A pre-briefing sortie by Roy and Jenny

Dawn Tuesday August 10th. We awake to sunlight illuminating and warming the tent – the canvas reveals no hint of breeze and just birdsong blended with the gentle surround-sound of snoring can be heard. So, it’s decision time (no….. not whether I need a pee or not – at my age that’s a given!) it’s the all-important question – do we unzip the tent slowly and quietly? or do we blast it open in the hope that a short sharp noise is less likely to awaken others than a quieter but agonizingly prolonged noise? We go for the former and quietly don our kayaking gear. We creep stealthily and arrive with the two kayaks at the foot of slip. Before us we find a truly magnificent sight – the morning mist has rolled up the river and the low morning sun creates mystical images bouncing off the mirror smooth surface of a Helford high water.

We say nothing, and we can just still hear the distant snoring as we slip our craft from the water’s edge.

We are alone as we paddle west taking the Polwetheral creek. We maintain our silence, relishing the tranquillity and solitude – not a breath of wind and the sun now burning off the dawn mist. Up past the wreck on the right (and it really is a wreck now – surely no longer someone’s abode?) and passing a deserted Scots Quay we head up the creek. As we meander along the valley the cows are munching the dewy grass in the hills above, and the sounds of birdsong in perfect harmony with the tinkle of ripples as the kayaks gently glide up stream with the tide. The creek narrows and nearing its end we pause, having arrived at high tide we could get right to the very top but… for the first time we are not alone on the water. Two swans command the stream ahead of us and their 7 young ones tentatively enter the water. The family head down stream towards us – we bow to their presence and turn around feeling privileged to have shared their territory in such a truly wonderful setting. We paddle slowly back past the narrow boat (how did a canal barge end up here?) and with the tide now ebbing we soon turn east facing the sun and see the morning dance of dragon flies and other insects feasting in bright reflected light. All too soon we find ourselves back at the slip – but the snoring is no longer, the peaceful atmosphere is now tempered with muted chatter and the sounds and aromas of bacon and eggs, and then to curtail the peace of morning camp the whistle blows – it must be 0900hrs!

Not a formal Cody event but when the tide, wind, and sun are right we heartily recommend an early morning paddle – just don’t do it when others are about ‘cos it’s the solitude that makes it so magical.