It turns out Devizes is a very long way away from Westminster. This might not come as a huge surprise to anyone with even a passing awareness of the layout of the UK, and indeed I think I was vaguely conscious that this was the case before setting out to kayak between the two, but it was really only after about 10 hours of paddling (and roughly 45 miles) that the true distance started to sink in.

Ross and I had been aware of this race for a few years. The Devizes to Westminster was something the kayakers at school had tootled off every Easter and done. It sounded pretty hard, but I for one hadn’t really given it a great deal more thought than that. I hadn’t even really registered at that stage where Devizes was. Many years later (sometime in 2005) and a friend trained solidly for a year and did the non-stop version of the race, and did extremely well. I think that may have been the first point at which I realised there was a non-stop version. A few years later still (around October 2008), and, having bumped into a selection of people here and there who’d done the race, Emily mentioned how she’d really like to do it. At which point Ross and I got talking and decided that we would very much like to beat Emily if she was going to do it. So we thought maybe we ought to give it a go. At that stage (roughly 6 months before the race) we had plenty of time to prepare (despite neither of us having any kayaking experience), so we entered the race. Then we waited till January 2009 to have a go in a double racing kayak (which we had bought and named Puffin). This ended about 5 minutes later with two very damp kayakers emerging from the Exeter Ship Canal, and announcing (to anyone who would listen), that paddling one of these racing kayaks was a distinctly more wobbly proposition than anyone had had the foresight to tell us about.

Early progress with Puffin (above), followed by a falling-out (below)

The fact that Puffin is in theory one of the most stable of racing kayaks did not instil confidence, so we decided to do the only sensible thing and enter a short race (8 miles) down the Thames the following weekend. The fact that this was on the coldest weekend on record (or it felt like it) instilled even less confidence (the lakes we drove past on our way to the start were all frozen). We duly paddled extremely gingerly down the river for about a mile (or just less), until the wake from a passing flotilla of ‘veteran’ kayakers tipped us in again. As we untangled ourselves from the line of the irate fisherman we’d collided with, and hauled ourselves (and Puffin) from the unfeasibly cold river, we did have a couple of more fundamental doubts about the wisdom of the undertaking. So we decided to retire to the pub (once we’d scraped the water out of the bottom of Puffin – it had frozen in the 15 minutes or so it took us to do enough star-jumps to warm ourselves up). Our cunning preparation strategy then took another unorthodox twist. We decided not to go kayaking again for 3 months. By the time we did go paddling again though, we were at least better equipped, or at least more appropriately equipped, with a boat more suited to our particular kayaking skills. Named Anvil for its specific hydro-dynamics and weight, we were at least entirely stable. In fact what Anvil sacrificed in speed, accurate steering, weight, handling and style, it more than made up for in stability. On this particular point, Anvil is actually almost twice the width of many racier kayaks. And has a significantly flatter hull. And the seats are like little armchairs – with back-rests, and lots of padding. And there are netting areas over the top of the boat where you can strap down (presumably) whatever you might want to – I liked to think of them as being a bit like the kayak equivalent a roof-rack. Generally speaking it would probably be fair to say that Anvil is built for comfort, not speed.

Anvil - so much more than just a kayak...
 

Our first little jaunt in Anvil was highly enjoyable – about 4 miles tootling around the Weybridge area where a few months before we’d ended upside down in Puffin. This time we headed upstream for a little while till we hit a lock (we weren’t sure which one), clambered up it (definitely not the correct way – it involved getting far too close to a weir, then dragging Anvil through some bushes, under a fence, and re-entering the water in a 4 foot wide channel between a private pontoon and the bank), carrying on for a little way till we hit an even faster flowing weir and got swept very rapidly towards the far bank where we collided with a barge, pulled ourselves along the side of the barge till we were able to swing ourselves round by pivoting off the bank, then headed back and found a pub by the first lock where we ate fish and chips in the beer garden and felt very proud of ourselves. After hitting these kayaking highs, we again decided to take a little breather – on the basis that the race itself was only about a month away, and we didn’t want to over-train.

