Saturday 5th November 2016.

I awake. Through the skylight above me I can see that the Oak tree still stands.

All is well. Next job. Make a cuppa.

Jackie was soon up and had put away the bed, pillows and two faux fur throws beneath which we had slept last night. We sat and talked about how we thought the day might go. The Nixon's were due over at 1000hrs to join us for a walk over the moors to the Peter Tavy Inn at... Good Guess. Before then I had to collect the Croissants etc from the shop and it was already nearing 0900hrs. Where does the time go when you are doing nothing?  Before long the Nixon's arrived and joined us for a tour of the Battlewagon. I offered coffee. There was a quizzical look on Jill's face and Jackie said "Pardon?" "Sorry Jill." say I, what I meant to say was "Would you like a G+T?" It went downhill from there.


We did eventually get out for a walk over the moors to The Peter Tavy Inn. Jill and Peter are no strangers here. Despite the place being full and we were late arrivals, just before lunch finishing time Peter's smile had the landlady ensuring us all was well and we would be "taken care of".

Feather Tor in rear.GR:SX5374

  

Go left for the pub. Right for church.

 



Hurrying home before it gets dark.

Sunday 6th November 2016    Lazy Sunday morning.

We were somewhat late waking at 0800hrs. But then again we had nothing to get up for.

Peering out of the window the sun was once again streaming down. A gentle breeze was blowing the fallen leaves across the grass. Down in the corner away from us a "couple" of somewhat indescribable sex were packing away their caravan for the end of the season. I put on the kettle for some coffee whilst Jackie woke. Last night we had slept in our down sleeping bags, on the double mattress and were decidedly more comfortable. Neither one or the other was hogging the faux fur throw.


I made "Eggs Langstone" A toasted muffin with poached egg, ham, cheese sliced tomato and a fine layer of grated cheese. This was followed by fresh yogurt and blueberries with a drizzle of Westcountry honey all washed down with a mug of hot coffee. After breakfast we sat and read our books or added a few more items to a "Camper needed list" that was growing longer by the day.

Doesn't this look idyllic.

Cheesey grin.

Inside a Pod.

 

 

By late morning we thought we ought to be making a move so started to pack away. Strange really. In a motorhome you assume that everything is already packed away but not only is there the reverse procedure of setting up but pots, pans, grill trays, bottle, glasses all need to be secured and have their anti rattle coating placed on them. That's tea towels etc to you and I. We both felt that having enjoyed our stay here so much we wanted to thank Jamie personally and so set off to find him. There he was on the far side of the park Hoovering out one of the "Pods". My request to look inside was greeted with a laugh. "There's not much to see." "Where's the bed?" I asked. "There isn't one" he replied "you bring your own mattress and sleeping bag and for that pleasure we will charge you between £45-£75." I couldn't bring myself to ask whether that was per night or week. True they had electricity and a water tap out side with provision for a BBQ but still! We thanked him for his hospitality. Why? I wondered we had paid him.

 We took our leave, strolled around the old Manor house lounge and bar, snapped a few more photos and were off  headed towards Princetown. Another glorious day.

Manor House Bar and Terrace.

One of those Deben Pixies.



Driving out of the Camp site.

 

 

 



We hit one of those dreaded traffic holdups.

Princetown Mast ahead.



We made our way back to Plymouth via Princetown. I pulled onto Harrowbeer aerodrome and switched off the engine. "Are we getting an ice cream?" asked Jackie. "No you're getting into the driving seat for the remainder of the drive home." I said. "OK. No problem." she replied and off we set. Not exactly into the sunset.
Not yet at least.



The Exeter Canal on a misty Thursday morning.

Jackie has been keen on doing part of the Exeter canal ever since we had our "trial" Tarpon test paddle there in the early summer. The small matter of a replacement hip didn't help much and this year has been a bit "difficult". However Jackie decided that we had eaten too much Figgy Duff at Tracey's for Xmas lunch and we needed some exercise. Now the fact we had been on the moors walking with Tim only a few days ago and completed a little under six miles around Saltram the previous day cut little or no ice with Jackie. She was insistent that the Met promised great weather for Thursday. Sunshine, no wind.

 "Let's get the canoes up to Exeter and paddle "part of the canal".

If nothing else it looks atmospheric!

