The year closes just as Threshers the wine shop closes in Kelso, the last thing to be sold was Israeli dessert wine – so it was the online Wine Society for Christmas Claret and Chablis, together with Alnwick Ales for the Festive Kegs of Yule Fuel and Secret Kingdom. The alcohol supplements included 72% absinthe and some Somerset Cider Brandy which was matured in barrels, surrounded by bibles written in Zulu, from MSC Napoli a plundered shipwreck on the Dorset coast. Hic.

New Audi TT arrives and I can now get Saga insurance which works out remarkably cheap (no meerkat fees to pay I guess). I was awarded a ‘Flying Pig’ at the Microlight Christmas Party – for what I assume is an honour to be compared to Miyazaki Porco Rosso (the crimson pig flying ace) – or for making a complete pigs ear of my circuit at Manchester airport.

I celebrated the winter solstice with a large pan of Wassail and a naked run in the snow around the rowan trees in the blue moonlight (second full moon in the month is a blue moon).

Christmas was shaping up to be a jolly affair – and then the snow fell. It started with the BBC giving a global warming demonstration as the snow fell heavily in the window behind the presenter and ended with a snow blanket coverage on telly with reporters ‘braving’ the snow and what looked like setup slides of cars. To us it meant running very low on hay, frozen water which meant relays of water buckets for Flora trudging through deepening snow. It also meant towing Ali up the Lempitlaw hill as he got stuck and arming ourselves with snow shovels – although David came up trumps with his motorised bucket machine clearing our drive in a couple of minutes – although we were blocking the road at the time as the snow was so high on either side there was nowhere to pull off to! Stephanie’s horse was stuck up the Yetholm valley so we had a good trip out to feed it in a foggy blizzard. I had wanted to visit Antarctica but it had decided to come to see me instead this year – temperatures plummeted to minus 20 and our heating system was put to the test. We froze. Time to look at CHP as a backup and a nice local electricity generator.

A traditional Christmas Day meal with Absinthe Jelly, charades games ending up with the men asleep snoring as the women played Guitar Hero. I gave Kim a pair of wellies which were suddenly a lot more appreciated as the snow kept falling into the New Year. Stephanie bought Kim some gaiters from the guy I sailed with on my Day Skipper course and he enclosed a survival toaster as a gift for me which confused Stephanie somewhat!

Bought Lost Valley of the DInosaurs off ebay as my own version had been depleted of lava, dinosaurs and the swamp monster – great fun – and also bought the old Sherlock Holmes collection in preparation for the new movie – they are wonderful old films.

A snow meerkat graced our front garden and was transformed by melting in the winter sun and more snow falls into an unrecognisable piece of contemporary art. Drinking in a room full of people who believe that horses speak to people was a surreal experience – horse whisperers sound as exploitative as psychics – between that and the homeopathic treatments on sale at the local horse store (with a ‘they really work’ label) one can see 2010 as irrational as every other year. Still scientists now say there is no G Spot so that is one less thing to look for this year.

The snow was still falling into the New Year and was showing no signs of going away. The police advised driving in the Borders as a ‘Life or Death’ situation only – we had run out of beer we figured this was Life or Death so sent Stuart down to Kelso. Our office phones went down (ISDN groan) and BT couldn’t make it to the exchange so we had our calls diverted to Stuart’s mobile – except they accidentally diverted the council gritting service so we ended up calls from lorry drivers wanting to know where we wanted the grit – a lesser person would have auctioned them off to the councils desperate for grit…

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Sea Kayak strapped to top of car and everything necessary inside and setting off in the dark Saturday morning, missing Gutbusters but ready for a paddle in the Forth. A few snow flakes were worryingly falling the night before now replaced with an icy wind. This really didn’t sounds a good idea so I did it.

We all assembled at North Berwick in the wrong car park which necessitated a longer portage of the kayaks down to the edge of the sea. This is the North Sea meets River Forth and both are very chilly. Spectators are wrapped up warm as we clamber into our kayaks in bright dry suit, stuck spraydecks on and hit the surf and in my case the first rock that I could. With my paddle the wrong way round I battled through the surf and out into the swell sitting deploying rudder, which got stuck but fortunately a lady in shining dry suit flipped it for me and got my paddle the right way round. Ok Bass Rock that way – it was a clear navigational point sticking out of the Forth. Around the clashing rocks with surf everywhere tempted one of the braver ladies and she was paddling like furious through it – I was just trying to keep upright in the swell as huge waves crashed over my bow. Then all was calmish and we floated over the waves – it was like cycling over and down small hills as you disappear into the trough looking up at the next one with all the other paddlers disappearing into their own troughs. Great fun.

My folding Feathercraft K1 kayak flexes in the waves and it is a strange sensation and other paddlers would paddle up and ask questions about it. The weather wasn’t as cold as expected and constant paddling kept us warm anyway and we reached the Bass Rock where there is a cave through it – however seals were in pup jut now so it wouldn’t make sense to go breaking up seal families – one popped up in between us and kept a weather eye out on us. The rock was free of gannets at this time of year and you could make out its rocky features – normally covered with birds. it is apparently illegal to step to it so we didn’t. It is named after the Latin name for the gannet (Sula Bassanus) – there are also the island of Sula with a similar gannet colony and the tourist boat tot he Bass Rock is called Sula.

