Lofoten, the magic islands

2007-08-06T13:49:00.000+02:00

The boat trip out to Moskenes, Lofoten was a memorable experience. As you near the islands, the mountains can been seen, half hidden in the clouds, rising straight from the sea. They seem to fill every inch of these islands. I wondered whether there really were could be roads on the islands. As we neared the port I turned to Greig and said “Now I can see why you wanted to come here.”

It’s no lie. Lofoten is a magical. The many tourists who come flock here from all over Europe know that, but it is probably the climber who experiences The Lofoten Islands in their most magnificent splendor.

Hanging high on the cliffs the climber sees views which are so captivating that they do not encourage attentive belaying. More than once I was reprimanded by my partner for not providing enough slack, or too much because I was transfixed by the view.

During the day the view is a clear green ocean and orange algae covered rocks. In the evening the horizon disappears and the ocean and sky melt into the same pure white. Yes, if this place was a lot further south and a lot warmer, it would be swarming with tourists. Luckily for tough climbers who don’t mind the cold weather, this place remains a paradise untainted by the crowds.

On days when the climbing had taken its toll on our bodies, or it was raining we hid in the library finishing our latest game or headed to some of the tourist sites. The Viking Museums was pretty interesting but my favorite experience was a story telling session with a woman from the island in a rorbu at the museum of Å.

We sat in the dark as she told us how in the old days before engines, the men would row boats up the coast of Norway and then, when the weather was right, over to the Lofoten Islands. All of this in near darkness in order to fish for the cod which only come to Lofoten between December and April, when it is very, very dark in the North of Norway.

She went on to answer many of the question I had in my head about cod fishing and to sayt much about the history of the Islands. She told us both about the good times when merchants would come up the coast and lean times when the people nearly starved until they eventually asked the King for special permission to trade with Russia.

In the end I gained a huge respect for the people who lived and worked on the Lofoten, which added to my love of their beautiful red rorbus and aesthetically pleasing boats. I also got a chance to try cod liver oil. I don’t care how good that stuff is for you I will never take it! Yuck!

"Welcome to Norway" - Ekstremsportveko in Voss

2007-07-03T21:50:00.000+02:00

After a rather rocky boat ride we finally made it to Norway. After checking out cute Bergen we headed straight for Voss where the extreme week was in full swing.

It was super fun to be in a place with so many other extreme sport crazies. I loved camping next to the airstrip and seeing the parachutes land. It was especially fun to see the tandem pilots giving their customers one last thrill. It's also great value for money ('cause it's free!) watching crazy people paddle off Moneydrop.

However, on the water is of course where the real fun is to be had. I was feeling a little frisky after a few weeks of non-paddling, so I jumped straight onto the Bransetelvi with a couple of Norwegian friends Tor and Biret who I’d met the previous year at Sjoa.

What an epic gem of a river! We put in on what seemed quite pleasant water, but 100m later, that all changed. Round the first bend was a triple drop, two slides and then a boof over the drop. Sweet. Then, straight away we were at the top of the big slide. My paddle buddies told me not to scout. “If you look, you won’t run it, but it’s all sweet – just follow the water down the middle and don’t roll.”

Well, it should have had the sign above it “Welcome to Norway”. They were certainly right about not scouting because it was huge and it wasn’t quite the even slide I was imagining. But there wasn’t much time to think that as I hammered my way down trying to find the water to follow.

Looking up from the bottom, it was really a sensation of “Wow – this is Norway and I’ve just paddled one of those huge, scary slides”. And the river, it was only beginning…

All in all a great day on the river. I loved the paddling and I loved the honest atmosphere of this group I was paddling with. When it got it wrong, for instance when I didn’t take my throw bag when photographing a few meters from my boat, then these guys let me know. I was really impressed. No wonder Norwegians have a good safety record on their own rivers.

Soca, the jewel of Slovenia

2007-06-21T22:31:00.000+02:00

I don’t know what Soca means in Slovenian, but in paddlarian, (the language spoken by paddlars from Germany, Hungary, England and as far away as New Zealand) it has come to mean paradise. The Soca valley, in the gorgeous Julian Alps, is a little paddlars paradise that I won’t forget in a hurry.

The night we arrived in Soca it started to rain. Well not just rain but thunder. Infact the impressive thunder and lightning display kept up the entire next day. This gave us lots of water.. Amazingly, despite all the rain the water was still clear and green due to the filtering effect of the limestone rock. Yes, there’s definitely something special in the water here.

After the epics of the previous weeks, paddling on the Soca, was exactly what I needed. This was finally a place to relax and have some fun. The runs are generally moderate, (class II and III), but with a tricky rapid or two to keep some spice in the day. There’s also plenty of opportunity to train for the harder rivers, with the opportunity of choosing easy or hard lines on nearly every rapid. A special treat is the Soca canyon. This is even more narrow than the one on Le Guil, but just as pushy with high water.

And it’s a great place to go with beginner intermediate paddlers – you can have your fun while leading them down the river! If you are looking for a place to learn to kayak, (or a place to teach a special friend) then go to Slovenia. Honestly, the love affair starts here!

Fun and games in the dolomites

2007-06-18T11:45:00.000+02:00

The Dolomites. The name brings sweaty palms to all those have ever dabbled in rock climbing. As we drove through Milan a blessed relief. After a couple of weeks of epic paddling it also felt like it would be nice to do something else for a change.

Driving though the Dolomites is probably the closest to the mountains a couch potato can get just sitting in the car. The roads are very slow going as they wind up their way up and down the mountains and the views are terrific. You find yourself straight across the to the imposing rock wall on the other side and it feels so close you can almost touch it.

I guess this is why so many people choose to come here cycling. Because despite the incredibly steep roads, where ever you go in the dolomites there are people cycling . One day we got caught up in a road cycle race. It included a 5km climb up to a path, for which our van didn’t get out of second gear the whole way. Impressive!

Of course, for us it wasn’t enough to just look from a distance. We needed to walk up the mountains, to touch the rock and to climb. After trawling through the volumes of the guide book we found our climb, the East Face Direct Route, on Catinaccio Central
Summit 2981m. It was a bit longer than we had planned to do, and a bit harder too but once we saw it, it was too late – we decided to give it a go anyway.

The next night after a long day we were still on the mountain, sheltering under a blanket of packaging foam listening to the lightening war above us. We had simply climbed too slowly and had lost the route mid way. After a week of bolted climbing in France we had been surprised how poorly marked the route was, and found our description was quite minimalist. In Summer, we would have been surrounded by many other teams on such a classic as this, but in late May we were very much alone as the thunder boomed around us.

The morning slowly dawned and after a time unfroze our bodies. Then when we started to look at the line of pitons we were following, we realised we were still off route. Dehydrated, and tired and lost, we decided to head down.

Five abseils of rock bulges, twenty abseils off pitons and two abseils off particularly bendy pitons later we finally made it to the solid ground again. We had spent 36 hours in our harnesses, survived two thunderstorms, been pelted by hail stones, lost several slings, one carabiner and one ATC, but we had made it down again.

There’s nothing like that feel alive feeling…

A french lesson in river karma

2007-06-13T17:43:00.000+02:00

After Italy we headed back to one of my favourite places, Briancon in the French Alps. You could spend a whole summer in Briancon as there is so much climbing, kayaking, and cycling, so with only a week to explore the area, it was hard to know what to choose. As fate would have it, I was also destined to learn a not so nice lesson about river karma.

With Adrian from Britain coming over to climb, and Sonja coming here for the long weekend it was real party. During the days the boys headed rock climbing we did some girlie boating. Then in the evening, we all joined up round the camp fire and tried to get to grips with the French language, smelly cheese.

I’d paddled once before in the area but this time it was just Sonja and me and that made it pretty exciting. The first day we warmed up with the Guisane and then headed to the Claree tibrt. Suddenly I began to understand the French paddler mindset a little more clearly as I slalomed unstoppably between the trees hanging over the water. At each bend there seemed little to do but to cross your fingers and hope that round the next corner the river would have a navigable path somewhere.

The next day we headed for Le Guil, one of my favourite rivers. I really love this river because there is so much varied paddling and also because of the castle on the hill above the put in. There’s also the excitement of jumping into a class IV gorge so narrow you can’t turn around, and I love that too.

After the gorge there’s only a few minutes relaxation before heading into another gorge where you can only see one rapid ahead and you know there’s some dodgy stuff coming up. Since we didn’t know the river very well it was pretty scarey stuff but we were coping pretty well with it all. Well that was until we came to the final rapid and were caught up by a team of local paddlers. At the point, ironically enough I must have let my guard down and felt a little safer. I missed my boof, landed straight in the hole and tried to roll several times before deciding it might be better to swim.

Now I don’t swim much, and I had never taken a swim on hard water, so when the hole started playing with me I got a surprise and I got really scared. It was several recirculations and a couple of throws later that I finally managed to grab the rope and drag myself out of the river, and once again get a good gasp of air. After getting my breath back I tried out my pathetic French to thank my lovely rescuers.

After that ordeal I decided to call it a day and try the French sport of Via Ferrata instead. But the next day we were back on the river, to finish off the lower section. Near the end of the run we came across several scared paddlers in the river and on the banks. I don’t know when they had first swum, but by the time we reached them only one of them was still in their boat. It felt like river karma had brought us there, and now it was time I repaid my debt. So we helped them to rescue their boats and made sure they all got back to the road safely. So it seems it wasn’t just me who the Le Guil river gods had decided to play with that weekend!

Italy and the Teva Extreme Games

2007-05-22T11:50:00.000+02:00

Paddling in the heart of the Italian mountains was characterised by steep drops with exquisite crystal clear water set deep into the valleys. Above us rugged mountains towered overhead of the tiny villages perched on the edge of the river. When I first got there I could hardly believe that there was enough water to paddle any of the rivers, but once in my boat the creeks transformed into a (often terrifying) hydroslides.

I had come to Italy to take part in the 6th Teva Extreme Games held in Val Sesia. I was a first time visitor to the area with few expectations of what I had got myself into and I felt this event really lived up to its name. The rivers were extreme and so were many of the athletes who came to paddle and party.

The competition is set in the beautiful mountain villages of Balmucia and Rassa. These villages are like a kind of modernised Nepal that despite being located in Europe still hadn’t quite made it into the twenty first century. This was confirmed that night when three cows with their cowbells wandered through the campsite followed by an old woman. From the moment I arrived in the valley, I knew it would be hard to leave.

After several days of driving to Italy, trying to coax our GPS system to avoid imaginary roads and the expensive French toll motorways I was absolutely trashed. Unfortunately the poor route choice also meant I had also lost my practice day. So day one of the competition on the challenging Egua river was also to be my warm up day for the paddling season. Luckily I had the good fortune to run in to a German friend, Anna, who with a healthy dose of positivity showed me the lines. Together with the cameradie of the other women competitiors I made it through the first and most challenging day. I had come last out of everyone, but that day, I had been just to have competed.

Day two saw us relocate to the beautiful Rassa and the Sorba river. Driving into the valley I was impressed by the size of the drops but after that previous day this river seemed like a piece of cake. After the second practise run I was even starting to enjoy the paddling. Then they put up the route for the extreme slalom. Not only was the route demanding and the touch-the-rock type of slalom meant we’d be paddling most of the drops with only one hand on the paddle! However once only the water it all came together and I really enjoyed the slalom and the sprint race that followed.

After the competition an Italian paddler Suzanne invited me to go paddling on a river with a “bit more water”, so I jumped at the chance. We headed to the Sesia, the main river down the valley. As we slid into the water Suzanne pointed out a little chapel with an inscription “Think about all of your dead”. Hmm, interesting way to start a river trip... Then it was 45 minutes of active fun paddling as I tried to keep up with these guys on their local run. Once more, I couldn’t decided whether the paddling or the scenary was most spectacular on the run!

Like everything else that they do, the Italians do paddling with style. At the takeout we had wine and cheese and there was many loud and boisterous Italian greetings as my new friends met old friends. Never before have I seen a Porsche with kayaks on top, or a camper kitted out in leopard skin complete with a leopard skin bath robes and a smiling babe to greet her wet and soggy paddler!

Then there were only two more events left as part of the competition, but luckily we had saved the best to last. First of all there was the legendary Teva party complete with large amounts of red wine, paddler antics and some disco dancing. Then the next day, a little worse for the wear we turned up for the the boater cross.

Finally it was my chance to shine. When the banner lifted I took off into the lead down the first rapid. But my celebration was short lived, as my inexperience showed and I got caught up in the approach to the next drop. By the last drop I had regained one place and then lost it again. The race was short, but the most fun race I’ve ever done.

Thanks to Teva for sponsoring the red wine, Francesco for organising the event and all the other paddlers who made it fun. Congratulations Anna, for coming 3rd. For a full listing of results check out Playak.

A summer of kayaking and climbing is waiting...

2007-04-27T16:17:00.000+02:00

This morning was really warm and the bike ride in to work was lovely. The birds were singing, the smell of Spring was in the air and I just wanted to turn away from work and keep cycling. Lucky for me that’s pretty much what I’ll be doing when I leave tonight. You see, tonight I start a four month travel adventure in Europe. There’ll be plenty of time for kayaking and climbing and visiting old friends. Maybe I’ll even find time to squeeze in a castle and a museum now and again.

The trip will start by flying to London to buy a van. From there it’s off to Italy to compete in the Teva Extreme Outdoorgames. Then the time will be right for paddling and climbing in the Italian and French Alps. And that’s just the beginning as over the following month there is still much that I would like to explore in Slovenia, Austria and Switzerland.

June will see me returning to UK for a wedding and then I’ll be off again to discover Norway. I’ve already beeen to Norway several times but it’s such a spectacular country I just can’t keep away. This trip there should be plenty of time available to visit the fjords and admire the scenery as well as do some hard core paddling and big wall climbing. With the midnight sun I’ll be able to play quite literally until I drop!

