It all started on the Wednesday prior to the Avon Descent. I had had messages left on my mobile to phone a Geoff Barr who I remembered as a C2 paddler of some repute.

I called Geoff and it turned out that his paddling partner, Graham, had broken a couple of fingers and could not paddle in the Avon. "Would I paddle?". Well, I had been teaching with one of the training groups for the previous two weekends and fancied a splash ! So I said yes.

After I had agreed I realised "what a silly decision it was!" as I had been in a boat three times in the preceding two months and was really unfit. So I started making excuses, saying "Well, I only have to finish day one", but friends replied "you have to finish" so I was under some pressure. A training run on the Thursday morning was followed by a swim test which really did my cold no good at all.

At the start on Saturday morning the queue for the four (!) toilets had not changed since I last did the race in 1991 (again in C2) and I nearly missed the start.

We set off and I had no idea what my body would feel like as I had not trained but expected it would hurt. We set a steady pace and the usual benchmarks of Katrine and Extracts came and went. The support was amazing: it felt like a world championships, with people cheering for myself and Geoff, recognising the difficulty of paddling a C2.. The support made me forget the aches and pains that were developing. I got the mick taken out of me for stopping for a leak as boats that we had beaten passed us.

The trees were eventually upon us and now I could feel that I would finish the race. A C2 is longer than a single and I put Geoff into the trees a couple of times: he wore a couple of scratches on his face from these brushes with nature.

Our support crew met us with cakes and great food and although stiff I did not feel too bad . . . A farm house is definitely the place to stay in the Valley as fifteen minutes from the course you are having hot showers and cups of tea.

We got up in the dark to scrape ice off the car and I stuffed as much porridge as I could fit in. Soon we were at the course, changing as steam came out of our mouths. There was the inevitable rush for the toilet as the nerves came upon me and we were off as the horn blew.

I had not paddled whitewater with Geoff, so the valley was going to be a challenge. We nailed the early rapids and the cheer squad that seemed to follow gave us accolades for our great runs.

At Emus our support crew, Graham, indicated a left route to avoid the carnage that was developing at the washing machine. We nailed it and felt like world champions as the crowd again roared its approval.

"How far to go?" I asked. Graham made a non-commital answer ! Adrenaline can only last for so long and mine was running out . . fast.

Approaching Syd's and Geoff said left . . . left, down the chute and horror, head on at flatout speed into the rocks . . . the crunching of a carbon fibre boat was loud. I managed to get us back up but knees slipped out . . . oh, NO! not swimming in front of all these people. The foam tasted terrible, disgusting, yuk, yuk . . . Taped up and we were battered and bruised but still able to continue. Walyunga and food and a leak and more tape repairs. "Are you going to pull out?" we were asked. "No way!", I replied.

Off to Bell's and under the bridge. Ooops! got through, but fell in again ... This time in front of the TV cameras ( I hope they did not film that).

Back in the boat with ego bruised and off again, annoyed that we had paddled the valley so well but stufffed up in the highly visible places !

Down to Middle Swan and the support crew: jelly beans, anti-inflamatory tablets and off again. Now just thirty kilometres. Say it quickly and it will go fast. As the scenery opened out into wine growing country groups of people had set up for picnic lunches. The crowds were again giving us great support and recognising the different boat and challenge of a C2. How far ? Back aching, arm sore . . . not far now.

A last pit stop at a reserve above Guildford Bridge and off again, then the crew met us at an unplanned stop for coke and chocky. Wow! Familiar country, Ascot Kayak Club. Boy I have paddled this river a lot in the past ten years. Power boats whizzed past us as I fell into a daze of paddling memories, awoken by Geoff as he cried 'switch' would we make it by 3.00 pm? No worries. The finish was in sight at last. Some cheeky plastic tried to burn us off . . . "NO WAY!" We soon despatched that challenge with a burn. The shore and a medal that has never meant so much to me.

I would like to thank Geoff for giving me the chance to paddle in this year's Avon. It was a great experience and one that I shall treasure in my canoeing memories as a great challenge.