the trimaran takes shape

Dennis of PortableKayaks.com just helped me get two pontoons for the inflatable trimaran we are using next year to go around Britain.

Tango Z-Pro 200 review, Sevylor Tahiti and inflatable canoes in general

Inflatables are more fun than other boats. For some reason I can’t quite work out the inflatable seems to capture the imagination quicker and deeper than more conventional craft. Maybe it’s the fact that like some secret agent you can unroll and blow up your boat and then penetrate far up into enemy territory- who knows what subconcious urges the old inflatable services- but it’s there alright. Look at the phenomenal interest shown in Rigid Inflatable Boats. They seem to epitomise excitement far more than the sleek powerboat moored next door- RIBs may not even go as fast, it just seems as if they do.

And so to inflatable canoes. I was much taken and excited by the idea of getting an inflatable canoe to use on the sea and up south coast rivers as well taking it further afield. Which is the unique and singularly brilliant aspect of an inflatable- you can roll it up and stick it in the boot or on a plane. And it’s simple- not like a klepper folding canoe with all its meccano bits- an inflatable is pump and go. And cheaper too.

Be warned though- all inflatables bear a stronger relationship to a rubber raft than they do to the inspirational craft on which they are modelled. They can never be expected to slice through the water. They float, they flubber, they bob- they do not slice.

Kayakers who lampoon the rubber duck are right in this respect- if slicing through water is your thing then the inflatable will disappoint. Which doesn’t mean it won’t be a great craft, it just won’t be a Greenland canoe.

I bought a Z-Pro 200 Tango. Good enough and a little tougher than most with its fabric outer shell and inner bladders. The Z-Pro is imported, costs 350+ quid and is strongly made though finished less well than a Sevylor. There was a nick (very small) in the outer skin when it came. Enough to make me think about returning it. I didn’t and haven’t noticed it since (it didn’t affect the inner bladder so had no effect on the pneumatics). In terms of not leaking and doing what it says on the box the Z-Pro is fine. It has a floor which bulges up into the boat making the experience kind of like a cross between a sit-on –top and a Canadian canoe- but it's still a dry ride and there is plenty enough sidewall to protect you and the gear. I’ve had three people in it- just, and, best of all, taken it in and out of some pretty huge surf. This is where inflatables win hands down. You have few kids and you want to muck around in the surf. Of course you’re going to broach, capsize and bottom out. Get hit by a sea kayak doing all that and you’ll know about it. Get hit by a heavy-ish inflatable and you ‘re still laughing.  Inflatables are more fun. You can also hit rocks. The bumper car aspect of inflatables adds to their down stream appeal, making a whitewater tyro out of even the most meek.

But paddling it feels kind of like paddling a small rubber raft, and it’s about as wide as a small raft too. Most inflatables, including the z-pro 200 and Sevylor Hudson are wider than they need to be. Get the narrowest you can find, other things being equal is my advice (though the width can be put to other uses such as sailing and rowing).The z-pro is nice and long though. Unless you have two kids and want to do a lot with both it’s probably not worth getting the even longer z-pro 300.

I also have a sevylor Tahiti k79- way cheaper at under a 100 quid, lighter, also great fun, a bit narrower and easier for a single child to paddle. A great deal all round- you may be able to get some old style ones which are stronger than the new version if you shop around. Again the Tahiti is a bit raft like- but it isn’t as wide as the z-pro and seems to track better. The fact that it has a single skin doesn’t really matter- though when we started exploring a narrow stream with brambles I saw the advantage of a double skin. Though, having paddled a birchbark canoe 2000 miles through wild terrain keeping the canoe skin intact is more about the awareness of the paddler than the strength of the skin. For most things bar the posing the Tahiti is grand.

You can pile up stuff in both, you can get in from a capsize and the bailing hole empties it out really fast= nothing like the palava of emptying a solid canoe or kayak. More fun.

For even more fun and a better use of the fat shape I am thinking of adding a rowing frame (very basic plywood bar with rowlocks) to the Z-pro. It has enough d-rings and with oars would shoot along. I may also add a sail and a couple of outriggers made of plastic pipes filled with foam.

The final thought on inflatables is why the RIC- rigid inflatable canoe hasn’t appeared. With a v-shaped plywood or plastic bottom and an inflatable side wall you’d have the best of both worlds.

Oh, and a last word on Audrey Sutherland who used an inflatable k-79 Tahiti to explore the Hawaiian and Alaskan coastline. You can see why. No native Inuit or Eskimo ever paddled alone. When explorer Gino Watkins tried it he died when an ice floe tipped his boat up. And if you have a lot of gear rolling may not work as planned. Audrey chose an inflatable because she found she could capsize it full of gear and get back into it and carry on- she did this as a test ten times- in surf- before her first solo trip. And you can get a lot more gear into an inflatable than a sea kayak. So for solo expeditioning where it doesn’t matter that you plod instead of rocket (you can still do 30/40km a day though) then the inflatable canoe wins again.

snakes are smart

The first time I held a giant python was in John Aspinal’s zoo a day after the under keeper had been eaten by a Bengal tiger. The reptile keeper told me, “He got cocky. You can’t do that with wild animals because they’re…not stupid.”

