leahortez86: Learning the art of rolling with world record holder

HELEN Barnes is 38, has enthralled thousands of children when visiting schools to talk about her exploits, and takes under four minutes to do 100 Eskimo rolls.

I am 44, have bored two children (my own) with my exploits – and have so far taken dozens of hours failing to complete even one solitary Eskimo roll.

It's not as though I haven't tried.

I've had one-on-one lessons. I've had group lessons. I've tried it in the lake at Holme Pierrepont, the public pool in Bulwell, the middle of the River Trent (the last of these not a planned attempt, admittedly, but it still counts).

But every time I try and complete a roll – which involves a 360 degree turn through and under the water – I come up short.

I hurl myself upside down, take around half an hour to get my bearings under the water, forget most of my instructions, flail about with the paddle for a bit, then accept the inevitable and pull off my spray deck before swimming ignominiously to the side.

My failures are invariably accompanied by either the sound of mocking laughter from expert young kayakers on the side of the river or swimming pool, or an eerie silence which makes me wonder whether I did actually extricate myself in time at all.

So who better to turn to for help than West Bridgford's Helen Barnes?

Last year Helen, who already held the world record for the quickest time for 100 Eskimo rolls with a paddle, added the record for 100 rolls without a paddle to her CV.

Soon, no doubt, she will be setting a new record for 100 rolls holding a ukulele and playing If You Leave Me, Walk Out Backwards So I Think You're Coming In. If she can't help me, nobody can.

Things are slightly complicated by the fact that she is 33 weeks pregnant. So when we meet at the swimming pool of the David Lloyd Club in West Bridgford, she brings with her Mark Bayles – her partner and coach – who will help me in the water while Helen wisely stays on the edge to offer instructions.

"It's not easy," says Helen kindly, after my first attempt ends the way of all those which have gone before. "It took me weeks to do it when I was learning as a teenager."

With admirable patience, Helen and Mark take me through the drill.

Right-hand paddle flat against the water; left-hand paddle against the boat; fall through 180 degrees; tap on the surface of the water with a flat paddle; then sweep the paddle along the surface of the water and hip-flick at the same time, until kayaker and kayak are both righted.

(A quick note on the kayak/canoe issue. Strictly speaking, a canoe doesn't have a top and is powered by a single-bladed paddle, while a kayak has a top and is powered by a double-bladed paddle. The term 'canoeist', however, is generally accepted as a catch-all for people using both types of vessel – unless, of course, you are heard by a paid-up member of the British Canoe Union referring to a kayaker as a canoeist, in which case you will be debagged, tied by a line to a flotilla of canoes, and hauled along the bottom of the river until you have Weil's disease coming out of your ears.)

My attempts continue, and all end in roughly the same manner. I get to about 270 degrees around, and then lose all momentum and flop back in the water.

When Mark – who is himself a highly competent kayaker – keeps a fingertip on the end of my paddle, that's all the extra pressure I need to push myself through 360 degrees.

But otherwise, my increasingly feeble efforts just don't have the impetus they need. There are four or five key points to remember as I'm going through the drill, and I don't seem to be able to remember more than two or three of them in any given attempt.

"It's not bad at all," reassures Helen. "You're not panicking or becoming disorientated under water, and you're finding the surface of the water with your paddle when you're upside down. It just takes practice – and once you've done it the first time, it's easy."

But is there any one factor that would bring that elusive first time closer, I ask?

"Start younger, so you're smaller," she admits. "And try it in a smaller boat."

This is what I need – a reason for failure that blames the tools, not the workman.

My touring kayak, it seems, is great for when you want to head off for a weekend and fill the hold with camping equipment and beer; but not so good for being hauled through a full circle.

We have a few more tries, but my energy is sapping. After the final attempt I pull off my spray deck and exit the pool, not quite with my tail between my legs, but certainly pulling my sodden deck a little forlornly behind me.

Helen, once the small business of having her first child is behind her, has her sights firmly set on the slalom in the 2012 Olympic Games.

As for me, the battle between man and gravity continues. I'll keep on trying – but I won't be booking in that school tour just yet.