Jay's Canoe Course

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

At the beginning of February 1963 it was my eighteenth birthday. For my present Mr Foster, my landlord, gave me a week’s canoeing holiday in Scotland. The site he chose was close to the River Leven. The nearest town was a place called Lochgelly. He said it was an appropriate choice, but he wouldn’t explain any further. He just smiled and said he hoped I didn’t find out why.

I could choose from a range of holidays in the site’s brochure. I went over it with my canoeing friends in the scouts. In the second week of April there was an instructor’s course. By now we had all reached a standard that would get us onto it. We discussed it with Simmy, our senior scout leader. He said that those at school might get grants from the Council to help with the fees. That wouldn’t apply to me as I was at work in the Council’s planning department. On the other hand they owed me time off for overtime so I had no trouble getting permission to go.

In the end five of us booked the course. There was Dave and Simon my best friends who were older than me and were coming up to their last term at school. Nick and Tim were younger lads who had only recently joined the seniors from the main scout troop. Once we had booked we couldn’t wait to go. We honed our skills on the river every weekend. We entered extra competitions. We even won one. I was really pleased. It made my second cup. I joked to Mr Foster that he might have to put up new shelves to take all my trophies.

At this time my relations with Mr Foster were a bit strained. For a long time I had wanted him. In March Mrs Davies, his housekeeper, had gone away for a month. One night he came into my room to find me bending over my armchair, naked. He took me. I loved it, even though I was sore for a few days afterwards. But for the next week or so he avoided me as much as possible. I hinted that he could do it again. He just looked away. I couldn’t work out what was wrong. It wasn’t as if I had been unwilling. Then Mrs Davies came back early. Things got better between us but even so he was still distant and formal. I thought about doing something wrong so that he could spank me. Perhaps that might put things right. But I didn’t. I hated his spankings. The leather tawse was bad enough. The whippy cane called Stinger was terrible. I’d have to be pretty desperate before I volunteered for that.

Two weeks before the course started we got a letter from the centre. They said they had only had bookings from six people. They didn’t want to cancel it. If we would do the cooking and general duties they’d keep it going. Otherwise we could have our money back. Mr Foster was furious. He rang the centre and gave them a piece of his mind. They compromised. We would do the cooking and general duties. They would refund us £5 each. We agreed. It wasn’t really a problem for us anyway. We cooked in the scouts and did general work about any camp site we were on. So it was no big deal.

The Friday before we left was a scout night. Some Commissioner or other was inspecting the Group. Mr MacKenzie, our Group Scout Leader, introduced us to him. He told the Commissioner about how we were going to be instructors. The Commissioner was pleased. He said we could run courses for the county. There were no canoeing instructors available at present. We would be valuable additions to the area team. You could almost see Mr MacKenzie preening himself. Afterwards he told us that he was proud of us. We were helping make the Group the best in the county. He warned us not to let him down. We wouldn’t dare. If we did we’d probably end up in his garage, shorts and pants around our ankles, howling our sorrow under his riding crop. I’d done that once. I was in no hurry to repeat the experience.

On the Saturday we got the night train to Edinburgh. We were in sleeping compartments. I shared with Tim. He was a slim, ginger haired sixteen year old known as Bull. It was short for bulletproof. He had been in the Group since he was seven and had never been spanked. He had a charmed life. Once in the cubs his whole tent had got the slipper for talking after hours. Not him; when they were caught he’d been in the latrines. Things like that were always happening. If there was any trouble he seemed to slide out of it without any problem. It was the same at his school apparently. Yet he was well liked, even if we were jealous of his luck. We chatted for a bit then went to sleep.