That was it decided then. In need of adult supervision I asked Les, a nautical chum, if he and Margaret would like to come along. They it seemed were taking their campervan to Haytor for the night and thought it a good idea so promptly lashed on their Canadian canoe and agreed to meet us at GR:SX963873 beside the canal on the Exbridges marshes at 1030hrs. They appeared right on time and whilst Jackie Mike and Les set about unloading the canoes and kit Margaret had the kettle on for a brew. The place was freezing. Frost everywhere and quite low visibility. Still no time for wimping out.

There was a six day trip in Sweden canoeing in canadians from the arctic circle South down the Harkan river planned for the summer of 2017 so we best get some practice in.

Not only a glamour puss but a good Bow lifter as well.

The most difficult and ungainly aspect of canoeing is a little like flying in an aircraft. It's the take off and landing. Or in my case the getting in and out. Now the Exeter canal is deep and wide. Seldom used for large shipping these days. More yachts and pleasure craft. It was our intention to paddle from the marshes, just short of Turf Locks pub as far as Double Locks. Which as its name suggests is a ....well you get the idea. Here we intend going ashore for a coffee, stretch our legs and return. A gentle couple of hours on the water. All being well!

The mist showed no sign of lifting and it was great paddling along. Away in the distance we could hear the drum of traffic on the flyover which takes the M5 over the canal, river Exe and the marshes. There was however a more intrusive sound and it was a rhythmic splashing. Thinking we were about to attacked by one of the numerous swans on the river I turned and there approaching fast out of the mist was a two person canoe. I say two person as it had both a woman at the front and a man in the rear. Paddling like Billy O. No sooner had we shouted "Ahoy" or some other suitable nautical expression than they had passed us on the "larboard" side and disappeared ahead into the gloom.

 A few more bridges to duck under, a few fisherman hidden in the reeds whose lines you did not see until the last moment. Numerous looks from the walkers and cyclists on the towpath and we arrived at Doublelocks.




Nanouk of the North.

There is a rather splendid pub here as well which is very popular. I have never crossed it's threshold but am assured they pull a good pint. Being a working lock there are landing stages on both sides of the canal on either end of the lock. Out of courtesy to the few imbibing on the outside benches we landed opposite. Tied off the canoes and sat on the edge of the lock.

 





Double Locks Pub

Certain members of the flotilla assumed we were going into the pub for a quick bevvy or even a nice warming latte and started to walk across the lock bridge. "Oi were are you going?" I asked Jackie. "To get a coffee". "No need sweetheart". I replied "I've brought a flask". Her replied was lost to the wind but it sounded a bit like "Cheapskate". Couldn't have been. Les and Margaret, old hands at this sort of business had packed a flask and a Tupperware container of home made mince pies. Margaret, with such a generous nature offered then around. This placated Jackie somewhat.

Leaving Double Locks for the return journey.

As we came around the bend for the return journey we were once again alongside this Motor Torpedo Boat. It was here that some years ago an enterprising fellow had attempted to open a Nautical Museum on the Canal. Some might say it's star attraction was this old MTB. I'm not an expert on WWII British MTB's but after searching around on "tinternet" I would suggest this is a Fairmile boat. It's great to see a craft like this in local waters, as the English Channel was the front line for these coastal forces with significant groups of boats operating from places like Plymouth and Dartmouth in their battles with German E boats operating out of Cherbourg. Indeed it was from that very French harbour that the German boats responsible for the attack on the US landing ships off Slapton Sands during Operation Tiger came out from and caused such devastating losses pre D-Day.

MTB Launch.

The boat is in a sorry state now. The wooden sides are starting to rot and in places you can see the brass plates attached to the hull in an attempt to keep the planking in place. Within the confines of the canal it looks large. However I for one would not wish to be caught in the English Channel in December playing cat and mouse with Jerry on my tail!

Come to that it's just about all I can manage to paddle up here and that's with a full sun warming me now.

My feet are cold and wet though!

The smiles say it all.

We were soon back at the "put in" and out of the canoes. The effort of lifting the canoes out of the water and the carrying to the transport of all the kit soon had the circulation returning to our extremities. As we lashed the last of the canoes on Margaret looked out of her camper and shouted "Kettles boiled". We needed no second bidding and were soon sat inside sipping mugs of tea and would you believe it eating warm "choc-au-pain". 

Life couldn't get any better could it? 

Well it did, for around the corner puffed, yes puffed an old showman's steam engine. Not full size, quarter size but still very very impressive. Now dear old Tom in France is currently building one of these and so after chatting with the young owners and asking permission I snapped away. Taking what I hoped would be good technical photos to send to Limoges.

 

 

For the Technically minded.

