The Opening of the Third Eye

A philosophy professor picked up a large empty mayonnaise jar and filled it with hard boiled eggs. He then asked his students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. He then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar, shook the jar lightly and the pebbles rolled into the open areas between the eggs. He asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. He then picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. "Now," said the professor, "I want you to recognize that this is your life. The eggs are the important things - your family, your partner, your health, your sports. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else; the small stuff. If the sand goes in first, there's no room for the pebbles or the eggs. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time on the small stuff, you will never have time for the things that really matter. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your kids, take your partner out dancing, paddle as much as possible. There will always be time for work, cleaning the house, and fixing the toilet. Take care of the eggs first - the things that really matter. The rest is just sand." But then... A student took the jar, which everyone agreed was full, and poured in a glass of beer. As the beer seeped into the jar the student proudly proclaimed that this proves that no matter how full your life is there's always room for BEER.

Loading up the Slug Beast with all the necessities for a 2 week steep creeking trip to Norway, we soon found that this was not the case. Beer was therefore substituted with the very best Vodka the famous Rackimanff Distillery could provide. With a quick look under the car to check that the chassis was not just sitting on the road, we were off to Newcastle, gateway to Norway: steep creeker's heaven. The team: Dave Kwant-Slug Beast Pilot, Heather Smith-Slug Princess, Steve Rogers-Sick Slug, Kevin England-Septic Slug.

So, we're cruising up Raundalsdalen, looking for a good warm up run to get ourselves back in the groove. We're already groovin' to some wicked tunes when we cross a bridge over a side creek which gives us a perfect view of a nice, clean looking 45 foot waterfall upstream, and a 200 foot long rock slide downstream. The Slug beast echoes with the lyrics: "Open up your third eye, black helicopters in the sky!" Not really the nice warm up run we were seeking, but hey, we can warm up later! The slug princess definitely got the line of the day pulling a kick flip off the bottom 20 foot of waterfall, and the four big grins confirmed that the slugs were ready. Sitting around the first of many campfires, fuelled by a conveniently stacked wood pile, we sipped on Rackimanoff and orange, contemplating the vast arena of watery excitement we were about to explore and all agreed that everyone's third eye had already seen a precious glimpse of light. The Raundalselva provided two more days of fun both on the water and off. We were finally scared out of the valley by a short canyon section which presented many opportunities for an early grave-the escape from which involved running the gauntlet in a train tunnel (with a fast moving passenger train!), 5a climbing on slime, hauling boats, starvation, dehydration and damnation!

Awesome runs down the Myrkdaselva and the Brandeset in the following few days saw us onto another booze cruise up Hardangerfjord, where we worked hard to educate the elderly tour bus passengers in the art of preparing and consuming a Slug Feast, and quaffing (a little too much) Rackimanoff and orange. Next we headed to the very scenic Jostadalen, and then on to the Sogndalselva. The Sogndalselva delivered a full helping of everything we were looking for and more. In fact so much more we were forced to make a large portage around a set of falls that we scouted for about 2 hours before deciding the water was too high and a Slug Pact was made to return and conquer before leaving the country.

Heading north the Slugs slowly admitted that the team was experiencing a problem. The once never ending supply of Rackimanoff was getting dangerously low. At this point everything conspired against us and without a solid supply of rocket fuel the whole holiday was on the verge of collapse. When we asked in local stores "do you sell big bottles of Vodka?" we were treated like criminals and people shied away from us like we were asking for crack in a nunnery. It took us three days and about 300km to find any replacement vodka. It was during our dry period that septic slug started to worry us a little. The whole trip long he had been constantly going on about the Lora; how beautiful it was, how nice the camping was up there, how sweet the water tasted and so on… We found the Lora and stayed in the campsite (which was alright), admired the views (which were quite cool), tasted the water which wasn't really that sweet and paddled down to an interesting looking fall and got out to scout it. Septic Slug took one cursory look and told us he was going to run it. Slugbeast Pilot and Sik Slug were left standing at the side looking at the Falls of Lora (two slabs both about 30-40 foot high with big holes) wondering how on earth Septic slug was planning on surviving this. Next thing they knew he came hurtling down the first slab disappeared for a while and then reappeared in the eddy. After styling the bottom drop we were left at the top slightly baffled about what we had just seen. Fortunately Septic Slug decided to come clean and explained how he had spent hours looking at that drop five years ago and it had been haunting him ever since. Still unable to see any plausible lines we portaged and went back to Slug camp to build a fire.

Glad to have this out of the way, but with the Slug Beast showing signs of wear and Team Slug showing signs of alcohol deprivation, we headed to Andalsnes, where the Sick Slug sniffed out the Vinmonopolet-the only Vodka shop in the region! All our troubles were over! Even the Slug Beast seemed to share in our good fortune and carried us without complaint uphill for an eternity to the put in of our next river, the beautiful Valldalselva. With the sun on our backs and crystal clear, green water under our hulls we ran some of the most picturesque and enjoyable pool-drop rapids and falls we'd ever come across. We were like kids who've found a new toy, skipping along without a care in the world, until: bang! The Slug Beast Pilot pulled his accidental, yet well practised "headbutt your cockpit rim as hard as you can" trick and with third eye wide open, sees stars with his other eyes briefly before the left eye bruised up and closed. The Slug Beast Pilot transferred his team position to Bruiser Slug for a couple of days. The revitalised team continued the waterfall tour on the Rauma before heading off to Sogndal to deal with unfinished business.

The Slugs were back to carry out their pact. To save time we opted to put in right above the big falls. It's a set of 3 big (25-35 foot) falls right on top of each other. Each one would be class V by itself, with definite lines to make and some nasty consequences. The top drop has a horrible looking boil on the left, a nasty horseshoe slot in the middle and a big undercut on the right. So the choices are, either run right and crank away from the undercut, or run centre and take your chances with the horseshoe hole. The second drop is a 75 degree slot, pumping into the undercut right wall, so a boof into the eddy on the left is the only choice. The third drop is the biggest, but pretty straightforward-just climb over a small angled hole on the lip, and hold on! Sitting there for the second time looking at the top hole the third eye was almost winking with delight. Septic Slug went first and styled it all the way. This gave Bruiser Slug the false hope he needed. Convinced the first hole was not too much of a problem Bruiser Slug took Sik Slug's timeless advice, "don't fiddle: run it down the middle", and after a wee wrestle in the hole, sprinted away from the undercut. The second fall went sweet and all that was left was to enjoy the third freefall before the long drive to the ferry.

Thanks to: SystemX, Eskimo, Bombergear, Highland Canoes, NFA Headgear, PeakUK, Riot, Teva and Hydroscapes, not to mention Rachimanov!!