Valentines Dart 2011

SUCC, my sweet…

I knew that this time we spent together would be magical,

As soon as our eyes met across the Boat Hard,

The day we threw caution to the wind,

And our sleeping bags in the van.

Many a moment we shared that evening,

As the drinking games continued long into the night,

And even though I sucked an old’s nipple,

I assure you it meant nothing.

 

I could only gaze longingly at the get-on,

As you struggled into a pair of wet thermals.

And as I watched your line down Lover’s Leap,

I felt Cupid’s arrow pierce the front of my buoyancy aid,

Though unfortunately, it tore through my last piece of river chocolate.

 

I fondly recall the evening during which we walked,

Hand in hand, under the pale moonlight,

To the 24hour Tesco,

As we had run out of alcohol during a rather intense game of Touchcup.

And though you may have failed to down a copious amount of lemonade,

I woke sorrowfully the next morning,

Knowing that after another day upon the Loop,

We would once again have to part ways, (Until NSR of course…).

 

Much love, as always, from your Beardy admirer… XXX

You don't want to know

BUCS Whitewater Racing 2010

The Diary Entries of Robert J. McWhirly. Concerning the SUCC Expedition to the Arctic Tundra (North Yorkshire – BUCS Whitewater Racing):

Log- 25/11/10 13:00

Sub-zero temperatures, watersports, The North. Probably the worst combination since Matt Kelly’s parents’ sex cells.

Sitting here on the Thursday before the trip, I can’t be blamed for wandering how I’ve been roped into a weekend where I’ll be lucky to retain all my fingers. Derperately tring to secure thermals (I believe Andrew’s currently looking at twenty one layers) the outlook looks bleak.

Here’s the current Metcheck prediction:

Temperature -3C, feels Like: -7C

I still don’t understand how the weather can cheat 4 degrees from me. Ridiculous.

Log 28/11/10  11:00 – The Ascent of Mt. BUCS.

Who’s idea was it to put the campsite of the bottom of an icy hill? Faff of epic proportions ensused (Eric Westenbrink was suspiciously present) as wans and buses slithered around the ice. Eight bald sets of tyres later we have arrived at the River Washburn To kick some Loughborough ass.

Log 28/11/10  4:00

A one, two, three podium finish for SUCC as we wipe the slate in every event, with all other university boats suspiciously sinking mid race*** (the reliability of this log may have been affect by the frozen nature of my brain at the time of entry).

Log 28/11/10  23:30

Fresher Sam Hurst has just single-handedly turned the tropical themed party into an orgy of carnage. He has so far thrown whipped cream over everyone, filled his tiger suit up with balloons and continuously bounced into strangers, got himself stuck inside a tyre to the point that we thought we would have to cut him out and pulled down half of the decoration. The night is but young!

Log 29/11/10 7:00

EVERYTHING IS FROZEN!

Snow drifts in camp, freezing temperatures had frozen everything!

Log 29/11/10  14:00

We’ve won everything; this is just getting boring, let’s send Eric down the course in a tiger onese, do some live baiting practice and go home.

Log 29/11/10  17:00

Tom Pritchard is dead and all is suddenly quite. The elements have closed in around us. Our vehicles are stuck and we’re in a barren part of the North somewhere, hundreds of miles away from civilisation I expect. However moral remains high because it is impossible to be sad when you are wearing a tiger suit!

Log 29/11/10  22:00

This was totally worth it. 4 star hotel, breakfast included and a great excuse to miss lectures, getting stuck in Yorkshire could not have worked out any better. We’ve just had a nice little snowboating session and are off to the pub for a well-deserved pint. Possible the best accommodation the club has ever seen?

Log 30/11/10  16:00

As we pull back into civilisation it is hard to believe the sight of the boathard. It is a sight that many of us had doubts that we would ever see again, fearing that we would be lost to an eternity of wandering Siberia. Behold then this tale of human perseverance and wonder at the 10 brave souls that made it back alive, and let us dine on Pritchard’s death!

The Heroic Explorers 

L-R Merlin Gore, Rob McWhirter, Andrew Sylvester, George Godfrey, Sam Hurst, Pete Ainscow, John Griffiths, Eric Westernbrink, Tom Pritchard (RIP), Matt Wright, Pete Rochester

*Facts and events may not be based on reality 

Tavy and Dart 2010

The Curly Whirly Tavy and Dart

On Friday night many SUCCers descended on Devon for Curly Whirly Tavy and Dart trip which had been optimistically advertised as the “best and most efficiently run trip of the year”. Games were played, drinks were consumed and the last I remember Roch and George were having a race to see who could eat a tea bag the fastest.

Saturday

Despite some discussion we chose to paddle the Tavy on the Saturday. Rose lost her paddles at the first drop and was forced to use the first set of splits. Luckily JJ later spotted them and managed to live bait them out from behind a rock to the applause of some passing strangers. Then Simon became the second fresher to use the splits after he snapped his own paddles half way down the river. This was either an act of extreme strength or the unlucky result of knackered club kit.

Alex Jakobs managed to pin herself vertically against a rock and Simon became the best swimmer of the year so far with an impressive 11 swims in the course of the day.

As expected the river was very long and the light began to go before the river could be completed. River groups were forced to walk out and SUCCers became scattered across the Devon countryside. Luckily years of practice have allowed the club to get off the Tavy, in the dark, in a remarkably efficient manner. All kit, freshers and vehicles were soon reunited and returned to the hut in record time.

As a special treat the Shafters decided to wow the club with their culinary skill and cook a delicious curry for everyone. It was so good that Whirly was seen stealing the leftovers and taking them home to Southampton.

Sunday took us to the ever popular Dart Loop for some more extreme white water action. River shuttle faff allowed everyone to get creative on the river bank. Firstly Team Helen spelt out the word Helen using only the members of their river group.

