Mussels, Haggis, and Hypothermia

Rebecca cooked Haggis for dinner tonight, with mashed potatoes and turnips, which were called "neeps" and "sweets" by the respective Scottish and English members of House 19. Haggis is not gross, for the record. The (empty) sheep's liver was pointed out to me in the kitchen, and it just looked like a surgical glove that Hagrid might have split. The Haggis itself had a kind of bean-like texture and was surprisingly spicy and filling. I have a sneaking suspicion that for those with hardy stomachs it would be kind of awesome with Tabasco and garlic bread. It's basically like eating the inside of a sausage. Good with potatoes, but I honestly didn't finish it because in fit of anxiety about the subjunctive tense, I had already consumed, like, six Digestives and a 1/4th of my peanut butter. Not sure if Haggis is something I'd ever order if chicken was an option, but it wasn't disgusting in the least.

Yesterday was much classier. It was the lowest tide of the year, so a large contingent of Houses 19 and 13 went mussel-picking on the shore - I slept in because I had class at 9, and maybe it was lucky I did because Rebecca apparently sunk down to her waist and had to go to the health center eventually for the sand in her eye. I had no problems going over to watch the cooking, however, as Darren assured us he knew how to cook them safely. Later he revealed his source was a "crazy French man on YouTube" and I'm glad I didn't know that going in. But once the mussels were acquired it was a very professional operation, let me tell you, with no expense spared. A good chardonnay, plus finely chopped garlic and onions, for the sauce, French Bread and everything. There were seven of us and we ate a lot of mussels, and none of us died, and I got a fancy dinner completely free. Win.


Saturday I went on the beginner kayaking trip to the Stanley section of the River Tay, near Perth. It was a cold, overcast day and my first experience with a lot of things, including wearing a wetsuit. It was very much like Camp, in that I was basically supervised by counselors. The advanced boaters knew what they were about - my safety buddy Caitlin was a graduate and very sweet lady - and how to run a trip for people who don't know what they're doing. It was interesting to watch them, both as someone who's seen people teach on rivers before (Callum is good, Jessica is better) and as someone who's learning a new boat. They certainly weren't looking for the same level of skill that Green Cove requires of the girls on the river - I think I ferried like once and was hitting eddies low all day, and plenty of the intermediates on the trip didn't have a combat roll. The Tay itself was a beautiful, quiet, dark river, and fucking freezing; I'd never in my life been so cold that I started to really shiver uncontrollably. I suppose if you decide to paddle in February, you're signing up for it. But still. SO COLD. The river was not intimidating, though, and I get intimidated easily by things I haven't run, and also things I've run many, many times. It was like the Tuck, only smaller (although the water was low) and bazillion times colder, and shorter - you can run the whole thing in less than an hour. Lots of flat water with a couple class 1-2ish rapids, and those weren't particularly tricky, just fun wave-trains. We worked a couple rapids at the top, though, so we were on it for most of the afternoon.

I can now say I've run the biggest waterfall (by volume) in Britain. I only swam once, doing proud my long history in the space cadets by semi-intentionally coming out of an eddy leaning upstream. I probably could have self-rescued eventually, though I would have ended up kinda far downriver, but a crazy number of boats were on top of me after I pulled my skirt. They all seemed impressed that I hadn't panicked and even remembered to pull my skirt, but I was kicking myself all over that I immediately chose to enter the cold, cold water instead of waiting for the t-rescue that would have come like ten seconds later. Did I mention it was cold? SO COLD. I want to run this same section again in, like, July, because I think it's a great practice/starter river and a lot of fun. But after I swam, I became a complete zombie. I think I zoned out the instruction and just nodded and shivered and said, "Ok, I'll follow your line," a lot - to the point where they had to get a warming-up-survival-tent-thing out (not just for me, some other people swam, too.) I had the worst reaction to the cold, though, and it was a bummer, because my energy was just gone, and I didn't really get to enjoy the last group of rapids or do anything other than pant "just keep paddling" a la Finding Nemo.

I definitely liked kayaking, though - I think the poor trip leaders were nervous they'd scared me off or something because of the cold - and more than anything I want to go back and really practice to get the basics down cleanly. I think there will be a couple more beginner trips this term, though, so I'll get some do-overs. If only there was a place that taught paddling, though. A place where I go for a period of, say, two months and learn from experienced boaters in return for teaching less advanced canoeing skills to young children, perhaps on a large body of flat water somewhere... I still like soloing more, but perhaps that's because I'm demonstratively better at it right now. I definitely have further incentive to learn my roll, and on the way back we stopped in a canoe store, located in a maze of Industrial Parks outside of Scumdee, and I bought a noseplug for that very purpose.