It had been a good bit of exercise. Little under 6 miles. Land not nautical and a most enjoyable day but now it was mid afternoon and time to head back home. Margaret and Les being party animals were ashore tonight. The Stopportons? All we had to do was drive home, unload the canoes, shower and fall asleep in front of the TV. Bliss.

New, well newish Tarpon 120

Jackie buys a Kayak.

Jackie had decided after our recent trip up the Tamar that she was ready for her own boat. The hip had given her little trouble. Sure it ached a bit but that was probably something she was going to have to live with.

Waiting on the drive for us.

Looking at the cost of a new T120 someone suggested E bay or one of the other popular on-line selling sites. Investigation showed a T120 in mango, Jackie's preferred colour for sale in Tavistock. Boat only, no paddle or any other accessories. £525. On Gumtree there was a Red Tarpon 120 with paddle two life jackets, a C Tug trolley. 1kg anchor and line, three rod holders, a booster seat, rudder and various paddles and leashes. All fitted on a two year old Sit-on. £550. The bad news it was somewhere called Clydach in Wales. A six hour return journey! I spoke to Lewis the owner, "Is that your surname or Christian name?" We agreed subject to viewing on £490 and Jackie and I took the van up on the Saturday at 0800hrs.

 

The country of Wales is beautiful but the towns and villages are so depressing! Arriving at Lewis's gaff we gave the Kayak the once over, satisfied we handed over the cash, lashed it to the roof and within 20 minutes we were headed for England!

Arriving home the first priority was a cup of tea. We then took the Kayak off the van and proceeded to wash everything down with hot soapy water. The boat was covered in numerous scratches, a few dings and showed signs of having not been that well cared for. Could it be that a youngster does not value things as well as we older folk? Every time I take my lime green kayak out I panic I'll get it dirty or scratched. Stupid I know as launching from beaches, piers and rocks it's gonna get dinged.


This sit on is older than mine and as such does not benefit from the newer de-luxe seat. The booster cushion as Lewis described it when added seemed very good at supporting Jackie's thighs. The life jacket, in red thank goodness to match her Kayak Cagoule was brand new with the label still attached. The hatches both looked as though new silicone seals would not go amiss. Mine thanks to AS Watersports of Exeter who supplied me swopped out the older oval style hatch for the Summer 2016 model hatch and that is a vast improvement.

Friday 4th November 2016.  We collect the Camper.

God Bless my brother-in-law Pete. He volunteered to collect us at 0800hrs from home and drive us to Thornfalcon Garage near Taunton to collect the Battlewagon. Well, once I had his arm far enough up his back anyway. It was a rather dismal morning when we arrived at 0920 hrs. but the smile on Jon the salesman's face and the offer of three coffees immediately brightened the proceedings. There were formalities such as paperwork to sign, an  application for a road fund licence, V5 documentation to transfer, £50 for a half tank of fuel and a quick run through the various warranties all contained in a ginormous brief-case. Then, on to the practical instruction. How to fly the camper. At this point, once I had confirmed it would start, Pete took his leave. An hour and a half  later we too were driving out of the parking lot, with a slight degree of trepidation. I had drawn the short straw and was elected duty driver whilst Jackie as co-pilot fiddled with switches, knobs and buttons.

Arriving at No 78 we loaded up the Battlewagon with our traps. Sleeping bags, cooking implements, spare clothes, bergans, boots and rations and once again we were off. Our next stop would be www.LangstoneManor.co.uk   East of Tavistock on the B3357 Princetown road at Moortown. The manor was originally Stone Farm, the property was bought by Samuel Lang (brother-in-law of the Duke of Bedford) and developed into four villas, Langstone Villas, surrounded by the pleasure grounds (as per deeds) in 1871. These villas were probably used by mine workers. Subsequently, the whole building was developed into the Manor house and an extension added.

Previous tenants of the Manor House include family of the Writer/Poet Coleridge. The Manor House was a Country Hotel for many years and then in the early 1960's was split into two and became a camping park. Previous owners have included a pools millionaire and one man that used to bang on the door of your caravan if you were using too much water! Jane and David, previously Dairy farmers from Lancashire, have been at Langstone since 1999.Other team members (don't you just love that American expression?) at Langstone include Yvonne, Jamie, Elz & Joan.

The road into Langstone Manor was getting narrower but given it was 1500hrs on albeit a gorgeous Friday afternoon I was hoping and praying for no tractor coming the other way. In mid August it might be anything including caravans. We parked up and made our way to reception.

