Day One
By the time the crew of the Big Banana, Kylie, Mac and myself got onto the water in Northam the majority of the field was already racing. Since our craft was a triple surf ski we were entered in the sundry class, the odd assortment of leftovers that leaves at the back of the field. Pushing off the bank we joined the ranks of paddle craft lining up waiting for their grid to be called at the start line. Grid 87 was still a fair way away.

Our adventure started back in February when on a whim three of us went equal shares in an old war-horse of a triple ski. After early training one of the original combination, Woody, made the wise decision to give it a miss and in off the subs bench came Mac, full of enthusiasm. Mac and Kylie had white water rafting experience, and I have competed in the Descent since 1991 in double and single kayaks, but for all three of us this monster craft was a new challenge. The ski is 7.5m long and weighs far more than it should, thanks to some serious reinforcement with a wooden beam along the centre of its interior. This we only discovered while doing some fibreglass repair work during training. It bears the scars of some previous adventures, and I've seen it in several previous Descents.

Our grid comes up and we move to the start line. Alongside us are two other triple skis and a quad ski, all looking a lot sleeker, lighter and faster than our overgrown bathtub. The quad guys in particular looked to be an impressive unit, with headsets between front and back paddlers! Moving away on our start horn we quickly dropped behind these other three. This was not a concern as our race was against our own goal of completing the event and doing it in good style and in a reasonable time. With 133km and plenty of challenges ahead there was no point in trying to match our competitors' pace.

The novelty value of our choice of craft was a big factor in selecting it, so it was somewhat disappointing to find not only two other triples but to be outdone by an even more ridiculous machine - the quad ski. These boats don't have a good reputation for making it to the end. They will easily snap in half if caught sideways across an obstacle in the white water, and make the job of negotiating the tight ti-tree sections much more demanding. They don't steer at all well (they have a rudder steered by the feet of the front paddler - me, in this case) don't accelerate well and are very difficult to slow down once cranking along. They require great teamwork and coordinated action in the rapids to avoid tipping over. We never quite got the 'coordinated action' bit.

Anyway, back to the race. Northam Weir is just a couple of hundred metres from the start, and in the eight times I've competed there has only been enough water to paddle down it twice. So, in most years, the grid system used to separate the craft at the start line collapses into a chaotic heap as people portage (carry) their craft down or around this rocky weir. With our ski weighing about the same as a small car, we elect to drag it down the weir before remounting and paddling off out of Northam.

Below the weir the river is a mass of plastic boats, made up of the back section of the field of 450 or so craft that started in front of us. This first section is often very shallow and there is just enough water to keep everybody moving along. The shallow sections slow everybody down, with big bow waves by created by the action of the ski passing over sandbanks. We are working our way between the back markers, continually overtaking these slower paddlers. We settle into a good rhythm, working along a line of paddlers that stretches out into the distance.

The first major landmark for us to gauge our progress is Katrine Bridge, a dangerous obstacle in big water, but today just a place to check our watches and calculate our speed. We are there in an hour and 25 minutes, giving us a race speed of around 11kph, above our expectations for this early and shallower stage. Our support crew and other friends call out encouragement and look surprised at our progress (as are we).

A vital part of competing in this race is the support crew. My wife, Philippa, has been taking on this role for a number of years and has the whole thing down to a fine art, including the necessary gum boots and beanie. Friends, Justin and Sarah, have joined her this year and they move along the river meeting up with us at predetermined points for food, drink, repair gear if required and lots of encouragement. At Katrine we did not plan a stop, so we continue on in good spirits.

Below Katrine Bridge is the one and only white water obstacle for the first day - Glen Avon rapid (see photo above). We bounce down the rocky first section of this two-part rapid and are thrown off line for the bottom drop. Mac, in the rear seat, put in a hard reverse sweep stroke to straighten us up and through we went. Back to the flat water and on to Extracts Weir where we'll need to portage again. We are still overtaking lots of craft and enjoying the experience.

At Extract's we lug the large lead weight down the portage channel and meet up with Philippa, Justin and Sarah for some food and drink. We are all hungry and stop longer than planned to poke down chocolates, fruit and nuts and refill the drink systems. The weir is low and very rocky and only a few plastic craft paddlers are giving it a go. We paddle on through Toodyay in good rhythm continuing to make good time. The section from Toodyay to West Toodyay I have found in past races to be a stretch that never ends, but today the landmarks seem to appear as expected and progress is steady. A couple of kilometres below West Toodyay Bridge we meet the support crew for a final snack stop before heading into the ti-trees.