If all goes well there’s a final adventure to top it all off and that is Tajakistan. While it’s still in the pipeline, the plan is to meet up with some old tramping club buddies from CUTC and complete our own climbing expedition on the over 6000 meters peaks. The culture experience of visiting this country which sees very few westerners is going to be just as exciting as the climbing.

So it’s an exciting summer ahead for me, and maybe you can be a part of this adventure too. I’m looking for some more paddling buddies, so if you’re going to be in the same place as me then send me an email and perhaps we can hook up. The other thing I’m looking for is some help with gear in exchange for sponsorship on my site. If you can help me out don’t hesitate to get in touch. You can always find me at clareATekando.com.

Finally, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of exciting things happening over the next months too so I invite you to join my email list. If you want to be notified when I write something new, just type your email in the box on the right side of the page. That way you’ll never have to miss another adventure.

Catch you again soon.

Sunlight sends me on my way – Part II

2007-04-16T22:09:00.000+02:00

“The true story about what happened when I came back to Sweden in the middle of winter.”

Before I went home to New Zealand for Christmas, I wrote an article “Sunlight sends me on my way” about overcoming depression by putting energy into your life. I still believe everything I wrote in that article, but I think I should add that sometimes the best way of helping yourself is to ask for help.

Because I learnt the hard way that you can't just keep putting energy into things without getting energy back in return. It seems some problems, require too much personal sacrifice to make it worth it. Everyone has a breaking point and I found mine just before I went home to New Zealand.

Luckily, when I hit this point, I was with my family and old friends. NZ was both a place to escape to and a chance to ground myself again. When you travel I believe that it’s important to be open to new ideas and ways of thinking, but I think I took it too far and I lost my own sense of self.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got some good supportive friends in Stockholm also, but at that time life and work were spiraling out of control. I needed to get away. I am deeply grateful for the love and friendship shown to me of everyone, both here and there, during this time. It was so important to know how much you all cared.

Unfortunately I wasn’t home long enough and when I got back to Sweden things fell apart. The darkness, alone at home, the same old place and the same problems were too much and I realized I needed professional help. But it wasn’t easy seeking psychiatric help in Sweden. I couldn’t speak without crying and yet I had to ring four different numbers, all in a foreign language just to get an appointment. The first day I gave up after three.

Luckily with help from my workmates, on my third attempt I finally met someone who could really help me. This person helped me make sense of what had happened. He helped me see that it was very destructive for me to try and fix everything myself. It was time to walk away for a while.

So if you’ve been wondering why I didn’t write much for three months, it’s because sometimes there are more important things to spend your energy on than telling the world how good life is. However honesty is important to me, so now I want other people in a similar situation to know that in truth I didn’t fix my depression on my own. Friends maybe great, but sometimes they lack both the time and knowledge that can really make the difference.

I don’t feel embarrassed about my depression, because is simply part of who I am. I feel it makes me humble and compassionate and this in turn makes me a better mentor and teacher. I also don’t judge other people so harshly because I know that normally happy, loving people can sometimes do really crazy and mean things. I know it because I am that crazy person just as I am that loving person.

Now I really do feel better again. The warm glow has slowly returned and in truth I feel an inner peace that I have missed for the last couple of years. I have more energy to do the things that are really important to me. Things like writing this blog in the hope that it helps you to accept your weaknesses and remember all the wonderful things about yourself. And if you can't do that then maybe it's time to seek help from someone who can help you remember what is so special about you.

As my mum would say, "The world would be a boring place if we were all the perfect".

"Egoless State" - it's an interesting read

From tourist to tourist attraction

2007-04-06T22:23:00.000+02:00

I arrived at work on Monday to my workmates’ shouts that they had heard me and then seen me on the news the following night. Scarey! I hadn’t realized the guy with big camera was from Sweden’s national TV station. This came after an exciting weekend’s competing in the middle of two of Sweden’s most popular tourist spots.

The first event was Kvarnkrossen, a kayak cross competition in front of the magnificent Uppsala cathedral. The races started with a spectacular ramp built by a local high school. In this competition all went really well until the finals when I got tangled with another boat going round the first marker which allowed the other two to get away. However, I was still happy with a 3rd placing.

The next day were headed to the castle in the centre of Örebro for the Black River Mystery Challenge. This fun freestyle competition has its own creative rules where personal style counts a lot. Also you can choose how big you want it! The size and stickiness of the play-hole can be changed and how big you dare to go is factored in. What really topped it off the day however, was the spa beside the river to hop into when the fingers and toes started to freeze. A really fun day, with good music so many thanks to the Örebro paddlars for putting in the hard yards.

Sunday’s competition was done in good paddling style with a bit of a hang over after the the pyjama party the night before in the Örebro clubhouse. It was super fun meeting everyone again at the start of the paddling season. There were lots of story telling from our Winter trips to away to Uganda and New Zealand. Old friends, new places, and newer friends, older places. It was pretty funny to be asking my Swedish friends what the Wairoa Extreme Race and Bullerfest were like this year. It’s so nice to know that we are all part of an international paddling family.

So the paddling was worlds away from wilderness boating at home in kiwiland. However nice backdrops, large crowds and good food certainly have their advantages.

So now I’m world famous in Sweden. You too can giggle at me and my intelligent comments about freestyle paddling feeling like being in a washing machine! See Mystery Challenge and Kvarnkrossen for video clips and Edge Magazine and Orebropaddlarna for some great pictures. (I'm the one in a yellow boat with the red helmet!)

Heli-kayaking in Kiwi land

2007-01-15T00:00:00.000+01:00

My trip home to New Zealand was full of so many fun times. After a long time away a real Christmas in the sunshine with my family was nice. Catching up with my friends was great even when the heavy rain drowned the BBQ. As was revisiting my favourite spots, swimming in Able Tasman National Park, chilling out in Murchison, running the Minga-Deception (the infamous Coast To Coast river bed run), climbing at Paynes Ford, cycling on the Port Hills, visiting Charleston, and soaking in the Welcome Flat Hot Pools. However if there was one thing I'd wanted to do this trip it was heli-boating in my favourite place on earth, the Wild West Coast. And there was no way I could rest until I had done it.

A typical heli-boating day starts somewhat like this. First there is the requisite slow breakfast and coffee followed by "H*ly sh*t is that the time?". Then it's a mad dash to the chopper pick up site. This is where the excitement starts. The wet and rough four wheel drive tracks are always a challenge especially when you're travelling in mum's lovely little town car with low ground clearance. "Sorry mum, I didn't warn you the water would come up over the bonnet...."

When you finally make it to the pick up site, or as close as the car will make it, there's normally only a couple of minutes left to throw on your kayaking gear. However, the chopper pilot is pretty clued up about kayaking time, so after all that mad rushing you usually find yourself waiting around and the nerves start to grow.

Finally you hear the chopper in the distance and everything happens at once. The heli is as small as they come but when you're you're under the rotors tying on your boat the "thump thump thump" is frightening. With that finished it's time to go flying and what a treat it is. As you fly up the valley, sneaking a peak at the river below, the heli pilot suddenly leans the chopper over sideways. The next second, thud, the wind rushing down the side valley hits you. Ooooo! Exciting!. And the paddling hasn't even begun.

Those days on the Coast we paddled many rivers. We slogged our way up the Styx with our boats on back for an eddy hopping feast. Then it was off to the turquoise blue-green glacial rivers. The Whitcombe is big water with big rapids, while the Whataroa intersperses hard paddling with scenic gorgeous gorges to lie back and float through. Finally we hit the cute Toaroha with some nice spots and gorgeous mossy scenery.

But one river stands out in my mind and that undoubtedly is the Arahura. This river has a fearsome reputation and it's well deserved. Paddling the Arahura is a real journey from the mountains to the coast. It covers two long days walk, and the tussocks at the put in really bring it home that you're in the high country. What follows is a whole day of paddling one and two meter drops mixed with a couple of big rapids that get the adrenalin really going. The water is crystal clear, and the scenery is out of this world.

This is committing paddling and it's a real wilderness experience as I found out after ripping my spray deck on a rock only minutes into the trip. This made for a rather cold day. But if that was bad, then worse was in store for Boyd after his deck popped on Dent falls. Paddling out with only hand paddles was certainly an impressive feat.

So our day on the Arahura was a mini-epic where we were constantly on our toes wondering what was round the next corner. And at the end of the day when we were cold and thought we had had as much as we could take we came to the grand finale. The seal launch is high, and I nearly didn't do it. But I'm glad I did it as this last stretch blew me away. In less than 500m this river has every sort of paddling you could ever wish for, a seal launch, a must boof drop and then a big-water-like roller coaster. All of this in a beautiful hidden gorge which only shows itself to those who dare to take the plunge.

I don't think the West Coast bush (which I've always loved and thought was spectacular) has ever looked as lush and green as it did paddling the final class III rapids to the take out. There was an unmistakable joy of coming out in one piece, but despite my relief I already felt a burning desire to go back and do it all again the next day.

When it comes to excitement there is very little that can compete with a days heli-boating in the wilderness of the West Coast of New Zealand. Thank you Ali, Boyd, Chris, Dan and Mo for being great river buddies and looking out for me. Because there's only one problem with a trip like this and that's the worrying sensation that perhaps nothing in the world will ever beat it!

Can you talk another språk (language)?

2006-11-28T23:54:00.000+01:00

Ever since I was young I've been fascinated by people who can talk another language. Fascinated by what it must be like to think in another language and how it must feel to effortlessly move between two sets of people, who can only smile at each other. I've always wanted to learn another language and I guess more than anything that is the reason I chose to live in Sweden.

What I didn't realise was that Swedish is an extremely difficult language to learn. It's not tricky grammar, or that you must sing as you speak, or even the precise prononiciation that make it difficult. Instead it's the fact that nearly every Swede you meet is so damn good at talking English. The bare truth is that it's very hard to motivate yourself to speak a foreign language when you can effectively communicate in your mother tongue. I guess this is the reason why many foriegners live in Sweden for many years without learning anything more than how to order a beer.

I, however, was determined not to be one of those people.

My first attempts at speaking the language were nevertheless pathetic. I was over-flowing with excitement to speak this language I had read about in a book, but my pronunciation was terrible so no one could understand. It was so frustrating.

Looking back all I needed was a lot of practice and time. There seems no short cut to learning a foreign language, you've got to just do. You've got to speak and make mistakes and get corrected. You've just got to listen and try to understand and ask again and again for help. It's a hard road.

In particular speaking requires a lot of confidence. I always feel nervous when I speak. I think this is the major reason why adults have a hard time of learning a second language, because the older we get the more we hate to feel stupid. And trust me, learning speaking another language makes you feel stupid. Really stupid.

One little trick I developed in the begining was too remind myself how much I love hearing my French friends speak English. Yes their pronunciation is not that great and they miss a few words here and there. But does it matter? No. They still get there message accross. I can tell they're French so they don't sound stupid to me. Infact if anything, they sound exotic and sexy... So I just assume this is how I seem to the locals here!

The process to learning a language might be long and painful, but the rewards are great also. Like the day you have a your first real conversation, or when you suddenly realise that when you talk to strangers they don't swap to English straight away. At these times you feel like you're really alive, and that feels so incredibly good.

And there's so many interesting experiences along the way. While learning Swedish I've believe I've also learnt to talk a third language, Simplified English. I've seen what's it's like from the other side so I know that non-native English speakers require me to speak slightly slower and to use simplier words. Excellent, fantastic, brillant, awesome are all fabulous words which I love, but sometimes "good" is the only suitable choice.

Living in a bi-lingual culture is also interesting in itself. It's taught me a lot about what mother tongue means. At first it annoyed me that my friends would talk Swedish around me even when they knew I couldn't understand them. But now I realise that when it's the weekend there's only one truly relaxing choice, and that's your native language.

Living here, learning Swedish is definitely entirely optional, but I really don't think it's a good long term action. If you don't learn the language you'll always be an outsider. Language and culture go hand and hand. You can't learn to understand people talking if you don't know also learn the popular culture that they refer to. And likewise you'll never really understand how people think, unless you can understand them in their own language. And just sometimes, it's so nice to put your friends totally at ease by talking to them in their language.

When I finally go home, maybe I'll forget a lot of the language I have learnt, but I don't think I'll ever forget some of the funny experiences I have had on the way. Like talking my friend on the telephone in Swedish for the first time and wondering if she really really was the person I thought she was. And then finally hearing her speaking a little English, and realising it was her after all!

Or the time when a friend introduced his friend to me in Swedish. I assumed his friend was Swedish, and I started to ask him which part of Sweden he was from. However at the last moment I recognised his English accent so my question came out as a jumbled "Where come you from?" That English words, but the Swedish sentence order.

So I challenge you. Do you know the joy of your first real conversation in a foreign language? Or the first joke that you actually get? Or the fun of asking someone whether your can share their bed tonight when all you want is a car ride home? These are my memories and I will treasure for ever.

Sunlight sends me on my way...

2006-10-29T13:44:00.000+01:00

For once this blog isn't about some scarey river, or a mountain trip complete with stunning photos. Instead it's about a journey, and that journey is the one we call life. It's a little reminder about not giving in when the going gets tough.

One tough thing I've tried is my life is to come and live in this crazy country called Sweden. This comfortingly western land, with habitants adept at speaking English cunningly disguises for tourists a different side. Behind this fascade you'll find a land that is actually filled by people who most of the time speak a foreign language, and lots of small cultural differences with huge implications.

