Canal-you-believe-it

As my ghost writer took over for a flowing summary of the Loire, it's Nathan again for the serious stuff.

It's half 7 at night on what was meant to be a short day. The man living by the last lock has just shouted at us for getting to close to his flowers. We churn out another 5k to arrive at the lock of fleury sur Loire, of which we have been promised - by both our map and an earlier super friendly gatekeeper - to expect a great place to camp and moor Dora. We see nothing. Jokingly I tell Jzimmee that there's a party around the corner just waiting for us.

We round the corner.. And there it is.

Alright, they're not waiting for us and it's not exactly a party.

But, there is space to camp alongside the cruisers, a tap to refill the bottles, as well as some friends we made at an earlier lock to charge the phone. This is the second night we've moored with the boats that cruise the Canal. There's less French cyclists and more English holiday-makers, but these people are much more knowledgeable about the water and just as friendly.

Our first day on the canal was actually a bit of a false dawn. We made unbelievable ground, had hardly any locks, messed around on the world famous ponte du Briare and still had the time to drag the canoe from the canal to the river for do some camping. The day was topped off by a visit from an old friend of Jzimmie's bearing supplies from home. (By the way: the stove's a big help, the cake is unbelievable and I'm in love with Alice. Thank you.)

The second day brought us back down to earth. After a glass of wine to finish our first day on the canal, Jzimmie now started a frantic search to recover his wallet from the bar owner. So we started an hour later than normal. We then had to unpack the canoe, pick it up and carry it over the bridge and make a second journey for the gear; twice as many times as we encountered twice as many locks. We also learnt a bit more about how good the Loire had been to us. While the town of Charite sur Loire and its basillica were nice, we were made to work for them having trekked with the gear between canal and river. After finding a dodgy canal that prevented our return to camping on the Loire, we ended up in a pleasant enough spot on the canal with the other boats.

Today started with a similar downer although this time it wasn't us messing up. We woke to the patter of rain and then got the chance to test our waterproofs for the first hour on the water. The day then fell into a tiring rhythm. Constant paddling, then a lock. Generally broken up by intrigued lock men or friendly boaters. Finally at 8 we made the late finish that I exaggerated above.

All in all, the Canal is a lot safer than the Loire. It's also a lot more predictable and a lot easier to tell where you are. We paddle faster, make better ground and theres been a change of scenery from forest to farms and vineyards.

On the other hand, there are no breaks to tow and the water is grey and dirty. Locks are tiring and the nicer towns aren't always on the canal.

I'd compare paddling the Loire to climbing a mountain. Going on a canal is more like cycling on a turbo charger and then doing press ups every half hour: relentless, but we decide when the pain comes. For the moment, this cycling wins out.

Summary of the Loire

When we first dipped paddles into the Loire three weeks ago it was a navigable river. It was wide, deep and wavey, with boats passing along the marked out channel. Starting to paddle upstream paddling was a shock to the body but we learnt the tactics of hiding behind the rocky 'groynes' and avoiding the buoys where the main river flow would be.

By the end of week 1 we were past the confluence wih the River Maine and the buoys and larger boats had disappeared. The river was just as quick as before, but with no groynes to hide behind the quicker waters were exhausting. With no marked channel there came more sand banks and we discovered towing which broke up the days paddling and moved us over shallower sections.

By week 3 the river had changed noticeably. No longer so obviously the longest river in France it had slowed and widened out with numerous islands and countless sand banks. We found slower water far more often but learnt that every bit of slow water is followed by a rapid section somewhere. Quick, quick, slow, became the motion as we moved on dead water but towed on huge sand banks or tough rapids. Towing was no longer the break it once was.

The later weeks on the Loire saw its true beauty as a river no longer altered by humans and instead a site for tourism. Fisherman, searching for the massive fish that jumped around our canoe, and canoeists heading downstream on day trips in the baking French sun. It's not a bad place to paddle, it has to be said.