The ti-tree section needs respect, or you'll regret it. I think I've finally got a good picture in my mind of the routes through, but it's taken years and lots of practice runs to get this far. In particular, there are half a dozen places where things get very tricky if you don't have a clear route in mind - these can end your race when your boat breaks pinned up against the trees in the strong current. The river is overgrown with medium sized ti-trees for kilometres on end, with pools of open water breaking the ti-trees into sections. The good routes change with different water levels and even if you find the way you were looking for a traffic jam of craft may greet you, with a paddler parked sideways at the head of the queue. Sounds a bit like a metaphor for life sometimes doesn't it?

I make a mess of the very first turn - I'm sure that inspired confidence in Kylie and Mac. We parked on a tree right at the start and had to pull and push our way back into the flow. After this, we got into a logjam of mostly single kayaks. Ahead were some indecisive paddlers, back paddling, being very slow and tentative and making some poor choices. Keeping the speed up is vital for us, as the Big Banana only has steering from its rudder when making good progress over the water. We had practised techniques for cornering hard in the trees, using a range of paddling strokes in combination with the rudder to make our giant plank slip gracefully through the narrow channels. We sat in line for a time, paddling only slowly and growing frustrated that while we had the energy and skill to go faster we were being held up. I suggested that we use the open pools to sprint past as many boats as we could and the other two were keen for us to start racing again. We picked up pace and over the course of several open sections worked our way past this queue of kayaks and into clear water.

Our support crew gave us an encouraging cheer as we passed Jimperding Brook, just 7kms to the end but with several of the tricky spots still to go. We did remarkably well on some tight corners that had caught us out in training. One tight spot left us no choice but to run the boat along for a few metres, and at another point we ran out of water while avoiding a stuck paddler and had to drag the ski over a sand bar back to the main course of the river. We emerged into Long Pool, negotiated the final stand of ti-trees and skirted around Leatherhead Rapid to the right. The finishing banner greeted us, along with a very muddy Cobbler Pool. We beat our surprised support crew in to the finishing line after this excellent ti-tree run. Unlike previous years for me, our craft didn't require repair and we rapidly left to seek a warm log fire, large pasta bake and hot shower. 60kms completed, 77km to go on Day Two.

Day Two
We returned from our Gidgegannup accommodation to join the line of vehicles bringing their half-awake, sore paddlers back to the river. It's cold, dark and very muddy at Cobbler Pool and a thick mist has, as usual, descended over the valley. Soon we're back on the water waiting for Grid 34 to restart our adventure. I'm not as sore as I seem to remember being in past years and with Kylie and Mac also in good shape we are ready for a more testing challenge - the Avon Valley.

The start is delayed a while, but soon our grid number approaches. The quad ski and other two triples were further up the field and are already racing - starts are based on Day 1 times with fastest craft first, irrespective of the type of boat.

We're away. Our strategy is to get ahead of the other three on our grid, as just 100m from the start line we enter the thickest of the ti-tree sections, and there's only room for one of us at a time (who thinks of the these start locations anyway?). After an initial burst by the competitors on either side the mighty Banana eases ahead and the combination of speed and sheer intimidation ("I'm not going down there with THAT alongside me") takes us into the narrow chute alone. We duck and weave, to the extent that you can piloting an aircraft carrier through a thicket. A couple of times either Mac or I step off to push us around a tight shallow set of obstacles. We enter a section where there are numerous routes, but only one good way through. We have caught a pack of other boats, and soon are clutching trees to slow us down as the traffic piles up. Again indecisive paddlers are back-paddling and drifting slowly sideways into trouble, so again we adopt our 'move it or lose it' approach, waiting in line when the paddler ahead is making progress but barging on by if the paddlers is hesitant. It sounds a bit merciless, but we're not able to 'finesse' the Banana - we either go in with speed and some control or will cause probably the biggest obstacle to ever block the river. In the final run of ti-trees we put the nose of the boat into the 'Vî'of a ti-tree and stop amid some crunching noises. The deck has some new cracks in it and a couple of pieces of fibreglass have split away. 

 In good time we emerge at Posselt's Ford and slide steadily down this rocky rapid. Next up is Superchute, the tightest and most technical rapid on the river (perhaps with Syd's as its equal). Picking up speed we barrel through the ti-tree entrance to the rapid and I make the left turn that will sweep us around the top of the tight corner and give us maximum chance of a clean run. Well, it would have if I hadn't clipped a tree with the back end of the aircraft carrier and tipped us off. We're still above the rapid and now in the water, and the immediate task is to keep the Banana pointing down the river so that it rides safely through the rapid and doesn't park sideways to form a temporary bridge for spectators to cross the river on before snapping in half. Between us we guide the ski down and clamber back on board, to the cheers of our support crew who are in position to see for themselves why today could be a very long day for us.