In the early morning our train pulled into Edinburgh. We got another train to Lochgelly, arriving there at about 10.00. A minibus from the centre was waiting at the station. We piled in. The senior instructor introduced himself. His name was Stuart. He was about thirty; a tall, dark haired man with the sort of permanent suntan that those working outdoors seem to get. On the way to the centre he explained the setup. There was a boy called Laurie doing the course with us. Otherwise there was just him and Mike, the other instructor. Normally there would have been a cook and other staff but given the low numbers only the two of them had been hired. We would cook all the meals, keep the site clean and look after the boats. The latter part was in the course anyway as an instructor had to know about canoe maintenance. A couple of evenings would be spent learning how to do simple repairs.

The centre was in a lovely spot. That part of Scotland isn’t really mountainous but there were hills all around. Some of the hills were covered in heather, while others had tall stands of pine. A wide stream ran past the site, flowing into the River Leven. The air seemed fresher than in the South. Although a fine rain was falling we immediately took to the place. A little way down the road was a pub. We could see we were going to have a great time here.

Stuart took us into the accommodation block. We were to sleep in a room with about twenty bunk beds built against the walls. There was a large table with chairs around it in the centre. There were showers and the other facilities next door. Once we had chosen our beds and put our kit on them Stuart led us to the dining hall. There was room for about fifty people here. The other boy on the course, Laurie, was sitting at a table with Mike. They both had large mugs of tea. Laurie got us some tea and we started to discuss the week. We also fixed the duties. As I was the best cook I would do all the evening meals. The others would do breakfasts and lunches and the washing up. We would take it in turns to sweep the dining hall.

Finally we were told to get into our canoeing gear. We didn’t need telling twice. We were back outside the hall in minutes. Stuart grinned at our obvious enthusiasm and led the way to the stream. There were a number of canoes there. We each picked one that would be ours for the week. We had a safety chat then went onto the stream. A little way down was a wide pool. On this Stuart checked our knowledge of the basics. Then it was lunchtime. It was still raining but that meant nothing to us. We were really enjoying ourselves. Both Stuart and Mike knew what they were doing. We could see we would learn a lot from them.

After lunch we went further downstream to a feature known as `the Slot.’ It was a fairly narrow gorge extending for about two hundred metres. At that time of year the water was racing through it. We drew our canoes up on the bank and walked down the side. Stuart pointed out the problems in canoeing down it. At one stage there were some large boulders that had to be slipped past. At another the water rolled over a ledge creating a back flow. There were two or three places where you had to turn sharply to avoid obstacles. At the end there was a little waterfall to be jumped. It wasn’t too dangerous he said but we should treat it with respect. We must never go down it unless there was someone on the bank at the bottom to help anyone in trouble. We walked back to the boats. I think we were all a little nervous. We had done white water canoeing before but this was the heaviest yet. I made sure my safety helmet was tightly fixed.

Before we got into our canoes we watched Mike and Stuart go down. It gave us a good idea of what to do. Then, one at a time, we had a go. Dave went first and made it. Laurie was next. He got halfway but his canoe went broadside at the ledge and he spilled into the water. We had to wait until he was clear. Then it was my turn. I went into the slot at the right angle which helped. It was really fast. While I had to power the boat to stay in control, I concentrated on steering it. I flashed past the first two obstacles then came to the ledge. Copying Stuart, I dug in really hard with the paddles to give myself extra speed. The bow of the boat started to turn but I managed to keep it straight and shot over. I landed badly. The canoe swung round and I capsized. However I rolled the boat back up and carried on. I scraped the last rock and nearly capsized again. Then I was at the little waterfall which I jumped successfully. I couldn’t believe I had made it. It was brilliant. I just wanted to race back up and do it again.

We had a great afternoon. By the time we got back to the centre we had all been down the Slot six times. All of us had come out at one stage or another. But it was really good. Stuart had explained to us what we were doing wrong and we had learnt from our mistakes. I showered and then started supper. I did chicken and rice with vegetables, which is a quick meal to prepare. There were baked apples and custard for afters. Then we went down the pub.

