Iceland looked distinctly icy as the ferry ploughed its final knots into Seydisfjordur. Freshly powdered layer-cake mountains girded the fjord, plummeting steeply into the cold North Atlantic. Glimpses of lumpy white peaks and mini-tornados of spiralling spray whipped the fjord. The icy, catabatic winds quickly dissolved any illusion of warmth the blue water might have conjured. Despite an azure June sky, the wind bit through us as we stood on deck and pulled on fleecy hats and down jackets. Already, the prospect of Icelandic rafting and sea kayaking promised it would be cold and unpredictable.

The ensuing 10 days of fun on the water would also involve some research into inclusive paddling techniques and coaching. (It was planned by Suresh Paul of Equal Adventure Developments, www.equaladventure.co.uk). We would put to the test various specialist equipment designed for people with disabilities to maximize participation in water-based activities. The “crash-test-dummies” were: Ade Disney, paralysed while climbing and a very strong kayaker; Swifty, a double amputee courtesy of a terrorist incident in Northern Ireland; and I, also paralysed in a climbing accident. The rest of the 12-strong team would arrive a day later on a flight into Rekjavik, and a not-so-fun 10-hour minibus drive across Iceland.

Our car was stuffed with barrels of duct tape, straps, foam, various colourful bits of adaptive equipment, even more straps and foam, and every remaining crevice filled with dried food. We fortunately cruised through the rigorous Icelandic foot and mouth checks to a warm greeting from the ‘gang’ at Arctic Rafting.

In search of glacial river
Postcard scenery took us to Egilsstadir, Arctic Rafting’s base. I was quickly in the pool doing a flotation test using the ‘Lite Kite,’ a protective body harness designed to support the body in a safe, passive-river swimming position, followed by an irresistible soak in the outdoor hot tub. Then it was time for a river reconnaissance, to check out all the put-ins and take-offs for the stretch of river we’d be ‘riding.’ All the access to the river was easy except for one point: a steep scramble down to the base of a waterfall. For me and the others who couldn’t walk, it would be an abseil down the steep rough ground and rock to the river, using the ‘Kite’ harness, another bit of Equal Adventure kit.

I strapped up and grabbed the ropes, strategically positioned to dangle me over the edge and lower down into the raft. It was a wrestle, and after some landscape gardening and getting very wet, we decided to ditch this stretch of the Grimsa River (Grade 2/3) from the main team’s itinerary.

The gang arrived, jaded and shaken after a long rattle on Iceland’s un-surfaced roads, and we were quickly immersed in organising the rafts, talking through paddle techniques, and fitting the ‘Aquabac’ postural support systems for Ade and me and a specialist kit for Swifty. Arctic Rafting’s boathouse on the shore of a glistening turquoise lake was the ideal spot for the afternoon of chat and kitting out.

Jokulsar Fjotsdal is a river that flows northward from Iceland’s high glacial plateau. Its June volume changes dramatically with the sun, sending finger-numbing turbulence through Grade 5 gorges and wave trains. We began on the lower, easier section, with our shiny yellow raft and a dull grey raft christened the ‘Ugly Boat’ (reference to its colour or crew uncertain?). The sun was shining, the waves and stoppers provided us with lots of entertainment, and we rested in eddies to check that the kit was performing and that the safety release systems would definitely release us if they needed to.

All happy, it was time to go for the ‘big’ water. Some safety-conscious and emotion-driven conversations and a reconnaissance later, it was decided to portage one of the gorge drops, as the raft guides were worried that the power of the water there might concertina the rafts and it wasn’t clear how those of us without our legs and core muscle-use to balance, would manage. So, Ade and I were assigned to the shiny yellow raft, and we would portage the gorge, but the Ugly Boat crew would take on the challenge. 

The river felt big and bouncy, bigger now that we were on it than it had looked from the bank. Even the splashes were cold enough to make me shiver. I sat at the front of the raft, in one of the ‘wettest’ seats as we bounced through the waves. Laughs and yelps and wobbles came from behind.

We approached the gorge, and threw ropes to the team on the bank, to portage the giant water ahead. I was glad we weren’t going down it, but ‘The Uglies’ cruised through with no swimmers.

