Holme Pierrepont - The Lost Weekend

The day started well, boats were already loaded, cars already packed and we set off on the journey to the Holme Pierrepont white water course in Nottingham. Unfortunately we all appear to have had our minds wiped as the hours between 1000-1600 have completely disappeared from our memories as if NOTHING OF ANY SIGNIFICANCE EVER HAPPENED!!!!! Witnesses claim that some paddling had occurred, but these witnesses have unfortunately been.........mislaid.

We awoke from our apparent trance in the car park. Unsure what had happened we decided to carry on so we went over to the paddlesport shop PEAK UK to do some kit fondling.

Afterwards we felt a bit peckish so we travelled to The Bridge pub, close to the course, and spent a pleasant evening stuffing our faces and making our food last so we did not have to leave the warm environment for the rather chilly tent alternative. Eventually after the starter, the main, the pudding and the after putting teas we had to admit that we could not stretch to another course, I'm sure there's some social etiquette forbidding this, so we suited up, thought of warm things and headed back to the tent.

After a night of maggot fights and slumber we awoke to notice that the tent had apparently shrunk during the night, and had also turned from a blue colour to a sort of bluey white, interesting. I did not care for such things as it was a Sunday morning and nobody has the right to engage their brain on a Sunday morning, however heathens in the tent decided they wanted to investigate and ventured outside with a cry of " ", they were indeed speechless. With all the stealth of a very stealthy ninja, snow had descended upon us during the night and engulfed the entire campsite.

Our tent had come off well, the tent next door we erected to accommodate our drying (hah) kit had completely collapsed at one end under the weight of the white powdery substance. We had a quick look at the now very cold looking white water course, and big surprise, even though it had been open for an hour it was deserted. Even the hardcore paddlers who had slept in their vans in the car park were preparing to scarper.

After returning to the tent we had the sudden urge to build stuff with snow, it started off being a mound of snow for the traditional snowman but somewhere along the way it gained paddles, a snow helmet, a buoyancy aid and a kayak and became a snowyaker. By this time Liam and Helen had arrived in their fine all-terrain all-wheels off-road beast, well, a Freelander, and lent a hand and made some tea.

After perfecting Mr Snowyaker and doing some vehicular acrobatics we decided to knock the course on the head and return to our faithful watering hole from the previous night for some lunch. Unfortunately as we were leaving the head of Mr Snowyaker decided to topple off which was a little disheartening.

All in all, not really a paddling trip as much as a weekend of freak events, those occuring between 1000-1600 on the Saturday shall forever remain a mystery.

- Simon

Photos by Simon.