Paul H organised a cheeky afternoon splosh and so it was that he, Rob, Chris and I jumped on above the Brickchute at 14:00 on a bitterly cold, but bright winters afternoon. After realising that they only wanted to paddle down to the woodyard, we determined that we would play lots - like really play lots - to make the most of things.
Well, we all love the Brickchute wave, but at today's level it was a case of drop-in, side surf, wash off. I really should have left it at that, but OH NO - I'll chuck myself into the big hole to the left. The one with the boat-length tow back and no outflow to sneak into (or is that out of ?)...
After several (as in panting like stink) minutes of sculling, attempted spins, far-too-shallow blunts, a good few "green cyclone" moments, but mostly getting a solid kicking, I quietly asked the rest of the guys - who seemed to be quite relaxed and enjoying the show - if (a) anyone had a line and (b) if so, would they kindly pass me an end of it and try pulling like ****?
They did (have lines), they didn't (fancy passing me an end, etc.) so it was down to me to take it like a man and - eventually - bounce my sorry ass out of the hole. There is a moral here somewhere; it definitely includes keeping your paddle tucked tight when being roller-blinded (see evidence below).
Otherwise a good couple of hours which I cannot show any photographs of as my laptop has given up the ghost, along with the photos that I'd downloaded onto it. OK - there's another moral in there as well....
Entitled "Ouch!" for reasons best known to myself...
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