As we leave the river we know it far better than when we began. It went from navigable and quick to wider and slower and everyday we learnt from it. How to see sand banks, which waves meant it was shallow and which meant it was fast. We learnt not to take risks on the banks and avoid 'sweepers', fallen trees that reach out into the water. We learnt lessons in security and lessons in French. We learnt that everyone has advice and not all of it is useful. We learnt that bridges are funnels and old arched ones are bad. We learnt that the river changes quickly, just as your fortunes as a paddler do. And we learnt that the Loire can be paddles upstream. Slowly but surely, it can be done.

Three more days upstream

My watch reads 06:45. I think that this is a socially acceptable time to wake up. I sit upright and check through the open door of the tent that the canoe and bags are still there. Satisfied, I open the zip of the tent and crawl out, sleeping bag around my legs. I climb out of the bag and urinate in a nearby bush. I go back to the tent and quietly empty a pair of shorts and yesterday's t-shirt from my sleeping bag holder - cum pillow. I put on my kit and jog away from the river bank and towards the nearby footpath.

I'm moving slow, my back is very stiff and I need to defecate. Once relieved, and a couple of minutes later, I fall into an easier stride. I run a bit further, do some stretching and start thinking about the last couple of days.

We left you at the foot of some very friendly houses. I went for a run on that day as well. From there we were no more than an hour from our first town of Jargeau and its two bridges. The mood in the canoe was pretty quiet as we went past the campsite we hasn't made the night before. From there we had a productive morning, paddling quietly to the next town of Chateauneuf. Having negotiated another bridge we carried everything out of the canoe except our food supplies. After half an hour's trekking around we returned - supplies sorted - to have a fairly massive couple of baguettes by the canoe.

The afternoon was hot but we had decided that we would be stopping at the next town early unless it was certain we would make the subsequent campsite. Arriving after our deadline I sat with the canoe while Jzimmie ran away from some dogs and towards the town to find a place for the night to recharge phones. He returned a lot quicker than expected with news that there was actually a campsite. Good news for our wallets which are yet to pay for a hotel. From there a long hot day kept getting cooler. Two or three people came up to us and chatted in first English and then French about what we were doing. The English couple were so impressed they gave us a couple of beers to 'keep us going'. After a dinner of cous cous, carrots, sweetcorn and sausison we walked the 1k into town - content in the knowledge that all the kit was secure. Having meandered around the town of Benoit Sur Loire, we had a couple of ice-cold milky coffees and a perusal of the French dictionary for chat up lines.

The next day was an early start. No run for me and we both agreed it was the best night we had slept in a while. We were efficiently packed and had the canoe back on the river and loaded before 9am. Watched from the river bank by the friends we made the night before, we set of with the target of the next town before lunch. At 9:30 we stopped for a drinks break, the thermometer read 26* and it felt like we had been paddling for hours. Still, in hindsight we made good progress to get to the next town and through its two sandy bridges by 11:30. At the time it just felt like we were dragging the canoe through the Sahara. After Jzimmie had finished his orgasm over the chateau in Sully, we got some cold drinks and set off for another solid hours canoeing before lunch.

Stopping for lunch we both felt pretty bad on what was now by far the hottest day. 2 mugs of cereal later (breakfast had been postponed for dinner leftovers), Jzimmie tried and failed to ring the missus while I had a nap.

The afternoon's target was a power station marked on the map. We'd been able to see it the day before and it looked within range. However, the sun was still blazing and we therefore felt pretty jubilant at reaching it within a few hours. But this was just the beginning. We then proceeded to spend the next two hours paddling and towing on sand banks as we frustratingly arched around the power station. Finally, at 6pm, we carried the canoe over a barrage. For me that meant the end of the power station and the day was now into bonus territory. Another hour later, and after several rejected places for camping, we stopped at the peaceful and uncomfortable place from which I awoke. After a surprisingly imaginative dinner involving apple and corned beef, we were asleep before 10pm but still pretty hot.

So, after doing my stretches I reluctantly started a fartlek session. My body felt like crap. But, I did what I wanted to do, stretched my legs on the French countryside and was back to camp before 7:30.