I sat with Stuart going over the menus for the rest of the week. When we finished he was in no hurry to join the main group so we sat and chatted. I told him about my work with the Council. He talked about being an instructor. It sounded like a really good job. But there were drawbacks. You needed at least two activities under your belt. He did canoeing and mountaineering. Also it was seasonal and he was often unemployed in the winter. I told him about how our scout commissioner wanted us to run courses for the county. He said he would explain how to set them up. Then we joined the rest of the guys. It was closing time before we knew it.

The next day we started to learn about being instructors. We were split into two groups of three. I was with Stuart. We took it in turns to teach basic strokes to the other two. At each stage we had to analyse what the `instructor’ was doing wrong. I was too aggressive. I should realise that those I might be instructing weren’t as keen as me. He taught us some tricks. We should impress those we were instructing with our skills. We should take command. It was really good. In the afternoon there was a lecture. Then we paddled down to the river for more skill training.

Afterwards we were left at the pool to muck about. He said we shouldn’t go down the Slot. Mike and Stuart went back to the centre. We had a good time. But the Slot beckoned. No one else was about. Dave said he would go down to the bottom to act as the safety guy. We waited until he was there. Then we all went down. We all made it. I grabbed my canoe from the water and started to walk uphill to get to the top again. It was quite a climb. I kept my eyes on the ground. Suddenly there was someone ahead of me. I looked up. It was Stuart. He was furious.

He coldly directed me to wait by the pool. Tim, Laurie and Dave were already there. After a while Nick and Simon joined us, closely followed by Stuart.

"You are training to be instructors," he said. "Yet you act like children. I told you not to go down the Slot. You disobeyed me. How can expect to control others when you can’t control yourselves? You’re wasting my time. When we get back to the centre you can pack and go."

We were stunned. We expected a good telling off....but this. Simon started to say something. Stuart wouldn’t listen. In silence we trudged miserably back to the centre. We washed the boats down and stacked them. Then we went to our room. No one felt like talking. After a while Stuart came in.

"There are no trains to get you home tonight," he growled, "But you’ll be at the station first thing tomorrow."

He stalked out. We began to recover. Dave and Simon were talking in low voices. Laurie was lying on his bed. I think he was crying. I felt close to tears myself. I went to the kitchen and started to get supper ready. I was doing a fish pie. I had got the potatoes done when Mike came in. I got him a cup of tea and he sat down at the kitchen table.

"You were wrong you know," he said softly.

"Oh Mike, we all know that," I sighed, "But we didn’t really think. We didn’t mean any harm. It was just so much fun. Is he really going to send us away?"

"I’m afraid so. And in one sense he’s right. As an instructor you are responsible for the lives of your class. If you can’t show some responsibility yourselves then you’re not up to the job."

"But, we’ve had a shock," I tried, "We’ve learnt our lesson."

"You’d better tell him that not me," Mike smiled, finishing his tea. "It’s certainly worth a try. He’s not an unreasonable man. On the other hand he’s unlikely to let it go without some further action."

Supper was a silent meal. Afterwards we gathered in our room. I told the others what Mike had said. We discussed going to see Stuart. We could all go but that might be difficult. It would be better if it was done one on one. We agreed that we would accept any reasonable punishment. As I seemed to be getting on with Stuart in the pub last night I was delegated to go and speak with him. He was in his office next to the dining hall. I went and knocked on the door.

"Oh, it’s you Jay," he frowned, "I was wondering who it would be. Well, say your piece."

I put all our cards on the table. I told him how sorry we were. I explained that us five scouts would get a really good hiding from Mr MacKenzie when we got back. I added that I’d probably get another one from Mr Foster as well. I didn’t know about Laurie. I said how much we were enjoying the course, how much we wanted to be instructors. I felt that while we should be punished, sending us away was too harsh for what we’d done. After all we had had a safety guy at the bottom of the Slot.

He listened in silence. After I had finished there was a long pause. He looked out of the window. I just stood there. Then he turned back to me.

