Paddling off at Devizes at the start of the Devizes to Westminster Canoe and kayak maathon
So here we were. In a banal and usually empty car park in a small Wiltshire town, filled with dread and exceptionally nervous. The past 6 months of long tiring weekends, early mornings and training at night time had finally led us here to a car park, which today, the Saturday of Easter weekend is anything but empty or banal. It is the starting point for the Devizes to Westminster Canoe and Kayak Marathon (DW).
At 125 miles in length DW is the longest non-stop canoe / kayak marathon in the world. It incorporates 77 portages as it takes competitors on the Kennet & Avon Canal and a large section of the Thames, before finishing under Westminster Bridge. It is a test of physical and mental endurance, and one neither my (paddling) partner, Jake, or I, were fully prepared for.
The nerves are not helped by the list of safety measures and logistics needed to sort out before starting. Paddling on the tidal Thames, at night and under extreme exhaustion means that you need a bit of gear to help you out and in reserve in case the worst happens – this all has to be checked before you set off. As does your plans with your support team; consisting of friends or family you have coerced to feed you and offer other help throughout the course. The support team is compulsory, but you would not want to do it without one.
The start
As with anything the waiting around heightened the tension, so as our time slot approached we were glad to finally be paddling. This is helped by the community spirit between paddlers, and as we made our way down the canal we happily chatted to other competitors and tried to ignore the fact by this time tomorrow, we would all likelihood still be paddling.
The vast majority of locks which paddlers have to portage are on the Kennet & Avon canal section, but, peculiarly, the first lock you come to after the starting line is not actually until around 14 miles in. So it was nice after nearly 2 hours of paddling to meet up with our support crew for our first bit of nutrition and refill our water packs. Several chocolate bars later we were off again, and ready to endure the next section of the race, a section of canal that is densely populated with locks.
The next big obstacle though was the Bruce tunnel, a 516 yard tunnel that is pitch black, narrow, and offers no place to right the kayak should you be unlucky enough to fall out.
Fortunately, by the time we arrived to it, the pack of paddlers had spread out enough to mean that it was not too crowded in the tunnel, and so not too bumpy either, meaning, that fortunately we passed through it without incident.
Next up is the Crofton flight, a set of locks that due to their proximity means that it is not worth paddling between them, meaning that carrying the kayak is the only option. This goes on for about 1km.
Finishing at about the 20 mile point we were undoubtedly starting to tire. Given our longest practice run had been only 23 miles, our bodies were gearing up to stop. The idea that at this point that there was still 105 miles / about 20 hours left was very hard to digest.
But on we went, trying to take our minds off the pain and the monotony. From the bottom of Crofton flight there are 22 locks to Newbury, and for me these passed in a blur. Simply focussing on paddle stroke after paddle stroke.
The first milestone – 33 miles in
Arriving into Newbury was a huge milestone. Newbury is the finish of ‘day 1’ if you do the race over a four day period, which we had both done before. It must have resided some happy memories for us we both felt our spirits lift. Just over 6 hours gone and 33 miles under our belts. This was 10 miles further than any training we had done for this race and we both felt strong.
This feeling did not last too long however, and as we rounded the corner our spirits dropped again as our next milestone, Dreadnought Reach, where paddlers crossover to the Thames, and a chance to have a quick break and some hot food was not for another 20 miles.
This stretch was amongst the lowest ebb for the both of us. We had been paddling since about 11 in the morning and it was now starting to get dark. We were both knackered and we knew we would not be finished until it was light again, and we were still less than half way.
It took a lot of chocolate and lucozade and perhaps even more importantly, Ibroprufen. But eventually, through the darkness we could see the canal was taking us into a more built up area until we turned a corner and hit the lights of Reading. Paddling past its main shopping centre was quite strange after several hours of darkness. A couple of minutes and one more tricky portage later and we had arrived at Dreadnought Reach, where we could have a sit down and a break as well as some hot food, prepared by our wonderful support crew.
Getting into the marathon kayak.
Crossing over to the Thames
In planning, Dreadnought Reach had always seemed the point where we knew the race was ‘doable.’ At 70 miles in it is over half way and importantly is the start of the Thames, which provides paddlers with flow. However, sitting there on the bank in the darkness, it felt far from doable. Not only were we feeling awful; Jakes hands were turning to a blistery mush and my arse was going the same way, with a painful and not overly responsive shoulder to boot. On top of that, I had managed to sit on my sciatic nerve for the past 10 hours and so had no feeling in my left leg, which also gave Jake a problem, as I did the steering.
We were less than enthusiastic about getting back into the kayak and heading off into the night to do the next 50 miles. A feeling made worse by a horrible realisation that there was in fact no flow on the Thames, due to lack of rainfall the Thames was hardly moving at all. Needless to say, we felt a little bleak.
