me approach and a
handful turned to look my way before warning their friends. The warning came
too late for a blonde-headed girl who was already about to jump. She tried to
stop herself, wind-milling her arms for a few moments before plummeting with a
splash.
“Sorry,” she said as she surfaced.
“No problem,” I laughed, half contemplating warning them of the dangers
posed by jumping off bridges, but who was I to stop their fun?
When there was no danger of some unfortunate child crippling themselves
on the front of my canoe, I passed beneath them, looking up to shout my thanks
as I appeared through the other side of the bridge. The next youth was already
balanced on the rail, ready to leap the moment I was out of the way. I put
some effort into paddling, not wanting to hold them up any longer, and the
sounds of splashing, laughter and fun receded behind me. Two bends later and I
was alone once again, accompanied only by the sounds of birdsong and the gentle
splashing, gurgling of the paddle sliding in and out of the water.
Two
When the sun was sinking in the west and shade was offered more freely,
I thought it would be a good idea to stop for the night. It was some considerable
time later when I spotted a suitable place to pull the canoe out of the water,
in the shape of a much trampled and muddy piece of ground leading down to the
water’s edge where livestock came to drink. Not being the biggest fan of cows
– having more than once being surrounded or chased by inquisitive bovines – I
thought I’d get out first, to take a look around before going to the effort of dragging
all my gear up the bank.
The mud was thicker than I’d hoped and covered with a liberal smattering
of goose droppings and, as my feet sank half way into the ooze, I found myself wishing
I’d pressed on a little further to find a better spot. However, twilight was
upon me and there wasn’t much hope of finding anywhere else in the dark. To my
satisfaction though, the field was empty of livestock. There were cows grazing
in a different field, almost on the horizon, and I could see no sign of the
farmer or his house and so it was a safe bet I’d be able to spend the night
undisturbed.
Rather than traipsing back and forth through the mud, I decided to haul
the fully laden canoe up the bank without emptying it first. The effort almost
wasn’t worth keeping my feet dry for, but I put my back into it and heaved.
Slowly the canoe inched up through the mud, listing to one side once it got
half way out of the water and almost emptying itself, but my luggage
miraculously stayed inside and was soon safe and dry in the field with me
leaning on one of the barrels, panting. By now it was almost dark and my first
task was to unscrew a barrel lid and rummage inside for a torch. The heat of
the day had expanded the air inside and my nostrils were assaulted by the acrid
aroma of capers as it hissed out, so I had to take a step backwards before
returning to fully remove the lid. While I was rummaging, I fetched out the
small camping cooker, a sleeping mat and sleeping bag. The torch had wormed
its way into the bottom of the barrel but I managed to fish it out by feel,
rather than removing anything else which I didn’t need, or poking my head in
too deeply.
I had beans for tea, but before I even thought about heating them I
took off my socks and shoes. My toes were wrinkled from being wet. I dried
them on the grass and cleaned off most of the mud, first from my feet and then
my shoes before squatting on my haunches and lighting the stove. I ate the
beans on their own, straight from the pan. In the cooling summer evening air,
on my own with stars beginning to manifest in the heavens, it was possibly the
best meal I’d ever tasted.
With the necessity of food dealt with, it was time to sort out my
sleeping arrangements. I had a tarp with me – a large square of tent fabric used
to make a shelter, often using paddles for poles, or strung
handful turned to look my way before warning their friends. The warning came
too late for a blonde-headed girl who was already about to jump. She tried to
stop herself, wind-milling her arms for a few moments before plummeting with a
splash.
“Sorry,” she said as she surfaced.
“No problem,” I laughed, half contemplating warning them of the dangers
posed by jumping off bridges, but who was I to stop their fun?
When there was no danger of some unfortunate child crippling themselves
on the front of my canoe, I passed beneath them, looking up to shout my thanks
as I appeared through the other side of the bridge. The next youth was already
balanced on the rail, ready to leap the moment I was out of the way. I put
some effort into paddling, not wanting to hold them up any longer, and the
sounds of splashing, laughter and fun receded behind me. Two bends later and I
was alone once again, accompanied only by the sounds of birdsong and the gentle
splashing, gurgling of the paddle sliding in and out of the water.
Two
When the sun was sinking in the west and shade was offered more freely,
I thought it would be a good idea to stop for the night. It was some considerable
time later when I spotted a suitable place to pull the canoe out of the water,
in the shape of a much trampled and muddy piece of ground leading down to the
water’s edge where livestock came to drink. Not being the biggest fan of cows
– having more than once being surrounded or chased by inquisitive bovines – I
thought I’d get out first, to take a look around before going to the effort of dragging
all my gear up the bank.
The mud was thicker than I’d hoped and covered with a liberal smattering
of goose droppings and, as my feet sank half way into the ooze, I found myself wishing
I’d pressed on a little further to find a better spot. However, twilight was
upon me and there wasn’t much hope of finding anywhere else in the dark. To my
satisfaction though, the field was empty of livestock. There were cows grazing
in a different field, almost on the horizon, and I could see no sign of the
farmer or his house and so it was a safe bet I’d be able to spend the night
undisturbed.
Rather than traipsing back and forth through the mud, I decided to haul
the fully laden canoe up the bank without emptying it first. The effort almost
wasn’t worth keeping my feet dry for, but I put my back into it and heaved.
Slowly the canoe inched up through the mud, listing to one side once it got
half way out of the water and almost emptying itself, but my luggage
miraculously stayed inside and was soon safe and dry in the field with me
leaning on one of the barrels, panting. By now it was almost dark and my first
task was to unscrew a barrel lid and rummage inside for a torch. The heat of
the day had expanded the air inside and my nostrils were assaulted by the acrid
aroma of capers as it hissed out, so I had to take a step backwards before
returning to fully remove the lid. While I was rummaging, I fetched out the
small camping cooker, a sleeping mat and sleeping bag. The torch had wormed
its way into the bottom of the barrel but I managed to fish it out by feel,
rather than removing anything else which I didn’t need, or poking my head in
too deeply.
I had beans for tea, but before I even thought about heating them I
took off my socks and shoes. My toes were wrinkled from being wet. I dried
them on the grass and cleaned off most of the mud, first from my feet and then
my shoes before squatting on my haunches and lighting the stove. I ate the
beans on their own, straight from the pan. In the cooling summer evening air,
on my own with stars beginning to manifest in the heavens, it was possibly the
best meal I’d ever tasted.
With the necessity of food dealt with, it was time to sort out my
sleeping arrangements. I had a tarp with me – a large square of tent fabric used
to make a shelter, often using paddles for poles, or strung
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