Langstone Manor reception.

As we opened the door we were greeted with the smell of fresh bread cooking and Jamie with a huge beaming smile and a welcome even warmer than the fresh baked bread. We paid our £37 for a hard standing pitch with electricity for two nights, ordered two croissants, two choc-au-pain and two half baguettes for the morning and followed Jamie to "look" for our pitch. As the place was virtually empty we could choose anywhere. "No that one's booked. So is that one. No someone's coming in tomorrow afternoon on that one" We agreed on a spot under a huge Oak tree and parked up. A worried look crept onto my face as I switched off the engine. "What's up?" asked Jackie. "If I was in a bivvy bag I wouldn't necessarily camp under an old Oak tree in case a branch snapped off in the winter storms." said I. "What storms, it's like a summers day, anyway I like it here, lets get the bubbly opened." dictates Jackie. Against my better judgement I do as I am told.



Neath the spreading Old Oak Tree

Before I can start popping Champagne corks there are certain tasks that I need to attend too. If only I could remember what Jon had instructed me to do first. Out comes the "hook up" cable. We plug this into the power pole. Power up the "van" it's like a scene from Apollo 13. Red Green, amber and red lights flick on, somewhere in the background something starts pumping and there is a gentle hum. We look nervously at each other and immediately things seem, to regulate themselves. We find our slippers, yes I know but at my advanced years I like my slippers! Jackie switches on Smooth Radio and the ambient lighting and asks "Where's the bubbly?" "I'm in here." thinks I

Nothing staged about this shot!



The Cocktail Waiter.

After an hour or so relaxing with a drink and some cheese and olives I decide to place the stew on to heat that Jackie had prepared yesterday. "Where's the stew?" "Where did you put it?" "I didn't put it anywhere." "What do you mean?" "What I say." Didn't you pick it up?" "No, I thought you did." Well the long and the short of it was there was no stew. Neither was there any milk. "Never mind." says Jackie "There's plenty of Gin and tonic." That was true, so to calm our nerves we had a pre-dinner drink whilst I rummaged through the battle box for some rations to cook. 

After dinner we read our books and then, as the camper had a built in TV we thought we would see what channels we could find. Now at home you switch on the box pick up the remote and select a channel to watch. It is very similar in the van but first you need to raise the TV antennae. Next, like something from an old black and white WW2 film you need to turn the antennae to lock on to the strongest signal. Remember that scene from The Heroes of Telemark? After thirty minutes of not finding any signal to lock on to and a great deal of frustration I am about to throw the zapper out of the window when Jackie looks up from her book and asks, "Why are you pointing the controller at the TV and not the Humix satellite box to control the TV?" Realising my mistake, I turn and point the controller at the Humix and everything springs into life. A simple mistake surely!

Anyway it's soon bedtime. I was all for sleeping on the separate single couches but Jackie wanted the bed made up into a double. It's easier in sleeping bags but once again I was overruled. One light in particular we could not find the off switch for so in the end opted for a complete shut down of all lighting systems. The 240v power was still on and that powered the electric heating which we switched to low. As I dropped off to sleep all I could think of was that massive oak tree with its limbs spread out "protectively" above us.

We Buy a Motorhome

Like so many things in life. We didn't start out to buy a camper today , we just did.

Jackie fancied a trip out with me and so I suggested she could accompany me to work and act as my glamorous assistant.

Later that day we found ourselves in Taunton attending a service call. "If we have time" said Jackie "why don't we pop over to the Motorhome showroom at Thornfalcon www.Somersetmotorhomecentre.co.uk at see if they have anything new in stock?" We had called in on our recent trip over to France and on our return. Merely idle curiosity. Strangely the motorhome we saw on the way up had been sold by the time we returned. "Lets check it out again." says Jackie.

Well we found one with almost the right specification we were looking for. In the second hand market you seldom get every box ticked. This was close. We sat in the driver and passenger seat and made car type noises, we opened cupboards, we stood in the shower and sat on the loo! Everything seemed pretty good. "Well" said I, "let's bear this one in mind." Jackie had heard this line from me on so many occasions that she knows exactly what it means. With that in walks Jon the owner salesman.

He was smooth and good looking but no match for me. I've been around the block. "It's not really what we were after." says I. "Oh" says he. "Aye" says I. We were looking for solar panels, a spare leisure battery, gas cylinders, electric hook up cables etc." "No problem." says Jon I can get the workshops to fit all that, give it a full service and twelve months MOT and I'll knock off £2K. You sit here and think about it and I'll go get you two a mug of coffee each, that way you can pretend you are on your holidays in France." Jackie was beaming. I'm on thin ice. I thought about it and Jackie told me what I was going to do.