When I first came to live here I was amazed just how challenging everyday life was. Weeks wizzed by and all I'd managed to achieve was mastering the how to do my laundry and finding where to buy stuff I needed. Now I've been here over a year things have become a lot easier. It’s starting to feel like home. Heck I'm even starting to get the hang of the language thing. Well, at least that's what I thought until October hit me.

Ask any Swede what the worst time of the year is and they'll tell you it's October and November. Infact you don't even need to ask. In the height of Summer you'll go to a party and Swedes will say to you, "Isn't this great. Summer is fantastic. But you just wait until October and November. Then it's horrible here, you'll hate it". It's no coincidence that I ended up in Nepal for these two months last year.

Unfortunately they were all right. It's rained everyday for the last two weeks. It's cold, it's damp and it's already really dark. It's depressing. Of course there's plenty of water in the rivers but everybody else is too sick or tired or busy to paddle.

Unfortunately, I've had a real hard time of it. It's been a depressed, crying over nothing, craving companionship but struggling to string sentences together, kind of time. For several weeks I’ve also missed the sunshine in my mind, and that makes life pretty damn hard.

But if this journey of living in a foreign country has taught me anything, it's taught me that it doesn't matter how bad life gets, I still have the power to fix it. For example, if I’m lonely it’s up to me to join a new club or invite someone to dinner. If I’m frustrated then it’s definitely time to start running every day again. The point is, no one else is going to fix the problem for me, I've got to do it myself.

As the depression tried to suck me in and take me down, I realised this time I really did need to dig deep and find some energy to start crawling back out of the hole. If there was going to be a test of my believe that I could change my predicament then this was going to be it.

I knew I had to fix some things that had been annoying me for a long time. So I made some changes. I put energy back into my relationship and work and friends. It didn’t take much, just a little bit of honesty and a couple of small changes and things started to come right.

Slowly at first and then more quickly the sunshine poured back in. Now it is blazing in my head and I am on a real high. I still can barely sleep but this is way better than where I've been lately.
My point? Most of the time in life all you have to do is to keep moving incrementally towards your goal, but sometimes a little more is required from us. Sometimes you really need to summon all your energy and make some big changes you’ve been thinking about for a long time.

At that time it’s important to realise that you can fix whatever you feel is wrong. Now, this maybe not true for absolutely every human on the planet, but if you’re reading this then it’s probably true for you. But what's more, simply believing you have power makes you feel better. Stop being a victim. Empower yourself and follow those dreams!

Kebnekaise, and the roof of Sweden

2006-10-15T23:14:00.000+02:00

Our trip to Kebnekaise, the top of Sweden, reminded me just how uplifting a day in the mountains can be. Kebnekaise may not be one of the highest, or most difficult mountains I've climbed, but this was definitely a trip to treasure.

Don't get me wrong, this trip wasn't quite the easy walk I was expecting. We had cold, difficult conditions and there were many challenges along the way. But maybe that's where the magic comes from. It's a special feeling knowing you've meet all the challenges the mountain decided to throw at you.

Our trip began by boarding a plane and flying 1500km north to above the polar circle. It was an exciting was to start to the trip. Amusing also, as my heavy jacket, mountaineering boots and hand luggage in two plastic bags attracted plenty of stares from the ordinary Friday night commuters.

We reached Kiruna in the dark, jumped in a taxi, brought some fuel and then drove 70km to the start of the track. I felt really exciting about finally being here in the far North of Sweden. At the same time I also had a sinking feeling that the fuel we had brought was not actually white spirits even though the the bottle had said good for all "spirit köks". The next morning, we found out that I was right.

You could say it was a ominous start to the trip. Here we were at the end of the road, with no car, no one in sight and the wrong fuel. Four days of freezing temperatures and cold dinners didn't appeal, so as Greig patiently tried to convice the cooker to burn the stuff, I went off to find some petrol. Eventually I found a local family and after some persuation in Swedish that I really did want normal petrol, they gave me some. First problem solved.

So it was midday by the time we started our slog up the valley heading for the Kebnekaise Mountain Station. In summer this place is swarming with tourists eating reindeer burgars and the enjoying the luxuries of the huge mountain station with electric lights, drying rooms and a sauna. In October, however, it's completely deserted, and that suited us well.

We found a good spot for our tent and quickly cooked dinner before the rain settled in. In the morning the rain and snow had stopped so we crawled out of our tent, threw some supplies in our pack, and headed for the top.

Right from the start, things were more difficult than we had expected. The route was poorly marked and almost impossible to follow with snow on the ground. Also the clear weather didn't stay and before long we were in the middle of a white out.

The new snow had also created terrible walking conditions. There was too much snow to see where the boulders were, but the snow was so fluffy that we sliped on the rocks with nearly every step. To make matters worse we were confused by a false sighting and the map stopped matching up with the terrain.

Lost in the cloud, stumbling up the mountain we both hit a low point. We felt like we'd never make with all this cloud. We felt like quiting but we keep on walking.

Eventually we reached the glacier and regained our bearings. But where to from here? At home finding our own route from here on seemed like a fun challenge. But it didn't seem so fun when we couldn't see the mountain we needed to climb. Fortunately, as we sat on the moraine wall the clouds cleared just enough to make out a route. Across the the glacier, up a spur, traverse right and then up the gut. We couldn't quite see the top of the route, but maybe it would be okay.

We roped up and headed across the glacier, and then up the spur. As I climbed up the spur my hopes started to fade. The traverse itself looked scarey enough with all the new snow, but getting to it was going to require some serious climbing. Then at the last moment I spied a fixed wire protecting the traverse. My despair lifted instantly. We were going to be able to climb after all!

The minutes that followed were awesome. It's was a real joy to be on such an exposed face in the mountains without the worries of dodgy protection that normally accompany such terrain.

But the joy was short lived. The wire stopped after only 30m and once more we were alone on the mountain. It felt like the mountain was playing with us by getting our hopes up only to destroy them again.

After a bit of exploring, and a few worring moments carefully steeping on the loose snow and rock we finally managed to find where the wire started again. Again we had exhilarating climbing. Now we were climbing up the steep gut. Despite the wire we still had to be careful as a slip would still result in a serious fall.

By the time we topped out to the ridge it was snowing quite heavily. We saw the hut and made a beline for it. We both knew we needed food, so when Greig suggested that maybe we should stay the night and finish the route tomorrow it seemed like a good idea. Luck was shining on us again as inside there were blankets and we had brought our stove with us. As we ate dinner we talked about making the summit before dark, but outside the snow just got heavier and heavier.

That night we lay on the wooden bunk huddling together under the blankets to keep warm. We were comfortable enough until the middle of the night when Greig woke up with a burning pain in his eyes. The rest of the night he couldn't sleep and sometime in the early hours he was forced to remove his contacts. From then on he was half blind.

The next morning Greig's eyes were still burning and the cloud was thick round the hut. Despite Greig's desire only to go down, I managed to persuade him to follow me to the top.

Outside it was well below zero with a fresh wind. As we walked our pack straps froze solid and we started to turn white from the cloud freezing on us. However, as we climbed the cloud seemed to get thinner. After half an hour I could make out the sun and a little while later I thought I could see through to the sky. We didn't know it, but a little bit of mountain magic was begining. After days walking in cloudy, overcast, grey conditions the mountain had chosen to reward us.

It was like someone had suddenly turned the colour on.

First the sun shone through the cloud, enveloping everything in a soft red light. At this point I remember suddenly being of aware of how surface of the snow was covered in delicate snow ball bearings.

We climbed still higher, above the last of the cloud and were greeted by the golden glow of the mountain landscape bathed in the morning sun. Behind the sky was a brillant blue. Ahead of us each pile of stones covered in snow seemed like a work of art.

A little further on lay the small but nevertheless perfect peak of Kebnekaise, covered in fresh snow. It was then I knew, for sure this time, that we were going to make it. Suddenly it felt like the mountain had put the obstacles in front of us in order that we would summit at the perfect time.

We climbed up to the peak together, enjoying making the first tracks in the new snow. We were above the cloud now and it felt like the top of the world. On the top, we I took heaps of photos and I described to Greig just how beautiful it all looked.

We felt a strong sense of accomplishment. We had experienced so many problems but by keeping on walking, even when it was slippery and cloudy and seemed impossible, we had made it in the end. In the mountains, as in life, sometimes all you need is to keep moving upwards in order to reach the sun!

Two days I turned up for work smelly and tired from my 6am flight back to Stockholm. I was still smiling. Infact, I'm still smiling now days later. The mountains had worked their magic once again.

Sjoa River Festival

2006-09-05T01:04:00.000+02:00

Sjoa was magic. As I sat in the car on the long way home from Sjoa, I felt happy and energised. I hadn't felt so happy or relaxed on the way over, so I concluded that there must be something in the water in Sjoa that refreshes the spirit. Or perhaps it something to do with the relaxed camping (and in the shade this time), great people and awesome paddling.

This year, the Sjoa trip was to be more than a standard paddling holiday. It was a journey of the heart and mind. Only a week or so before going to Norway, I had learnt of the news of the tragic death of a Sam, a fellow kiwi and all round great guy I knew from home. The news of the death of such a talented kayaker as Sam had come to me as a huge shock. I started to question whether the risks we take when we paddle are really worth it.

It turns out Sjoa is a good place to find the answer to such a question as that. This year we were in for a special treat as the weather was warm and sunny - something not normally associated with paddling in Norway. The meant the water levels were a little low, especially on the play run, but as I found out, around Sjoa there is always some gem to paddle if you look hard enough.

If anything it was the first few days of playing with my mates, which helped me remember what it is I really love about paddling. The Sjoa River was exceptionally beautiful. The water was super-clean and clear and it was an amazing feeling to float over the huge pressure waves and stare straight down to the river bottom. It also felt really good to realise how much more confident I felt now, than a year previous when I had first paddled in Sjoa. (Although last time the the water was much higher and the trees swimming and I got a terrible black eye within minutes of hitting the water and well that's another story...)

However perhaps what I loved most was leading some of my less experience friends down the river for their first time. To see them challenge themselves and succeed past perhaps even their own expectations, now that felt really special. It seemed as though we were all having a good time, and we were all paddling well.

Eventually, after several days of chilling out I was itching to try something a little harder. Unfortunately I didn't have a creek boat with me. Luckily, everything suddenly came together. I found my new boat and went off with some friends to paddle the Lågan river... Then, when I got to the put in I realised I had forgotten my dry top. But even that wasn't a problem, as my friend had a spare one....sometimes it feels like the world is smiling on you!

The Lågan River, was such good fun. At that flow it is a low volume creek with lots of boat scoutable rapids punctuated by a few big drops. It's the sort of paddling I really love and that day we had so much fun. Small team, beautiful river, great paddling and good waterfall drops for a nice picture or two. Splendid!

The next day, me and my new kayak followed "Team Sweden" to the Bovra. Sun + glacial river = lots of water + lots of fun! More than twenty paddlers and and a good spanking in the first hole made the day a lot more exciting than it should have been. The spanking, which included an underwater spin of the paddle, did the trick though. I was really focused for the rest of the river and I paddled really well. Afterwards, for dessert, we finished the day with a surf at "shock wave".

On my last trip in Sjoa I had the chance to paddle with some new friends I had met at the festival. Several Norwegians from the Oslo club guided me down Ridderspranget. This is another fun run on the Sjoa, with lots of different types of rapids and on a sunny day there's always a lot of turists at the put in to watch you begin. At the end of the run I ended up in the wrong eddy, and had to complete a "must make" ferry glide. It was a heart stopping moment, but I believed I could make it, and I did.

With the Sjoa River Festival going on the whole time, there was of course lots of cool people around the camp to chat with. We also got the chance to watch the pros race in the boater cross. It's always inspiring to watch good paddlers at work, and it is a chance to learn some things to try for next time. On the last night there was of course a big party and just enough darkness to get out the fire pois. The dancing really started well after midnight as the sun started to come up again.

So it was a sleepy Clare in the car on the long, long drive home with much time to ponder the question, "So why, paddle?". Of course everyone must answer this question for themselves, but for me it’s this renewed lust for life and for experiencing life to the full that I get when I paddle that makes it all worth while. It makes up for all the boat carrying, the suffering from the cold, and also for the risks we take on the water.

Paddling and climbing and mountain biking have taught me so many lessons including to value my dreams and not to stress about the small things. I believe 100% that I am a better and happier person for it than I was before I brought my first pair of tramping boots, nearly 9 years ago. What's more for the last year, I have met many people from many walks of life, and many different countries. And it is outdoorsy people that always seem the most motivated, outgoing, cheerful, friendly and encouraging of the people I have met. For me that is enough.

Thanks to everyone I paddled and talked and played with in Sjoa. I hope to see you next year! And big thanks to Pelle for the photos.

Remember, play hard, play safe and smile as you do it!

Paddling the best of Norrland

2006-07-11T14:24:00.000+02:00

My week paddling in the north of Sweden was the perfect kind of Summer-holiday kayaking trip. The sun shone almost too much! The mozzies mostly stayed away. And paddling was fantastic.

Norrlandsturen is “the kayaking tour of Sweden”. For one week, kayakers from all over Sweden head to the very north of the country to try some of the best paddling Sweden has to offer. This year, we were two minibuses, many cars, and around 40 people.

Ask any Swede and they will tell you Norrland is a very special place. It’s the land of the midnight sun, where tents become saunas at 6am. It’s where you’ll find lots of reindeer and only a few people. It’s where Sweden greets Finland and place names start to have ridiculous numbers of i’s and j’s. It’s where even the Telia mobile network stops working and life becomes simpler.

For me the fun begun on the Laisälven. After a night of searching for the non-existent bridge and meeting point, we had given up hope of paddling this river. Luckily in the morning we found our friends and some fantastic rapids. This trip is something of a Swedish classic. It’s a lot of relaxing class II broken up with adrenalin-pumping IV rapids. In particular there was a highly memorable long rapid that finishes in a high fast slide and huge breaking wave. Good clean fun woohooo!

