This week we’ve a house full of teenagers at Les Terraces.  Mo has just finished his Bac (and passed, we’re pleased to say) and celebrates his 18th birthday on Bastille Day.  Given that he’s now at a major watershed in his life: the end of his school days, the end of his (official) childhood and a transition to (theoretical) adulthood and University we thought that he would enjoy sharing his home here in France with some of his friends and celebrate his birthday at the same time.  As a result we’re now buying each day the same amount of groceries that we would normally purchase for a week just to feed 5 boys plus ourselves.  Still, it has been fun getting to know his closest friends – Mo’s attendance at boarding school and living most of our lives 4,500 miles away from school has precluded this until now.

When Mo & I were brainstorming what he and his friends might do to entertain themselves during the week we thought that one activity that they would enjoy was kayaking.  After all, the Dordogne runs right outside the house and there is a kayaking centre just across the river.  Having consulted with David, the centre’s owner, I made a booking for yesterday, as the weather forecast was most its promising, with rain on the horizon for today.  Mo had decided that he wanted to go as far as possible, so yesterday morning the lads (and I) clambered into a van and were delivered to a beach on the west side of Bergerac.  We were a little delayed in our departure due to a too-late discovery that the centre takes cash and (French) cheques, but not debit or credit cards, which meant that I had to walk back into Port Sainte Foy to raid the cash machine for additional funds.  No problem there, as I am in need of the exercise.

The boys had determined the make-up of the crew for each 3-man kayak while I was getting money.  Thus it was that Paul and Urs found themselves with the short-straw of Mo’s mother in their boat.  We pushed off from the beach and Mo, Mazzy and Nye quickly found their rhythm.  We, on the other hand, paddled in graceful circles and zig-zags for some 13km!  Still, it was a lovely day, the scenery was beautiful & serene and we were in no hurry at all.  To quote Paul “I feel as if I’m drifting through a series of paintings.”

Mo & crew pulled off to possibly one of the least attractive sections of river bank to consume their lunches.  We decided to carry on until Gardonne before we stopped for ours.  While doing so we tried to refine our technique to no avail, and the lads weren’t sure about changing positions in the boat to see if that might improve our performance.

While we inhaled our sandwiches at the ramp in Gardonne we craftily sent Mo, Mazzy & Nye, who had caught up with us, in search of some cold drinks.  Then we set forth again, with new positions in the boat.  The difference in our performance was astounding!  Given the benefit of hindsight and the number of places where we had grounded further up-river we could easily have swapped before, but such is life.

We didn’t paddle single-mindedly downriver.  There were plenty of water fights using the paddles as weapons.  We watched dragonflies, swans & cygnets, herons and other kayakers and enjoyed the scenery.  However, my shoulders and nether regions were very glad when the top of the bridge at Le Fleix came into view above the trees, as this meant that there were only a couple of clicks left to go.

We walked home tired, wet and content with our day on the river.  Would I do it again?  Oh yes!  However, being 30 years older than the rest of the team I think that Gardonne is the farthest east I’d go the next time.  22km was too far a trip for comfort, particularly a first-ever sortie in a kayak.  I think that Paul & Urs would agree – but that could be more a factor of the company foisted upon them than the distance we travelled!