"Do you know what Lochgelly is famous for?" he asked.

"No, sir," I replied, wondering what he was on about.

He stood up and went over to a table at the side of the office. He opened a drawer and took something out. He turned round. I gasped in shock. In his hands was a tawse. It seemed thicker than the one Mr Foster used and the tails were broader.

"I see you recognise this," he smiled.

"Yes sir," I shuddered, "It’s a tawse sir."

"Not just any tawse, Jay. This is a Lochgelly. It’s our proud boast that we make the best tawses in the world. Thousands of boys have learnt the error of their ways thanks to this. I see no reason why six more shouldn’t be added to the list. Do you?"

"No sir," I stammered, "How many sir?"

"I haven’t decided yet. Go back to your room. It’s now seven o’clock. I’ll come in at eight and inspect the room, the washroom and you lot. Everything had better be clean and tidy. Then we’ll discuss your punishment. Clear?"

"Yes sir," I managed and fled.

I broke the news to the others. Tim went white as a sheet. His famous luck had just run out. Laurie said he’d rather go home. We told him to clear out while we cleaned the room. He went out but came back a few minutes later, tears running down his face. He started to lend a hand. The next forty five minutes were filled with frantic activity. We dusted. We swept. We washed the floors. We cleaned the toilets and washbasins. I found some polish and managed to get the sleeping room floor done. Everyone had to wear socks; no shoes allowed. Finally we straightened everything, made sure our kit was neat and our beds were properly made up. Then we turned to ourselves. We worried about what to wear. In the end we settled for clean shorts and T shirts. At five to eight six trembling boys, their faces clean, shoes polished and hair neatly brushed lined up to wait for Stuart.

He came in dead on time. We looked at him in horror. Swinging from his right hand was the tawse. He put it on the table in the centre of the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Then he wandered around. He checked the windows for dust. He went to Nick’s bed and straightened the pillow. He visited the washroom. Finally he came to us. Each of us was subjected to a close inspection. Tim’s shoes weren’t clean enough. Laurie had obviously never been taught to stand at attention. He found something wrong with all of us. I had shoe polish on my hands. By the time he had finished I for one was shaking like a leaf. He went back to the table and picked up the tawse.

"I’m not going to remind you of how stupid you have been," he started. "I think you all know now."

"Yes sir," we chorused.

"Since you accept that, and only because you had a safety man at the bottom of the Slot, I won’t send you home."

"Thank you sir."

"But I am going to punish you. On the water you must be disciplined. As instructors it’s easy to think you can lark about. But you are in charge. The rules apply even more strictly to you than they do to your class. I hope tonight’s lesson will fix that firmly in your minds. Do you accept my punishment?"

"Yes sir," we mumbled, looking at the floor.

" Very well, ten each then, who’s first?"

No one moved.

"Alright, Dave come out here."

Dave reluctantly walked over to where Stuart was standing. At nearly nineteen he was a bit taller than the instructor. There was a low, one sided conversation. Stuart took a chair from around the table. He put it in an open space. Dave went and stood behind it, his back to us. Laurie gasped as Dave dropped his shorts. His pants followed. He bent over the chair, holding on to its legs. He straightened his knees. Stuart came to stand behind him and to the left. The tawse twitched in his right hand.

The room went very quiet. Somewhere, on another planet, a car drove past the centre. I barely registered it. I wondered what Dave was thinking right now. Here he was, nearly nineteen, his bare bottom about to receive its richly deserved punishment. He might just as well have been nine again. I hadn’t realised how hairy he was becoming. The silence dragged on for what seemed like ages.