Anvil gets some important pre-race modifications 

After a feast of inappropriate food-stuffs (paprika crisps featuring heavily), and watching Forgetting Sarah Marshal on DVD, Emily then almost lost her mind with frustration as Ross and I faffed for quite some considerable time, and then finally all retired for a few brief hours of sleep. About 5am and we were up and eating some breakfast (custard), and then squeezing ourselves and all the assorted paraphernalia into the little Skoda, only for Emily to lose what was left of her patience waiting as I pottered idly around in the Service Station looking for some water. The reason for Emily’s fury and our early waking was the fact that we had decided we needed to start the race at the very earliest opportunity (7am) in order to give ourselves the chance of getting through Teddington Lock (108 miles) during the permitted window (high tide) the following morning. Using a combination of guesswork, shoddy maths, and dubious extrapolation, we reckoned we could just about do this within, roughly speaking 24 hours. Which meant we basically had to leave at 7am, or we’d miss the window and have to wait at Teddington for a further 8 hours till the next window. Although we might have miscalculated that as well. Either way, once we’d decided we’d leave at 7, we thought we ought to stick with the decision for prudence’s sake if for nothing else.

We actually arrived in Devizes with about 30 minutes to spare, so there was an outside chance of starting on time. Except of course we had to register, which was delayed by the fact that I hadn’t brought (or realised we’d ever even had) the appropriate paperwork. This, it turns out, was duly provided by a very friendly woman in the registration area, in the form of a post-it note with our names written on it and her signature. Apparently that was enough for another very friendly kit scrutineer (friendly, yes – but perhaps alarmingly ill-trained – his question to Ross when assessing Anvil at first blush and upon spotting that there were indeed two person-sized holes in which one might reasonably expect someone to sit, was “so is this a one-man kayak or a two-man kayak?”). After passing through the rigorous scrutineering, we were able to return to the nice lady with the post-it notes, who duly took with great solemnity the fact that our boat had been deemed race-worthy (something we still weren’t convinced of ourselves) and passed us further down the line to pick up a race number and some bits of fishing line with coded plastic sleeves which formed an identifying wrist-band of sorts (which bore an unfortunate resemblance in my mind to what one might use to label corpses in a morgue). Out again for a further 20 minute faff, and then, finally (at about 7:30ish) we lowered Anvil into the canal, donned our Aviators, and pushed off to begin the race.

Note how much wider Anvil is than the skinny little racing kayak in the background... 

Describing the race is probably going to be quite difficult, since, for the most part, it was typified by a large amount of monotony.

We ploughed our way along for a few hours, being overtaken by most, over-taking a couple, singing loudly at times, trying to creep up silently on unsuspecting ducks, getting a little paranoid about what might happen if we got too close to any swans, and trying to avoid crashing into any canal barges. Every so often we’d come across a lock (in fairness the first 8 miles or so were lock-free, which was nice), but after that they became an all-too frequent feature. As noted (and feared) above, Anvil’s weight soon became something of a burden. To the extent that whilst many paddlers would size up the distance between two locks and consider it more efficient to carry their kayak rather than wasting time jumping in and out, we, without fail, always got back into Anvil. It was never worth carrying the boat further than absolutely necessary – so even if the stretch of water between two locks was a matter of 50 metres, we preferred to paddle than carry. One of the things not yet touched on is the fact that the Devizes to Westminster is logistically something of an expedition, with each crew needing a support team to help them through the event. Ross and I were extremely fortunate to have Emily helping for the first part of the Saturday (despite being stricken with glandular fever), and later both our sets of parents and Amy, Ross’s girlfriend. Frankly, without this merry gang, there is zero chance we would have made it much past the first 4 or 5 hours – and the main mental goal at any stage in the race became reaching the next agreed rest and food stop.

Look out for mothers bearing gifts (food) 

And so, after the first 25 miles or so, and several early rounds of I Spy, we arrived at Hungerford, where Emily handed over to the parental envoy. Both sets of parents were spectacular throughout the event - complete with a wide array of things to eat, and positive words of encouragement at all times. Extremely important, especially as we headed into the hours of darkness.

Much of the paddling during the later stages of Saturday was quite pleasant, albeit slow - what with the canal having no current to help us. We moved along at a steady if slightly ponderous pace - noting with gradually less enthusiasm the amusing oddities of canal-life, and chasing fewer and fewer ducks. At some point James Cracknell over-took us (I think we were negotiating a lock section which involved stepping into some moderately deep mud in which Ross almost got stuck and very nearly up-ended us, whilst Cracknell and companion waltzed daintily over the mud, flung themselves into their kayak and seemed to be almost on the horizon by the time we'd discussed whether we should wipe our feet before getting into Anvil).