Archive: Rivers - Supermarket, Highway, Inspiration

** I'm cheating a bit here - It's been a busy few weeks and I haven't had a chance to 

write any new blog posts, although there is stuff to write about! To keep material 

coming I thought I'd share this blog post from a blog I contribute to occasionally, 

originally written a few years back it is still as relevant now as when I wrote it. **

When I am out and about, whether it be for a gentle countryside walk with my family, a solo adventure, dedicated photography trip or a foraging session, I am always drawn to certain features in the landscape . Rivers are one of those features, particular smaller rivers in deep cut, wooded valleys. There is something about these valleys that never gets old to me. As a teenager on the North Devon coast I had plenty of opportunities to explore these sort of valleys, including in and around Exmoor, to this day one of my favourite parts of the UK. 

Me, contemplating life alongside the River Spey in Scotland.  

You may ask why, and I don't really know the definitive answer to that question but I have a few ideas. The first revolves around the concept of mental maps (something I had written about previously and will probably do so again for this blog), particularly resource maps. Rivers are a phenomenally rich resource (I originally wrote this for a bushcraft blog - www.bushcrafteducation.co.uk - and so it was originally aimed at foraging and that sort of topic):

First and foremost they are a readily available source of water. In the higher reaches of rivers where they run fast and clear it is also likely to be clean water which you can drink straight from the river. Even these days in areas where agricultural run off may have sullied the water, or in its lower reaches where it runs slow and silty, with simple techniques it can be filtered and purified to be made safe to drink.

They were to our hunter-gatherer ancestors an important source of protein, and still are today albeit one which is far less used than it once would have been, in the shape of water birds*, fish* and crayfish (although sadly these days an invasive species, the American Signal Crayfish which has driven our native White-clawed Crayfish to the edge of extinction). If you know where to look there may also be freshwater mussels or as you get closer to the coast and into the brackish and tidal zones of the river there may be other salt-water shellfish to harvest. 

With a constant source of water and, further down the river at least, nutrient rich silts, river valleys are often a great source of plant food as well. To name a few, wetland areas associated with rivers are often home to sedges (Carex spp.), some of which have seeds which can be eaten; Bulrush or Greater Reedmace (Typha latifolia) can be found which has edible rhizomes as well as being a useful tinder. These days in the UK several very common edible plants found along rivers are non-native species, certainly not something our hunter-gatherer forebears would have been familiar with - Himalayan Balsam (Impatiens glandulifera) and Japanese Knotweed (Fallopia japonica). And by eating either of these you are also doing your bit for conservation by reducing the population of an invasive plant. 

Some of the trees often found in close association with water are Willow species. Willow is an extremely useful plant to a bushcrafter providing bark for cordage & withies for basket making. In addition its bark contains Salicylic acid (in fact 'Salicylic' is derived from Salix, the Latin name for the Willow family) which is a component of aspirin and it has been known for centuries that chewing on willow bark could ease aches and pains and reduce fevers. 

Having established that rivers are useful for resources I think that part of my fondness for rivers stems from an instinctive draw to a landscape feature which is of use to me. But I don't think that's the whole story. 

Rivers are also beneficial for moving through the landscape. In a very modern sense we can see this based on how many roads or railway lines follow the course of rivers. In many circumstances the river bed itself will be the path through a landscape which experiences the least severe changes in elevation - waterfalls being a fairly obvious exception! By following these ready made paths modern engineers have saved themselves time and effort but also created for themselves different issues by placing their projects in the path of an immense erosive power - but that's another story.

I don't think this benefit would have been unappreciated by the people who roamed the land when roads weren't even a futuristic dream. Especially during the summer, when vegetation was at its highest and most impenetrable, and the water level was lower likely exposing a portion of the river bed, using these natural routes to move inland from the coast or the opposite would have saved effort and ensured that food to fuel your travels was never far away. Certainly in dense woodland I have followed small rivers or streams, sometimes alongside them and sometimes by necessity in them to aid my movements and help me to move more quickly or easily. It has long been a goal of mine to follow a river from its source to the sea - I think it would be a fascinating journey! 