Then Stuart raised the tawse behind him. It whipped down on Dave’s bum with an ear splitting crack. Dave yelped with the shock. The imprint of the heavy tails were etched in red across both cheeks. The tawse swung down again. Dave shivered with pain. By the fourth he was writhing. The fifth drew a long ooooooh from him. The sixth got him. He jumped up and howled; his hands grabbing for his burning bottom. He realised his mistake and swiftly bent over again. Stuart said nothing. He waited until the target was once more steady and cracked the next one in. Again Dave howled. By the tenth he was wriggling and sobbing as he screamed in agony. His bottom was bright crimson from his thighs to the start of his back. I shuddered in horror. Soon it would be my turn.

Dave was allowed to stand up. He came back to his place in the line. Nick was summoned. He too had a brief conversation with Stuart. Then he went over to the chair, took his shorts and pants down and bent over. He was a rather chubby, blond boy. His fat white cheeks wobbled a bit as he settled down. Then the punishment started. He was howling by the third. On the fifth he shot up and refused to bend over again. Stuart threatened that we’d hold him down. Nick looked at us, tears streaming down his face. We nodded. We would hold him if necessary. He bent over. He got his ten. I thought he might get another for not getting down but Stuart was merciful.

Now it was Simon’s turn. He was one of those boys who seem perfectly formed. I had often admired his smooth, round bottom in the changing room. He went up to the chair, white faced. After a few words he dropped his shorts and pants. He bent over; not far over enough. He was told to get his hands on the floor and his legs wider apart. He obeyed. His quivering bare bum looked really inviting. Stuart accepted the invitation. The tawse cracked hard across both cheeks. Simon shuddered but stayed quiet. By the fourth he was standing on tiptoe, writhing with pain. His bottom was reddened with the lash, the marks of the tails being clearly visible. He too howled on the sixth. Somehow he managed the seventh but the eighth finished him. It got him dead centre and he screamed with pain. He wriggled from side to side but stayed down. Stuart waited until he settled then gave him another really good one. Poor Simon was in agony. He wailed his sorrow for his sins, sobbing uncontrollably. The tenth lashed into him. He howled again. Stuart let him stand. He hobbled back to the line, crying and whimpering and rubbing his wounded bottom.

As if from far away I heard Stuart say "Jay."

I stumbled forward. The walk to the chair seemed to last forever. Stuart put his hand on my shoulder. "You know you deserve this don’t you?"

"Yes sir," I managed, "Please sir, not too hard."

"You’re going to get what you deserve young man," he snapped. "It’s time you grew up. I’m surprised at you. A boy with a job like yours should be more responsible. Take your shorts down and get over the chair."

I went to stand by the side of the chair. I unfastened my shorts and let them fall. They dropped to my knees. I pushed them down to my ankles. My pants came next. I slid them over my bottom to join the shorts. I bent over the seat and grasped the chair legs near the floor. I moved my legs wider apart and straightened my knees. The room was draughty. A cold breeze chilled my backside. I heard Stuart move behind me. The tails of the tawse rested lightly on me.

They lifted away. Suddenly there was a swooshing noise and my bottom exploded in pain. I couldn’t help a gasp of shock. It seemed far worse than what I got from Mr Foster. The second cracked down. Again I gasped and writhed. I couldn’t take much more but I’d only had two. I gritted my teeth. The third landed. It seared right across both cheeks. I managed not to make a sound but I was screaming inside. I forgot my watching friends. I forgot anything but the need to stay down. The fourth made me yelp again. By now my bottom was a sea of fire. The fifth completed the coverage. It landed just above my thighs. I gasped and panted heavily. I knew I was finished. I was right. The sixth was a real scorcher, dead centre, both cheeks. I howled. I writhed. I wanted to beg him to stop. Hot tears began to form. I shook with the pain. He waited for me to settle. Then the seventh came down. Again I howled. The tears began to flow. I couldn’t stand the eighth. I jumped up.