Getting back to the tent, I whistled out of tune until Jzimmee was awake and then offered a customary bonjour to test the water. Jimmy's downbeat response let me know he felt equally rough. His subsequent admission that there would be no photos of our last day on the Loire because the phone had been drained while he called his girlfriend didn't make either of us feel much better. I picked up a towel, some dry shorts and my shower gel for one final swim/shower; leaving jimmy to mooch out of the tent for breakfast. After another couple of mugs of cereal and a halved litre of milk to clear the air, we set off for hopefully the last upstream day for a while.

I started in the bag and pondered in the silence whether to be annoyed about the now dead phone. But to be honest, continuing the moans from the run, I felt a lot too hot and tired to think about anything except my aching body.

Luckily it was dead water and we were soon in Gien. After a quick trek around town loaded with our belongings, an almost smooth conversation at the tourist information and a cold drink at a cafe; we were back on the Loire knowing that for us its end and the end of the week were in sight.

We stopped for lunch a couple of hours later at the standard time and made the standard cheese, ham and tomato sandwiches. The mood was pretty low as we faced another sickeningly hot afternoon with dwindling snacks. But, after the first corner the town of Briere and its beacon like canal were in sight.

Then it was straight to the camp sight. We cleaned out clothes. We cleaned the food barrels. We made a shopping list for tomorrow. We've finished the Loire and I'm about to make dinner.

Update on the past few days...

After our fantastic rest day, meal with French friends and late night expedition to the Chambord Chateaux, we left our host, Alex, on Thursday from Blois. He very kindly drove our things the 2km to the river as we hauled the canoe through the city centre, accompanied by Alex's neighbour and a few odd looks. We powered along all day, including a long spurt where our competitive sides took over. A man from a kayak club was out and heading upstream. Once spotted there was a noticeable gear change in our boat as we moved along and past him, jumping almost into the water when we said 'bonjour!'

By evening we'd made It to a power station and a long weir across the river. Deciding it better to overcome the obstacle with fresh heads, we camped on a nice riverside patch opposite the power station. Morning came and Nathan's early run meant be could scout the barrage. A walkway was marked around the weir so we portaged it quickly and paddled onto Bouvoir where we topped up our water supply.

By lunch we'd covered some good ground to the next town where we made chunky sandwiches on an island before working our way under a couple of difficult bridges. As the day drew on, though, we thought we'd fallen short of our target campsite by Orleans, but as we rounded a final meander the bridges came into view. We kept going till just after 8pm and stayed in a campsite after our longest day yet. Shortly before our arrival we also met a bobbing box which we were unable to figure out for a long while, camouflaged up with a log telescope poking out the side.... eventually a man in full length waders poked his head out and said hello. Extreme bird watching. It entertained us a fair bit!

On Friday we headed into Orleans on foot, early, to try and get our first proper French breakfast, which we did, after a fair bit of walking, and we munched on some awesome pastries. Postcards and bus tickets bought, we went back to the campsite and by 11:30 were on the water, paddling and towing through the 5 bridges of Orleans. After lunch we got lost - a lot - and paddled hard in the heat which eventually built into a thunder storm. We sheltered in the rain for a short while then went on until 7:30 where we realised we weren't to make our target campsite and instead set up the tent at the foot of some nice houses. The family came down to chat and gave us some (strong) beers and a bottle of water. Happy for us to camp there we settled in and called it a night.

2 weeks down...

So we left you on a sunny morning in Tours and you now find us on a sunny afternoon in Blois. In the meantime we’ve experienced one massive day, two shorter days, French hospitality at its finest and an impromptu swim down the Loire.

First to the canoeing… We were both pretty happy to be leaving the city of Tours and the shock it had given us. So, upon being told by a friendly Canadian assistant in the
Tourist Office that the city of Amboise wasn’t too far upstream, had camping on an island, beneath a chateaux, with a lot of bars and cafès chucked in for good measure… Amboise seemed the perfect antidote for our troubles. This was at 2pm. By 7.15 her estimated
two hour paddle had become a bad joke. Then at some time around 7.22pm (I could be more precise, every extra second paddling at this point seemed a second too far) we spotted the famous bridge on the horizon. Beautiful as they are, historic bridges generally mean strong currents and it was therefore another hour before we had negotiated both canoeing the bridge and locating the biggest campsite I have ever seen (in my lengthy two week experience of campsites that is). Once again, finishing the day in a picturesque square with a glass of wine and a cake made up for everything the Loire had thrown at us.

