By Liam KirkhamLiam KirkhamLessons from the riverIve spent an ill-advised amount of time, money and energy on kayaking. Its taken me all over the world, and despite never being a great kayaker, Ive racked up a fair bit of experience. Im not kayaking as much as I used to, but looking back, I realise some of my biggest life lessons have been handed out by the river though that may say more about my lack of education than anything else.Before I begin, I want to set the stage for the kind of lessons youll encounter. Id like to share some of these lessons with you in a series of ten true stories. Expect tangents, pseudo-philosophy, solid advice, and utter nonsense. Ill leave it to you to decipher which is which as we transition between stories.Lets start with an early oneAt 16, I went to college to study outdoor sports. I thought climbing might be for me, but I got frustrated that if you arent great, you dont reach the top. Discovering that I could go down the whole river, even as the worst kayaker in the group, sealed my choice.I certainly wasnt a natural. I swam. I swam a lot. On one occasion, I swam three times in ten metres.I flipped on an eddy line as I came in and swam. I emptied my Necky Switch on the banks of the Lune and carefully got back on the water. Then, trying to exit the same eddy, I flipped again and had to empty my boat in the exact same spot before gingerly getting back on the water. This time, I managed to cross the eddy line, but as soon as I was in the flow, I flipped and swam again. At least this time, I was making progress downstream.Some days were better than others. Theres a paradoxical trickery to kayaking: to be good, you have to relax but you cant relax until youre good.We spent a lot of time in the minibus driving to rivers, and I later realised I was mentally fried by the time we reached the put-in. It wasnt that I was scared, but I certainly wasnt calm, relaxed, or zen. My brow was furrowed, my stomach in knots, anxious about how I would paddle that day. There was a direct correlation between how bad I felt at the put-in and how badly I paddled.The problem began in the minibusThe better kayakers would talk about water levels, what happened last time, swims, perfect lines, magnetic rocks, and near misses. It may have helped them prepare for the day, but it had the opposite effect on me. It overloaded my brain, spiked my adrenaline, and sent me down a rabbit hole of thoughts. An hour later, when we arrived at the river, I was already psychologically spent.I cant remember whether I consciously decided to take control of the situation or whether it was a happy accident, but I started bringing a book for the journey. While our lecturers drove and the bus filled with the usual kayak chat, Id get stuck into Harry Potter.I arrived at the river in a much better frame of mindIt wasnt that I was avoiding key information. Our instructor would give us a proper brief before we got our gear on the levels, the plan, what we were aiming to learn that day. That was what I needed to hear, and when I needed to hear it.I began to realise that the head game was a huge part of kayaking. That brings me back to Harry Potter and one of my favourite quotes, Tell me one last thing, said Harry. Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harrys ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?Ive learned a lot about the head game since then, but that was my first real insight.Reflecting on those minibus trips and how the conversation, crowd, and company affected my day (or more precisely, how I let them affect my day) leads me to the first clear lesson from the river:Lesson 1: Be careful what you consume.