Stand Up And Sail
Take your adventures upstream with a paddle and a picnic
THERE we were on the top of Cairn Gorm, namesake of the National Park. I was enthusing about the shattered rocks of Coire an t-sneachda and Ben Macdui, while my daughter gazed down at Loch Morlich, nestling in Glenmore Forest.
Yes, she said, the mountain views were excellent but would it not be good to get out on the water as well? I agreed, and rather than a trip into the Lairig Ghru, the next day saw us hiring paddleboards from the shores of the loch, near Aviemore.
We had been out on previous trips, so rather than an hour’s paddle around the bay I planned an outing with a purpose – to explore a wee river and then paddle to a distant shore of the loch for a picnic.
It was more than we had attempted before but the weather was sunny and the breeze was gentle. We set off from the beach, dodging the ducks, a couple of inflatables and the hired three-man canoes zig-zagging in all directions.
Then came the outflow of Abhainn Ruigh-eunachan, fed by the burns of the surrounding mountains and emptying into the loch in a rush of crystal-clear water. Not for the first time, my daughter’s paddleboarding technique seemed to gain more distance than mine and she cast the odd glance behind with a look of “come on, hurry up”.
Once upstream we were in slower water and surrounded by forest, where branches had fallen into the little river and created an obstacle course.
Amid dappled sunshine we reached a footbridge and stopped for our first snack of the day – a Tunnocks wafer, a food item we rarely leave home without, particularly when children need some encouragement to keep going. And keep going we did, right back down to the loch and out on to the water, now grateful that the force of the river gave us a bit of a push.
Our next aim, and probably the biggest, was to cross the loch for lunch at a car park – there are no paddleboard parks. This was daunting as we neared the centre of the loch, well away from anyone else on the water. At this point, the distance to shore seemed as unreachable
as it must for a cross-channel swimmer. My fraying nerves must have been clear on my face as my daughter asked if I was alright.
“Oh yes,” I said brightly, mustering up as much confidence as I could.
On we went and soon enough the stony shore grated under our boards, and more snacks came out of the waterproof rucksack – this time bananas, and another wafer.
“That was great,” my daughter said. “But you were a bit worried in the middle weren’t you dad?”
“Only a bit,” I replied, realising my pretend confidence hadn’t worked.
The wind had risen and if it had been like that at the start of the day we would have struggled. As it was it blew us quickly along the shore back to the start. We felt we had earned an ice cream.