After that it, we moved to Paltvalsen on the Piteaälven. This is one of the best white-water campgrounds I’ve been to. From the lakeside camp it’s only a 10 minute paddle to “the play wave” which leads onto a lovely class III-IV run. In the other direction it’s only five minutes to the end of either a crazy class V-VI run or a more manageable class IV creeking trip. Take your pick!

What’s even better is that parts of all these runs here many channels. They call it a delta landscape. So you paddle any of these runs several times before you’ve even seen all the whitewater!

The play feature, Paltvalsen (Palt hole), is named after palt, a local delicacy. It’s a little like a scotch egg with a bit of sausage wrapped inside a thick batter made from potatos. You then cook the balls in a big pot of hot water. When the palt is cooked it rises to the surface and that’s how you know that they're ready. The play hole is pretty similar. It’s pretty big and pushy, but you know if you just hang around you’ll pop to the surface when you’re ready to get out.

One night we got to try palt at Palt. With a little butter and sylt (jam) it’s good shit after a hard days paddling. (Mind you anything is good shit when you’re hungry and someone else has done the cooking for you – Thanks Eric!)

I just loved my based at Palt. We stayed three days, but I think I could have stayed two weeks. One of my favourite runs in the area was called bonebreaker. It’s “boating at it’s best” with big water, and big waves. There are also plenty of continuous sections were you could eddy hop your way down. Finally, there’s the un-missable friendly little waterfall called “Autoboof”. If you’re dreaming of staring in your own kayak-porn film, here is a good place to start training for the camera!

From Palt the tour moved north to the Torneälven on the border with Finland. Here the fun meter stepped up a notch as we were there to paddle Matkakoski, the monster wave. This wave is three meters high, and has a wicked bounce. Of course after paddling the wave, I couldn’t resist visiting Finland in order to complete my first (illegal?) crossing of international waters.

The final stop on the tour was the Kalixälven. By now we really were in the very north of Sweden, so north that mobile telephones stopped working completely. (Significant to Swedes, many of whom suffer withdraw from the moment “contact” is lost). However even our little one room stuga (bach), beside a lake in the middle of the forest was not far enough away to escape the world cup. Sweden was playing and the boys had brought a generator just for the purpose….

We were here to compete in the Swedish National Champs and locals put on a great show. It was big water, big waves, good music and big fun. Thanks guys. After the Swedish national champs on Saturday our week was ended and it was time to go home.

There’s only one thing problem with paddling in the north of Sweden. It is a bloody long way home…. After 18 hours of driving....

Thanks everyone for a fantastic week of boating!

Picture credits: Honk, David and Lotta

Bouldering in Åland

2006-06-09T13:54:00.000+02:00

Last weekend, I wanted to get out of Stockholm. So when I heard that of a plan to go bouldering in Åland, I thought that sounded perfect.

Åland is just hop and a jump from from Sweden, but technically it’s part of Finland. No one has told the locals this and they wouldn’t care if you did. They speak Swedish, and live by there distinctly local customs, which unfortunately means they don’t like free-camping mainland climbers!

The island is quite flat, but somewhere in the middle of it is a line of small over-hanging cliffs of red rock. It is also a really beautiful spot with a treat for those who make it to the top. Up there you get a wonderful over the forest and out to nearby sea.

The rock steep and like sand paper. After a couple of days at Åland if you’re hands are bleeding you haven’t climbed hard enough! The problems are mainly overhanging, but if you hunt around you can find some slabby stuff. There’s also a couple of more obscure problems such a lie down start and a hilarious mounting problem.

The trip to Åland was really fun because it was a relaxed fill up the car with people and go trip. We all spoke English and just had so many laughs together. The weather was kind, and the sunset on the red rocks magical. We even had a campfire and a birthday cake with candles.

Also I got to sleep in my tent and I really love sleeping in my tent. There’s not much better than waking up in a tent in a beautiful place, on a sunny morning!

To top it off I was climbing really quite well. I am starting to feel strong enough to enjoy the challenge of over hangs. On the last day just before we left I did a climb over a big over hanging shelf. It’s the sort of climb that I used to not even try, but this time despite being tired I managed to get up it. I was stoked!

On the way home we did what all people living in Sweden must do on the ferry to Åland – we brought duty free alcohol. Lots of it. I even texted my friends for their requests! Technically you shouldn’t be able to by duty free alcohol between EU countries, but they make a special exception for Åland.

This is perfect because next week I am away for 9 days of paddling right in the North of Sweden. According to local legend, this is where the best Swedish white water is. So I’m off to see how good it gets.

I’m really excited about the trip. We’ll be visiting Lappland, (a magical place since being in a theatre production on the life of Carl von Lineaus) and because we’ll be north of the polar circle we’ll get to see the midnight sun– I just hope I can sleep!

Return to Åre

2006-06-09T12:29:00.000+02:00

Åre is Sweden’s main ski resort and an excellent Spring time kayaking destination. Previously I had visited the place for an unforgettable weekend where we paddled at midnight and surfed the excellent wave at Tångböle. So I was really excited to be going back.

Last time, we scouted but didn’t paddle a river called the Över Dammån. At the time there was no one else willing to paddle this sweet but committing stretch. This year with around 50 paddlers meeting in Åre I was hoping to find a playmate.

The first day in Åre we went to the freestyle competition at Tångböle. The play features there really were as cool as I remembered them. The wave was such tremendous fun. I just loved that surfing the wave without a paddle, using the edges of the kayak to steer. It’s such a thrill to just sit there and feel the water rushing under my boat. I even learnt to bounce back on to wave to prevent myself from flushing – How cool!.

On the second day, I found a playmate, well actually 19 of them and we all headed to Över Dammån.

The run is something like a roller coaster as once you start, there’s no stopping. It 4km of continous, rocky class IV, with the odd micro eddy along the side. Luckily there’s no must make line, but there’s plenty of features to keep you busy on the way down. It takes about 20 minutes to paddle and the same time to swim!

So swims are long and brutal and result in the loss of gear. This makes it different from typical kayaking in the south of Sweden. Here it is mostly park and play, or small volume rocky rivers with IV drops and class I water between them. Maybe this explains what followed.

It was one of those days when I felt the approaching chaos before you even hit the water. As I was worried about the abilities of some people in my group, I was happy to lead the last group down. Better I thought to go first than to be scared by watching other people making it look difficult.

My plan was to relax, stay in the flow and conserve energy. It was rocky and I really didn’t want to roll, so I decided to stay upright. The plan worked well, however, I still got tired as there were nearly no easier bits to stop and catch your breath.

About half way down I paddled into the chaos. As I hit the hardest section, I saw pinned boats, people in the water, throw ropes, the works! It felt as half the paddlers were swimming. Someone in my group was swimming, so it made for quite exciting paddling as I tried to follow her and keep an eye on the river coming up.

But all is well that ends well. There were actually only three swimmers and it didn’t take us long to rescue them and most of their gear. All that was lost was a little skin, some pride and a couple of paddles. On the other hand I think it was a huge learning experience for everyone involved.

There was still more good creeking to be done, so the next day a smaller team headed to Medstugaen. The river turned out better than I had expected. It had some really nice three and four part drops which kept me on my toes.

In particular main rapid was a good opportunity for me to push myself a little. I found it scary because it consisted four drops, each harder than the previous, with very little time in between them. I always find drops with poor run outs scary, so it was time to suck it in and go hard.

Unfortunately, today it was me who was struggling to find my form. On the biggest drop, about 2 meters, I miss-read the water and completely missed my line. According to the others I had quite look on my face as I bounced down the rocks. Thankfully I stayed upright!

As luck rather than skill had kept me out of trouble on that river, I decided to take it a little easier after that. The weekend finished with some more play boating and a good party.
That night many paddlers from all over Sweden visited where we were staying. We put the picnic tables together and made a nice long table. On one side of us we had snowy mountains and on the other side the lake. We grilled food on the fire and around midnight there was a beautiful sunset. It was a nice end to fun trip.

There is still one more river I would like to paddle which I never quite made it to. It’s called Vålån. I guess that one’s waiting for me next year.

Check out the Medstugeån movie my frriend Anna made

A day in Paris

2006-05-22T17:21:00.000+02:00

My trip to Europe started in Paris with a quick stay with Franck. He’s a rather crazy French kayaking buddy I had met several years ago in NZ. Franck had been a bit of wild child at the time so I felt a real sense of adventure stepping onto the plane. This was my first adventure in Europe, and the first time I had travelled to a foreign speaking country alone.

I shouldn’t have worried. Paris was a perfect start to such an adventure and Franck was the perfect host.

As I stepped off the plane I was greeted by the sights and smells of spring. Paris, always beautiful with many old buildings, was further adorned by flowers of many colours. Spring is always a special, energetic time but after a long Scandinavian winter, spring in Paris is sensational. I wanted to dance in the street, even while carrying my two packs and a paddle!

I eventually managed to navigate both the subway (easy) and the huge railway station (more difficult) to meet Franck at the correct sortie (exit). We then went to his central Paris flat and squeezed both of us and all my luggage into his tiny 1.5 person lift in the middle of the stairway. Then there was time to catch up before eating a fantastic dinner at his favourite local café complete with a drunk French waiter.

The next day Franck was working, so I was free to explore Paris on my own. As an art student I had always loved the impressionists, so I decided to aim for Musée d'Orsay and hopeful check out some other sights on the way.

The day started at Arc de Triomphe This bridge in the middle of a humongous roundabout, is impressive sight. A few moments later you notice the people standing below, and realize it is ten times bigger than you had imagined. “Wow”.

Next I visited the Eiffel Tower, which on first view surprised me by with it’s ugliness. (Well I have been brought up on romantic Hollywood shots of it after all.) However as you come closer you realise just how big it is and how much steel has gone into making it. Standing below, I was impressed by it’s size and strength. Pure and simple, it’s a symbol of strength and that quite appeals to me.

I then made it to the museum and then realised I should have got up earlier! There was a massive queue, so it was off for some bread and cheese to eat while I did a spot of people watching.

I was definitely worth the wait. Art books cannot tell the same story as an afternoon in a gallery.

Inside, I discovered the delicate pastels of Degas, the glowing pointillists pictures and the energy of Monet’s Bastaille day painting. I also discovered the importance of space, the areas in a painting without paint. My art teacher had tried to teach us this exact thing many years ago…
By the time I left the museum I felt like both my heart and mind had been on a journey through time and art. Through my own eyes I had seen and felt art process through the years.

On the way home, I visited Notre Dame Cathedral and listened to the organ playing. Inside was still and timeless, outside was metropolitan Paris. There, some inline skaters were jumping a bar well over head height to earn a few euros. The cathedral is also surrounded by a beautiful park with blossom and matching tulips. Here locals would meet, relax, play and read. Here I found, beautiful everyday Paris.

So Paris is more than just the museums and fine wine. It is walking beside the Seine river and admiring the buildings. It about cafes everywhere. And it is about the feeling of wanting to have someone to walk beside you because you’re in Paris and it’s Spring.

But what makes it is best is meeting an old friend and catching up. Then, it is about being kissed by an old friend on greeting, though many years have passed. It’s about visiting his local café and drinking wine and having a drunk waiter. That's Paris from the inside!

Life can change so fast!

2006-04-24T09:05:00.000+02:00

When I came back from Norway I was greeted by the news that I had a job at a company in Stockholm. Good news, but it wasn't the job I really wanted as I was still dreaming about working and living near the kayaking over Summer.

The week that followed was truely surreal. I had a couple more interviews and then by the end of the week I actually had four different job offers! It had taken me four months to get any job, and then I had to choose between four, CRAZY!

After a really really stressful week, I finally made my decision. I decided to work for DICE, a computer games company, in Stockholm. This was a bit of a turn around, from my kayaking plan, but it was an opportunity I felt that I didn't want to pass up. They are one of best companies in the field and known all around the world. I am really excited about working for them and learning something new! Life should be an adventure, and even work passes as part of that.

With that sorted, I decided to make the most of the time before I started so I decided to head to Europe to catch up with a few friends. I signed the contract on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, I flew to Paris for the start of this new adventure. After months of not doing so much, suddenly everything was happening so fast!

It feels so exciting to be nearly be working again. At first I was a bit sad that I would not have so much freedom, but now I am excited because I will have money to travel round Europe and go paddling at the places I really want to go. It will also mean that I will be around Swedish people all day which will be a much better way to learn to talk Swedish than at language classes with other second language speakers.

Looking back, I can see that searching for a job in Sweden was a huge growth experience for me. I had to face a lot of rejection, and this combined with loneliness was really difficult. I have huge sympathy now for unemployed people, especially foreigners.

I learnt that was that how you feel about yourself makes a huge difference on your ability to get a job. The longer your are unemployed, the harder it is to feel positive about an interview, the harder it is to get a job. It wasn't until I really decided I wanted a job, and than I had many great skills (even if Swedish wasn't one of them) that I became successful in my job hunt.

And I think that this is true for life in general. You have to believe in who your are and what you stand for, even when outside events and other people make this difficult. Always know your strengths, weeknesses and of course your dreams!

In search of Heavy Water

2006-04-05T11:37:00.000+02:00

Last week Greig, Mike and I headed to Rjuken, Norway to do some ice climbing. It was great to get out of Stockholm and a real joy to switch off my mobile phone for the week.

As you cross the border from Sweden into Norway you actually experience quite a change. The mountains become steeper, and the roads become windy. Norway is a little like New Zealand, well except for the trees. The Nordic pine trees just aren’t the same thing as the lush green podocarp forests of home. But the Norwegian’s have tried to make us feel right at home thought by naming their main supermarket chain “Kiwi”.

