Rapid response

To some he was known as the Pied Piper of Paddlers, but why? And why are we speaking in the past tense of somebody who only turned 33 last May? Because Andy Jackson passed away in December, after several years of suffering from brucellosis, a disease he contracted on one of many kayaking expeditions to Nepal; it attacked his immune system and he died, on December 5, of pneumonia.

This week in Fort William, where Jackson lived with his partner Bridget Thomas, a tribute will be paid by the town’s Mountain Film Festival, which started yesterday. Wednesday evening’s paddle sports programme will be dedicated to a man described as "the best runner of big white water and technically difficult rivers ever to have emerged in Scotland", and at the conclusion to the festival, next Saturday, one of Jackson’s acclaimed films, Flying Fish, will follow the festival’s keynote presentation by Sir Chris Bonington.

According to Bridget, herself a talented slalom paddler who won the Rodeo World Championships in 1993, the young Jackson, originally from Houston in Renfrewshire, began sailing with his father. He graduated to camping and finally to canoeing, his forte. Before he turned 30 he had paddled more than 100 first descents in Scotland alone, though the love affair started, says Bridget, when he joined Lochwinnoch and Paisley Kayak Club "when he was little".

But he was never little - Jackson was 6ft 7ins. A giant. The clich "larger than life" ceased to be a clich in talking about him, because it wasn’t just his size but his personality that could fill a room.

Though such a frame could look faintly ridiculous in one of the small playboats that he was able to "make dance on a wave, doing cartwheels, loops, enders, spins and a variety of other improbable manoeuvres", it seems that Jackson’s enormous size was more a help than a hindrance. "You’d watch him paddle," says his friend Dave Kwant, "and you couldn’t figure out how he’d got to where he got to. Then you remembered that he had about an extra foot of arms.

"I don’t think you can overstate the role he played in the sport in Scotland," Kwant continues. "He pretty much is Scottish kayaking, really. He discovered most of the rivers and he fought passionately for the right to access them. His sport and his politics were closely linked: he believed that everyone should kayak where they wanted, and his major worry in life, I guess, was that Scotland would end up like England, where the rivers are not all open and free to access. He was pretty influential in changing the access bill that went through parliament. He was the master of coercion and a really, really good guy to have fighting your corner.

"But apart from all that he was also shit hot in a kayak," laughs Kwant. "He was good fun as well; you’d always be laughing when you were on the river with him."

Another kayaker, Dave Waugh, reinforces the impression that everybody who knew Jackson is at pains to emphasise, of a gregarious, powerfully engaging personality. "In the last decade he was known as one of the highest skilled river kayakers," says Waugh. "He was good in small rivers, which were very tight, very technical, and in some ways his size gave him an advantage; he could cover an awful lot of distance with one stroke. But he was just as passionate about sharing and encouraging other people as he was about doing the sport himself. I kayaked with him in Norway and Turkey and there were waterfalls that would make your eyes pop out just to look at them. He was very good at persuading other people that they could do it, too. He was an amazing guy."

"I suppose he was a pioneer," says Bridget, referring to the fact that Jackson sought out white water before the sport began to significantly grow, as it has in the last few years. With Bridget and Andy England he embarked on a world tour in 1994/95 that is part of the folklore of the sport.

"He loved to go somewhere new and challenge himself," says Bridget. "He loved being able to look at a bit of water and work out how to use it; how to make it do what he wanted. As well as having the physical ability, a lot of it is about having the right mentality - the ability to assess risk. The sports he loved - skiing and paragliding as well as kayaking - were high-risk, but he pursued them in a way that was very safe. He stayed within his limits, but also knew when to push them."

Perhaps unusually for such a talented sportsman, Jackson was not that interested in the competitive stage. He participated in events, but only if the atmosphere was that of friendly camaraderie, and, more importantly, only if it included a really good party. If he had a competitive streak it was in his pursuit of first descents. "It was new experiences he was into," says Bridget. "He’d never train for something."

With Bridget’s help, Jackson produced the Scottish White Water guidebook. For the last two years he also took on a part-time role as the Scottish Canoe Association’s access officer, helping to write the access code and overseeing the practical implementation of a code that has established Scotland as a world leader in access legislation. The SCA Access Fund has also been renamed the Andy Jackson Fund for Access.

Beyond that, and also this week’s tributes to Jackson in his adopted home town of Fort William, there could be another, more lasting memorial. He campaigned for artificial white water facilities in Scotland, and plans to develop such a centre in Kinlochleven and in Fort William itself may yet be realised. Apart from providing an essential facility, such a centre could host major events and give the sport of white water kayaking a massive, Andy Jackson-sized, boost.

All are fitting tributes, and some could form a practical legacy, but the final word on Jackson should go to one of his closest kayaking partners, Kwant. "What I remember most about Andy is how big he was. He covered the world; everywhere I went people would ask if I knew him and then welcome me with open arms.

"Now that he is gone I can’t quite put a finger on what is missing. I think I miss his long arms most of all. They were always there if you needed a hug and they were always there if you needed a helping hand. They were there at every party, swaying above everyone else like a big tree and they were stretched out when you needed a beer. When we were kayaking together I remember joking about how long his arms looked, how he always seemed to reach the bank no matter where he was, and how those big arms were always waiting in the last eddy with a huge grin behind them. I don’t know what to say; he was my hero."

For more information on the Fort William Mountain Film Festival, see: www.mountainfilmfestival.co.uk" target="_blank">www.mountainfilmfestival.co.uk