In all this I have skirted around the potential of travel on the water itself. While not a expert in water travel I have been lucky enough to do a bit of kayaking and rafting both on rivers and the sea and it is a great way to travel. Early inhabitants of the UK may not have cashed in on this opportunity as much as those in other parts of the world, the effort required to manufacture water-borne vessels perhaps outweighing the advantages in many situations on a relatively small island. It is however well documented that early civilisations in other parts of the world focused their travel on waterways with variations on the theme of dug out canoes and later in the northern hemisphere with bark canoes. 

If you are referring back to the title you'll notice we are two thirds of the way through this tale. There will be those who read 'inspiration' in relation to 'river' and think I have lost it - city folks perhaps for whom rivers are places for stolen bikes and shopping trolleys, pollution outflows and perhaps if your lucky, the odd gull or duck. Luckily in Britain today even this inner city image of rivers is largely a thing of the past with tighter controls on pollution and water cleanliness but still the Thames in London or the Mersey in Liverpool are not the sort of rivers I look to for inspiration. 

The picture that comes to my mind when I think of inspiring rivers is a small river, wooded valley sides rising steeply above, clear water trickling quickly through a jumble of moss-covered rocks and woody debris. A Dipper rushing past or watching you from a half-submerged rock. Perhaps a little further downstream a whistle and a flash of blue alerting you to what has got to be the UK's most colourful bird, the Kingfisher, going about its business. If you're lucky some muddy footprints indicate a Otter isn't far away, and if your even luckier a glimpse of these now thankfully returning mammals. In the early morning mist a Roe deer perhaps, tentatively crossing from its shelter on one side to prime feeding ground on the other. As the sun gets higher, the dragonflies, the birds of prey of the insect world start to come to life. I could watch their aerial battles for territory and bright colours for hours before I got even a little bit bored. At the right time of year mayflies provide a spectacle, both as they 'dance' above the water and as they are fed on by every valley dweller you can imagine. I could go on... so I shall.

As a teenager I was lucky enough to work on a nature reserve for a week in Scotland. (On a side note, to any young person reading this, I cannot recommend highly enough this experience.) One day having been to check a hide over looking a large marshy flood plain alongside the river Spey, I spotted a family of fox cubs playing on a 'island' in the marsh, their earth was obviously located on the slightly higher and therefore drier ground above the wetland, among the gorse. On my return journey to my accommodation that evening, a gorgeous summer evening, I cut across the reserve - cresting a ridge having climbed up steeply through birch woodland I looked up to see an Osprey flying over, fish held tightly in its talons. Standing on the ridge transfixed by this spectacle I had never witnessed before I became aware of movement in the valley meadow below - a Roe buck, summer coat radiant red in the low evening sun had moved out of the woodland to browse. What a day! Not all strictly river associated but all within a stones throw.

The view from the hide I mention. The 'island' where I saw the foxes is in the middle ground on the left, the meadow where I saw the Roebuck a mile or so up the valley to the North (right in this picture). I have also seen Roe deer browsing through the marshland here - one doe in particular was selecting only umbellifer flower heads to eat, the only time I have seen this behaviour and a perfect example of the selective feeding style of Roe Deer. 

I know of no sound more relaxing and calming than the gentle trickle of a river to lull me off to sleep in an evening after a strenuous day out of doors. And in the same way I could sit, and have done on many occasions, and stare at a fire burning for hours, I could sit and watch a river flowing past, listening to its gurgles and trickles just as I listen to the pops and crackles of my fire. With the calls of Kingfishers or Dippers replacing the Tawny Owls I so often hear when sat by a fire in woodland.  

Beyond the river itself the landscapes they have created can be awe inspiring all on their own, dramatic landscapes all over the UK have been carved over many millennia by the rivers which now seem like a side show in the valley bottom. Caves and tunnels, stacks and caves and water falls all indicate the sheer power of water in the landscape and can be as spectacular as their coastal counterparts. 

We all I dare say have 'favourite landscapes' - I would certainly have to say that rivers and the associated valleys and wetlands are well up there for me. They provide food and fun, mental relaxation and the ability to move through the landscapes we love. What's not to like!

Richard

* - It needs to be remembered that the taking of certain fish and all water birds, and the methods of taking or catching them are restricted by law in the UK. In certain circumstances you may just need landowners permission, in other it is far more complicated. 

Sunset Paddle

(**I've got a bit of catching up to do on these blog post subjects, this one's from early August**)

We hadn't intended to be paddling at sunset specifically, but we both really wanted to put our new toys to the test. It is my wife's fault really - in the best possible way - she started it at any rate. 

