Tarka the Porker

Tarka

Otters really float my boat. They live in wild and remote places and go out of their way not to be seen. Looking for them from a kayak on a cold and grey January morning will almost certainly end in failure.

So it’s right up my street.

This morning summed up everything that is challenging about observing and photographing otters. Glimpsing one is difficult, observing one going about its business is almost impossible, and trying to get a photo from a kayak is just stupid.

The level of the Torridge had dropped to a comfortable level since the floods of last weekend. The water was fairly clear…I don’t like it when it’s muddy. Neither, I think, do the otters.

Semi-stealth Otter-spotting mode

But the flow was still fairly swift, probably averaging about three mph. Not great for otter-spotting because of the danger of being dragged into their worry zone by the current before you can sprint to the protection of a bankside bush.

However, I wasn’t going to see one sitting around at home.

I was on the water and floating downstream as it was getting light this morning. Early is good for otters. I was in Puffing Pig, my inflatable kayak. Not a particularly stealth colour but I have managed to observe otters from it without disturbing them on many previous occasions. Keeping absolutely quiet and with minimum movement and permanently scrutinising the water ahead, particularly close to the banks, is much more important.

Puffing Pig

I was soon tuned in to the wilderness channel. Above the merry ripple of the water I could hear the ‘peep’ of Kingfishers and the ‘jink’ of Dippers. Buzzards overhead, Long-tailed tits in gangs in overhanging branches, and a large number of squirrels.

I peered as far ahead as I could hoping to see that little flat head or the roll of a back and flailing tail of a diving otter.

Yes…otter on the left, 30 metres, swimming through the branches of a fallen tree. I immediately headed for the right bank, paddling hard but as unsplashily as possible.

Grrr, there was nowhere out of the current by the shore so I hung on to a branch. The otter popped up right beside me and dived again. Did it see me?

Clearly not, because it reappeared beside the far bank. I scrambled the camera out of its drybag and managed a bit of footage as it disappeared downstream. Diving every so often.

I followed it at a safe distance and as usual it was unbelievably difficult to see, especially in the rapids. They are just so slinky.

I lost it after five minutes and carried on downstream.

Just as I was approaching the end of my trip and had just about given up hope of another otter, I glimpsed a swirl ten metres ahead. Although I didn’t see what caused it, I sped to the bank just in case. It was slow-moving bit of river so much more amenable to parking up in a bush and observing.

Excellent, an otter popped up, and then another beside it.

One appeared to catch my scent but wasn’t too spooked as it then reappeared on the far bank and climbed out for a bit of a breather.

You can see it having a bit of a sniff in this video…

Incidentally, the clear fluting birdsong in the above video, which sounds more like a songster from the Amazonian rainforest than Devon, is in fact a Wren, in slomo.

The otter was a fine-looking animal when it was on the shore. A prime River Torridge specimen. I have noticed before that the otters here look a bit more chunky then their counterparts (of the same species) in the sea off Scotland.

Tarka the Porker. No offence intended. Just an irresistible headline.

Otter on River Torridge. Looking Good.

Amazing Views of Otter family on the Torridge

The depth of winter is the best time to see otters along the rivers. They are mainly nocturnal, but are also active on gloomy winter days, especially early in the morning.

So as I drifted down the Torridge on a healthy flow, which didn’t require very much paddling to maintain an impressive speed, I was looking hard for a slithering shape.

In mid-river about a hundred yards ahead I saw an otter porpoising. Just for a fraction of a second. Like this:

Porpoising Otter

I immediately swung my kayak upstream and paddled hard for the bank, making as little splash as possibly. I ran it aground on a little beach, scrambled my camera out of its dry bag, and sat still as a hunting Heron.

Not infrequently this is all I see of an otter, but I was determined to wait to see if it reappeared. After fifteen minutes I was beginning to cramp up because of overzealous lack of movement and was on the point of continuing downstream.

However I immediately resumed my rigidity when I heard the penetrating squeak of a young otter from the other side of the river. A pair of otters then appeared in midstream and started to dive for snacks.

They then swam to the shore and the larger otter, presumably mum, seemed to drop whatever it had caught for the youngster to play with. The shaggy-looking youngster is then very busy indeed snuffling around for the snack.

I sat even stiller, if that was possible, when they came round fallen tree towards me. I felt certain the mother would panic when she came too close but amazingly, even though she was only a few yards away and gave me intense scrutiny, she carried on fishing and swam back downriver.

The youngster in the heart of the bush behind is completely oblivious of any danger and continues its frantic search for something to munch. Mum hasn’t got round to teaching it the principles of wariness and caution, perhaps.

Watch the action for yourself:

Then they just disappeared, as only otters can do.

A few minutes later the chirping on the far bank started up again, and I watched a pair of otters, which I presume were both cubs, splashing and playfighting close to the bank until they disappeared from sight downstream.. Tails thrashing about.

Otter pups play-fighting

A really wonderful sight.

I’m not sure where pup number two was during the initial performance. It appeared to stay on the opposite bank throughout.

Perhaps the best part of this encounter is that none of the otter family seemed to detect my presence. The kayak is king of unobtrusiveness.

Torridge Otters

In Search of Otters on the Torridge with Hezzer

River Torridge

If you spend four hours paddling a kayak down a river in Devon at the end of December looking for otters, you will end up cold (certainly) and disappointed (probably). Otters in rivers are staggeringly difficult to observe.

But it’s certainly worth the effort of you catch a glimpse of one slithering through the ripples. If you are a wildlife nut it really is a magical moment, and even better when it is in the legendary home of Tarka the Otter, the River Torridge.

