A paddling weekend. Don't stop believing Part 3

Last weekend I flew to Durban, without the canoe, and travelled by car, without the canoe, to Pietermaritzburg. My aim for the weekend was three-fold. Each task had to be successfully accomplished before taking on the next task. If I failed to accomplish any of the three tasks, I would not be able to get a late entry for the Dusi:

1. I first had to pass my river proficiency test on the Umgeni River. If I passed that, then:

2. Two hours later I would be allowed to paddle in my first ever river race (in a K2) with Themba Ngcobo, my potential Dusi partner, and the development coach from the Umzinyathi canoe club. If this went OK, and Themba was happy with my performance, then:

3. I could paddle in another race, the very next morning, with him, on the actual Msunduzi River.

So how did I do?

I was joined in my river proficiency test by five other young development paddlers from the Umzinyathi Canoe Club. Themba was also there, casting a watchful eye over his young protegés. The Canoe South Africa official presiding over the test was Bridgitte Hartley, an Olympic sprint canoeist. Talk about pressure. Thankfully I met a kindred spirit, a 12-year-old girl called Nothando, and we soon established a rapport based on moral support. Nothando loves paddling and her dream is to complete the Dusi and the Fish River Canoe marathons, and go on to the Olympics. Just my ‘kinda’ girl!

Nothando was very brave and led the group down our first test: a weir. Unfortunately she capsized at the bottom of the weir and struggled to kick off her splash cover. For a few terrifying seconds or even a minute she was trapped in her canoe as it was churned around in a washing machine eddy at the base of the weir. All I heard was screaming as her canoe was tossed in the churn. Luckily someone was on hand to dive in and rescue her. Unfortunately, this meant that Nothando failed her river proficiency test, but with the correct support, encouragement and coaching she will certainly be a force to be reckoned with. Bridgitte then shouted: “Ok Ingrid, you’re next.” Flip. I was super nervous, but I knew that I had to just try and make good by Themba and Nothando.

I had no other option than to go down the weir. Momentum, gravity and stupidity are a lethal combination. Besides, there is no foot brake or hand brake on a canoe. With great trepidation I steered my canoe down the weir. Thankfully, I made it. The rest of the test proceeded without too much drama, thanks to the help of a local paddling friend called Kevin Meier. Kevin not only sourced a really stable K1 for my test, but also subtly demonstrated some of the more technical test moves, by way of arm movements, from a nearby bush. I did have flashbacks to my driver’s license test (the parallel parking), many years ago. My mother would hide behind a lamp post, grasping an imaginary steering wheel and turn it frantically, all while I proceeded to mount the pavement.

Themba and his paddling cohort. Nothando is in the front row.

As there was no pavement to mount, I passed the river proficiency test and was therefore allowed to race in the two events with Themba. The first race was the Dash and Crash, a 16km paddle down the Umgeni River. Themba set a furious pace. We flew over the weir, navigated rapids, and dodged trees. My arms thrashed wildly trying to emulate his paddling speed. I felt like a World Champion.

The next day was the Campbell’s to Dusi Bridge race, a 26km stint along the actual Dusi route. This was now the real deal. Rapids, big water, rocks and trees. And some portaging (carrying the canoe) around rapids.

All I can say is that my trip down the river with Themba was exhilarating but really scary at times. Especially as we capsized twice down two difficult rapids. I am definitely not an adrenaline junkie. Roller coasters scare the living daylights out of me. I will never skydive or bungee jump. I am the person who claps in relief when the airplane lands. But I managed. Thanks to Themba for opening my eyes (often in fright) to the power, danger and exhilaration of being on a real, flowing river. I have learnt that a river is a force of nature that demands respect. If respect is not given willingly, it will just be taken forcefully.

Portaging a canoe is also not easy. Nothing like my mountain bike. There are many lessons to learn. The canoe is heavy and digs into your shoulders. I will definitely need to wear shoulder pads. Running in wet shoes, especially downhill, is a sure way to get blistered toes. Next time it might be better to wear socks. And never drag a canoe when you can carry it: Our K2 canoe got a hole from striking a rock. It’s a good thing it was due to be branded – now it can be repaired first and branded afterwards.

The Campbell’s to Dusi Bridge race is along the final 26km of the first day of the Dusi race. Come 17 February I will need to do about 40km on three consecutive days. A sobering thought. Especially as I returned to Cape Town with a bout of the dreaded Dusi guts. The river is polluted and water does get into your Gastro Intestinal Tract, despite every effort to keep your mouth shut. For the last three days, I have not ventured far from the toilet.

I also managed to return to Cape Town without my paddle. No, I didn’t lose it in the river. Let me explain: One of the officials from Airports Company South Africa would not allow me to board the plane from Durban to Cape Town with my paddle. They were convinced that it looked more like an Assegai. I guess that is my punishment for being low maintenance and only travelling with hand luggage. I donned my MacGyver persona, and resorted to hiding my paddle in a bush outside the airport building. Hopefully it will still be there on my return. Hopefully I will remember which bush.

I alerted Themba to my Dusi concerns: Dusi guts, sore shoulders, paddling without a paddle, a holy boat and the distinct possibility of failure. His response: Ingrid, your Zulu name is IMBOKODO. Initially I thought that it might translate as: ‘the foolish one who does not listen, or the foolish one with her head in a toilet’. But no, and wow, this is what my trusty online translator tells me:

"Imbokodo is a Zulu word meaning “a rock”, often used in the saying “Wathint' abafazi, wathint' imbokodo” meaning you strike a woman, you strike a rock”

Thank you Themba. With your help I know we can do this.

Imbokodo and Themba