Since then we have had two shorter days as we canoed to the next town and adjoining campsite, and then on to Blois for a stay with a young man met through warmshowers.org.

In hindsight, these days were pretty easy going with slower water, and only the heat, the massive fish, some stoned Bastille Day revellers as well as an impromptu swim (completely over-dramatised by Jzimmee in the alternative blog) to keep us on our toes. I’ll therefore take this opportunity to fill you in on the unwritten routines that we have fallen into on this trip. I’m still running three or four times a week. Jimmy’s still saying how much he’d like to go for a run three or four times a week. So that's the exercise regime outside of canoeing.

Two weeks in, diet-wise we are both agreed that we have better main meals than either of us enjoyed during university. Saucisson makes regular appearances here, while lunch takes in the wide variety of cheese, cheese and ham or jam and peanut butter, brown bread or a baguette where convenient. These main meals are accompanied by fruit, nuts, more sandwiches and our dwindling supply of energy and protein bars as the day wears on. We try and do a large shop on rest days and then top up on milk, fruit and vegetables in any towns where we stop. There you go, the all-you-can-eat canoeing the continent diet laid bare.

So that's the canoeing, the daily regime and now for the French hospitality. While the gendarme took more than a bit of convincing and we've met our share of aloof waiters, the mother and son that we find ourselves staying with for nights 14 and 15 provide all and everything you could ever want from a French household. Having spent two hours dragging the canoe, our equipment and our food supplies through a hilly city centre as the restaurants began to fill, we would have willingly accepted a backgarden to camp in. Instead, we were given cool drinks. Then a hearty meal. Then some local cheeses and finally some ice cream. All served by life-long friends we had known for no more than an hour but who were excited to host us in a house so vibrant, homely and uniquely French that speaking English to one another sounded foreign. And finally after the desserts and the cheese, a midnight jaunt to be inspired by the Chambord chateau, illiminated on a balmy French night.

As ever the focus is now on the next target city. However, while Orleans will provide the next set of built up bridges, organised tourism and hopefully another plat du jour, we are both hopeful that in 7 or 8 days time it will be the Loire that has been conquered as we meet our point of departure on the canal de Briere. After a week of hard work punctuated by French culture, followed by catastrophes, I'm not going to hope for anymore than that.

2 long days

(Written 13/07/13)
This may be a long blog post but its been a long few days... I'll try and make it a decent read.

When we left you we were.just before Tours, all ready to hit it for an afternoon of watching the finish of the Tour De France. Thursday dawned and we got on the water pretty early and made for the city. One by one we worked our way through six bridges; a couple paddled, three towed with a bit of rope throwing, and one carried since the rapids underneath were simply impassable. Beyond the final bridge we scoured the banks for somewhere to camp and bumped into some friendly picnicers. They were impressed with our intentios to get to Istanbul, after laughing heartily, and we shared two big glasses of wine with them to toast to the Tour De France. We moved on a bit further and locked the canoe amongst some trees.

After a few kms walk into Tour we found the route and ran another 2kms to the finish where we stood 100m from the line. After being told to get down off a roof we watched in the crowd as the sprinters flashed past and the riders cruises into Tours. We shopped for food we needed and ate dinner in a cheap but good pub with a dessert Nathan would not shut up about.

Buzzing from a fantastic day and the perfect timing of the expedition with a stage of the Tour De France, we set about the long walk back to the canoe. Just after 9:30 we got back to it but, approaching, saw the life jackets out on the ground. Things weren't right and before we even looked in the boat we had the horrible feeling of knowing what had happened. Our belongings were strewn all over the canoe and items were bobbing in the water around it. We tried to stay calm and sorted through our things to see what had been taken and what was ok. Without our tent and nathans sleeping bag, we hauled the canoe up and sat against it. We took turns staying awake in case anyone returned and alternated using the remaining sleeping bag.

Eventually the sun rose and we could assess the situation. The major losses were the tent, a sleeping bag and our solar charger. A further problem came in the shape of me wading into the water to look if anything had sunk around the boat. I badly cut my foot and, worse, my iPhone- usually stored in a waterproof box that had also been stolen - came in the water with me.