AutoTrail Trakker EKS

Before I knew it he had my credit card swiped through the machine, Jackie was shaking his hand and thanking him saying I'll see you on Friday 4th November to collect it. Me. I was in shock!

Helford Passage Canoe  Fri 26th August 2016  9.7 miles

Les had suggested that it might be an idea to try a paddle on the Helford Passage and as the weather and tide was set right for this Friday we might go for it. As Jackie and I were camping at Berryfields, Porthcothan it would be less of a journey for me but a 90 minute or so for Les. We agreed to meet at Kingsley Mill  on the A30 just outside Fradden for 0800hrs.

I was awake at 0700hrs  dressed and departed by  0720hrs. I took the coast road pass Bedruthan Steps. Here the field was full of campers. There was little or no traffic on the road. In another couple of hours it would be jammed packed with day trippers seeking the beaches. It was, after all a beautiful August Bank Holiday.

Turn down past the airport to Fradden and Kinsley village. Les not yet on site.I considered a coffee. Costa was there but that's not for me. Far too pricey. I walked into the Brewers Fayre with the intention to use the loo. The woman at front of house stops me and asks if I require a table for breakfast. "No" I reply "I'm looking for a friend, I'm meeting someone inside for breakfast". I smile, she lets me pass. I make straight for the loos then out the rear door into the kiddies park and through a gap in the hedge.

Les soon arrives at 0800 hrs. and we cross deck his canoe and kit into my van and are soon away. Chatting like excited schoolboys we arrive at the car park at Helford Passage. It's £1-00 all day to park. I can afford that. I ask a local guy, who is employed by the complex here if I can we drive to bottom of the hill to drop the canoes. "Sure".There's barely room to drive down the lane with a switch back thrown in as well. We stop at the slip and double check with the girl on duty in the ferryboat/slip office if it's OK. There is a charge of £2 to launch from here but given that gives us access to the concrete slip and more importantly we didn't have to take the canoes  down the hill or more importantly drag 'em up at the end of the day which would have been a crippler. We paid up with a smile for once. 

Even at this early hour there are a few people on the beach or in the water.  We drop the kit double quick and lift off the 2 canoes. Leaving Les to organise the kit I drove out 300m  to the turning point. A woman and her two dogs caused me no end of problems, that's how tight the road is. I made a mental note not to do that again and turn on the slip. A mistake then drive up the road to the car park. Quickly changed and made my way down through the hotel letting complex and Ferryboat Inn to the beach. Les had the canoes loaded and ready for launch. I strapped on my life jacket and lifeline, double checked my water-bottle was attached and my sarnies stowed and we were off. We launch at 0930.

It was a beautiful day. Clear blue skies, no wind, no waves and we were an hour or two before high tide at 1130. We were headed up river towards Gweek. Initially we passed through the moorings for boats that belonged to the rich and famous. Well. I believe they did. Ahead are a group of canoeists that launched just prior to us and we were steadily gaining on them. Some obviously knew what they were doing others? Well I'm no expert by any stretch of the imagination but could see that they had hired a canoe from the beach at £15 an hour and were out giving it some wellie.

Further upriver we pull alongside Tremayne Quay this and the nearby  boathouse are well known to most people who are familiar with the Helford River, but for those who’ve not had the pleasure of visiting this very special place, here’s a little background.



Tremayne Boathouse

Historically, Tremayne has always been associated with Trelowarren Estate. Whilst there has no doubt been a quay located here for a great deal longer, the present structure dates from 1847, built by Sir Richard Vyvyan in preparation for a visit by Queen Victoria. Whilst unfortunately the queen never came, her great grandson, Edward, Duke of Windsor, favoured the quay with a belated royal visit in 1921 when he was Prince of Wales.

The Quay is at the end of a mile long track leading through unspoilt ancient semi-natural and plantation woodland running alongside the HelfordRiver. Some of these woods, notably the mature beech plantation in the valley at the head of the Creek, were planted specifically to impress Queen Victoria prior to her aborted visit in the 1840s. The sessile oak woodlands further down the track were managed as coppice for the charcoal and tannin trade, and like many Cornish oak woodlands, would have been a hive of activity up until the 1920s with bodgers and wood folk managing the woods. Today, the woods are better known for their beauty and tranquillity as well as the abundance of estuarine birds and woodland flora which can be spotted along the way.

