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.