Without further ado we left the horror spot and canoed back downstream to Tours. We locked the canoe to a jetty, put everything we owned on our backs and started walking. First we went to the police station. There we were told that with no available policemen because of the tour de France, and with our French not being good enough, we should come back another time. Then to the tourist office, where, taking pitty on us, we were allowed free use of the internet as we searched for someone to translate our detailed description of the night's events for the police.

After eating lunch back by the canoe where we could ensure it was safe, we got a bus out of town, a long way out of town. So far out that we were worried that we had the wrong bus... But eventually we came to a decathlon where we 'popped in' for a quick and expensive replacing session. Lots of gear later and a few hundred euros lighter, we bussed it back to the city centre. Still carrying all that we had left, we headed back to the canoe that had become our primary concern.

As we neared the jetty the canoe's edge was no longer pointing out in sight as it had previously been. Our walk turned in to a stride and then a run and then a sprint. I sprinted down to the jetty, still seeing no canoe. It must've gone.

I rounded the corner and the canoe was there. 17ft long, with a padlock either end, attached to a steel jetty, it was never going anywhere. I shouted to Nathan, jogging behind me, that it was ok, I sat down on the bank, and I cried. A day that had taken it out of me and clearly shaken us both up. I sat there and I crumbled. Nathan got down to me and bumbled through a broken conversation with the jetty owner trying to maintain a little composure. Then we sat for a while and tried to rationalize everything.

Eventually we got back up, got back into the city and printed out a full translation of the events that had taken place and a full list of the items stolen. Here Antoine Levoir was a great friend and of essential assisstance. He had translated what we sent him on Facebook that morning, providing something for the police to work with. We took it to them and, playing on the fact we looked like our worlds had ended and we carried all we owned on our backs, eventually convinced them to register the crime. By 9pm, finally satisfied we'd got all the important things done, we unlocked the canoe and paddled to the public gardens where we set up camp and slept with every item we owned within reach. Nathan still woke up three times to check the canoe.

We woke up to the sun. It was a new day and the river still flowed. We put the canoe in and left Tours behind.

Life could be worse.

Unsurprisingly, trying to canoe the continent can make you a wee bit tired. As the day wears on, the sun heats up, the wind gets stronger, our arms hurt more and slowly but surely we turn into zombies.

This mental fatigue effects us in different ways. Jzimmee is prone to go sullen. I start burbling bullshit. It is usually the person at the front - with none of the respite offered by steering in the back - who feels worst. In the front, I count out 150 strokes on each side. As with running, counting seems to keep me focused. But last week my paddling rhythm became a bit invasive. Three nights in a row, as my breathing fell into subconscious 150s, I awoke. Panicking. Desperately I flashed the torch and woke Jimmy. I tried to change direction in our struggling canoe.

Much to Jimmy's amusement we were in the tent. The canoe was safely on dry land next to the tent. And it was half 1 in the morning.

Since then I've made sure I chill out a bit before going to sleep. As with the anxiety which left Jimmy unable to eat a full meal during the first few days; chilling out a bit solves most problems.

Something that's made it more monotonous since our rest day is the uniform landscape. We no longer have regular bridges and ports... Now it's just trees. One thing this does do is to emphasise the sights we do come across. Yesterday the jumping fish that made jimmy scream like a girl was a highlight. Today the ineptly covering up nudes gave us both something to look at. Apart from that, the towns have been perfect. Sun-kissed chateaux and more cafes than you can shake a paddle at provide regular highlights. Life could be worse.

Another effect of this beautiful countryside that I keep complaining about is that it's pretty difficult to judge where you are. The last couple of days we've had targets to reach as we chase the Tour De France. Yesterday this resulted in us confirming with a fisherman that our chosen town was around the corner. Same again today. Only thing was, today we'd already gone past our target. On both occasions we've ended the day elated but exhausted, camping on the slipway. Although last night we were worried by an embarking fishing trip, my conversation with the father showed just how nice some French people are - as well as how much my French has improved.

