By Greg Spencer
Photos:
Paul Villecourt
Bio
Greg Spencer is an open canoe advocate associated with events and initiatives across Europe, in everything from steep creek racing to canoe sailing. Greg runs the Singleblade website at http://singleblade.co.uk/ and is a British Canoeing board member.
Romancing the Drôme
Expérience en arrière-pays [Backcountry experience]
In 1936, Henri Cartier-Bresson photographed families camping out by the River Marne, to the south-east of Paris, “Capturing dips in the river and countryside picnics of wine, bread and cheese,” as ordinary workers started taking advantage of the freedom which came with their first ever paid holiday time. Some 75 years later, adventure photographer, Paul Villecourt, set about celebrating how these pioneers took to activity en plein air by inviting friends to join him for a first-ever Open Canoe Festival (OCF) on the banks of the River Drôme in southern France.
The romance of unscripted adventures in a wonderful setting initially drew enthusiasts, and the enthusiasts encouraged Paul to repeat the event. Many became familiar with the region through these early encounters, even developing a sense of belonging (https://paddlerezine.com/revisiting-unfamiliar-haunts). The prospect of returning would inspire some of us through long winters, and a few of us openly romanticised the event online and in print. We romanticised its communities of enthusiasts and stunning landscapes and touched on a deeper romance connecting the Open Canoe Festival to La magie de l’arrière-pays.
By the end of its third edition, the OCF was well established as Le premier rendez-vous Européen du Canoë & du plein air… but questions remained. The romance of gathering at Mirabel-et-Blacons was attracting seasoned canoeists from across northern Europe. More importantly, Paul’s photography and media coverage sparked interest in kayak clubs and outdoor networks across France. Could this romance put La Drôme on the map in ways which would also inspire ordinary French workers to claim their rivers as part of their inheritance?
A 10th Anniversary
Easter 2022 witnessed the twice-postponed 10th anniversary of the OCF. As the event opened, echoes of 1936 could be found everywhere. Firstly, and most importantly, glorious sunshine over a holiday weekend meant the banks of the Drôme were awash with ordinary, working people. The OCF added over 600 guests from across France and beyond. Campers were encouraged to take to a canoe (of any kind) and to savour journeying on the crystal-clear waters of a département with an incredible amount to offer for any outdoor enthusiast.
Covid 19 had haunted the build-up to the event, and even travelling out of our local area had become a novelty for most of us. On arrival, many commented on a different ‘vibe’ as guests re-adjusted to being able to gather together with others… but something else was different. Our event attracted unprecedented numbers of first-time visitors, including 80% (a way-higher proportion than ever before) from France.
We knew in advance that we might be looking at a new spirit of the times. In Britain, being active outdoors had been featured as never before in mainstream media. Everyone from government ministers and advisors to National Governing Bodies was creating links between connection-with-nature or nature-based recreation and mental health. In France, such discussions had thrived only among networks of enthusiasts, but lockdown experiences sparked an appetite for getting back into the outdoors, so questions arose. Were we going to witness a new commitment to expérience en arrière-pays?
Good fortune and great vibes
Rightly or wrongly, the vibe that comes with hundreds of others preparing to set out together inspires confidence. Near-drought conditions meant the emerald green waters were barely trickling through the braided channels, and under clear blue skies, many gathered in shorts and flip-flops. In a Drôme tradition, some prepared space-hoppers as flotation or set up barrels as canoe seats. Few appeared to be feeling pressure to fit in or conform to the norms of enthusiasts!
As in previous years, we could look at everything from inflatables and wooden boats to converted sit-on-tops and packrafts. What could be counted as a canoe, a canoe paddle, or an appropriate approach was being left open for exploration. As hundreds descended the shallow, fast-flowing tributary that took us to the main river channel, big smiles and laughter set the tone.
Many started this big descent by wading beside the boats, but new solutions rippled through the throng as each new challenge was encountered. New friendships were formed as those launching together supported one another in whatever lay ahead. Once in the main flow, this pattern continued. Rightly or wrongly, many newbies took their lead from others ahead of them. Some choices worked well, but others led to slight difficulties or (very occasionally) a swim!
Mixing recreation and leisure
At Easter 2022 levels, a sunny-day descent of La Drôme becomes a mostly joyous experience. In places, the river offers seemingly endless, ever-bubbly rapids: straightforward to those with expertise and mostly quite manageable for those making things up as they go along on a hired sit-on-top or transferring expertise from a sit-on-top to an inflatable canoe. For resilient non-specialists who are strong swimmers, with a buoyancy aid, a wetsuit and a helmet, a big descent remains within the realm of ‘casual’ leisure: it feels adventurous, but perhaps no more so than a scramble up a crag – potentially perfect for a beautifully sunny and settled summer afternoon.
In contrast, we can look back to 20 years after the 1936 explosion of ‘democratic leisure’ along French riverbanks. In 1956, the British Canoe Union’s (BCU) first Head Coach, Oliver Cock, went on tour and produced a cine-film entitled Les Gorges du Verdon https://youtu.be/INKp6ZLLT-c. It’s a beautifully crafted film centred on a party of ‘very able’ British canoeists undertaking an ‘expedition’ in ways which could not have been further removed from ordinary workers who chose to take a dip in the Marne rather than follow the herd on to one of the morally uplifting (or harmlessly distracting) vacation destinations of the era.