Never the less, into the night we paddled, immediately going the wrong way down a dead-end channel and luckily being guided back on course by a friendly drunk sitting on his boat.
The next hour or so was fairly uneventful, other than the quiet dipping of our paddles the miles started clocking off quite peacefully. We did pass (and were passed by) a crew or two, but by then we were too tired to engage in conversation other than a grunt to indicate we were ok.
The weather at night
The tranquil night was quite abruptly interrupted by a thunderstorm.We both felt agitated when it first started, we were really not in the mood to get rained on, and also unsure if there was some sort of procedure. Were we supposed to get off the water? We didn’t really know, so we did the only thing we thought we could, kept on paddling, making the miles as the lightning danced above us.
Next as mother nature blew in a thick fog. This was frustrating for several reasons. Firstly some of the weirs on the Thames are huge, and not being able to see them scared me a little. Secondly, a marathon kayak is not the easiest thing to balance, when the paddler in the back can’t even see the one in the front and you are bumping into things – it can start to get a bit wobbly. We very nearly took a tumble after hitting into a huge floating branch. We did manage to stay upright but at the cost of the light on the front of the boat. Which then made matters worse.
This situation was epitomised by the approach to a lock on one side of a huge weir. As we approached we could hear the rush of the water cascading through, but, in the fog and with no front light, we couldn’t see it. This was for me the scariest part of the whole race. The fear of being pummelled in a weir seemed just about to come true! We edged forwards gingerly until out of the darkness we saw a white post, which I clung to for (dramatic effect) could be dear life. Holding onto the post to keep us upright (and ensure we didn’t go down a weir) we tried to make out the scenery in front of us.
Thankfully one of the marshals spotted us and started waving a torch around giving us a direction to paddle in.
It was at this lock, after being almost certain our race was just about to be over in a most spectacular way, at what was probably the lowest moment of my mental endurance that random supporter gave us the most useless advice as he shouted ‘don’t crash into those rocks,’ pointing at the most obvious obstacle on the far side of the river…very helpful.
Into the night we continued. The Thames continued to widen and as we began heading into the more built up areas, there were far fewer locks, and consequently a greater deal of time passed between being able to meet up with our support crew. And by early morning we were needing them more and more. Jakes hands were getting far worse and in constant need of plastering up, whilst my shoulder called for more ibroprufen than I care to admit, furthermore, although I couldn’t see it, my tail bone had lost all the skin covering it….And I still couldn’t feel my leg!
Making the tide
By the time the sun began to rise, to the chorus of our gentle paddle stroke, we both realised that for the first time in our lives we had been exercising non stop since it became dark and continued on until it was light again. It was a strange realisation, and with the morning light our spirits lifted as we thought it was definitely possible.
The next worry however was getting to Teddington on time. At Teddington, the Thames becomes tidal, if we missed the window whereby we would not be paddling with the tide, then we would either have to wait for the tide to turn, or more realistically, give up. We had left Devizes with plenty of time to make the window. But it soon became apparent that we were taking longer than anticipated.
At the 95 mile mark, about 18 hours in and another 15 miles till Teddington, we both again hit a very low point. It was a serious possibility that after all this time and struggle we still might not finish. But there was only one thing we could do and that was keep going -as fast as our weary bodies would take us.
It was with some relief that when we reached Teddington lock we saw that we had not missed the tide window, yet getting there had really drained the both of us.
So we had finally made it to the ‘home run’ just 16 miles remained. Our paddle stroke was slow, our technique had become non existent. But as the sun beat down on us the tide helped carry us to Westminster bridge.
A welcome sight the finish line at Westminster bridge
Finally finishing
Coming around the corner and seeing the finish line was possibly the happiest feeling ever. The knowledge that it would soon be over was wonderful. Then the glorious moment – After nearly 26 hours, we could stop!
We headed over to the steps, just passed Westminster Bridge the DW volunteers, harnessed up to catch the boats of weary paddlers and help them up the steps. I could see that when we arrived we were not the only ones that had suffered. The paddler in front of me had to be lifted out of his seat. I, with my 1 working leg managed a dignified belly flop into the Thames. It felt fantastic.
This is what you look like after 25 hours of paddling
I had just enough time to give Jake a (manly) hug and hobble up the steps before my whole body seized up and I could hardly move.
Overall we came 57th out of 111 finishers (152 started, 41 crews retired) in a time of 25hours 52 minutes.
You can see all Devizes to Westminster results here
If you are interested in taking up the challenge see the DW website
and lastly…celebrate!
The RHS school team celebrate after completing Devizes to Westminster