"Welcome to Norway" - Ekstremsportveko in Voss

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

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!

A french lesson in river karma

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

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.

From tourist to tourist attraction

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

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!

Sjoa River Festival

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

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

Return to Åre

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

Ice paddling

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.