You see Emily brought me a canoe for Fathers day, a budget, inflatable one, but a canoe none the less, and it was, and still is, brilliant. (Proving the rule that 'You don't need to spend a lot of money to have a lot of fun!'). We had christened it with style, at a canoe slalom course not far from home. The children had loved it and I was beyond enthusiastic to be able to add a new dimension to future adventures - I've wanted something like this for a while. 

I'm no expert paddler, but I've played around with canoes / kayaks a few times and my limited skill was sufficient to generate almost limitless fun (in the children's eyes, and mine). Obviously this needed to feature highly in the upcoming summer holiday plans. When visiting my parents in the Fen's of Cambridgeshire it made an extended outing on the river near St Ives. During this trip it carried various members of my family and only capsized once - the accolade for that achievement goes to my Dad - love you Dad! 

Les heading for Europe!

The photo's from this trip leave something to be desired - I didn't have the guts to take my 'proper' camera out on the canoe in case something happened so I just took my phone in a plastic bag. What I need is a proper water-proof rugged camera. If Olympus UK are reading this I will happily accept a TG-5 or a Tracker or both to review on my next watery adventure. Just saying...

We then made the short hop across to the Suffolk coast where Emily's family live. And so, naturally, we put it out to sea, although not very far out. There was a stiff off-shore breeze and as I didn't have my passport with me I didn't fancy a trip across to the Netherlands! We spent an enjoyable hour or two with Megan enjoying her very first attempt at paddling. This wasn't the end of our water-based holiday fun though - at least not mine.

Megan and I come back to terra firma after an enjoyable paddle. 

In the run up to the holiday Emily's brother (Les) had also acquired a couple of inflatable canoes, but not had a chance to try them out before we came down for our visit. We put our heads together at a friends wedding and planned an outing for later that evening to have a micro-adventure of sorts. After various versions of a plan we settled on something a little more realistic than initially suggested (I was a possibly a bit too keen...) and a few hours later we met, threw my canoe in his van and drove the 10 mins to the tiny coastal hamlet of Shingle Street, at the pointy end of Orford Ness. 

We quickly got suited and booted, (more like 'buoyancy-aided and de-booted') and out onto the water. The off-shore breeze of the day before was gone and with it my reluctance to leave the shelter of the shingle bank. So we glided out onto a mill-pond smooth North Sea beneath a stunningly clear, blue evening sky. We paddled out to a buoy marking the safe entrance to the River Alde, which flows parallel to the sea but protected behind the fascinating natural barrier of Orford Ness. We pushed up river for a bit, following a yacht which left us far behind as it smoothly headed for the distant Orford Castle just visible up river. The going was slow but easy, with little if any perceivable current at this point, but the tide was turning.

Exploring the side channel on our way back with an amazing water colour sky. 

It was beautifully warm and calm. We cruised past wading birds foraging on the muddy shore and were over-flown by groups of others on route to an evening roost. This didn't come as much of a surprise of course as we were only a short way, as the Avocet flies, from the RSPB's Havergate Island Reserve. Having both visited the island reserve on an official tour, and been around it on a fishing boat out from Orford I would recommend a visit for anyone who enjoys a peaceful spot of wildlife watching.

Before we tucked behind the shingle spit of Orford Ness we had an uninterrupted ocean view to the east with nothing but a few distant boats to suggest the civilised world extended in that direction. Back to the west, out of sight over the bank stretched acres of salt-marsh, patiently waiting for the next inundation, then the fields, heathland and quiet villages which makes up the Suffolk Coast and Heaths Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB). On an evening like this it certainly lives up to its title! 

The sun was now getting properly low in the sky. Knowing that the tide would start coming in soon, and that we'd be paddling against it, we turned for home after a brief stop on 'the Ness' to re-inflate one of my canoes inflatable cells (it had decided to develop a slow leak). We hadn't gone far back towards our start point when the incoming tide really picked up the pace. I was very quickly reminded just how good canoeing can be as an arm workout! We weren't making much progress but with a stunning sky to watch it wasn't exactly a hardship. We weren't in any danger, apart from the embarrassment of a long walk!