Then an educational diorama was created to aid in the teaching of the “Love rocks, hate trees” mantra. It consisted of JJ’s kit, boat and a branch arranged to represent JJ getting stuck under a tree.

Once on the river Alex Madsen executed an impressive hammer off of the seal launch. This would however have been more impressive if he had known what a hammer was.

Finally, after a brilliant yet scrapey trip, we were ready to leave the hut and return to Southampton. Unfortunately, an act of Westenbrinking delayed our departure. Eric had left early, in the van, with the keys to the hut still in his pocket.

Lime – the game.

Lime is a simple ball game which can be played at any time.

Equipment:

Limes

Players:

As many as possible. Players should be slightly inebriated for best results.

Pitch:

Anywhere. However, it is best played in small church halls whilst sitting at large tables.

Rules:

  • The game begins with a single lime being thrown by one player to another.•
  • “Lime” must be shouted whenever the lime is thrown
  • • If a player fails to catch the lime then they must consume.
  • • If a player fails to throw a catchable lime, they must consume.

Optional rules:• 

  • • More than one lime can be in play at once.
  • • If limes are squashed, cake, biscuits or apples may be substituted. A bite of the apple must be taken at each throw.
  • • The lime can be aggressively squashed against the table before each throw. Extra points in you spray the person next to you with juice as well.

The River Usk 2010

The Mighty Usk!

A trip?

To the Usk?

Organised by an old married couple?

What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

Yes, it was that time of year again, to journey to South Wales, where the valleys are low, the hills are high and the water is undrinkable. We arrived after many shenanigans in cars/minibuses, including a sing-along, which the freshers were very reluctant to join in with (I mean, who doesn’t like The Who?).

We settled down in luxurious accommodation, complete with stage AND table, and cracked open some beverages. Entertainment was provided by the SUCC Guitar and Ukulele Orchestra, who played along to such heart-warming melodies as ‘Fuck Her Gently’, and ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’. A game of ring of fire ensued, until we all decided it would be a good idea to get some rest before the river-running calamities of the next day.

After a delicious helping of burnt porridge, we made our way to the get-on, only to find that we were one BA short…ultimate faff! Leaving our beloved treasurer behind, we got into our groups, and got onto some GNARLY white water! Highlights on the river included Curly getting pinned to a rock by not one, but two freshers, Iona discovering superhuman strength and destroying a pair of paddles, and some epic boogying.

Saturday evening progressed in true SUCC style, with the creation of a new game…

‘Lime!’

‘Lime?’

‘LIME!’

"Lime"

!”””””””””””!!!!!!#$%%%%%%%&

‘LIME!!’

‘APPLE!’

‘BISCUIT!’

…and the trip organisers, after all their hard work, getting taped to a tree. As usual, everything turned into drunken madness; a wild game of spoons turned sour (JJ, you’re a cheat); ‘I have never’ revealed some interesting truths about certain freshers (story!). A tickle

war broke out among some members while some freshers were trying to get to sleep (for future reference, those who are impossibly ticklish include JJ, Iona and Beardy). The next morning we took to the river again, however nothing unusual happened due to the disappointingly low water level, apart from Rossall illegally driving the van and getting the seats wet. After an effortless day’s paddling, we headed back to sunny Southampton via KFC with sore throats and lime juice stains.

By Beardy Dan and Kate Herbert

Dave gets friendly with a tree 🙂

Newquay Fresher Trip 2010

So, about a week into my university life I discovered SUCC. Possibly the next day somebody mentioned a holiday.

YES!

Well, I wasn’t going to be sticking around in Southampton when I could be cavorting around on the beaches of Cornwall, was I?

Following a rather amusing intro talk filled with alcohol, flour and water I remember vaulting a couple of rows in the lecture hall to hand in my cash. I really wasn’t planning on missing out!

Cutting to the point and avoiding furthering an apparently well established SUCC custom, I turned up at the boat hard on time and then waited. For a fair while… But after, among other things, establishing the sheer quantity of fresher’s bestowed with the name Thomas, we piled onto various modes of carriage and headed forth to the fair West Country.

If the antics on the bus didn’t quite live up to the stories foretold, it was more than made up for when we piled off of Red Leader in the chilly night air in Newquay. There were games, drink, drinking, drinking games, a little strip trip to the beach. I felt at home already.

A couple of hours sleep ensured we were all bright and fresh for the latter hours of the morning at which time us newbies were bundled back into the buses and along the familiar roads of Cornwall. Unfortunately not everyone knew where they were going. Nevertheless, Perranporth eventually veered into view and after much ado about nothing, we got stuck into the surf in pairs with the timeless advice “if you go over, pull this loop here… and don’t breathe it in”. Excellent! I loved it.

And just how bonkers was the

surf!

It whipped back at the face like hail in a hurricane. A significant number frequently found themselves miraculously self righted in the breakers and I pulled off an impressive unintendo involving nosediving into the beach and staying longer than I’d have liked in a vertical limbo. Swim followed swim followed swim and then some ponces got cold so we hiked back up the beach for pasties.

That night followed roughly the same formula as the first, only my part of the equation involved rather more rummmmm and ciderrrrrrr. As a result I made my acquaintance with the cold and wet, yet surprisingly cosy football pitch outside. I was put to bed but some crazy fools decided to sleep outside in the dugouts anyway. Good on you!

The surf on Sunday was a little less mental by most standards, which enabled the majority of us freshers to get out onto the bigger waves out back. I was concentrating far too hard on not breathing in the Atlantic but I’m told even some of the more established club members enjoyed themselves too!

Many, many thanks to Matt Kelly and associated minions for organising a truly memorable SUCC trip.

Thom