In any case, it was great to be back in the mountains, and but also a little intimidating. It’s a long time since I’ve put my crampons on or even been on rock climbing so it took me several days to really feel comfortable with the equipment. My recent experience of head butting a tree had also hit my confidence pretty hard.

Rjukan is an amazing place to go ice climbing and when you first get there you just can’t take your eyes off the huge waterfalls that line the high valley sides. What is even better, is that the English guide book “Heavy Water” makes it really easy to find the climbs. You have the option of going ice cragging and challenge yourself on top rope, or you can try one of the long, 10 or more pitches, routes that that line the main valley.

I had climbed alpine ice, and glacier ice before but waterfall ice is quite different. For a start it tends to be blue or yellow and not white. Initially, I found it quite terrifying, because I couldn’t read the ice. What looked like solid ice would shatter when I struck it with the pick, while some of the fragile looking stuff was deceptively strong.

We climbed through the gloomy, snowy weather for four days and it was exhausting. Ice climbing is really strenuous on the arms and hand and calf muscles and I got pretty tired. I always had a sense of relief to make the top of a waterfalls, some of which were more than 30 meter high. By the top of the climbs, my arms where often so tired that I had trouble getting my tools to strike the ice straight.

Finally on the last day the sun broke through so Greig and I decided to bag the nearby peak. Mt Gaustatoppen, is remarkable because from the top on a clear day you can see 20% of Norway and all the way to Sweden.

Despite all the snow that had fallen, it was a pleasant trip and the mountain was even icy in places. (Greig was so sure that it would be soft snow the whole way he wasn’t even going to bring an ice axe along, so this was a nice surprise.)

We stopped for lunch just below the top, next to the incredibly ugly building, which actually a military elevator that was used during the cold war! It takes you all the way from the valley floor some 1600 meters below, and is now being tested as a winter attraction for rich skiers.

From the saddle we walked along the sharp ridge in nearly white out conditions. The snow sculptures on the boulders made it seem like a magic garden up there. At the top we were lucky as the cloud cleared for a while and we got to look over the town below, but unfortunately not all the way to Sweden.

On the descent we enjoyed a good bum slide but we had to stop several times because our feet sprayed up a fine mist snow which completely blocked our view. The Scandinavian snow, is much drier compared to the stuff at home, so this was a new experience.

What made Rjukan really stand out from similar experiences was the sense of history in the place. On the first night I read what had happened during the war, and I was completely intrigued. This was the first climbing trip I have ever been on where I actually wanted to visit the local museum instead of going climbing!

During the second world war, Norway was controlled by Nazi Germany and the heavy water (D2O) factory at Rjukan became a strategic target for the Allies. They were desperate to stop the heavy water production which could be used to make a nuclear bomb. So a team of hard-core Norwegian commandos went into the area in October 1942.

Unfortunately things didn’t go according to plan and the commandos ended up enduring the entire winter in the mountains, subsisting on lichen, moss and reindeer. Eventually, with the help of some more troops, they succeeded in their mission of damaging the factory, and all ten involved escaped on skis. Some of them skied 400km to safety in Sweden.

These feats of human endurance seem amazing at the best of times, but when you are freezing after a day outside ice climbing, they honestly seem unbelievable. I think these men, must have endured a great deal more suffering than modern ice climbers could endure!

Reflections on winter and ice climbing

2006-03-24T23:00:00.000+01:00

I am so glad this week is over. Firstly, it is a relief because last week occured one swedish test and three job interviews which felt something akin to exam week at university. But mostly I am super excited because next week I am going to be ICE CLIMBING in Norway. Yippee, yah!

So it's one last blast of winter, one last winter sport to add to the list, before (hopefully) the kayaking season starts again.

In Stockholm there's still a lot of snow around, but it's starting to warm up so a lot of it has turned to ice which made walking to my job interviews (in horrid high heals) particually percarious. Of course many Swedish women are slaves to fashion and wear their high heals no matter if there's snow or ice around but then I'm not Swedish.

Looking through my photos tonight I realised there are few a stories about the winter here that I never got around to telling.

Firstly, winter, snow and ice happen here every year, so people have learnt over the years to adapt. When it snows here, daily life keeps happening. The cars have winter tyres with studs, and when it snows the footpaths and roads get regularly ploughed. There are people who clear the snow off the roofs of buildings preventing collapses like the one that happened earlier in the winter in Germany.

But not everything functions perfectly. When it snows our road becomes one way and the trains get delayed. And the people moan about the trains, because "it snowed last year and the same thing happened so why didn't they fix it for this year?"

It's how the families adapt that really makes me smile. Like when you see a child going to dagis (pre-school) by sled after it has snowed. Or skating along and next to you is a parent skating pushing a pushchair. I once watched a father taking his small son skating. He triped on the uneven ice, pushed the child off balance and then by some miracle he managed to lift his son up while he regained his footing and they continued skating.

Skating has been fun. Winter in Sweden to me, is going on a skating tour and having lunch on a "swiming and diving" platform in the middle of the ice. Of course you must have godis (sweets) and something hot to drink from the thermos.

Skating on "real ice" keeps you awake. It can be smooth or rough. It can look white, blue or black and makes me wonder what the different colours "mean". The first day I went out on the ice, a large group went through the ice near Uppsala and a couple of people even died so it's good to be careful. Generally it's pretty safe as long as you're carry spare clothes and isdubber which are handles with a spike which you can use to pull yourself out of the ice.

There's even down hill skiing here in Stockholm. The slopes are not long, but it's a good place to brush up the skills for the bigger fields. You always know you're not in NZ anymore because there's no scarey access road and no chains. There's also the cute red buildings and pine trees which marking out the runs.

Sometimes it's the little things can make you realise you've started to understand a place. Like two days after it has snowed, you know that someone will have walked even the smallest trails in the forest. Or wandering home late at night you notice that a street is empty and then you guess that tomorrow is "plough" day for that street, and you check and you're right.

Then with Spring (well March atleast) came the declarations of love next to the subway. These are trampled in the snow over the frozen lake and are very Swedish. Every one is neatly written and no-one has over-written someone else's message.

Yes winter here has certainly had its fun times. Of course it's definitely been about taking the good with the bad. I definitely ready for Summer! Bring on the ice climbing, bring on Spring for real, and bring on the kayaking!

Red eye reduction.

2006-03-24T22:19:00.000+01:00

Even the crazy occassionally need some downtime. After hitting my head, the first thing I did was to pretend everything was normal. I didn’t go to doctor, I kept going to Swedish school and I even went skiing again! After a week I still looked like a freak and felt really tired. Only then did I realized that I really had done a spectacular job of hurting myself this time and so I decided to take it easy for a week.

Now, my face is pretty much healed. My eye is still red but it is only bruised. However, with my red eye I still attract a lot of stares on the subway and questions from people I meet. Perhaps I should wear sunglasses, but my only pair are covered in duck tape so I’m not sure they would help!

On the train people still stare at me quite a lot. The adults know they shouldn’t and try to hide it, but the kids usually just stare. For a couple of weeks I get to experience what a few permanently disfigured people experience their whole life.

I know a lot of people feel really uncomfortable when people stare at them, but it doesn’t bother me so much. I guess I assume people are just friendly and curious – I know I would stare at others more if it wasn’t “against the rules”. I also got used to people staring when I was in Asia.

In Asia, it’s not culturally impolite to stare and as a white person people really do tend to stare at you. In Nepal, I learnt to stare back at people. Sometimes it would take a full 10 seconds or more of staring and smiling at someone but then you would get a connection and they would smile back.

Actually is really amazing what you can say with your eyes alone. For instance have you ever wondered what happens if you do break the eye contact rules? One day in Stockholm before I hurt my eye, I was feeling a little lonely and crazy so I decided to find out. It was a pretty funny experience.

I was on the train about eight minutes from my station, and opposite me sat a young guy about the same age as me. So I looked at him and when he looked back at me I didn’t do what was expected – I just keep looking, and of course smiling. Well what happened? After a short time, it occurred to me that he thought I was “checking him out”. Opps, so that’s what happens if you break this rule. The last few minutes to my station were a little uncomfortable and I couldn’t get off that train fast enough!

So where ever you go in the world you can say a lot without even opening your mouth. The problem is that sometimes what you are saying with your eyes depends on where in the world you are. I’m really proud of the fact that in Nepal I left my western ways behind to really reach out and communicate with the local people.

One thing is for sure though, wherever in the world you end up, a friendly look and a smile can open doors. It’s definitely worth learning to let your eyes do the talking!

It works better than Botox!

2006-03-12T14:44:00.000+01:00

Sometimes life doesn't work out as planned.

My ski trip after my last post was one such example. I had decided to go somewhere new, and went to Norra Djurgarden. Unfortunately the ski tracks there are not so well prepared or well marked.

By the time I finally found the narrow track, I was impatient to get started and skied straight down the hill (down the uphill I think). I managed to stay upright for a long time which I was amazed about. Unfortunately this meant that when I saw the tree I didn't have much time to react. And when I hit the tree, I hit it really fast.

Of course, that night when I was watching TV, wondering what hit me, someone rung and asked to interview me the next day. Isn't that always how life works!

On the brightside things are now looking a bit better. I can once again see out of my left eye, and on Saturday, I had a wonderful couple of hours of skiing in the sunshine. So I still love skiing, but now I am a little more careful than before.

And like everything in life there's always a few things to learn from an experience like this.

Using your face to protect your body is not a good idea.
Even cross country skiing is dangerous. Invest in a helmet.
People sometimes do look at you on the tunnelbanan. (Infact they sometime even offer to take you to the hospital!)
As long as you smile it appears you can even make a good impression at a job interview even with a black eye!

Skiing is fantastic!

2006-03-06T20:31:00.000+01:00

Life can be really tough when you'll living in a new place. For me the worst part is not having a "proper job". Before I went to Nepal I was actually offered a real job, and sometimes I regret not taking it. But then I remember what a growth experience Nepal was and I realise I made the right decision for me.

In my situation, sometimes the smallest actions of others can make a huge difference. For example, when a stranger asked me to help her check on a woman acting strangely in a car, I realised people here do care. Suddenly Stockholm stopped being a big, heartless city.

Sometimes a friend can make a huge difference without realising all that they have done for you. On Sunday when I feeling really low, my friend Lotta rang me up. She suggested we go for a walk or ski even though she couldn’t find a second pair of skis for me to borrow.

I was really excited because cross country skiing is my new addiction. I think it is just fantastic! After an hour of skiing I just can’t stop talking about it. I love it because it's got the right mix of requiring balance, technique, fitness and fear. It’s extremely aerobic, but it’s really fun, because you’re so busy trying to coordinate the legs, arms, skis and poles that you don’t think about how hard you are working. And then when you get to down hills it’s exhilarating. Cross country skis are very narrow so it’s a real challenge to stay upright as you go very fast, straight down the hills.

Sunday worked really well for me because Lotta watched me ski and then told me what I was doing wrong. Before then I had only been cross country skiing once, a month ago, and I had been so impatient to learn that I taught myself to ski on Friday night, alone, in the dark when it was -15 outside. So it was high time for some “professional” instruction.

She gave me two main pieces of information. First, I need to put my poles further back, and secondly she showed me how to get the arms and legs working together. Last night, Monday, I went out again on the lit tracks near my house. Well, skiing used to be super fun and now it’s twice as good again! Her advice has made all the difference! I now feel much more confident and I know what I am trying to do, even if I can’t do it every time.

The best bit of all, is that there’s fantastic snow in Stockholm at the moment and she’s lent me her skis for a whole week. This is great because it means I will get some exercise and exercise always makes me feel better. Skiing also makes me feel good about being here, in Stockholm, and it gives me something to do during the day when everyone else is working!

Today is great. It’s -10 and the sun is shinning. It’s a perfect day to go skiing so that’s what I will do. Everything else I need to do can wait for another time. Well everything except a special thank you for my friend!

A Scandinvian Winter and LoudMail

2006-03-01T17:15:00.000+01:00

Today the calendar announced that Spring has arrived, but it hasn't reach us yet. We recieved 7cm of snow today , and the temperature is currently around -5 and getting colder.

For me the snow is a mixed blessing. I still feel excited when I walk to school with the snow falling around me and Stockholm is stunningly beautiful with all the snow around. On the other hand, I really want to try skating on the sea, but while snow lies over the ice this is not possible!

Many people in Stockholm, both Swedish and foreigners hate the cold and snow, but I love it. The cold, crisp air brings back memories of magical days climbing in the mountains back home. It's also about making the best of the cold. I've been down hill skiing, long distance skating and cross country skiing.

For Stockholmares, the winter is kind of a time to hibernate and gain energy for the long summer days. My friends have been very good to me and we have have had many fun days skiing and skating together. But it has still been extremely hard sometimes to cope with the loneliness I have felt. The cold outside is nothing compared to the cold and closedness I sometimes feel from people here. Don't get me wrong. People here are very nice, it's just that people aren't so outwardly friendly like they are in Nepal and New Zealand. They say that travel teaches you about yourself and this is very true for me. I really miss sharing a smile with anyone and everyone who walks past. I have realised that I need daily interaction with people to share positive energy and with and build a good feeling.

The winter has been a time to reflect and to ponder my future. I loved Nepal and it was very difficult for me to return "home" to Stockholm. The rhythms of the places are so different. Nepal is like one big friendly village while Stockholm is a sterile, annomous big city.

During that time, I have come to realise how much I want to paddle and see the world and touch people's lives. I want to travel and understand how people think and what makes them tick. I have a long term dream of being able to travel the world, kayaking, instructing and maybe doing a little programming work now and then. As part of that dream, I have in my spare time in Sweden developed a programme to help poorly sighted people to read their email which I am now selling through the internet.