In the hope of an easy escape we explored a side channel briefly, knowing that several of them took us back towards the car park, but quickly ran out of depth. Several Oyster Catchers watched us come, turn and go - having soft mud just beneath the surface of the water certainly wasn't an issue for them! In the end we dragged our canoes out and walked them back to the car along the shingle which gives Shingle Street its name (I assume). The combination of falling light and rising tide beat us fair and square, but what an evening. 

Beautiful weather + beautiful location + beautiful sunset + 

good company + good exercise = Excellent Adventure.  

Next time I think we'll plan to come down the river... with the tide!

Richard

P.S. - As it happens, there has already been a 'next time', albeit on a different river. That's the issue with being tardy at blog writing, that account will have to wait for another day.

The Dale of the Dove - or, For the Love of Maps.

Just like any loving parent, I want the best for my children. I want my children to learn to love maps. 

I love maps, I always have. There is nothing quite like unfolding a map, laying it out on the floor and then stretching out alongside it to take it all in. Automatically I begin to trace the rivers, follow the ridges, pin point the high spots and link them all together into hypothetical routes, continually re-drawn to include particularly appealing features not originally noticed. It's wonderful - lean too close and you might just fall in!

Dove Dale is a perfect example of a landscape which immediately catches the eye of any diligent student of cartography - the sinuous river, the formidably steep valley sides, the ribbon of woodland clinging on for dear life in an otherwise open, pastoral landscape. Potentially last, though certainly not least you notice the names! While the title 'Dove Dale' itself paints a relatively harmless picture, throw in 'Ravens Tor', 'Hurt's Wood', 'Reynard's Cave', 'Tissington Spires', 'Jacobs Ladder', 'Twelve Apostles', 'Lovers Leap' and 'Thorpe Cloud' and you have beginning, middle and end to a cartographical fantasy trilogy without ever leaving the living room floor. And that's before you consider the list of caves, weirs and natural arches long enough to keep Enid Blyton's Famous Five busy for their entire summer holidays.

I didn't need to keep my children occupied for an entire holiday - we were aiming for just a single morning. The scramble up to the caves, and indeed the majority of the path along the valley itself was out of the scope of the littlest legs of the family (just 1 year old) but these trips are about planting the seeds of adventure and exploring. So fully expecting to never make it past the stepping stones (perhaps less than 1km from our start point!) we left the almost entirely deserted car park in scruffy clothes to enjoy a couple of hours of family fun in stunning, natural-world beauty, without the crowds. It was a dull grey day, and only just turned 9am but it wasn't just the weather, or the (relatively) early hour which allowed us to beat the crowds. My daughters school was closed for the day so we were there on a week day in term time - a rare and perfect opportunity to see Dove Dale as God intended and it's name implies ... peaceful!

And so it proved to be - we only had each other for company on the path out along the river - that is unless you count the ducks, grey wagtails and almost unbelievably confident crows which stole the meagre portions of bread the little ones had brought along for the ducks. We, that is my wife and I, have been to Dove Dale before, and we've wanted to bring the children for a while because we loved it. But knowing just how busy it gets, we wanted to save it for a day when we could make it special and we could all enjoy it as much as possible, preferably with as few other people as possible. And obviously to enjoy any river valley fully, you need to get wet. Why wouldn't you? Hence the scruffy clothes.

Pretty much since the first day our youngest started walking we gave up hope of keeping him out of the water on family outings and instead embraced (and sometimes even encouraged) his fearless love for going the extra watery mile, even if it means the return miles are soggy. He was true to form making straight for the river and the puddles, splashing in the surprisingly bracing currents (given that it was early June) and loving every minute of it. The smile never left his face... until our little girl (3 1/2 years his senior) started scaling the scree slopes up the valley sides. This was beyond his still slightly wobbly ability and at that point he lost the smile and started to get cross, thinking that he was missing the fun! This is not a child who will need any encouragement to explore when he gets a bit steadier on his feet.

We arrived at the stepping stones without major incident and spent a few happy minutes hopping from stone to stone and trying to make sure our he didn't get out of his depth while following the ducks into the river. I even got to take a few pictures while the rest of the family were tucking into our modest picnic rations! The rain had started by this point, but we were already wet, and it wasn't too cold so we weren't going to let that stop us. But then the school groups started arriving and the relative peace we had enjoyed was at risk of being disturbed. So we called it a day and headed for home, wet, dirty and happy - exactly as it should be. 

A few days ago we had the map back out - the seeds are growing!

Richard