Away again, following the detailed instructions we have stuck on the deck about each of the main rapids down the Valley. It's all very well to know where the big waves, holes and stoppers should be but quite another thing to navigate them upright on the Big Banana and ten minutes after Superchute we are sampling the water temperature a second time below Narrow Neck rapid, clambering on in a hurry to paddle down Quarry Bend with better style. After another dip at Razorback we negotiate the bend at Emu Falls and eddy out (pull out of the flowing water) above the Shredder for our planned portage.

 Below Emu Falls we have what turns out to be our best stretch of white water for the day, making a good job of the ford, Bone Breaker, Raging Thunder and the others in the stretch down to Moondyne. Confidence is ebbing back into the crew. We've come to accept that a bit of rapid swimming is part of the deal this year, but bouncing along on your shins, knees and butt isn't much fun and neither is the thought of getting squashed into a rock by the most solid craft on the river. Our fall-in sequence goes like this:

• I've fallen in. Bugger.
  
• Keep an instinctive firm grip on the paddle and let go only if starting to drown. We seemed to be much better at this bit than other crews we saw. Mac even held on to the point of snapping his in half (a story that is still to come).
  
• Where am I in relation to that overgrown bathtub that I was perched on a moment ago? If on the downstream side and facing impending doom, duck under it.
  
• Steer the bathtub out of harm's way if possible. Of course, if you push it with any force the equal-and-opposite-force means that you disappear underwater.
  
• Can I get back on? Or am I better off waiting until I have dropped over the waterfall ahead?
  
• Somewhere about now, the thought occurs that there are fellow crew, probably because they landed on top of you and are using your head to lever their way back onto the ski. Or, in Mac's case, climbed back on long ago and have none of the bruises that you are accumulating at the moment.
  
• Climb aboard and if in the presence of spectators try to look as if you are extremely surprised and don't normally do that sort of thing.

The three or so minutes we spent at Moondyne put a fair dent in our new-found confidence. I'm sure there are still bits of 'The Wobbler' there from 1998 - it's a tricky rapid. We took the left hand 'Chicken Chute' (or 'alternate high water route' for those not wishing to describe themselves as 'Chicken') and missed the worst of the rapid. Emerging back into the main flow of water we tipped over upstream, failing to follow the golden 'lean downstream' rule that instructors teaching novices are heard yelling frequently. No worries, we're below the actual rapid. For some reason we tipped up a second time while half way through getting back on, and it was at this stage that I realised that the loud noise and general turbulence in the area was a helicopter hovering a few metres away with a TV camera pointing right at us. We just finished getting back on a second time when we were run into by a double ski coming through the rapid.

On we paddled to Hart's, taking the secret easy option that I'm not prepared to divulge to other less fortunate paddlers. The next part of the valley has much longer pools between rapids and we made steady progress. We passed through more rapids without incident and getting close to Crux Corner were elated to catch sight of the one of the other two triple skis. They took a bad line down the rapid and went straight on at the corner below it, running into the ti-trees and getting their boat stuck. A single ski collided into them and also got stuck - all paddlers were safe. We had to make a hard right turn to avoid colliding with the tail end of the other triple and once safely through the rapid were rather pleased to no longer be the back marker of the three triples. That crew withdrew further down the valley.

Somewhere in this section (this bit always blurs in my mind) we took another swim and this time the ski drifted sideways into rocks in the main flow of the river - the nightmare scenario. We were holding on to it at the time with some quick thinking and a bit of muscle maneuvered it around the rocks before it stuck fast. We fell out again at Black Hole and again at Heart Stopper and had a really stupid swim on a nothing rock above Lookout. We reached the more familiar territory of Lookout - Bells feeling like we had little control in white water.

Much to my surprise we nailed Lookout rapid, bracing the boat safely through a series of waves and watching the rocks pass by. Back to earth again at Championships, as the increased water levels made this an awesome rollercoaster of waves. After a good line at the top we drifted to the centre and launched over the main rock at great speed. I'm sure my part of the ski got a couple of metres into the air before we plunged upside-down into the stopper to float for ages through the haystack waves before wearily climbing aboard again. The water levels were rising noticeably, from 0.7 m to over 1.0 m, I later discovered.

 The thought of walking around Syd's held some appeal, but after raising the idea we agreed to plough on down. We were getting tired and sloppy in the rapids and far too used to not making it through without a swim. We held it together on the approach rapids to Syds', themselves a challenge, but went over again half way down the main rapid. I braced myself for another rock-hammering, but the extra water took me safely over most of the rocky bit and other than one firm contact between my bottom and solid granite, I emerged into the pool below Syd's still intact and on we got again.