Oliver cock
The Oliver Cock film of 1956 (and the commentary that was added several decades after the film-making) reflected a lifetime of commitment to Victorian and Edwardian ideals. Like so many of his era, Oliver Cock exuded a commitment to people using leisure time wisely and went to great lengths to create ‘educative’ materials. His contributions included the BCU’s first coaching scheme, and his was most certainly a contribution to more exclusive, more ‘serious’ leisure: to a pastime which merited dedication.
Opportunity, inspiration and… handrails!
Oliver Cock’s early life spanned the roaring 20s and the Kinder Trespass: an era when elements of British society were accused of going ‘recreation mad.’ His early cine films documented seemingly delightful canoe trips in Scotland. After World War Two, he lived through the real democratisation of leisure, and his post-war film Surfing at Pozneath gets acclaim for sparking the development of kayak surfing. He had a ringside seat as Mike Jones and his friends took opportunities from the GB Slalom world to build an Alpine white water experience. He was at the heart of the BCU when Mike Jones’ Relentless River of Everest was broadcast to the nation on Boxing Day, 1976. Above all, his life spanned the democratisation of canoeing as a recreational craft evolved in ways which made getting started ever more accessible.
The instructional side of Oliver Cock’s life was perhaps an effort to provide what growing opportunity and endless inspiration could not: handrails into the pastime to which he devoted so much of his life. In France, this theme of building handrails was exemplified by Paul Villecourt’s guidebooks: designed to alleviate anxiety among those considering a first tour. This has complemented the inspiration captured by his projects, up to and including La Grande Traversée (1400 km by canoe between Geneva and Saint-Nazaire (Atlantic) and Project CanoeVelo (using canoe and bicycle to show the most beautiful corners of France, and to promote ‘soft roaming’ tourism).
Through ten years of the OCF, opportunity and inspiration have taken centre stage, but guidance notes, shuttles, and the leading-by-example and support of others have all served as handrails for inexperienced canoeists. One strand of the workshops in the festival programme has always been around handrails into a romanticised pastime, with some guides introducing the local geology, or flora and fauna, whilst others sparked interest in food dehydration, camp-cooking or tarpology. As beginner-level involvement has grown, the programme has also gained ever more on-water workshops, all of which helped those who were less confident in establishing that they were ready to work things out by themselves.
The Stories We Boat By
In 2011, two guests travelled from mainland Britain to the OCF: a father and daughter who would return the following year as part of the OCF team. For us, the most critical handrail that year was François, a wonderfully encouraging French canoeist who offered support through John Kelly’s outstanding Song-of-the-Paddle forum. We wrote up our story and did our bit to support others, and by 2014, British involvement was at 38, with many having been actively supported through Open Canoe Association links. That year, and in all the years that followed, attendance from France and across the EU rocketed… not least as old hands (sometimes veterans of a single event) offered to show others the ropes!
For many, a first trip has drawn on a personal mix of opportunity, inspiration and handrails. These may have been necessary for us to see attending as achievable: easier from afar on the back of previous independent EU travel, and with the skills of a truly independent boater… and if we feel we’d ‘belong’ once we’d arrived. Equally, for the OCF to inspire us, the romance has perhaps had to be relatable, such that we could see something of ourselves in the outlooks, values and commitments made by those who bring so much to the event. A romance that comes across as familiar and only for ‘like-minded’ people will always have minimal reach!
Like those ordinary Parisians photographed by Cartier-Bresson in 1936, those of us who have attended successive OCFs have yet to consume packaged experiences provided for tourists or conforming as spectators of mainstream sport. We have not been engaged in organised activities aimed at moral improvement, and like those who swam in 1936, our riverbanks have become liberating spaces of casual leisure in some small ways. In these ways, the stories we have boated by have perhaps retained something of that spirit of the informal sector, self-directed leisure activity.
Treading a fine line
In Edwardian times, self-styled ‘gentlemen of leisure’ sustained a romance around adventurous activities like mountaineering and canoeing. Others played their part, from pioneering female adventurers to commonly overlooked porters and guides. Most of the more iconic figures of boys-own stories were taking advantage of an entitled or privileged position in an era before the democratisation of leisure took off. Looking back, almost all of us who have found our way within canoeing as an adventure sport (as serious leisure) might conclude we owe these figures (as embodied by Oliver Cock) a great deal – but this is also a past we might now also find challenging!
After World War Two, as demobilisation stoked the fires of anti-colonial sentiment in ways which would contribute to the end of empires, working-class adventurers famously claimed their right to do their own thing, their way. British climbers were to the fore, and Mick Hopkinson reflected one key British sentiment of the time when he noted, “Our parents had fought in the world wars for this new system of freedom, but we still weren’t allowed to go out and enjoy the country or enjoy the rivers because the class system prevailed.” Experiences across Europe certainly varied, but before long, the world of canoe and kayak (and the waterways) stretched from white water warriors embracing a dirt-bag counter-culture to the militant fringe of the Campaign for River Access for Canoes and Kayaks (CRACK).
A certain romance can connect the Edwardian gentlemen of leisure with the ordinary workers on the banks of the Marne and the militants who contested access to the Seiont. It can connect the spirit shown by Mick Hopkinson with those who now seek out the OCF. But as reactions to the Pandemic highlighted, we tread a fine line each time we celebrate those who claim the rivers as their own. Our romance may merely invite others into what we perceive as our pastime. Inclusion is controlled and controlled as if we (the guardians) must induct them (the great unwashed) on our terms.
For a more inclusive canoe, kayak and SUP world, we will need a somewhat deeper romance: one connecting back to the democratic leisure movement! We will need the entanglement of ordinary lives in ways which invite others to do as we perhaps did: to shape a future for pastimes which are not ours to give nor ours to take away.