The program is called LoudMail. I started developing it to help my Grandmother stay in touch with her family through email. She is legally blind, and now finds it very difficult to read. With LoudMail her computer will read the messages, and she'll be able to stay in touch with family such as myself who are spread through out the world. I really hope that it takes off because I would love to develop LoudMail further so it is better for my Grandmother and other people in her situation. For example, I'd love to teach the program to read the "forwarded message" header so she doesn't have to listen to a lot of computer generated crap.

So please lend me a hand if you can. Download my program and if you like it please spread the word or add a link to the sight. You'll put a smile on my face, and in Stockholm, in Winter, I could really do with that smile!

Ice paddling

2006-01-27T23:55:00.000+01:00

On Sunday, the sun was out so it seemed like the perfect day for a mid-winter paddle in the heart of Stockholm. As I wandered along to the train station the ordinary had become exquisite. The low sun cast a golden glow and the newly fallen snow glistened. I felt as though I was on the cover of a Christmas card. As I walked along I had to keep my camera inside my pocket so that the battery wouldn’t get cold. However, every few steps something would to catch my eye and out it would come again.

On the train, the locals stared at me. I had on my down jacket, gloves, scarf and hat, but so did everyone else. It was the paddle and life jacket which made people stare. Outside the train window the sea was frozen and covered in snow and here I was going paddling. No wonder they thought I was crazy!

The sun may have been shinning but it wasn’t warm. Some people in the club had shown an interest in a mid-winter paddle but the high of -8 had put off everyone except David. With a few taunts like “Are you Swedes not tough enough?” I had managed to persuade him to come along with me.

And it was really was cold. It was the sort of cold that takes only a minute to make your hands tingle with pain. At the get in I had stopped to take a couple of photos, and by then I was unable to get my deck on by myself. One of the curious bystanders, who had interviewed us for his home video, had to help me with it. By the time we dropped into the water quite a crowd had formed to see what these crazy people were up to.

In the water it didn’t take long to find a sizeable block of ice to take a picture with. Yeah, there was ice everywhere. A bit later we found some broken ice and practiced our play boating moves to try and get on top of some of the pieces. We also found a traffic cone in the water, slowly drowning. David, like a true Swede, decided that we must rescue it so we carried it on our head like a huge orange witch’s hat until we reached one of the stone walls.

Unfortunately there was so much water flowing into the sea that the play wave wasn’t really doing much and the water was so fast we couldn’t get up to wave. So we had a couple attempts at a small hole and satisfied ourselves with some flat water play boating. It was like playing with fire. Even with a hot head on, the cold water would make you head sting when you rolled. Once I missed my first roll and then it took several minutes for the pain to subside. I didn’t want to be swimming there!

As we headed back to the club house we were hanging out for our warm sauna. We had doubled checked that we had turned it on because today we really needed it. By now we were coated in a layer of ice as was our boat. The strap on my life jacket was frozen solid. I could see why water sports and negative temperatures don’t mix very well!

After a final photo we carried our boats to the club house, with David laughing how the keys were in his pocket and the zip was frozen shut. When we got to the club house we discovered we really did have a problem. The pocket wasn’t going to be wrenched open, and he couldn’t even get the jacket off! I offered to pee on it but he declined.

(To understand this last comment you must read “Popular music”, a Swedish classic about life in the north of Sweden. There is a story at the start where the main character gets his lips frozen to a plague when he tries to kiss it. It describes how he rescues himself using the cup that all Swedes carry).

Luckily, some kind people nearby helped us out with some hot water. So, we ended the trip with a touch of luxury. A lovely long hot sauna, and the compulsory can of lite öl.

It's going to be a white jul!

2005-12-18T02:41:00.000+01:00

Hi everyone,
Just got home from town at 2am and it's snowing. How exciting! My Swedish friends all laughed at me of course when I skipped and danced about in town, but I still think that it is exciting. I hope you like this picture of my street tonight.

I have talked Swedish most of the night and find it hard to write in English. I can't quite understand Swedish, as they talk so fast, but I seem to be able to talk Swedish when drunk. (Some of you may say I was always a better listener than speaker!!!).

Sweden is not so cold. It actually feels warmer here than Christchurch in winter because you are warm whentever you are inside. Outside is so cold but it is dry so even though my only pair of shoes have a large hole in them I can still run in the snow!

The thing that is causing me problem is the dark. Believe it or not I can't sleep. I feel like sleeping around 7pm, (4 hours after dark). I don't sleep then, as it is too early, but I don't feel sleepy again until way after 12pm. As I try to wake about 8:30am to make sure I get as much daylight as possible, I am getting really tired.... Sweden is really strange and does strange things to your body. Atleast there is snow and it is looking like it will be a white (jul =) Christmas for me as more snow is forcast. Yippee.

Kayak Nepal!

2005-12-13T17:11:00.000+01:00

After the competition I had only a short time left in Nepal and suddenly it felt like time was running out. I had decided to head back to Pokhara so I could spend my last week kayaking, and hopefully fulfil my paddling goals of completing a mini expedition. This meant I would miss out on the last week of The White Water Circus Project, but that was unavoidable.

On my first day back I paddled the Upper Seti, one of my favourite runs in Nepal. It's a bit like a longer version of the Lower Matakitaki in New Zealand. That day I paddled with a truly international team of Bob from Canadia, Aussie Dave, Nick the Brit and Rynsuke from Japan. It was a really fun, and because the river has dropped it was quite different from the last time I paddled it.

The next day the same guys were off to paddle the Upper Modi Khola. I was tempted to join them but I thought it was too difficult. I decided to join a trip Anton was leading on the Marsyandi instead.

That night at dinner I tried to make sure the trip would happen. I was keen. Anton was keen. All we needed was one more person. All the other Swedish paddlers were also keen, but maybe later, or they needed to talk to someone else who wasn’t there. Arghhh!! Later was not going to work for ME because later I would be in Sweden! In the end as everyone was leaving the restaurant I said, "Well if the trip isn't going then I'm going to paddle the Modi Khola instead". Everyone looked worried.

I still wasn't sure about going on the Modi Khola trip. The guidebook describes the river as “very steep (30m/km) and technical”, and quotes someone as saying “[it is] the most continuous river any of us had ever paddled”. So I asked Anton, who had already run the river, for advice. I didn’t like his answer.

However, I really, really wanted to paddle the river, and the guys encouraged me to come with them. Even Charlie, the lovely French-Nepali Man who runs the kayak shop, thought I should give it a try. I guess what in the end made up my mind was that somewhere deep inside me I believed I was ready for this river, despite what my friends thought. The Extreme Slalom had given me a lot of confidence, and that day on the Upper Seti I had even stayed upright on the one rapid that always turned me over. I felt I was as ready as I ever would be and I wouldn't get another chance.

So the next morning I started up the path to Annapurna Base Camp, carrying to my two dry bags and a paddle. Following me was my porter who had the hard job of carrying my kayak. We provided good entertainment for the trekkers who were walking along this popular track in their normal hiking stuff. The trek reminded me of Mick Hopkinson commenting how a swim kayaking could quickly turn a well equipped kayaker into a poorly equipped tramper. I felt like a poorly equipped tramper!

It was hot and the trek was a lot harder than I had imagined it would be. One of the other guys was obviously sick as he slept through the entire lunch stop, so I grabbed his bag and added it to my load. After all I would need his help the next day so the least I could do was lighten his load now.

When we finally made it to our home stay I went straight to the river. I had seen some of the rapids during the walk in and I was terrified. Down at river level things didn't look much better. The rapids were smaller than I had imagined, but they were hard. Tricky drops were followed by undercut boulders, and one rapid led straight into the next. As I bush bashed my way down the river bank I realised that portaging wasn't going to be as easy and the river was basically in a canyon and a long way below the walking track.

I emerged from my scouting covered in bid bids and made a decision. I would get on the river and I had five rapids to test the water. After that the river entered the canyon and it would be too late to change my mind... With that decided I only had one thing left to do, and that was to prepare my mind.

Those involved in adventure sports know all about peak experience. That is when you attempt something that is at the limit of your skill and experience. Such an experience is hugely satisfying but it can also be extremely tiring. Often at such a time you let yourself get so stressed about the upcoming challenge that your muscles burn out extremely fast. My challenge was not just that this river had some of the hardest drops that I had ever paddled, but that it had over 60 such drops. If I was going to succeed, I had no choice but to stay relaxed.

That morning I woke early after a long sleep, and lay awake listening to the song “Come dance around the world” on my mp3 player. This would be like of a theme song for me, and I played it in my head whenever I was scared as I danced down the river.

In the morning it was still cold as we lowered our boats down to the river and paddled the first few drops. I was nervous of course, but I was doing ok. On a river like this no one can really “look after you”. Your more experienced mates help you out by going first, and giving you a signal but ultimately it's up to you to make the lines and catch the eddies. That day I learnt by watching the other paddlers and copying how they moved. However for the longer rapids, you’re can’t see so much so you have to be able to read the water yourself.

Of course I had a few problems early on. I miss-read one drop and ended up rolling once, and then there was another drop straight away so I rolled again. Another time I missed a ferry glide and ended up in a very nasty section with lots of huge boulders. Luckily instinct told me to lean onto the rocks so I made it through them. I REALLY didn't want to roll there. I decided not to miss any more ferry glides.

As the morning went on the rapids kept coming one after another. All of a sudden I realised I was a lot more relaxed on the water. I had become confident that I could catch the eddies, make the ferries and boof the drops. I was there. I was doing it. I was living my dream.

By the time we got off the river that day I was exhausted. I had started to make mistakes on the easier rapids. The others were the same, even young Nick the probe master was really happy to see Birethanti. He had led most of the river and had a couple of heart stopping moments during the day. One time he ended up getting stuck side surfing a hole, hoping that the guy following him was not going to land on top of him.

That night a I got the ‘peak experience high’. I had come off the river exhausted but after dinner I suddenly found I couldn't sleep. After everyone else had gone to bed I couldn't sleep so I lay awake listening to my mp3 player until the batteries went flat.

The next day I woke up feeling tired and flat. I hadn’t slept much and my stomach was upset so I was low on energy. We still had half the river to paddle so there was no time to feel sorry for myself.

On the river I had to concentrate hard, which I found very difficult. There were several big rapids left. Once on a nasty shallow rapid, a detour because the main channel was blocked by huge fishing net, I lost my concentration and ended up scrapping along the bottom upside down. It wasn’t a very nice experience. Another time Nick held the stop sign up and we all stopped not far above a big drop we couldn’t see. One by one the others disappeared down until I was left at the top. I had no choice to follow over the drop, which turned out to be big and exciting but friendly.

After some time we came to a dam, where most of the water was diverted. We carried round the dam and put in again below it but there wasn’t much water. It felt like I was a ball in the pin ball machine, and it wasn’t fun. This section was full of huge boulders and we could only dream what fun it would have been before they built the dam. Sadly, this is the case for many rivers in Nepal and more seem to be added to the list all the time.

The last section we ran was the Lower Modi Khola which is a little easier. I had paddled it a couple of weeks before and this time I couldn't believe how easy it seemed. It went by so quickly! I was looking out for one of the rapids I had rolled in last time, but I had improved so much that this time I didn’t even notice it until I was on the bus back to Pokhara.

At the end of the Lower section it was time to say goodbye to the other guys. The rest of the team were paddling down the Kali Gandiki, but I couldn’t face the six hour bus ride waiting at the end, so I had decided to return to Pokhara.

I carried all my gear up to the bridge and then across the bridge to the road. Just as I reached the road a bus going to Pokhara stopped. I threw my kayak on the roof, and climbed up there to sit beside it as I was still in my kayaking gear

Travelling on the top of the bus that day was magical. From the top of the bus you have such a great view, of the people, the river, the hills and the mountains. Nepal is so steep it is amazing they have built roads at all. It is something that is easy to miss from inside the bus, but from the top the amazing view unfolds beneath you.

On top of that bus I also felt all my experiences in Nepal come together. I felt I had grown up on the Modi Khola. I now felt I had achieved my dream, and that I could go home satisfied. Even after the bus driver charged me an outrageous tourist price I still felt elated.

Back in Pokhara I still had 3 days left and I still wanted to paddle the Marsyandi. Unfortunately I my friends still weren’t keen. My body wasn’t in very good shape and wasn't getting much energy from my food. I was really sick. I rested for one day and then went to Charlie’s to meet somebody interested in paddling the Marsyandi. If they hadn’t been building a huge dam on the Marsyandi spoiling the paddling for future generations, I wouldn’t have considered paddling in that state. If it hadn’t been my friends Danny and Karla who I met in the shop, I wouldn’t have gone either. But it was, so I went.

The next morning I met international team outside Charlie's shop. This time I had the company of Uri from Spain, Kejii from Japan (our new probes), Danny a Pom, and Karla who hails from Switzerland.

As we climbed aboard the bus to the river I felt really tired and hungry. I wondered where I was going to find the energy to paddle this river. Luckily the antibiotics started to work just when I needed them, and I managed to properly digest the bowl of noodle soup I had for lunch. It was hardly the ideal preparation for this, a grade four, high volume river, but it would be enough.

The Marsyandi is described as one of the best rivers in the world. It is a kayaker's dream with lots of high excitement rapids and many playwaves. It is also a beautiful river where you get magical views of the mountains, and we also saw monkeys playing along the edge of the river.

The Marsyandi, for me, was the river where I realised just how much I had learnt. The rapids were big and we ran most of them without any bank scouting. I felt out of energy, and was a little lazy with my paddling but still I felt confident. Now I knew enough to pick my own lines and to spot the nasty holes before I ended up in them. I could tell which rapids would be okay and which needed more careful scouting. I was no longer just relying on others to make decisions for me, I could make them for myself.

