WORDS:
RAY GOODWIN

PHOTOS:
Ray Goodwin &
Graham Little

THANKS TO:
Many thanks to Dave Janes of Paddle International for the invite and for looking after me so well. www.paddleinternational.com

Huge thanks to Dave, Chris, and the team. A fantastic group to paddle with on this splendid river. Great company, and I felt truly cared for. Wonderful.

Jonathan Kitching was the long-time River Advisor to the Dee. JK lost his long battle with myeloma before completing the guide, and it was finished by friends. At Jonathan’s request, the full sale cost of each book goes to the Friends of ANCHOR charity, which supported him and many others like him on their cancer journey. You can buy it directly from the Friends of Anchor online shop at https://friendsofanchor.org.

Ray Goodwin’s website:
www.RayGoodwin.com
YouTube Channel:
www.youtube.com/c/
RayGoodwinCanoe

Ray Goodwin’s the Scottish Dee

We had been chatting about trips, and I mentioned that I had never paddled the River Dee in Scotland. Folks seemed a little surprised by the wealth of stuff I had done up north. A couple of the coaches said we’ll do it with you. Now, in my 70s, it is key to seize every opportunity.

The idea grew a bit from there, and Dave Janes (Paddle International) asked if I would do it as part of a commercial trip with me as a guest coach. Not only that, I would not need to do any of the leading, but could just sit back and enjoy the company and the trip.

So early on a November morning, Dave and Chris Stevens (the second guide) turned up at my house, loaded me up and headed for Scotland.

We met up with most of the team in Braemar’s Flying Stag for a meal and a wee dram. Next morning, a breakfast in The Bothy before dropping off boats and kit. This was just upstream of Braemar, and then everyone with a vehicle drove down to our finish at Banchory. With a frequent bus service back to Braemar, everything was now set up. What a simple shuttle.

Briefing done, Dave had us on the river for a relatively short afternoon.

My frustration
The water level was good, but the wind was definitely unkind. Blasting away in our faces. It didn’t help that I had made a mistake in packing. I wasn’t carrying any of the group kit or food, so I was a little light up front. To my frustration, the stronger gusts were taking control and turning my canoe around. The majority of the time, I didn’t fight the stronger blasts but went with them, doing a turn or a breakout and waiting for the gust to die. I am sure it all looked rather elegant but totally unintentional.

A short distance downriver, there is an obstruction. The excellent guidebook is very clear and explains that there’s a deer fence right across the river. Interestingly, it doesn’t show on the 1 to 50,000 map (my usual map on a river because it covers distance), but upon later checking, it does show on the 1 to 25,000 map.

We pushed our way through the small gap, but were not helped by the gusting wind. There is a gate on the river right if you want to portage. We passed the dramatic Braemar Castle, home of the chief of Clan Farquharson (had to get that in for the name alone). The scenery was stunning.

We ran the rapid above Invercauld Bridge, and immediately, the Old Invercauld Bridge was in sight. Starting at the second bridge, there was a major rapid transit line. Our camp spot was immediately below. Dave had a cunning plan, and the group were leaving the canoes above the bridge and carrying their kit to the camp. This was intended to run it with light boats in the morning.

I wanted my kit down below, but didn’t fancy running the main rapid this late in the day or carrying my kit. I decided to line up the right. But I’m slow on the bank nowadays, and my legs certainly don’t work well after being on my knees for several hours (waiting to see the surgeon). A couple of members of the group, far more agile than I, took over and got the canoe down. There was even an offer to carry my boat back up in the morning if I wanted.

Tarp up and folk sorted. Dave and Chris were going to town on the food. It was wonderful throughout the trip. Nothing for me to do but sit back and chew the fat with the group. Few things finer than staring into the flames and sharing time. A fine, comfortable spot for a first camp.

Day two
Morning, and the group were running the main rapid, one of the finest on the trip. I elected to film from the bridge, but now regret not running it. Dave’s brief was clear. A long ferry from river right to river left, a turn and then a clear line under the bridge into big water. ‘Take the eddy on the river left if you fancy it. One by one, the group did the ferry, the line under the bridge and then sorted everything the river and waves chucked at them. No dramas, this was a strong group.

Tails up, folks loaded up, and we set off for a day of fun.

Lots of fast water and some grade II rapids, but it was all straightforward. We passed under Balmoral Bridge and the entrance to the Royal Estate. Sad to report King Charles was not there to wave from the bridge (did he not know his mum awarded me an MBE?).

Another camp, another good day: tent up, tarp up, someone lit the fire, and food was on the way. Feeling a bit tired, I soon retreated to the comfort of my sleeping bag for an early night. With only seven and a half hours of daylight, Dave was keen to get us to a campsite early so we could be snug and comfortable.

Day three
The river now sped up with lots of easier rapids and the occasional grade II. All very reminiscent of the River Spey. We took a break in Ballater for a café stop and a chance to warm up as the temperature dropped.
Back on the river, there was plenty to keep the interest as we sped on to Ballater and just beyond for a camp.

Day four
This was a delightful day with lots of fast-moving water and some harder rapids. We pulled in to inspect Dinet Rapid. Dave had walked with the group to inspect the rapid. Then came back up with a wonderful photograph he had sketched onto, giving me a clear plan (this modern world). This saved me from having to get my aged legs moving again.

The diagram was great, but even better, I was now following Dave. There is body language, but now I was following Dave’s boat language. Watching how he changed angles, I could anticipate the next move. The trick is not to do it too soon, but to make the moves at the same spot he had been in.

As the temperature dropped, mist started to rise from the river. For a time, visibility dropped, and we paddled on, straining our ears for the roar of the next rapid.

At Potarch, the Rapid folk had walked down to inspect the rapid. The information came back. “There are some waves and a big rock on the left. So, centre and then take the wave train.” With a clear description, I felt confident to run without seeing.

Another day, another splendid spot for a camp. A fire, a comfortable seat, a dram and the chance, in our imagination, for the waves to have become bigger.

Day five
On the final morning, the group gathered to sing me Happy 73rd Birthday.

Expecting to give a short speech, I quickly composed the paddler’s prayer: “May all your paddle strokes be effective and your lines be good ones. Your swim shorts and the water are warm. Amen.”

The first big run was Cairnton Rapid. An easy enough line, but bouncy enough to bring smiles to everyone’s face. This final morning was turning out to be a real joy.

At Invercannie, Dave had gone down on foot to get a better view. His brief, as ever, was simple but accurate: “A bit more complex than the last one, but a relatively simple line. In on the right, left nose, and then just sliding left.” And rather as an afterthought, he added, “Quite a big breaking wave at the bottom.” I was enjoying life too much, and a bouncy route appealed to me, so at the critical point, I failed to accelerate leftwards. As I crashed through the big wave, I momentarily regretted my choice. Then the grin took over. A lengthy bail got the water back into the river, but the grin never faded.

With the sun out, the autumn colours glisten on the trees – a time to chill on the last stretches, feeling so lucky with the water level and the weather.

At Banchory, we had one last rapid before egressing on the river’s left bank. The spot was chosen for the ease of parking. It was up a steep path and a set of steps to a good car park where all our vehicles were waiting. Yet again, the group took over, shifting my canoe.

As we loaded the cars, there was a final surprise: Dave, Chris, and the team had got me a cake for my 73rd birthday! What a way to do it. One more trip off the bucket list.