Paddle Report

The Moooonlight Paddle to the pub attracted a small but enthusiastic crowd. Leaving from the Pickering Park boat ramp ensured that we had to paddle at least 9 kms. For me 9kms was a pretty long distance, as of lately I have continued to think it's still Christmas by doing little exercise. With Jenny continually telling me that my belly is getting bigger everyday, I just needed a few kms to burn some calories.

David, Marianne, Barry, Leonie, Alaine and myself paddled south in search of fluid of the more tasteful kind. Before long, Kim, Chris and their two friends joined the trek. This merge created a wider conversation base and a quicker pace. Kim was testing out his newly purchased plastic slalom. The shorter hugely rocked kayak made him work a little harder than the rest of us, but he had no problem in keeping up.

On arrival at the Ascot Inn the sun was still creeping lower towards the west, and the heat was beautifully bearable. A swing on the local tree had me and a few of our crew reliving our younger days. Marianne however, who was dry when she exited her boat soon had dripping shorts as her swing out across the water didn't quite go as planned. I was in my element thinking that I was Tarzan the 2nd.

As we took over the empty bar I was shocked to hear that Leonie's gin and tonic cost $7.50 and Barry's beer cost $4.50. I ordered a jug which I would thought would keep us going for at least five minutes and behold it only cost $7.00, what a bargain. But Alaine made up for the overcharging of Leonie's and Barry's drinks by having a free glass of water.

Out in the beer garden we drank, ate chips and talked. I added a few stories from expeditions of the past. By the end of the night everyone wanted to explore the world. Marianne was ready to paddle new horizons leaving David to pay the mortgage. In the meantime Barry, (who is readying his bus for a trip around Aus) was tucking in to a real meal. However half way through his second course he became too bloated and had to leave half the plate. He didn't even ask for a doggy bag.

With the loss of the sun it was time to leave. The orange moon, was at that time just rising above the trees. It was a magnificent sight. A sight only visible by those who explore new territories. Our pioneering party assembled at the waters edge, had a last go on the Tarzan swing and then bled into the darkness.
The moon rose before us like a ball of fire. Whow, our route towards it had us all spellbound. The darkness lifted as the moon's fiery appearance brightened and changed colour. Suddenly we were paddling towards a light that lit up the river like a big floodlight. It reflected on the water for a kilometre, and hundreds of moons created a path for us to follow. It was like a stairway. A stairway to heaven.

The wind had ceased while we were at the pub, leaving us with one of the most perfect nights of summer. The pace quickened as Alaine nosed ahead thinking she was reliving the Avon Descent. For a time there our social had turned into a race. (I must put a tow rope on her next time.)

Five hundred metres before the finished we all stopped paddling, reflected on the scene and glided across the still waters, with the moon illuminating our way. It was such a perfect and beautiful night, I could have cried.

By the time I arrived home I had missed half of the Bill, but the night out was well worth it.

By Terry Bolland