Excretum Tsunaminensis – Anon
Gross-Out Alert: Let me start off straight away by saying that if you are offended by tales of bodily functions then skip this story. If your reaction is going to be “sis” or “gross” then this is not for you!
I am writing this story under a ‘Nom de Plume’ for obvious reasons – I don’t want to be known or remembered as the paddler responsible for the vile act described below!
All Umko paddlers know that nervous feeling driving down into the valley of Hella Hella. That urge to get rid of some nervous tension. The moment where squatting behind a pine tree you ask yourself why you are doing this to yourself. You could be home safely mowing the lawn or playing with the kids. When you eventually see the river and it is like a live brown snake your guts just gives an extra churn!
This particular race we started and made our way downstream.. My guts were still aching and I was not feeling comfortable at all. We got to 5&6 and whilst portaging I managed to drop a quick dart amongst the rocks.
Somewhere near No.7 I could take it no more and told Dave Ferguson, my partner, that we could not afford to lose any positions in the race and what my intentions were. I decided to release tensions in my stomach whilst paddling. Now this is not easy! I had to grab the front of the cockpit and pull myself up before I could get things going!
I explosively pushed myself a proper butt pad and was amazed at the relief I felt.
Now, before you say another “sis!”, this was all contained in a neat package in my paddling shorts and most certainly not floating around in the boat.
At No.8 I managed to get the boat stuck on a rock shelf and had to jump out so made use of the opportunity to sluice myself and my pants. Our then chairman of Dabulamanzi, Gordon “Houtkop” Woodhead and his mixed doubles partner came past us and looked at this washing process with amazement.
We finished at the orchards below Josephine’s to the news that the vehicles can’t make it to the overnight stop due to impassable roads! I wanted nothing more than to get out of my humming soiled kit and to cleanse myself properly. Only got clean dry kit three hours later.
At the fines meeting that evening Ally “Balklapper” Peter called me up to a hefty fine of Kahlua and milk out of the dosing machine.
Next time I will get out of the boat and give the local weed a distinct flavour.