One of the girls was moaning for lunch and Ollie gave her a bounty bar so she would happily make Seacliff (omitting to mention they were out of date). On the way to seacliff the waves were huge and at one point I could look up and see a complete row of 6 other paddlers to my right and above me! I hit the seacliff surf forgetting how to do surf kayaking and was flipped over and walked ashore to be reunited with my kayak. My paddle still in hand as waves would hit me from behind. Lunch was a case of finding a level piece of seaweed and with my wet shoes I managed to do a passable imitation of a fitting lunatic – but still managed to keep my roll in hand as I flumped down onto a seaweed covered rock.

Ollie told us tales of Robson Green and their time when he swam to Holy Island in swimming shorts (on TV soon) where Robson goes into shock and it took 40 minutes to get him back to recognising things. This was after being rescued by the lifeboat in the Tyne – wait till he tries the Scottish rivers…
Brian who hails from Coldstream, down the river from me, and is a painter of seascapes and landscapes, passed around his home made Fruit Leather – a sort of Beef Jerky made with rosehips and honey – delicious to chew on.

Ollie and Brian went in to see if Seacliff harbour was possible – but the waves were high and the entrance was one large foamy surface so it was decided to press on. It was going to be a night trip to Fidra (previously noted on Ollies calendar as Flada with the phrase challenging kayak – which would be since Flada is on the West Coat) and a long trek so we put back in to North Berwick in sunset – it was glorious paddling into the beach with the Berwick Law crowned with sunlight and the water an orange colour. The surf this time didn’t capsize me and I did well to get into the beach upright – apart from running Ollie over – it was kind of him to provide my buffer zone as I careered into the beach.

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It seemed a straight forward plan – visit GoApe in the Lake District to go swinging through the trees. Even better Kim had procured a free Gorilla with every purchase (we weren’t too sure where we were going to keep it though) as long as we visited before the end of November (Gorillas must hibernate after that I guess).

Then the Lake District decided to burst its banks, with 19 bridges down or threatening to collapse GoApe called off as its access roads were now more Venetian than tropical jungle tracks. A week of drying out – the Lake District and not me – and we were assembling at the GoApe hut constructed from sustainable timber to see if a standard harness will fit Mike’s groin – I was proud when my heaving pouch was proving troublesome and he had to get the ‘porn star’ harness with bikini top to make sure I didn’t do the zip line upside down.

With Stuart and Steph keen as mustard to see me fall off with a side bet on Kim – we went through the intensive training checks that we had listened to the safety briefing (don’t fall off seemed to be the gist of it). Ali was spending his time at home babysitting the leaking stove which needed emptied every few hours – it would be typical bad luck to get flooded on the top of a 600 foot hill. So to the start – hook on and clamber up the rope ladder, unhook blue and hook onto the roller, unhook the red and and hook onto the cable and over the roller and edge gently along the tightrope to the zip line start. More hooking and unhooking and weeee down the zip line to land surprisingly on my feet in the bark – this was the first and last time such an elegant landing would be achieved.

Tests done we were now abandoned to our fate (although I suspect we were being closely monitored for insurance reasons). Enter the secret code then hook on and up the longer rope ladder this time. Stuart up, followed quickly by Steph. Followed by me – not so fast and now oscillating on a rope ladder in 3 dimensions whilst Kim is corpsing and giggling below. Quick fart to restore balance and one leg at a time – the other one being caught up in the safety line and I made the top thinking this was a particularly bad idea as that was the first step of a long scary journey through another 4 obstacle courses up in the trees.

The tarzan swing is a particular joy as you end up in a net and have to scrabble up and across the eternal moving ropes to reach a platform. I almost gave up with that one – it was only ridicule that kept me going.

The obstacles got more and more taxing – I passed on the monkey rings one where a girl had already got stuck half way across and went across the greased log instead – half way over the log I was beginning to regret that decision. My porn star harness had also slipped a little which meant hooking and unhooking from the cable relied on me standing on tip toes or balancing on a tight rope to unhook myself which struck me as more dangerous than not being hooked on at all.

Screams came from the trees beyond and longer and higher zip lines revealed themselves. I set off in a stright line which quickly turned into a balletic spiral and ended with me facing back to a waving Kim as I hit the wet and insect friendly bark with my bottom.

We made it all through in a standard pattern of me getting stuck, reverse zip landings and a bosuns chair that was going to see a rescue required if I didn’t have that last fart to propel me to the platform on the tree. Certificates signed pint sunk and it was off to Keswick to catch a glimpse of the stars Prince Chuck turning the lights on whilst Julia Bradbury turns the middle aged men on – neither of which we actually saw.

Sore arms and legs was the result and it was fun. Reading their Health and Safety reports after going is much better than before swinging. Adventure Fun with safety – good combination.