That night as I carried my boat out of the canyon just before the dam, I realised that I hadn’t rolled that day. We had paddled some big rapids and so this fact said it all. My paddling had really improved a great deal since I had first come to Nepal.

The final day started with a little bit of DIY. Nepalese roads can be tough on boats and the previous day I realised that the trip had caused the mended plastic on the bottom of my boat to split again. We applied a little melted plastic bag to the boat and applied some duct tape over the top. That was enough to reduce the rate of water water coming in to a more manageable level.

This second day of paddling was generally a little easier, but there were still a few hard heart stopping rapids. On one rapid it looked like it was just big friendly waves but turned out to be a bit of a hole. A couple of us found this out as we ended up surfing the hole up the right way but underwater!

All in all it was a nice long run with the sun shining and some fun waves. The water was plenty hard enough for me as I still wasn't feeling well. By then I think I could have enjoyed a nice relaxing float trip. In the previous 7 days I had spent one day trekking, five days paddling and the other day sick in bed! I was still glad that I gone on the trip as the Marsyandi is a great river and many of the rapids we paddled will soon be drowned.

On the long bus back to Kathmandu I looked backed on the last week and I felt really proud. I had overcome my own doubts and achieved my paddling dreams. I had seen some awesome places. I had done some wicked paddling. What more is there to life?

The Himalayan Challenge

2005-12-12T16:33:00.000+01:00

I went to Nepal to indulge myself in kayaking. To immerse myself in white water, and become a stronger more confident paddler, that was my dream. Part of that dream was to compete in the Himalayan Kayak Challenge.

However, as we all headed back to Sukute Beach Camp to work on The Project it felt as if my dream had started slipping beyond my reach . Suddenly, I had a lost a lot of confidence and I had even taken a couple of swims. Maybe I didn't really want to kayak after all?

As this was the first time since I took up kayaking that I had found myself in this situation, I didn't know what to do next. Suddenly, easy grade 3 rivers had started to feel scary. And the pressure was on, with the competition starting in less than a week I didn't have much time. So that week, while teaching the Nepalese kids kayaking basics, I also had to teach myself a thing or two about kayaking.

As usual, luck was on my side, as Sukute Beach Camp is next to the Bhote Kosi river. This is one of the most easy to access rivers in Nepal with great paddling from class 2-4. Also with me at Sukute was my paddling buddy, Anton, who also worked as a kayak instructor at Kajaktiv where I had taught during the summer. Now Anton is only twenty but you would not guess it. He is an awesome play boater, as it turned out, a kind teacher. He first took us down the easy section of the river, and taught me to boof. Later he led us down through the trickier upper section, and while I still quite scared I managed to follow him okay. Another day I paddled with some Irish paddlers. Many laughs later and I was beginning to find my form. I had found what I had lost, my river smile!

By the time the competition morning came around, I was still a little shaky in my boat but determined to enter the competition. And the competition started in the deep end with an Extreme Slalom, on the grade four rapid called Dazed and Confused. The previous nights partying and my last 6am English lesson meant I was a little dazed and confused myself when I finally made it to the rapid after missing the first bus and waiting 4 hours for the next one. "It'll only be a few minutes" they had said. "Yeah right, even Nepali time moves faster than that!"

The slalom course started with a tough move from the gate 1 to gate 2 which lay in a flushy micro eddy. Next was a ferry across very fast moving water to the other side where gate 3 lay. After that were plenty more challenging but achievable moves. With my late arrival, I only just managed to squeeze one quick practice before the real run.

In the starting gate I was nervous. I thought about skipping gate 2 as several of us had decided that was the tricky one which maybe should be skipped. But I decided I was here to compete and complete the whole course. I was determined.

And then it was my turn. I caught gate 1, and then 2, and then I just made the eddy for 3, although I had to give it some hard paddling to get into it. I was elated!

Then my inexperience started to show. In my excitement I nearly went through gate 3 the wrong way, and lost many vital seconds paddling round in the eddy. I also misjudged the next move, a comparatively easy move straight down the drop. I ended up surfing the wave above the drop for what seemed like a long time, before rolling over, and coming up just before I passed through gate 4.

The rest of the course went by in a daze. It was bloody hard work, and I was really tired. I was dazed, confused and exhausted.

In the end I missed only two gates (mainly through tiredness), and the compulsory cartwheel that I didn't even attempt in my huge creek boat. Given my struggle to even reach the start line I thought it was a bloody awesome effort, and I was stoked. So I was a little disappointed when the results were posted that night. I was last, even though only one of the others had caught more gates than me!

The next day was the freestyle competition. Now, I don't really consider myself a freestyle paddler, and especially not in the enormous creek boat that I was paddling. So, my hope for this day was to simply not to come last, again.

I decided it was a day to have some fun. I got out my pois and lightened up the atmosphere while the boys were competing with a bit of poi-ing to the tunes coming out of the stereo. It seems that even in Nepal a freestyle competition is just not a freestyle competition without a sound system and some funky tunes.

All 5 of us girls "made" the final. With the wave being a tricky beast even for the best paddlers, I decided my aim was to have some fun. Before my turn I prearranged some help from Irish Brian on commentary to play it up about how serious I looked. Then for my turn, I kept going out as if to start and then coming back, as if I was waiting for the right time to make my move. And then I made it. I pulled out my shortened pois and spun them around me while in my boat - a much harder move than you might think. If only wished I could do such a move while surfing the wave!

After that I really had lost my focus and for my proper turn I hardly caught the wave at all. I thought I would be out of the competition, and was relieved it was over. But no, the other girls were also struggling under the pressure and I was into the next round.

Then I realised I really did want another go. I wanted to show everyone I could at least catch the wave. Well, one thing led to another, and at the end of the day the person having the most fun won the rodeo for 2005. And that person against everyones' expectation was Me!

Waking up on the last day I had only one more event to complete, the down river race. This event was to be on the same stretch of river that I had tackled first after coming back to Sukute Beach Camp. However, today, only a week later, I felt confident paddling the stretch of water on my own.

I thought I could compete well in this event with my background in multisport kayaking, but as it turned out, the race was more about reading the river that I realised. Any time I made up on the few short flat sections I lost on the moving water. At the end of the day, working with the kids during the week, and the first 2 days of competition had taken all my mental energy. On the last day, I just didn't want to win enough.

I came third in the last race, and was placed third overall in the women's competition. At the prize giving I was given a cool wooden sculptured plague to take home with me. It was nice to have something to keep, to forever remind me of what I had achieved in this amazing week. One where I helped underprivileged kids learn new skills, and also taught myself a lesson or two about life and the importance of believing in oneself.

White Water Circus project

2005-12-11T18:57:00.000+01:00

A lot can happen in one month in Nepal. Plans can go astray, and life can end up more exciting than you had expected. The initial plans for my last month in Nepal were to start with two weeks of hard kayaking, compete in an international kayaking competition and then spend the last week working on a project teaching kayaking to Nepalese children.

The month started with a down hill slide for my kayaking. I wasn't enjoying paddling, and had even taken a couple of swims on the Seti river (the warmest and most swimmable river in Nepal!). Luckily, all of us paddlers felt we'd rather be working on The Project, than paddling, so we packed up our stuff and headed back to Sukute Beach.

The Project is The White Water Circus Project which teaches Nepalese children circus and kayaking. It is a mainly Swedish project, run by my friends Inka and Britta from Sweden and Ram from Nepal. I had met these guys while teaching kayaking in Dala Floda (Party capital of Sweden) during the Summer. Most of the other volunteers on the project were young Swedes, but there were also some Nepali kayakers. We all were all friends of one of the project leaders. It was basically a bunch of friends doing something useful in Nepal.

My time working on the The Project was extrememly interesting because it was organised in a low key way. This meant that we all got a say in how the project should go, but also meant boring meetings. The fact that the leaders hadn't decided the goals of the project before we started and to some extent they still didn't agree when it was finished, made it extra challenging.

The thing that makes it particularly difficult to run a project like this, is that the culture gap between Sweden and Nepal is huge. In my opinion, Swedes are highly privileged, for instance they get paid to have babies or to find new work, and sometimes I think they don't realise quite how lucky they are. Nepal is on the other hand a very basic society where people are mostly just concerned with looking after their basic needs. For instance, in our village, only some children got to go to school, and the girls seldom attended for more than a few years. As
The Kiwi Girl, I was neither Swedish nor Nepalese, so I had a unique viewpoint. As only an English speaker it also meant that everyone else could talk about me behind my back!

As it turned out, we had too many of us there to teach kayaking and not enough equipment. I had come to teach kayaking so this proved a little frustrating until I solved the problem on day two. That day I woke early and headed down to the beach to find the children already running about. From that day on I became The English Teacher.

That first day something amazing happened. I was helping Inka and together we taught the children a few basic phrases, "Hello my name is Clare", "I am twenty six years old", "How are you?", "I am fine". The amazing thing was that in the morning only some of the kids knew the phrases, but by that night the big ones had taught the small ones, and everyone knew the phrases.

That night we went up to the village and celebrated a festival with the locals. First the children dragged us 20 minutes down the road to one of their houses and put nail polish on us for a tikka Then we went up to village. While climbing up the dirt path in my jandals, I realised why so many festivals follow the moon, as even in the forest the bright moon lit the way and meant we didn't need a torch. At the village we were shown the alter surrounded by offerings and were given huge flower necklaces, as we were guests. We were encouraged to dance, and I even got the chance to play their noisy trumpet-like instruments (actually a reed instrument), and this huge thing like an over-grown trombone.

As the week continued I felt I learnt so much from the kids. They tried to teach me Nepali, and except for "Ticha" which means both "Are you okay?" and "I am okay", I was a poor student. Luckily they were better students of English than I was of Nepali. There is only so much English you can teach in a few hours, so I wanted to teach them things that I believed would help them get their foot in the door. Initially, I taught them manners, "please", "thank you", and how to look someone in the eye when you speak to them. Obvious stuff for us English speakers but not so for Nepalis.

After that I wasn't sure what to do next. Day three, I found myself alone on the beach without a translator and that is when I realised that I really wanted to do this alone. You should be able to teach English without translation! It was hard at first, but it was the start of one of the most amazing things I have done!

Many of the children were young so my first challenge was to keep them amused. We started the mornings with the phrases, and as their attention faded, we started playing games. First I taught them body parts, head, shoulder, knee, foot etc. This was great as the action of pointing to the body parts, kept everyone interested. After that we started singing nearly the well known song, "Head, shoulder, knee and foot, knee and foot". As the kids really liked to sing this worked really well.
The next breakthrough came that afternoon when I found some time to teach English just to the girls. The girls were generally older, but had not spent so much time at school, so they were very shy about their English. I was playing a game with my Nepali dictionary to get them to practise, where they would look at the Anglicised version of the Nepali word and guess what it was. It was then I realised that many of them knew a lot of English, the main problem they had was with pronunciation. From my problems with learning Swedish I knew exactly how they felt!

So from the next morning onwards, I started going through the alphabet and practicing the sounds. I would draw the letters in the sand, and then we would all practice until they could all make the sound. The difficult letters were s, f, l, b, v, and p, and of course th. I had never taught English before, and had no language to explain how to make a sound, but somehow I managed to communicate what was needed. For example, th is the breath out of 'h' and then the lips of 't'. So we practiced 'h', 'th', 'h', 'th', and made it into a game getting faster and faster.

Every morning we would still play the body parts game, when the kids started getting restless. This got more and more complicated as the days went on. The kids really enjoyed the addition of 'bottom', and 'aeroplane'. 'Aeroplane' was a joke which I couldn't resist when I saw one of the kids doing 'arm', with both arms out like an aeroplane. The amazing thing was that they also got the joke! We also played the action game, so they know eat, throw, kick etc. The body parts were really useful, as I used them when I was looking for a word to go with each sound. No A for apple here!

After a week I believe the kids were speaking a lot better. For instance, if I wrote a word they knew in my sand blackboard they could say the word. It was a great feeling. All I wanted was just to make the lessons last as long as they could. To do this I had decided I would like the children to get a copy of the words we had learned, together with the sounds so they could remember them. Unbelievably one of the kids had the same idea, so he drew a picture of the body and I filled in the words. All that was left was a fun expedition to the town 30 minutes away by local bus, to find the photocopy machine - of course there was no sign in English but the local people pointed me in the right direction! The local people were very friendly, one even tried to chat me up while I was waiting on the top of the bus to go home!

During the week, I was also involved in teaching kayaking which was somewhat more difficult. On the water we always had a Nepali kayaker doing the instruction and we were simply there to help out and rescue the kids. It is a real challenge to help someone on the river when you don't have the language skills to tell them what to do, but luckily the kids were so strong and had good balance so it was never a problem. However without language, it proved impossible to persuade them to tip over and do a wet exit. To teach kayaking was a special thing to do, particularly to teach the girls who were so strong but would normally not get the chance to go kayaking. I just hope they continue kayaking - in a few years they could be some of the strongest girl kayakers in the world. Go girls!
It was very sad when the week came to an end. We had a final circus performance at the Himalayan Challenge competition, which two of the older boys introduced in English - I was very proud. We also had a small kayak race, and all of the kayakers did very well, one even went straight through a small hole and stayed upright! Afterwards it was time to say goodbye, and it was a very sad time.

The local parents thanked us with more flower garlands, and painted our faces red. There was a party with Nepali music and dancing on the beach. I joined in the dancing and the music making with stones from the beach. After a while, some of the local women also joined the dancing which was special for me. Afterwards, I was really tired and sad and emotional. I just didn't know what to do next. I ate dinner and went straight to bed!

All in all, an AMAZING experience!