Apart from that we're still eating like kings. The weather's banging and the Loire valley is spectacular. Like I said, it could be worse.

First Rest Day

Our last blog post was from an island in sight of the bridge before Saumur. From our running backgrounds we instinctively pick targets to hit and push hard to make them. So we set off yesterday morning for the bridge and docked on a jetty just beyond it to wander into the town.

After faffing around with wifi and filling our water tank in the tourist office, we went to a central square where we indulged in cold drinks, a baguette and a crepe.

Eventually forced to move on, we left the town behind as we towed out along a wide shallow section of the Loire. Since the confluence with the Maine this has become more and more the norm; wider and shallower waters where we stop less for riverside breaks and instead walk across sandy sections where it is not possible to paddle. The chance to stand in the cool water now that the weathers heating up isn't bad either and walking and drinking feels more progressive than stopping altogether.

By the end of the day we found ourselves in Montsoreau and cruised a km past to Candes-St-Martin with a campsite. Voted one of the most beautiful villages in France, last night we saw why. Narrow, winding, cobbled streets with stone buildings led us up a steep slope to a panorama view point on the hillside where we looked out on the river to come and the meandering water we've already put behind us. We clambered back down to the tiny village square and had a late glass of Saumur wine before the restaurant closed.

2 showers and a good sleep later, it is a rest day. We did practical things in the morning: washed food barrels, cleaned clothes, slept again. Nathan ran a hill session up to the panorama a few times. Then we walked to Montseau for a good lunch. Taking the most local approach we ordered 'plat de jour' and the first beer on the list. A flick through the dictionary led us to find we were enjoying pig snout for starters (genuinely enjoying) and two fine, but non-alcoholic, beers.

Now we're going to stock up on food for the next fees days as we aim to hit Tour for Le Tour, could be right on time!

Paddling en amont

Although canoeing the continent appears to involve taking picturesque photos and then writing about them; 5 days of upstream paddling is no joke.
This was first made apparent by the reaction of the locals to our explanation that we are paddling en amont. First they seek to point out that Nantes is actually the other direction. Then, having been corrected in our broken French to understand that we have come from Nantes, we generally earn looks of shock. And, in the case of old men on two separate occasions, a knowing pinch of the bicep.
Second, every tourist who flows past downstream has a paddle which needs to make little impression on the water. This contrast was rammed home yesterday. Four canoes of teenagers came hurtling downstream. The first just about managed to turn out of the flow. The following canoes simply collided. Eventually the final canoe capsized. Having watched this facade from a jetty where we were resting, checking maps and generally feeling professional; we then paddled straight back through the difficult section. Feeling like absolute dons. (The fact that half an hour later we accidentally went for a swim when intending to wade is beside the point.)
Finally when you canoe upstream it is at the front of your mind that every paddle counts. No stroke is usurped from behind. Help is asked for but none is given. 150 paddles and then switch sides. 14 miles a day. 5 days down.
"Where are you going?"
(2 miles outside of Nantes and moving slowly)
"Istanbul."

3 Days In

I'm sitting on a beach in the sun, 3 days in. Just as planned.

On Tuesday (2nd July) we left from the Eastern edge of Nantes, waved off by my parents and the Ashley family, over on holiday nearby. We hardly departed at high speed but we were in good spirits and after a slower start it picked up as the tide turned and helped us out. The wind picked up and it was a little rough but we were confident on the water. At 5 we took a longer break. I read a book by some trees while Nathan went for a run. I don't know why?! My book was decent though.

By 7pm we'd done 13 or 14 miles (gps watch died at the end) and set up camp on an island. A second after the tent was up it started raining. We cooked in rain coats and ate in the tent. Wrote a couple of postcards, read more book, alternative blogged, then went to bed.

It rained all night and was spitting a little in the morning. We packed up and moved on a mile to the village of Ancenis. In Ancenis we spoke French. In Ancenis we aced French. A handy conversation in the tourist office got us to fill up our water tank and directions to the post box. The post box saw more French with a guy impressed by our paddling 'en amont' and then we had a coffee and juice before heading back to Dora.