The Woods and Quay were bequeathed to the National Trust in 1978 from the Vyvyan family of Trelowarren. Today, it is one of the few public quays on the upper reaches of the river, with public access right down to the riverside.

These days, Tremayne is a popular place for recreation, quiet enjoyment and having fun. Whether it’s walkers stopping for a picnic or just to enjoy the unspoilt views up and down the river, boat users pulling up for a BBQ or overnight stay, or a bunch of youngsters experiencing the wonderful solitude of the river at night with a camping trip, most locals and visitors to Tremayne have fond memories of the place. It’s a place to fish, catch crabs, wild swim, jump in at high tide, make a mud pie and roast marshmallows around the campfire. It’s a place for everyone, for ever.

 



The Old Quay Frenchman's Creek

Frenchman's Creek.

Well that sounds familiar and so it should. Not only is it a real live place on the Helford river but it also a famous novel made into a film of the same name. One in 1944 and another in 1998. For all I know there might well be a stage play of that same name. It was of course written by Daphne du Maurier. Set in Cornwall during the reign of Charles II. It tells the story of a love affair between an impulsive English lady, Dona Lady St Columb and a French pirate Jean-Benoit Aubrey. It runs something like this.............

Dona, Lady St. Columb, makes a sudden visit with her children to Navron, her husband's remote estate in Cornwall, in a fit of disgust with her shallow life in London court society. There she finds that the property, unoccupied for several years, is being used as a base by a notorious French pirate who has been terrorizing the Cornish coast. Let's be realistic here. The only pirates in Cornwall are the Cornish. Dona finds that the pirate, Jean-Benoit Aubéry, is not a desperate character at all, but rather a more educated and cultured man than her own doltish husband, and they fall in love. Here we go! That old story, my husband doesn't understand me!

Dona dresses as a boy, wait for it and joins the pirate crew on an expedition to cut out and capture a richly laden merchant ship belonging to one of her neighbours. The attack is a success, but the news of it brings Dona's husband Harry and his friend Rockingham to Cornwall, disrupting her idyllic romance. Harry, Rockingham, and the other locals meet at Navron to plot how to capture the pirate, but Aubéry and his crew cleverly manage to capture and rob their would-be captors instead. Rockingham, who has had designs on Dona himself, perceives the relationship between her and Aubéry, and Dona is forced to kill him in self-defence when he attacks her in a jealous rage. Meanwhile, Aubéry is captured while trying to return to his ship, and Dona hatches a plot for his release. In the end, however, she realizes that she must remain with her husband and children instead of escaping to France with Aubéry.



 

Sir Fredrick Arthur Montague "Boy" Browning, GVCO, KB, CB, DSO

Was a senior officer in the British Army who has been called the father of the British Airborne Forces. He was  the commander of 1 Airborne Corps and Deputy Commander of First Airborne Army during Operation Market Garden in Sept 1944. During the planning of this operation he memorably said "I think we might be going a bridge too far." He was also an Olympic Bobsleigh competitor and the husband of Dame Daphne du Maurier.

Not a lot of people know that!

Paddling on we spot a potential camp site, it seems somewhat muddy here but we return some time later for lunch when it is not as bad. 

We continue upriver towards Gweek. Soon we hear the deep bark of  a sea lion. It is Gweek Seal Sanctuary.

You can call me Clarence!

 We are now as far as we can go, pretty much. This is Gweek Boat Yard. A euphemism for what I would call a Gypo site on the water. Instead of caravans they have rusting hulks of barges or half rotten hulls from some old yacht or small tug. They have added a mishmash of old double glazing units and tarpaulins and turned this small creek into a floating scrap yard. Still it has a mystical air about it. Passing through Gweek boat yard we rae confronted by a very narrow road bridge. Beneath which flows very little water. We, despite Les's best efforts can go no further. We back paddle and make our way through various muddy channels back to the main river.

It was our intention to stop at the pub but for some reason we didn't. I think we thought we might meet as unsavoury clientele in the pub as was inhabiting the scrapyard!

One of the more interesting craft on the river. 

There is another small river we follow but this soon proves too shallow for us to continue. Here as we make passage up the short navigatable stretch it allows us views into some rather splendid back gardens. Les's comments about us seeming like peeping Toms rings true and we return to the main channel and head off down stream past a huge set of warehouses or is it a factory. It looks deserted! 

The grin says it all!

Merthen Quay.

Looking downriver  from the lunch stop.