Project in Nepal

2005-12-07T11:28:00.000+01:00

During my time in Nepal I was involved with working with some local village children for a week, on what is known as the whitewater circus project. This project was a Swedish based project that taught kayaking and circus to Nepalese children. As part of the project I also taught the children English starting at about 6am!! You can read more about it on this website from Nepal...

http://viewnepal.com/whitewater_circus_nepal/index.htm

Kali Gandiki paddle trip!

2005-11-01T14:38:00.000+01:00

3 days, 2 nights on the river. It's great to get out again with the Nepalese river guides. They really know their stuff, how to look after us soft Westerners, to cook great food, and how to have a good time. I just love being on the river with them.

The Kali Gandiki is one of the holiest rivers in Nepal and so that means lots of burning of Hindu bodies and cremations take place on it's river banks. This was the talk of the trip and some of my friends weren't so keen on rolling, but it's a big river so it didn't worry me.

The trip started in the way which any good Nepalese trip should start. A broken bus not far from town. Of course only after 1 hour of trying to fix the bus, was it declared broken and a new bus rung for. Then off course everything had to go from one bus to another so a fair amount of time was lost.

After a big lunch we were on the river. There were a couple of big rapids on day one, little brother and big brother, so we were straight into it. And with starting late we were all in a bit of a rush. So the scouting was rudimentry, and big brother was lots of fun only vaguely knowing the line! But I bounced down it without finding the holes anyway!

That night it was dusk as we climbing up to our campsite. It was time to peel a lot of potatoes for dinner and fix my jandal. I am very sad because one my beloved red jandles with the springy soles has broken. That night I discovered the delights of super glue. Hence the new saying "if it can't be ducted or super glued it's fucked!". Needless to say the excitment over the fix was disapated the next morning when the super glue became unstuck!

On the river we were sleeping under the fly and the clear nights meant great stars, although I keep looking for the southern cross and can't find it. The nights were cold with my thin sleeping bag but nevertheless it was lovely to be on the river again.

The next day was fantastic. Pretty much continuous drop pool, class 2 and 3 rapids all day. Kept me entertained, but not too stressful. Some big waves to surf and some big holes to miss. All boat scouted so it was good practise and kept me on my toes! I am getting better at reading the rapids with all this practise. That night we had the compulsary sing-a-long!

Today was a hour or two of good paddling before a long bus trip home. It's festival time in Nepal, and as far as I can tell that means it is a time for all children to become Moaists. The trip back from the river took longer than usual as we had to stop over twenties times for children to do a little dance and then be paid. We renamed this festival "festival of the little maoist!".

Now it's time to party in Pokara. The place is full of candles and is very beautiful. So until next time...

More pictures...

2005-10-23T17:35:00.000+02:00

I know I have been slack so you can look for more pictures of the trip and paddling on my friend Karin's site:

http://www.kiting.se/nepal-2005.html

It's in Swedish but if you go to the bottom of the page to "Här kan du läsa mer..." and click on the links you can see some pictures for the trips we have done. (Half the pictures are mine anyway!)

Mardi Himal Experience

2005-10-23T10:20:00.000+02:00

Well Nepal is amazing, beautiful rivers, spectacular scenary and friendly people, and even some sheep. It is enough to make a kiwi girl feel at home.

I have just come back from a very interesting trekking trip up Mardi Himal. This is a trip very near the famous Annapurna base camp trek but away from all other the tourists. For the whole week my Swedish friend Karin and I saw no-one but locals!

After trying to climb Fanispan and getting lost with all the forest trails in Vietnam, I decided it would be good to hire a guide. Luckily we were able to find a guide willing to carry his own stuff and do a low budget ascent on Mardi Himal. A couple of his friends were keen to come along so that made five in total.

The first night was spent in his home village buying essentials like food, and playing with the kids. They have a game a little like pool, but with disks on a floured table. To win you had to sink two disks one after another so it was a good thing we had guides with us or our game would never have ended... It was really nice as we also got to meet our guides family and experience some local dahl baht.

The next morning we started to head up. After an easy mornings walk which included meeting two old men who gave us some "special grass" we had stopped for lunch. This proved a long affair with the cooking of a full dahl baht meal including rice, potatoes and dahl, and a short sleep. Walking after such a heavy meal proved quite difficult. Luckily it wasn't far until we came to our campsite which we shared with a local buffulo farmer and his herd. The highlight of the night was rice pudding made with fresh buffulo milk, and our guides singing after a little rum to get going.

The next morning we set off again, up through the rododendron forest and onto the ridge. The forest was awesome, and so were the views. We meet several local farmers up here. I felt right at home surrounded by the sheep, and with the addition of a few spaniards I would have thought I was in kiwi land.

Just as we were coming up the last hill our guide seemed to run out of energy, and then we realised that he had had nearly no water all day. So we gave him some water (our 3 guides had only 2 litres of water all day as they didn't seem to think they would need water bottles on the trip). After putting up our tents we went to look for water but all the streams were dry, and but which stage we were very thirsty as we were camping at 3000m. Our guide kept claiming there was no problem and in the end as the night faded the local shepard came to our rescue carrying a 35 litre barrel of water, so we said a very big "ram ro cha" to him and gave hime some Dahl baht. That night we all listened to my kiwi tunes, and shared a little rum punch.

The next day we were supposed to camp at 4000m but after much probing we realised our guide really had no idea whether we would find water. Since they still had only a couple of litres of water we decided to play it safe and camp at 3700m. Again it took us all a long time to find water. By the time we had cooked dahl bhatfor lunch it was too late to move on so it was leisurely afternoon. The guides wanted to camp on the hill top, but I suggested that we camp about 20 meters down since it was a little windy. As it became dark thick white clouds ascended from the valley...

Around midnight there was an impressive electrical storm and I could feel the hairs on my body. Noone else could sleep but somehow I managed to doze until I woke to the unmistakable sound of lightning and thunder right above us. Everyone was excited particularly the guides, there was singing and much loud Nepalese. We started counting our lucky stars that we had decided not to camp on the ridge after all! And then it started to snow...

And it snowed. In the morning it was just begining to settle on the ground, and still it snowed and thundered even during the day. Every so often it became quiet and I would think the snow had stopped, only to find 10cm more snow of the top of the tent blocking out the noise. It snowed for over 24 hours without stopping. There was much fun cooking pancakes over the dodgy kerosene stove in the guides tent, and watching them play in the snow for the first time. But they had only 2 sleeping bags between the three of them and all there stuff was wet. We need to get out of the snow and down the mountain.., but who was the guide now and who was the client?

In the morning it was still snowing lightly but we decided to head off anyway. Karin and I were reasonably well equiped except I was in running shoes, but our guides didn't have very good clothes at all. After another great pancake breakfast we quickly packed up (well quick by Nepalese standards...). We made the guides all use plastic bags in their shoes, and tied our trousers for impromptu gaiters and each grabbed a stick. I slipped and slid like crazy in my running shoes, but luckily I had found a stick with a branch sticking out a little like an ice axe so I felt okay. About twenty minutes later our guide was walking along with his jacket undone but freezing, so I stoped and took of my gloves and did it up for him.

We gave the guides a quick lesson in self arrest and then headed down the steepest hill! Luckily for us, we weren't far above the snowline and after descending only 300 meters we were out of the worst of the snow. But that 300m was terrifying. It was steep, with wet snow over snow grass and on top of a 700m+ hill and I could get no traction in my shoes. Once, both feet slid out from under me and only the "pick" of my "axe" held me and my grip on the stick was getting worse and worse as I struggled to find my feet.

After we left the snow, things started to become better. Atleast now we didn't have any problems finding water any more. The sheep we had passed at 3000m on the way up were also heading down the mountain.

As we headed DOWN the mountain, Karin had the crazy idea that maybe we could get back to Pokarau the same day. So it was decided to take a short cut down to a previous days lunch spot. So we started walking UP and UP. The side ridge we thought we should walk down passed and still we were walking up. It was a great path right on the ridge so I didn't mind but Karin started to get a little upset that we weren't going the right way. (At the end of the day the guide kind of admitted that he had missed the track he meant to take).

After a while we did start heading down, straight down. It happens like this, you are following a little track in the forest and then suddenly the forest clears and you realise are basically on what is nearly a cliff, and you can see the paddy fields below, a long way below, and wonder how the hell you are going to get there. The paths themselves aren't especially scarey for a kiwi tramper, but I still find it amazing that somehow someone has found the track that weaves it's way down an incredibly steep hill with only a couple of very steep bits. I was loving the way down it was far more exciting and had better views than the way we had come up. However I stayed at the back to give the guides cookies and Raro when they started to tire.

Finally we came across a house at which point we stopped for a while and discovered forest + lots of rain + tiny tracks = LEECHES. Karin had many around her stomach and hated it. I, only had small leech farm in my shoes. However we couldn't stay where we were. Instead of heading back to town we decided to spend a last night in a local house, 45 minutes away, on some indefined track through prickly stuff or were our guides just a little lost again? And now we knew to look for the leeches climbing into our shoes.

When we got to where we were staying we were dripping wet, and picking 100s of leeches off our feet our hosts could only laugh. We stayed at an awesome place, where only three families lived with there own rice paddies on a small flat island. In the morning we found there was no easy way down or up from where they lived. Dispite the persistant rain everyone came out to see what the excitement was about when we arrived.

That night was wonderful. We were made a special fire in the house to warm us, and drunk some extremely good roxy (local alcohol and not the smoky stuff we had had earlier). It was so embarrasing for me because I couldn't get my feet to stop bleeding from all the leech bites I had! The guides especially were having a good time. We had a lot of laughs about the trip and it was so nice being inside while it rained outside.

The house was simple and beautiful, a mix of old an new. We slept on grass mats but had thick kerosene smelling polarfleece like blankets to keep us warm. They had toothbrushes and a well kept plates, but little else. Outside was a beautiful stone courtyard, and there were flowers in the garden. Really I cannot believe that these people are poor, they have eveything they need. About the only thing out of place was the alarm clock that every hour spoke the time in English. In the morning at 6am shortly after the real roster outside had woken, it woke everyone up with an electronic crowing noise including our lazy guides who had hoped to sleep in!

The last day we found an even steeper trail to take our tired legs down, and yes there were many more leeches. At moments like this you just need to embrace the leeches and laugh when the locals laughing at you and your bleeding feet as you pull 50 leeches from your shoes and socks! This is what the journey of life is about... We made it back to our guides village where we were local celebrites. After 3 days inside because of the constant rain everyone came round to hear our story, and the guides parents were very relieved that their children were okay. After that we wandered home again and I tried carrying the guides (now lightened) load the traditional way on my head, while he carried my heavy backpack.

So that is our story. We had hoped to climb the mountain (5500m) or atleast to make it to the snowline, but this time the snow came down and meet us. This was certainly one of those experiences which teaches you that life is a journey and not a destination!

Lots of stuff is happening..

2005-09-28T15:49:00.000+02:00

Well it appears that at heart I am not really a true blogger. It is over a month since I last wrote!

So much has happed in that time, and I guess that is why. My parents have visited, I've started my Swedish lessons, I've finished my Swedish lessons and I've flown to NEPAL. So last month was a hundred things happening all at once.!

So why Nepal? Well I tried option the option of getting a real job, and somehow it just didn't feel right. A few of my friends were going kayaking in Nepal.... and you know the rest. If you are one of Greig's friends, now would be a great time to send him an email because he's all alone in Stockholm at the moment.

So how is Kathmandu? Well it's great to be back in Asia. Yes it is noisy, but it doesn't really smell. The clothes are awesomely bright and it is true that the Nepalese people are really friendly, even by Kiwi standards!

I'm having great fun asking all the English speaking people to guess where I come from. The Swedish lessons seem to have screwed up my accent, so I never know quite what sort of accent is going to come out. I even talk English like a Swede sometimes.

Hopefully I can get some photos up soon, because I had an awesome day at the temple today and meet lots of the locals. This trip I have decided to take more photos and spend more time just chilling with the locals. It really seems to be working.

Catch you soon
Clare

Somewhere to live

2005-08-25T23:15:00.000+02:00

Yay! We've finally got somewhere to live for September. This is especially important as my parents are visiting in a couple of weeks. So is it as hard as everyone says to find a flat in Stockholm? Well yes and no. Yes in the sense you can't get a "first hand contract", but if you just accept this and realise you'll be paying a lot more with a "second hand contract", it's not too hard.

I'm off kayaking tomorrow, this time to Norway. It is an "instruction trip" so it's not huge water, but it is another chance to do a new river. Also tomorrow I start my Swedish course so that's pretty exciting.

One more photo from the weekend...

2005-08-23T22:55:00.000+02:00

Sea kayaking on Stockholm's Archipelago

2005-08-21T22:27:00.000+02:00

Last weekend the sun was shining so we thought it was about time we explored the Archipelago. After all the Summer is nearly over and we still hadn't seen our backyard.

So on Friday afternoon I got took the subway, train and bus to Dalarö. Then it was simply a 5 minute walk and we were ready to get into our kayaks. That's the cool thing about Stockholm, that once you've got your monthly travel card, you can go anywhere nearly for free.

For the uninitiated "archipelago" in Stockholm is nearly a euphorism for "lake". The excitement from the waves only comes after a boat has close to you, and quite frankly, if that's the kind of excitement you are looking for I would recommend the playwave in the middle of town.

All in all it was a lovely couple of days of a little bit of kayaking and a lot of lazing about sleeping and just doing not much. (A far cry from my last sea kayak in New Zealand when Greig made me paddle all day for 3 days in a row). The camping was good, the sunsets amazing and the moon at night was awesome.

We did run into one small problem when we tried to go through a little channel marked on the map. It wasn't until we had pulled ourselves through a small way that I decided to get up on the bow and check just how much further we had to go. Well it turned out to be a L O N G way!