Dora took us to another village where we chatted to a couple of people and tested the toilet facilities. Then we hit the first patch of trouble. A quick bit of water where we realised we were going backwards and resorted to towing for 100meters or so. Then more paddling, then another short tow, and then away. We managed to paddle another few miles, saw a massive beaver (whey) and made the decision to pass the next town before we made camp. But, then we came to a big concrete pipe which came way out into the river before disappearing into the depths and back up the bank on the otherside. Bottom line is it created a bottle neck in the river and an absolute torrent that couldn't be canoed. We tried towing for a bit but couldn't pull it through the gap either. Eventually we had to get the gear out and over the piping and then haul the canoe over too. 200m more down the river we met exactly the same obstacle and exactly the same power in the river.

The second bit of piping was a blessing in disguise; fed up and climbing up the bank we spotted a campsite nearby. Decision made. More French with another friendly stranger and Alfie the dog and a space in the campsite. We dried the wet outer layer of the tent and made dinner on a picnic table before a warm shower, kick of the football and bed with another 14miles under the belt.

Now we're at today. Day 3. Nathan went for a run first thing and we made the most of a campsite: cleaning all the pots and another shower. Then we covered a quick 3miles despite the strong river. After a coffee in Montjean we made the decision to leave the main river and marked bouys to take a route through islands and sand banks hoping to avoid the river flow as much as possible. It was a great decision. Though we had to pull the canoe on a few shallow sandy sections the area was quieter and we just found ourselves covering the miles, by lunch we'd done 8. More after lunch with a couple of little rapid sections to pull through. By 16miles we called it a day but spent a full extra mile looking for a decent camp spot which we found, here, on a beach opposite the village of le pointe. We're a bit obvious but no one seems bothered. The sun came out for dinner, the beach is lovely and, to repeat, we just did a record breaking 17miles upstream. Can't really believe it, you want to see this river, but we did 17.

Final Preparations

Day -3, Day -2, Day -1... The final preparations have been made: we have said our goodbyes, we have shopped and we have packed.

Although doing our best to remain stoic; leaving behind friends, leaving home and leaving parents was always going to be a tad emotional. But enough of that. We said our goodbyes and met in Folkestone. With Jimmy's parents driving, the journey was straight -forward and, 8 hours later, after only a couple of wrong turns, we arrived in Nantes at our base for the last couple of days. We are indebted to 'Jamie''s parents for their chauffeuring, their food and their company during this time.

We shopped on both sides of the Channel. Previously, we have picked up items from our sponsors Kent Canoes and the Countryside Store. Next, solar panels, water purification tablets and maps had been bought online. Finally in England we bought clothes and holiday essentials. Shopping in France has been a lot more fun. Dodgy French, the resulting sign language and the fact that everything's different made the trek around 'le grand supermarche' more fun than it should have been for two immature graduates.

Having bought our supplies, the last task was packing and preparing. Despite the various shopping errands, we have packed light and it is disconcerting how little we have and how much it weighs. Other tasks consisted of checking whether the boat needed registering and testing the stove. Both times, we managed epic fails before eventually resolving the situation.

And that's about it... Day 0, Mile 0 and I can't wait to get started.

Gathering momentum

Its been a busy past week. Not exactly crammed full ofcanoeing, but busy and productive all the same. Since the last blog post we did do a couple more days of training: Upstream on the River Sowe, right up to the shallows where we did a little towing, and a day on the Grand Union canal which saw a classic “I thought you were holding it”, “oh, I thought you were holding it” moment as we both watched the canoe drift away from the waters edge. The canoe bobbed just out of reach and the wind wasn’t going to bring it back to us. Taking the blame and noting that I was the one wearing swimming trunks, I took a dip in the murky waters to retrieve our canoe. Fair to say it was an amusing and pretty embarrassing error. Lesson learnt there. I dried off, changed and we paddled for the rest of the day.