Suddenly we hit a big standing wave in our raft, and the impact shot through us. A few minutes later our guide realised the impact had damaged his ribs, and as he couldn’t move with the agility he needed, he decided he shouldn’t guide us down the next stretch of river. More hard water waited downstream, and he changed over with one of our British team members—an experienced raft guide, but he was running ‘blind’ down this river; it wasn’t one he’d guided before. He was doing a great job, but the river volume had risen dramatically even since we’d checked it an hour or two before, and the waves were big. Wham! We hit a whopper wave and when the boat twisted, my quick-release system unclipped and shot me forward. The others lunged to help me, but it wasn’t the moment to have only half the crew on their paddles

Giant stopper!

Spin, flip, “green room” . . . gurgle, carnage, gurgle.
Dark, water, mouth, full, drowning.

Confusion, chaos, fear. After what seemed an eternity, I was being hauled back into the raft. Bodies were plucked from the furious water. Swimmers everywhere. Our raft had flipped and sent everyone in. Thanks goodness for drysuits. Most of us (or at least the less-experienced) had taken very scary swims, but everyone was back on board, and it seemed the only lasting memorabilia was a colourful collection of cuts, bruises and sprains.  For many of us, it was a scary swim and we were shocked, cold, and a bit stunned.

Back on the bank, we got into the post-mortem, and swapped stories of each of our swims, analysed what had gone wrong, why we’d gone in, and how the kit had performed. It took us two days to recover and move on, but a lot was learned about the equipment and what had led to the incident. 

Arctic Rafting certainly lived up to its name, providing a cold and exciting rafting experience. The ‘Aquabac’ allowed an inclusive team to crew the raft, though we concluded that a less eager release system is needed for the extreme stuff. The ‘Lite Kite’ (body harness and flotation system) gave us safe swims, but we couldn’t understand why it had that name, given that there was nothing light or able to fly about it. 

Goodbye raving rivers . . . now some peaceful sea kayaking
It was time to exchange exciting rivers for some calmer sea kayaking. This was the bit I’d been looking forward to: long days on the water and mountain vistas.

Another mammoth road-trip west completed the circumnavigation of Iceland and brought us to Hvammsvik, about 50 km north of Rekjavik. It was a superb backdrop for the next stage of the trip. The aim of this part was to go sea kayaking, and to look at the needs of disabled paddlers and the methods of adapting coaching and paddling techniques to suit individuals.

It was time for the straps, foam and tape party to customize boats, and then some gentler, more relaxed paddling than we’d experienced in the east of Iceland! Our body clocks were wrecked by 24-hour daylight and partying in the natural hot-tub—stunningly located on the beach with a view of the snow-capped mountains and their reflection in the fjord—so we found ourselves paddling late into the Arctic evening light. We did various trips around the extensive and sheltered waters of Hvalfjord with the benefit of good coaching and some cooking on beach-fires. In such an area of natural beauty, it was hard to picture it as a staging post of a WWII ally fleet, and that the kayaks we used (from Petur of Hvammsvik Outdoor) were stored in a grass-roofed ex-explosive store. Petur hire’s kayaks for private use or there is the option of guided excursions from a few hours to five days. There is also a campsite just above the beach.

All good things come to an end and before long we had a steamy parting in the geothermal mud of Iceland’s famous Blue Lagoon before flying home.

If you’re interested
Commercial sea paddling outfits in Iceland are few. Hvammsvik is handy for Rekjavik (40-minute bus journey) and Southwest Iceland attracts warmer, wetter weather courtesy of the Gulf Stream. Kayak Adventure is an East Coast set-up based in Reydarfjordur, with equally stunning scenery and handy for ferry arrivals. Iceland’s North and East coasts tend to be sunnier, although relentless winds can make even 20 degrees feel cold, and the steeper-sided fjords in the East seem to attract more catabatic  winds and therefore interesting waters.

Wind is the challenge or enemy of Icelandic paddling; endless Arctic light and white panoramas are the “carrots.” Nowhere else are the rivers so unspoiled, with big-volume, bouncy waves and waterfalls that take your breath away (literally if you swim them).

Useful Info/Contacts
Arctic Rafting, www.nett.is/arcticraft, Tel: Iceland 8990410. Trips for families, groups, companies, individuals >12 yrs old.
Petur at Hvammsvik Outdoor: www.hvammsvik.is, info@hvammsvik.is, Tel Iceland 5667023
Kayak Adventure, Reydarfjordur, Tel: Iceland 8536993
Air Iceland, www.airiceland.is.
Icelandic Tourist Board, www.icetourist.is