Return to the confluence for a lunch stop. We sit on the "beach" but after lunch a short wander uphill provides us with this wonderful view. Complete with old railway sleeper seat. What a fantastic view back down Helford Passage. It is here we watch a few canoeists glide past with the occasional motor boat pottering slowly upstream. At the head of the creek there is a guy fishing. He casts some distance out into the river. I make a mental note to stay well clear when we launch.



Lured ashore by the Wreckers.

Who says Cornish Wreckers are no longer at work! These are treacherous waters Jim lad. Best ye keep a weather eye open!

Newton is best remembered for his portrayal of the feverish-eyed Long John Silver in the 1950 film adaptation of Treasure Island, the film that became the standard for screen portrayals of historical pirates. He would continue to portray Blackbeard in 1952 and Long John Silver again in the 1954 film of the same name, which spawned a miniseries in the mid 50s. Hailing from the West Country in south west England, his exaggeration of his West Country accent is credited with popularising the stereotypical "pirate voice".^[2][3] Newton has become the "patron saint" of the annual International Talk Like a Pirate Day.^[4]



Durgan Beach  (NT Glendurgan)

Trebah Beach


In 1944, the beach was used as an embarkation point for a regiment of 7,500 of the 29th US Infantry Division for the assault landing on Omaha beach, part of the D -Day Landings.
At the end of the war there was a succession of changes of ownership. The Martin family cleared the moor at the bottom and introduced the massed planting of Hydrangeas.
The Boathouse is situated on the beach, this was originally built by the racing driver and designer of Healey cars, Donald Healey, to store his boats when he lived at Trebah in the 1960s. Donald Healey was also responsible for removing the infrastructure and concrete installed during WW2 and undertaking improvements to the lower lakes.

http://www.adept-seo.co.uk/inshore-patrol-flotilla/ 


 The weather national structure camping 4 guys have struck camp and loading into two motor boats one with extended arm as presumed bond film?!! Out to trebah point tank loading platforms. Chk cave back to beach out o water in minutes mike to collect van hoping land rover and trailer is clear of beach and road. Back to mall then Cornwall canoes atGrampound Rd. Higginbotham for 1700hrs circle refuge n from beach 1730 mike Mayes brew and washes wetsuit.

Helford River

Friday 26th August 2016


Les had decided that a trip down into darkest Cornwall and a day trip on the Helford River might well be worth the early morning rise and the distance travelled.

Bantham to Aveton Gifford Bridge

After our success on Tuesday I was keen to get afloat again. Talking to Les he had heard of a trip up the River Avon from Bantham to Aveton Gifford. This sounded good. The tides would need to be with us as again as we did not fancy being left without water beneath the hull in the river. Another factor was the rip tide at Bantham Beach. “No problem,” says Les. “we’ll launch on the river at the boathouse on the quay.” Now just because Mike had never seen or heard of a Boathouse or Quay at Bantham does not mean it does not exist! Bowing to Les’s superior knowledge about winds and tides we agreed to meet at 78 at 0800 hrs Friday. This would give us plenty of time to load the gear onto my truck and arrive at Bantham with the tide still in our favour.

It’s not that I am a doubting Thomas but I have on so many other occasions been wrong footed by info that certain things in life I feel compelled to check. Well would you Adam and Eve it there is a Quay and Boathouse at Bantham. GR 668437. There was also listed a harbourmaster but he was not answering his phone. I thought we might be able to park near the quay and launch but on reflection thought no.



Quay and Boathouse at Bantham.

We arrived at the carpark and the nice little man after relieving us of £3-50 said we could park just inside the gate to unload the Kayaks and that we were OK to launch on the quay. “The Harbourmaster? You’ve just missed him.” The short but steep descent to the water’s edge where the tide was already dropping would be a bit of a pull up at the end of the day but that was hours away yet. We stowed our trolleys and launched.

0915hrs. The sun was out and the Met had promised us full sun and little or no wind. Wrong again. The sun soon disappeared and the wind sprang up. It stayed with us the whole paddle up to AG bridge. Straight ahead lay Crusoe Villa and Boat House Quay at GR 670447. A beautiful weekend retreat. The Avon, it must be said is a stunning river, even on an overcast day. Trees line the water’s edge on both banks along most of it. Where these peter out, reed beds and wetlands allow for nesting birds and swans. In places you can kayak along under the overhead tree cover with a pretty perpendicular wall of stone beside you. There are very few houses on the water’s edge so apart from a few cows in the fields you really have the river pretty much to yourself. We only saw three others all day on the river, two females out in their canoes and a guy.