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With a little more water time under our belts, Nathan and I headed to visit our sponsors and gather gear for the expedition. I visited the lovely people at Countryside in Stevenage Old Town. They’re an independent out-doors store who have kindly provided us with a top notch two-man expedition tent as well as two awesome MSR camp-stoves. I had a long chat with Verity who has helped out with the sponsorship and we are hugely grateful to the store. Check them out: www.countryside.co.uk

Next we headed to Kent Canoes where we got the stuff that made the whole expedition feel real! The Mad River Reflection 17… the green monster that will take us to Istanbul, along with a couple of nice wooden paddles and other good canoeing gear. We’ll be updating our kit list soon to give you more details on what we’re using. Again, we must thank Kent Canoes another small but impressive establishment with a seriously big range of gear and expertise. www.kentcanoes.co.uk

We also had a bit of chatting with reporters, who we’d sent press releases to, as well as my interview on BBC Three Counties radio. (It’s fair to say it was pretty sensational broadcasting and I’ve been fighting off a position on the Graham Norton Show ever since). Tweeting and talking to people, it’s been handy to get a bit of publicity rolling before we leave, trying to get some people following us online and some interest in what we’re doing.

So this is my penultimate post before we leave. Now my bedroom is filling up. I’ve got drybags, paddles, gear and clothes everywhere. I’m going to start packing and panicking all in one go. Then I’ll write on here, jump in a canoe, and point our nose East to Istanbul.

Progress

Me and Jimmy have taken a swap between the blogs, so you’relucky enough to be treated with Nathan’s attempt at this blog.

We have now completed a full 5 days canoeing around Leam and by Sunday it will hopefully have been 5 days straight. It might not seem like a lot when you think of the 4 months that we’ve got to paddle, but the progress we’ve made feels significant. Remembering the first half day when I could barely move my arms after getting out of the canoe, physically I think we’re now both feeling stronger and more ready and aware of the physical toll that each days takes.

But while 5 days isn’t going to dramatically improve our strength, we have definitely improved in terms of doing the things that are essential for the journey. First, while Jimmy had already mastered the simple task of steering the canoe, I’m crashing a lot less than before and no longer making my own windy route up the river. Then there’s the practical stuff: getting in and out of the canoe – if we ignore the day went for a swim, lifting the canoe out of the water (I’m meant to call this portaging), taking on food, hydrating and even just setting off at the start of the day have all become a lot more smooth.

Not as practically important, but something which I reckon is pretty crucial is the quality of the chat that we’re now getting through. Most people ask how we’re going to cope with being stuck in the same boat for hours every day. I can confirm that we are yet to run out of topics after 5 days of repeating the same stretches of water with only midlands wildlife to talk to. We’ve covered – in no particular order and this is just the stuff I can remember from today – the women of Warwick Uni, what we should do if a third world war breaks out when we’re canoeing, where Eastenders is going wrong and how many times we’ve each been to A and E. It may not be riveting, but we’ve reached some conclusions that will definitely advance humanity as we know it.

Well, in typically modest fashion, I’ve got to say that was some beautiful blogging. Adios.

Starting to train

A few days of training under our belt: Paddling the GrandUnion Canal, portaging around the locks and making good miles. And some upstream paddling on the River Leam, hard work. It’s been good to get going and feeling like the whole plan is all possible. We have been hitting the target mileage we hope to hit when we’re paddling across Europe and that’s what really matters. We’ve been through heavy rain and got burnt in the sun already and have only really been paddling for four days. Nathan’s gone from day 1, “So seriously, talk me though it. Do I just use the paddle like a spade, yeh?” to powering along on the difficult upstream. We’ve managed portaging the heavy canoe around a lot of locks on the Grand Union and got efficient at getting the boat in and out of the water.

Today we covered 16.5 miles. Nathan pooed in a field, I nearly pooed at all the swans we had to pass, and Nathan practiced man-over-board drills by popping out of the boat for a paddle in the River Leam. All after chatting to two local newspaper reporters about how great we were getting on, how prepared we are, e.t.c. But it’s all good. And we are actually making serious progress. We responded quickly to Nathan swimming in all his clothes and have learnt a few lessons generally over the past few days. Training is all good. 3 weeks left of university: we drink, party and canoe.

Welcome

Welcome to the Canoeing the Continent live blog. The blog will be update regularly by James and Nathan once the expedition is underway. Photos, videos and written updates will all appear here. Get in contact with questions and support for the guys through the contacts page!