"Please sir, no more sir," I sobbed. He just pointed to the chair. I knew I had to bend over again. Reluctantly I did so. Another stroke followed almost immediately. I screamed then screamed again. I was wriggling all over the place. My bottom felt like it had been dipped in boiling water. I was crying uncontrollably. But I had only one more to go. I drew a deep breath and steadied myself. The tenth cracked in. Once more I howled and wriggled. But at last it was over. He allowed me to stand. I pulled my clothes up and walked back to the line. I stood there, shaking and crying.

I was too badly hurt to take much notice of what happened to Laurie. His cries of pain registered but they seemed far way. I only saw his reddening bottom through a veil of tears. I heard Stuart telling him to take his hands away but it was as if he was on another world. It wasn’t until he stood up, sobbing his heart out, that I began to recover. It was Tim’s turn.

Boys are cruel creatures. If it had been anyone else I would have probably stayed wrapped up in my own misery. But this was like seeing the end of a legend. Bulletproof Tim was finally getting it. I think we all, except Laurie, felt the same. Certainly my tears ceased to flow. I caressed my bottom gently with my hands, soothing away the pain. But my concentration was on Tim.

Like most redheads he had a really white, delicate looking skin. As his bare bottom rose into the air I could see he was already shivering in anticipation. The sides of his cheeks were slightly caved in. I wondered absently whether this was good or bad. Was it less of a target or more painful on what was there? Stuart paused and rubbed his right arm. Then he stood behind Tim. For the first time that milky white skin would receive its overdue reward. Surprisingly he took it quite well. Although at the end he was howling and crying like the rest of us, he didn’t jump up. As he pulled his pants up over his crimson rear end I felt strangely proud of him.

Stuart let us stand there for a while. Then he dismissed us. We were to go straight to bed, lights out in ten minutes and anyone who talked would get another six. Needless to say there wasn’t so much as a whisper out of us that night.

The next morning we were all sore. Luckily we had lectures to start with so it wasn’t that bad. Out on the stream and in the river it was another story. It’s hard paddling a canoe with a tender bottom. But we soon got used to it. By the end of the morning we were laughing and joking as if it had never happened. However the lesson stayed firmly with us. We never, ever, disobeyed Stuart or Mike again.

On the Saturday evening at the end of the course Stuart called us together.

"I’m pleased to say that you’ve all passed," he announced. "I’ll now hand out your certificates."

I couldn’t take my eyes off mine. `This is to certify that Jay Bee is a qualified canoeing instructor’ it read, with details of the course and signed by Stuart. It was brilliant. I felt really proud. I would have it framed. It would look dead good on my wall.

Stuart made a little speech. He reminded us of the responsibility we had as instructors. Lives could be in our hands. "Although it wasn’t part of the course," he commented sombrely, "I hope my tawse has brought that lesson home to you."

He wished us luck. We went down to the pub to celebrate.

The next morning we were to catch the train home. Before we left the centre I went to see Stuart in the office.

"I’d just like to say thank you for everything, sir" I said. "I’ve really enjoyed this and I’m really pleased I passed."

"You want to thank me for everything, Jay?" he asked with a smile, his eyes fixed on the drawer where the tawse was kept.

"Yes, sir," I replied firmly, "Everything."

"You’re a good lad," he grinned. "You’ll make a fine instructor. Just remember that if you’re in charge you can’t act the fool."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

After we got to Edinburgh we had to wait for the sleeper to London. We did the tourist bits and then caught the train. Once more I was sharing with Tim. We discussed the course. The chat naturally veered to the spanking.

"I’ve lost my name," Tim said sadly. "Nick’s begun to call me `Not’ as in not bulletproof."

"Never mind" I consoled him, "You’ve only ever had one. You’ll probably never get another. You’re still a lot more bulletproof than the rest of us."

I wouldn’t make a much money as a fortune teller. But then how was I to know that in five month’s time me and Tim would be side by side, our pyjama trousers round our ankles, as first Mr Foster’s tawse, then Stinger, explained to our bare bottoms the need for good behaviour at all times. But that, as they say, is a tale for another day.

Jay Bee May 10 1998.