We had been paddling for over three hours by this time and the thought of meeting our support crew at Walyunga spurred us on along Boongarup Pool and down the familiar rapids of the Walyunga National Park. Emerging through the Walyunga Chute we pulled up at the agreed spot at the end of the pool. I couldnít spot our crew, so we pulled up and checked to see if the Banana had taken much water (just a bit). With no crew in sight, we pulled out snacks we were carrying with us and tucked into Carboshots, Mars Bars, fruit and nuts. Philippa, Justin and Sarah arrived having only just had time to tidy up at our overnight spot, drive around to Walyunga and then catch the bus down to the river. We were glad they made it, as they had more food and drink refills for our drink systems. They had run down the last part of the hill after persuading a bus driver to rush them down to the river.

We pulled the boat out of the flow to the centre of the river, and Kylie and I ferry glided to the bank while Mac swam across and joined us. His paddle shaft had shattered, but a temporary repair was possible using the gaffa tape we carried with us and a stick to splint the two halves of the paddle. While doing this some friends of ours turned up. They were watching our ordeal from the bridge. We got back underway and celebrated the last of the rapids with two more swims in the bottom parts of Bell's. This could only be the result of tiredness and a degree of resignation in the white water.

Onto the flat water, with thirty kilometres to the finish line and nothing that will stop us getting there now. The paddle repair wasn't great and Mac had to change his wrist rotation a fair bit to make it work. Our next meeting with support crew was six kilometres further down the river where we could pick up a good quality spare paddle for Mac. In the ti-trees below Upper Swan Bridge the first of the power boats caught us. They start four hours after the paddle craft, with the hope of creating a race to the finish line. The result is that most of the paddle field has to contend with power boats roaring by at high speed in a narrow section of river, or worse, for those a paddling a bit slower, in the rapids. This is complete madness from a safety point of view, but heck, it makes for good TV. We are weaving along through narrow channels between ti-trees and trying to judge when to get out of the middle, just as the whining engine noises grow close. The wash from these machines is also annoying for weary paddlers.

 The grind of rolling overtired wrists and shoulders continues down to our last support crew stop at Middle Swan, where we are in good shape and good spirits. The sun has come out, we have concluded our run of swimming big name rapids, and the finish is looming in just over an hour. We press on with a last snack of chocolate and jelly beans. Over the flat section we form up with other craft in a pack, then are alone for a stretch. We continue overtaking flagging paddlers. Our support crew keep on popping up along the bank cheering for The Big Banana. Two single ski paddlers make the most of our considerable bow wave and ride alongside for a while. They overhear me telling Kylie and Mac how far is left and take a keen interest in counting down the kilometres. Marshall Park - West Swan - Guildford Bridge - Point Reserve - Ascot Kayak Club: we're almost there. Passing under Redcliffe Bridge we catch sight of Garrett Road Bridge and the finish line, just two kilometres to go. There's no pain now, just the elation of an adventure concluded and the thought of finally stopping paddling. A final spectator sprint and we're into the river bank beach to the cheer of our faithful crew, the finishers' medallion and faulting attempts to stand up. We finished third in the sundry paddle class, in a total race time of 12 hours and 47 minutes.

Post Race
We pulled up well, looking fairly fresh in comparison with a lot of others at the finish. The spills of the white water fade quickly and it takes an honest appraisal to admit that we were out of control in the big water a fair degree of the time. However, both in and out of the water we made good judgement calls and kept risk levels reasonably down. Our flat water performance was far in excess of what we had expected, probably a combination of some decent flow on the river and six months of flat water training together. The best bit, in looking back, was the run through the Toodyay ti-trees, a section that we were expected to have great difficulty with.

Kylie and Mac were excellent to paddle with and I greatly enjoyed the whole training process with them (other than a particularly nasty pinball down Syd's that gave Kylie and I bruised shins and knees). They were fit, picked up heaps in paddling skill in training and had a 'never-say-die' attitude to the whole thing that kept us going when confidence levels ran low. Mac put up with wrist and shoulder problems that I think gave him more pain than he let on, developed an awesome back-paddling-rudder stroke to get us around the corners and managed to set himself up with an entirely black outfit. Kylie had a fitness and level of physical strength beyond her fairly slight appearance, was keen to learn technique and strategy and never flagged all race long (that I could tell). My knowledge of the rapids and ti-trees, and ability to battle with the rudder system to force the boat into a reasonable line was handy and I had a lot of fun with the race this year (when I wasn't frightened or in the water).

Levels of adventure are understood on a sliding scale from 'play' through to 'misadventure'. Despite being involved in adventure activities as part of my job and in my outdoor pursuits, there's little I do that I find particularly adventurous. This was. Parts of the race were up there at 'frontier adventure' with little bits of 'misadventure' in places. Pushing myself to that level is a useful thing for me and has left me with a degree of satisfaction at having given The Big Banana a go.