My favourite kayaking location of the moment varies hugely, depending on weather and whatever mega-beast I have recently seen. Last August when I encountered a flurry of whales, I paddled the open sea for weeks afterwards looking for more. Then the Ospreys appeared in the estuaries of south Cornwall, so I flogged up and down the creeks for two months till the birds had all flown south.
Right now I am gripped by the magic of the local rivers. These are only paddleable out of fishing season unless you want a hostile reception. Even during the winter months when the rivers are closed to fishing you may be confronted by an inexplicably irate person. In fact the last person I have seen in such a red-faced rage they were unable to string a sentence together was one of these. It was extraordinary to witness in such peaceful surroundings.
So it’s definitely better to check before you paddle.
An enjoyable trip on the open sea is dependent upon surface conditions which are determined mainly by the wind; an enjoyable trip along a river is influenced entirely by water levels. For the last three weeks there has been very little rain so the rivers have been very kayak-friendly, and are even running clear which is unusual for winter in this clay-rich area.
Better still, there’s been a bit of sun to enjoy.
Sitting in a kayak for four hours is not the best way to maintain the recommended level of physio for my new replacement hip. But leaving a bike chained up to the railings at my destination and cycling ten miles back to my starting point definitely is!
It’s the perfect all-round exercise for someone on the brink of becoming an old geezer. Even the stomach muscles are given a bit of a workout digesting the Tunnock’s Teacakes I currently use for extra fuel.
To say I become completely engrossed in the river and its surroundings is an understatement. It is a magnet for local wildlife, especially birds. The sound of their calls is constant. Dippers, Grey Wagtails and Kingfishers beside the water and Marsh and Long-tailed tits nearby.
It’s lovely to hear the dawn chorus beginning to get started, led by the mournful warble of the Mistle Thrush. They are backed up by Song Thrushes, Robins and Wrens and the occasional Chaffinch singing a partial song.
Overhead are lots of Buzzards, a few Sparrowhawks, occasional Peregrine and a scattering of Goshawks. These appear to enjoy hunting down by the river because there are a lot of squirrels, their favourite prey, dashing about.
It’s the speciality mammals really draw me, however. I was very surprised to see three huge-looking Red Deer Stags, each sporting a gigantic rack of antlers, swimming across the river a couple of hundred yards ahead. I had only just set off and hadn’t really got my brain into gear, so fumbled my camera out of its dry bag far too slowly. By the time I pressed the little red button the last stag was just emerging onto the bank.
But boy, it was an absolute beauty. I think it had eleven points in total on its antlers…five on the left and six on the right. That’s just one point short of a Royal!
This was very much an unexpected bonus, because the primary target for my eyeballs is otters.
Five minutes later I caught sight of one slithering through the water close to the right-hand bank so I tucked in beside a tree on the left and sat motionless. Unfortunately the otter porpoised across the river directly towards me and then just disappeared. A fairly typical fleeting ottery glimpse. Once an otter senses you are there, it is gone. Very unlike a seal or a dolphin that will speed over to check you out.
I have learnt through experience that otters have a sharp sense of hearing and smell and are very sensitive to movement and vibration in the water. They will spook at even mild paddling strokes at quite a distance. Fortunately they have poor eyesight so if you paddle absolutely silently and then sit completely still and quiet, ideally downwind from them, you might be lucky and have a memorable view.
My otter-spotting bushcraft all panned out perfectly for my best ever otter encounter in a river a few days ago. Mid-morning and the sun was out! I have always had the impression that otters don’t like bright days and tend to emerge when it’s dull and drizzly…they are mainly nocturnal after all.
But this one was full steam ahead in the full glare of the sun. I saw it porpoise a hundred yards ahead so backpaddled with a combination of force, urgency and silence. I ran aground on a beach and sat as still as a headstone.
The otter approached, fishing as it went. As usual it came up with a crunchy snack after every dive.
I held my breath as it passed by in mid-river just a few feet away, so involved with hunting that it didn’t notice me. Excellent.
It shovelled its way up the next mini rapid.
I then did what I very rarely do when I am wildlife watching. I got out of my kayak. I clambered up the bank in the inept manner of someone who doesn’t do a lot of clambering.
A good grassy path above the heavily wooded under-bank allowed me to follow the otter undetected as it worked its way upstream.
By incredible good fortune it popped up directly below me and spent a long while poking about in a rapid. Lovely to be close enough to see the whites of its as it looks around in a wary manner when it comes up for a breath.
Otterly fabulous!
The climax to this encounter was very thrilling but leaves a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. I remained totally motionless on top of the bank and the otter submerged and completely vanished. They are very good at doing that. I was on the verge of calling it a day when it suddenly came bounding up the bank and sat on a tree root just a few yards in front of me.
We exchanged mutual stares of astonishment for a remarkably long few seconds before the otter slunk away back to the river.
A bit of a pity, because up until that moment the otter had no inkling of my presence. It would have finished off the encounter nicely if it had stayed that way.
They will remain undisturbed by The Lone Kayaker for the next few days at least because the river levels have spiked overnight following the heavy Devon drizzle of the last 24 hours. They won’t fall to a kayak-friendly level again for a while.
Maybe I’ll have to find a new favourite place.
The Lone Kayaker 