“Over Bridge of Sighs
To rest my eyes in shades of green
Under dreaming spires
To Itchycoo Park, that’s where I’ve been
(What did you do there?) I got high
(What did you feel there?) Well, I cried
(But why the tears there?) Tell you why
It’s all too beautiful”
As we park at the put on of the Egua after the drive up the lyrics above play to the theme of the day, It’s all too beautiful, Steve Marriot tells us as I switch off the ignition.
I doubt Paolo Longoni realized what he had done on the 27th May 1984, when he made the first descent of the Egua in a Taifun di Prijon. I doubt he realized that over the coming years people would flock to this steep little ditch of a river in the Valsesia region of Italy, that it would feature in pictures, videos, articles. We owe this man a great debt, sure someone else would have done it first, but they didn’t, Paolo did and many followed, including us.
The Egua has become a test piece, of the area and the individual. The locals run it at high levels, few eddies, the tap turned open, a constant flow of moving water, changing, pulsing, pushing, pulling, requiring adjustments. Adjustments made without thought, the connectivity between brain and body seamless, hopefully that seamless action translates to the boat, it’s movement, it’s position, our position, whether we are gona get a beating or a smooth passage.
The lines are narrow, subtle even, our decisions are to commit, to paddle or not to paddle, is it grade yes or no. At the put in there’s a hubub of conversations, languages, I hear French, German, Italian and English around me. I’ve done this river before, yet there is still a sense of trepidation, the earth beneath my feet is constant, the water beneath my boat is not.
The character of a river changes from placid still waters found in an eddy to the chaos of white water created by river bed obstacles that cannot be seen. It is the chaos we see that creates the concerns in our minds and the more the concerns, the more chaos we see. Our job, if that is how you want to define it, is to see our own path through the chaos. A reflection of the chaos of our everyday life, pretty much. Just as life throws us curved balls, so does the river, we plan for what we expect but have to be ready for the unexpected.
I guess the level was the high side of low, enough, enough to float and have fun, not enough to scare us witless which given the gradient would be all too easy with a few cm more.
Described by Dr Robin on ukriversguidebook back in the day as ‘an insanely steep low volume creek with mind blowing slabs and drops. A gem’. Who are we to argue? The Egua is the white water park for kayaks you might design if you won the euro millions. It is probably the perfect example of the regions rivers that have been drawing boaters to the area since that first descent. One of the many tributaries of the Sesia river it’s origins lie high up the valley and the put in is a fair drive up the SP10 from Balmuccia. If you are making the pilgrimage to Italy it is most definitely a river to include in your hit list.
It starts with a bang from the put in under the bridge, water cascades down steeply, disappearing out of sight as you crane your neck from your eddy under the bridge, looking for the line. Navigate the first few rocks and shoots before dropping into the gutter, negotiate a few stoppers and make sure you are facing the right way by the time you arrive at the first drop of note.
The Egua is an exercise in river stopping, not river running. At these levels and for our ability we stop, inspect, set lines, set safety. With experience and levels and perhaps less in number our flow might match the river. There’s twelve of us in the group, a big group, but there is an order and the progress we are making is such that we can keep track of numbers. On read and run sections I am the last man, Davide knows when he see’s me its good to go. In set piece rapids Tommy is usually designated last man, unless he has set the line and is on bank safety. The group is experienced and works well together, a nod is as good as wink to a blind man as my grandmother used to say. Signals are exchanged and progress is made.
The achievement of one rapid is soon surpassed by the next, one problem solved becomes another to overcome as we move downstream. There is no crux move on the Egua, there’s lots of them, a pin is a missed stroke away. There are a few I do not want to be there places but by and large the river at lower flows is forgiving. I imagine this might change at higher levels and it doesn’t take much imagination. The gradient is relentless.
Today the sun shines the water glistens, the silence broken by laughter, shouts of encouragement, we are all paddling for each other, of course want to make the moves ourselves but we gain just as much satisfactions from seeing our friends make a clean line, hoping we can do the same. However, when one of us F***s up the group have it on camera, phones, SLRs, Go Pros, Drones its all there to be captured. Captured for posterity, the clean lines appreciated, the not so clean lines provide the fuel over a beer at the end of the day for some light hearted ribbing. The trophy blades are awarded at the end of the week and it’s the Egua that provides the moment of the week. The moment Davide thought he could be dealing with not one but two dislocated shoulders, one of our number escapes with only injured pride the blades are his until the next trip.
This is the first time I have run the river top to bottom with no portages bar the chossy section after the first feature, it feels good, or is it relief, I’m not sure. A trip to Italy without paddling the Egua would feel as if I’d been cheated. It’s that gutter move at the top that causes the concerns, the concerns that manifest themselves into the vaguely sleep deprived night when you know it’s what awaits when dawn breaks, when breakfast and coffee is done and the 50 minute drive to the river is over. I’ve been waiting a year for this, since the last trip. The mental gymnastics rehearsed a hundred times over the previous twelve months are behind me, only the moves required ahead.
I know above me, on the bridge there is an audience, an audience eager to see success or failure. An audience wanting the see the lines, to see how difficult it looks, some thinking can I make those moves, execute the right strokes at the right time. Nouria is up there, not that I know that until the end of the day and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need to see our lines!
I sit patiently, waiting. A signal and this is it, a year in waiting. 365 days give or take a few since I was last here, last year four of us walked off, instigated by me, the levels were spicy. Today lower, much lower, doable. Nose clip, a breath, break into the flow. Success follows.
The river keeps on giving until the last drop, Cylinder, straight forward, but safety live bait is required. It’s a flat to flat drop, calm water to calm, but, at the bottom the slopping rock slide creates a recirculating stopper that has been the undoing of many. Get this wrong and there is potential for some downtime, get it really wrong and the only way you are coming out is someone coming in to get you, on a rope, even at low water levels.
Of all the rivers in this region the Egua is probably the jewel in the crown, the centre piece of your Italian experience. The Sesia, classic river running. The Gronda, as steep but just not got that out there feeling as you see the village below you. I think one of the reasons the Egua delivers so much to the average boater is it’s achievable. So many of the rivers we might see these days on social media are beyond many boaters. We see the pro boaters, the sponsored few dropping into the social media perfect river. The Egua is that river for us, decent boaters, all wanting to test ourselves and have one our mates take that picture that we can put on our wall at home or make our social media profile picture.
Thanks Paolo, for showing us the way all those years ago.