I held the giant Burmese with renewed respect but when I tried to get it back into its compound it wouldn’t go- however I tried to hoodwink it. They may look like big worms but they’re as intelligent as dogs. Because they are solitary and limbless we think they are thick, but snakes will find the one opening in a mile long wire fence or wait weeks in advance in exactly the right place to snatch a wild boar. I had further experiences of this when I went in search of the world’s longest snake (for which the Roosevelt prize is offered- $50,000 for a snake over 30 feet long)- I didn’t win it- though we did get one 27 feet long in the Spice islands of Indonesia. These super long snakes are all reticulated pythons, very common as they feed on oil palm rats, and much longer than anacondas that are fat and heavy rather than long. We probably didn’t win the prize because the longer and older a snake gets the cleverer it is at avoiding blundering fools intent on capturing it.

Big Snake by Robert Twigger is published by Orion £6.99

another rafting yarn

Time out –raft adventure

Dan, the raft guide said, “You’re about to undertake the whitewater equivalent of Everest. Except on Everest the guides get paid a lot more.”

Dan was short but he was broad, possibly the broadest short man I had ever encountered. His shoulders were massive, his hands huge. He was the kind of short man that is scarier than a tall man if you get my meaning, so I, and the five other punters nodded appreciatively at his words. We were all gathered in a ranch style hotel in Livingstone, Zambia, in preparation for a descent of the mighty Zambezi river.

Before heading out to the river we all helped  sort the gear: the roll-top gear bags, the flabby rubber carcass of the deflated raft, the canny thermarest seat-cum-mattresses: good gear, top gear even- the best for the Everest of whitewater adventures.

The comparison was not all hypebole. The Zambezi has the biggest rapids and wavetrains in the shortest, most concentrated, section of any river in the world. There are longer sections elsewhere, and bigger individual rapids, but none has both to such an extent. Also, like Everest, the Zambezi has an ‘easy’ line, and the rapids, though huge and noisy, are not plagued by underwater rocks waiting to snag a swimming body.

Whitewater rafting comes in two versions- oars or paddles. Oars are more efficient, but more boring for the punters who just sit and hold on. We would be using paddles and the second raft, with the gear and food, would be using oars. This would be piloted by Babyface, a diffident Zambian whose real name was never used and though he seemed quite happy about this, indeed the other Zambians also called him Babyface, but at the same time it didn’t seem quite right but then I never found out his real name either.

Babyface’s raft was also distinguished by having a toilet very visibly strapped to it. Yep, we were hauling our own sit-down loo. Though the Zambezi isn’t the thoroughfare that the Grand Canyon can become it does have a limited number of good camping sites. It made sense to haul shit, so to speak, but the sight of a loo on a raft always seemed surreal to me.

As well as Dan, who was from New Zealand, there was Davey from Canada in the safety Kayak  always hovering below the big rapids ready to pull anyone out if they fell in.

We set off, within metres it felt, of the mist and pounding water of the Victoria Falls- the world’s biggest in terms of sheer volume of water that passes over them. The current was whip fast and our paddling felt about as effective as a baby sparrow trying to extricate itself from a storm drain in full flood. Then the raft moved midstream and I felt the turning power that Dan’s huge arms added.

Instantly, almost, we were at the first rapid, us punters already knackered from paddling: I failed to follow the Dan’s bellowed instructions and we hit wall, a huge rock wall that if the raft got plastered against could have been nasty but we just banged and bounced so that was that.

It was not exactly pleasant though. It happened so fast, and it was wet, very wet. Dan had said earlier, “My first season here I lost my bag so all I had was shorts and a tee-shirt and that was enough.” Yes, I thought bitterly, if you are at the back. Up front as I was, you were a sponge for every errant wave. The canyon of the mighty Zambezi just below Vic falls is dark and deep and soon I was shivering in my shorts and short sleeved shirt- wimps like me are better off in a thin paddling jacket or a windshirt with rolled up sleeves.

The rapids rolled on. The fear was in not getting flipped or being sucked from the raft. There were in the raft handholds and toeholds but one giant wave, which crashed over us for what seemed like thirty seconds, sucked two paddlers away. Because we were going with the current they kept pace like cheery seals in their helmets and we dragged them aboard. A suspicion, never voiced, was that they held on less tightly on purpose just to see what it would be like to get a dunking.

At night the camp routine revolved around the gourmet meal the guides cooked- curry with popadoms, beef and Yorkshire pudding; they channeled their frustration at piloting the same old route with new dishes to startle each other with- and us- and it really was top nosh. Then there’s the beer and the beatbox- turning the LZ into a beachparty every night- which somehow summed up the funny nature of rafting in foreign climes- stripping the location of its difference to make it as similar as possible to some platonically ideal rafting trip, one endless river where only the rapids change, thrills interspersed with barbies and booze round the campfire.