A few rock ledges amongst the trees and the odd small beach gave us an excuse to explore for bivvy sites for a return paddle. At GR674459 there was a potential overnight beach but it was closer to AG Bridge and the public slip and car park as well as being pretty fouled with jetsam. A slow trickle of water from the nearby field did not help overmuch with the slightly swampy area and numerous sand-flies. I’m not painting too good a picture here am I?

Back on the kayaks we set off again. Still into wind. At times it seemed we were going nowhere and the thought crossed my mind several times “Do I really need to Kayak under AG bridge?” Well no I don’t but what happens if I never come this way again? Let’s press on. The tide had now well turned and it was difficult to tell which was worse the wind or the tide. None of this helped us but the young man bearing down upon us like an MTB was certainly benefitting. He managed to enquire of us “A bit of a struggle going upstream?”  I realised what the cheeky beggar might have been implying after he had passed.

I gritted my teeth and lent to the paddle. Les who was by now quite some distance ahead and hanging onto a mooring buoy for dear life suggested we might as well turn and head back downstream. I pretended I had not heard him and pushed on.

Now with the bridge in sight the wind dropped to nothing and the sun came out.



Approaching Aveton Gifford Bridge.



1105hrs. A quick photo call under the bridge which carries the A379 from Modbury to Kingsbridge and we could drift back down. At a slower, more leisurely pace. Les suggested we kayak under the other section of the road bridge but we were distracted by the antics of a 4x4 drive Japanese truck. Here the tidal road, marked by large wooden posts showed the direction of the tarmac but not the depth. Our City Slicker had stopped and was wondering what to do? Mike quick as a flash assessed the situation and with a few deft strokes of his paddle was over the road and standing his paddle on end indicated to the driver the depth to be no more than eight inches. He gave me the thumbs up and came on. Shouting “Thanks.” as he passed. I replied with “Should have bought a Landrover.”

Not knowing how much water we would lose to the outgoing tide we headed back towards a potential brunch stop at GR 677451 the old kiln on the edge of Stiddicombe Creek. However it was occupied (by the two ladies in canoes) who like us had the intention of a leisurely lunch. Not wishing to share we pulled for the opposite shore and found a respectable beach upon which we could land that had some shade amongst the trees to protect us from the sun whilst we cooked brunch.

1155 hrs. This was some feast. Not for us a limp lettuce and egg sarnie. We had the makings for a truly royal feast. I had suggested to Les that he brings a burner and mug and we would have a fry up. Whilst I fire up my micro gas burner and start to cook some onions and mushrooms in an old Fray Bentos pie tin Les has produced something akin to an Aga with a range of pots and pans Jamie Oliver would have been proud to own. My Quorn sausages looked pathetic compared with the rashers of bacon Les was cooking in a full sized fry pan.” Les, please don’t contaminate your food with bacon fat for me I’m happy to eat the Quorn sausages.” I said.  I cannot, or will not re-call what Les replied but it was something along the lines of “I am not over-convinced as to the quality and taste of Quorn products in general and their sausages in particular, therefore I need to decline your kind offer on this occasion.”

Les marvelled at my skills with a couple of metal mugs and the old Fray Bentos pan. He swore he had never eaten as well before whilst out and continued to marvel between bites of his bacon and egg banjo. I told Les “That in truth generally if it’s not dehydrated and can’t be prepared in one metal mug stowed in the back of a bergan with my micro burner or over a small open fire I don’t bring it.

He had that look which doubted me! Unbeliever.

 

 

 

1300hrs. Brunch finished we stowed kit and continued downstream. Now opposite the Put In we decided to try to exit the Avon into the sea and kayak around to get nearer to the beach exit point for the car park. A good idea but grounding by Les and the current in the river now pulling me gave us other ideas. As we sped towards the last bend of the river before flowing out towards Burgh Island we decided to run ashore, beach ourselves and carry out a recce. Caution served us well on this occasion. We both decided the surf was too strong and with all the swimmers and other water users out there we did not want to become the afternoon entertainment. We hauled our kayaks up the beach, then up some newly cast concrete steps at Ham End and onto the cliff path on Bantham Ham. After a short 20 metre portage we could break out the trolleys and wheel the kayaks the half mile back to the truck.

Burgh Island in rear.

1400hrs. With everything stowed we headed for home, a spa and a beer.  A brilliant day and one that would need repeating.