Back on the river we portage Upper Moemba rapid- a stark wide waterfall that drowns our voices and buffets the face- though it’s a hundred metres below- with fine mist. The sheer force of the thing is brutal. By the kind of happenstance you get to expect in Africa, ten skinny Zimbabweans turn up to carry our gear and boats. It’s obvious they need the cash so we all agree- a paltry ten dollars per person sees a ton of gear magicly carried over slippery rocks and down into the lower section of the river.

We start seeing more wildlife, apart from the eagles that have been our overhead companions since the beginning. There are crocs- black and slow- lying on rocks in the sun and slithering into the water as we advance. At one place I leap out to tie up and a tiny croc slides away not three feet from me making me feel brave although I wouldn’t have left the boat if I’d seen it. On the bank great packs of baboons keep pace with us and at night monkeys jump from tree to tree around the camp.

Round about the fifth day we approach Ghostrider. This is the longest most sustained dragon’s back of a wavetrain on the river. It is a long sequence of high waves that you aim to ride, up and then plunging down into the watery tumult. And then up again, and down again. With ordinary rapids there may be one or two points of interest, massive waves or scary holes, but on Ghostrider you mount the aquatic equivalent of a Disneyland roller coaster. It was almost too much fun. Almost too easy. We hadn’t even had to queue like you do at Disneyland. Maybe I’m a puritan but surely this sort of slidey fun should be harder. Maybe I’d be punished later, yes that’d be it.

The river widened and slowed. We took our time past a large rock island, almost submerged. But it was not an island- because it suddenly did submerge- hippos! With their aggression and huge teeth they’re the most feared animals on the Zambezi. Crocs are laughable alongside them. We edged close to the bank, ready to ditch the boat and scamper onto land if we were charged. But the pod (we agreed on that one) of hippos just wanted a closer look, baring their tusk sized teeth in a yawn.

At journey’s end there was a chopper waiting for us: more luxury of the kind that’s too delicious to wriggle away from. The pilot had once flown the queen he said. Then up and away and twenty minutes later we were back at the start, hovering over the extraordinary width of Victoria Falls and its curve of tumbling water. Next time, I ponder, they’ll be no  softness, no luxury, I’ll do it in a Michelin man suit, just hurl myself in and take everything the river can throw at me.  Dan, the raft guide, hears me out and says, “might work,” then turns to the list in front of him- the next load of eager thrill seekers due in tomorrow.

check out water-by-nature raft trips if you want to find out more about such trips.

fun things to do with a GPS

GPS's are getting cheaper all the time, especially on ebay. Though you need to master the compass and natural navigation methods too, the GPS can enhance walking in quite a few unusual ways.

One interesting thing is to measure the exact number of paces you take to walk a kilometre. Before it was quite hard to accurately measure a kilometre but with a longish straight track or flat piece of beach or desert it's quite easy using the distance device on a GPS. In the old days a 'pace' was a correct navigational term- usually reckoned around five feet- it was found by actually taking two paces- the reason being it's much easier to count when only your right foot (or only your left) is counted hitting the ground, not right then left, which is too fast for a natural walking pace.

Your pace will even out over a kilometre- it'll be around 550-700- so remember your number. That way, when out without a GPS (or in a forest where tree cover stops a reading) you'll be able to measure your exact distance walked. Tip: when counting hundreds carry stones in one hand- transfer them to a pocket after each hundred is counted. Then check the pocket at the end and add whatever number you are up to. (It's the same method used by cricket umpires to count bowls in an over.)

When you're in a car it's fun to check the speed of the car with the GPS- often the speedo says a speed up to 5mph or more faster than it really is. You can also check the speed when cycling, horse riding or even canoeing. If you can get the window down or the glass isn't too thick you can speed test a train too. Also it helps ease the boredom of running and gives you a target to aim for.

You can use a GPS to help train your natural navigation abilities. Wander into a big wood having marked the entrance. Then shut off the GPS and try and get yourself lost. Then try to find your way out- go as quickly as you can, often when you don't allow yourself to think (as long as this is intentional and not a panic) you find your way instinctively. After twenty minutes switch on the GPS and see how well you have done. Use the lie of the land, changes in vegetation, direction of water flow to get a sense of direction. For more on this check out the excellent 'Finding your way without map or compass' by Harold Gatty.

With GPSs that record routes without marking: strap your GPS to your dog's collar when you are out walking on open heathland where he can run freely. Print out his route when you get home. Do different walks and compare them. Good for getting tips on how to run around like a dog. Strap two GPSs to two different dogs, print out both routes in different colours. Submit for arts council funding.

You can use the altitude function to measure the heights of hills, rock climbs or even buildings you ascend. Take bets from the others about what the real height of the Millenium wheel is. Did the owners exaggerate a bit?

The small handheld GPSs like the etrex are best but there are also watch GPSs these days- but obviously they are going to be a bit expensive despite being quite handy.