Henry (aka Hezzer) was keen to try out his new big lens on his Canon DSLR camera, so I suggested the Torridge might be a good bet. The river levels were lowish after a dry spell, and the water clear.

So with camera wrapped up in a dry bag, and ourselves wrapped up in drysuits, we set off downriver in my super-comfortable (and hopefully non-leaking) Gumotex Seawave inflatable kayak. Lots of room for a few Christmas snackettes to boost morale.

We spoke in whispers, because if you want to see an otter you have got to be absolutely silent the entire time.

Dippers and Kingfishers zipped up and down the banks as we floated past.

A handful of Goosanders took to the air in front of us, although one female was rather more confiding:

Goosander, River Torridge (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

The first big excitement was above our heads. A hawk was circling in front of a stand of tall pines. The same basic outline as a Sparrowhawk, but significantly more beefy…more the size of a Buzzard.

Goshawk!

Goshawk (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

After two hours of intense concentration and scrutiny of every centimetre of river bank that we passed, our eyes and ears were tuned to perfection. If an ant sneezed a hundred metres away we would have heard (and seen) it.

We were totally and utterly engrossed in nature. The anticipation was tremendously exciting even if we didn’t see an otter.

But we did.

I caught a momentary glimpse of a smooth back arching out of the water before it disappeared behind a fallen tree close to the right-hand bank. I hissed to Hezzer and pointed with the blade of paddle before slamming into reverse gear, making as little splash and noise as I could.

I swung the kayak round and held it in position pointing upstream, matching forward speed with river flow.

Two otters surfaced very close to the bank, and then came out into the middle of the river. Every time they dived I paddled a bit closer to the bank. Each time they surfaced we froze. They were focussed on fishing and chasing each other about so they didn’t notice us.

We had a very reasonable view of them at a range of about twenty yards. They worked their way upstream in a completely effortless manner, whereas I was floundering against the relentless current, so tucked in beside the right hand bank and clutched a root so Hezzer could get some pics.

Not easy, they always seemed to travel further underwater than we anticipated.

Otters first sight (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

When they disappeared around the corner Hezzer clambered up the bank and set off in pursuit while I sat and slurped a cup of coffee.

Then I heard the squeak, or ‘chirp’, of a young otter. A very bird-like call but louder and more penetrating. A noise I have heard five or six times before. It seemed to be getting closer along the foot of the bank so I just sat absolutely still in the kayak and waited.

An otter pup surfaced a few feet away and swam right past. Probably the smallest youngster I have ever seen…excluding its tail about a foot long. In typical otter style it then completely disappeared, but I could hear the chirp receding into the distance.

Hezzer then re-appeared with tales of just missing the perfect pic as an otter surfaced right in front of him as he stood on the bank.

Torridge Otter (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

He seemed disappointed with the pics he took…but they look pretty good to me!

They also tell an interesting story. We had thought the pair was a mother and cub, but looking at the pics it would appear to be a female being pursued by a male, as Hezzer’s final images appear to be of a pair mating!

Otters mating, River Torridge (pic: henry Kirkwood)

So it was worth making the effort to get out into the rain and the wind and the cold. It certainly appeared that our stealth tactics had paid off, with a sighting of the most elusive big bird in the UK (the Goshawk) plus a trio of the most elusive large mammals in the UK.

Even better is that I don’t think the otters we were watching ever detected our presence.

A real Christmas cracker.

Otters mating, River Torridge (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

Family of Otters on the Torridge

River Torridge

Another sensational view of an otter family, this time on the River Torridge. The last couple of encounters have been on the Tamar in the south of the county.

The Torridge has a stronger link to otters than other other UK river, both in legend and in reality. It was the home of Henry Williamson’s ‘Tarka the Otter’, and it was the last stronghold of the species when they were nearly wiped out by organochlorine pesticides (and persecution) during 1950s to 1970s.

So a Torridge otter is even more special than a ‘normal’ otter.

Torridge dawn

And on this particular day last week it was a really exceptional prolonged view, which gave a rare glimpse into ottery family life.

As I approached a weir and was hauling my kayak out of the water for the portage, I could hear an otter chirping above the roar of the water. The call is like a really loud and piercing contact call of a Coot.

So I crept along the bank past the weir, and saw three otters slithering their way upstream close to the far bank. Undoubtedly a mother and two well-grown pups. The pup in the video below can’t resist exploring across to the other side of the river, but isn’t quite brave enough to lose contact with the security of mum. So it chirps the entire time.

otter pup

After its little expedition, the pup sped back across the river to the join up with its sibling, and they worked there way back down the far bank. I’m pretty sure this is Mum on the shore in this clip. Her movements are a bit more measured than the more frantic behaviour of her offspring, and her coat is more sleek than the more unkept appearance of the adolescents.

otter on the shore

I really like this next clip. as mother tries to maintain control of her exuberant pup. The youngster is busy champing over his last snack and is delayed by the distraction of a branch. Mum comes back to chivvy him/her along, but even then it gets held up by something else of interest, with back foot planted on the trunk of a tree.

Here’s the three of them together. Mum is first to climb out onto the tree branch. I think she can sense my presence, twenty-five yards away across the river. A sort of amber alert. A pup barges in beside her and can’t resist boisterously snapping at its passing sibling as it glides past.

And finally. before they disappeared off down river, here’s the busy little family doing what otters do best. Mum in the middle looking alert, pups fooling about behind.

It’s no surprise that the Torridge is such a good place for otters. It is pretty remote country with hardly any disturbance from humans or wandering dogs. And there is loads of cover to make otters feel secure. Heavily wooded banks, loads of fallen trees, tangles of roots.

Typical Torridge bank

They certainly seem to like it.

Otter pup

August Wildlife: Up the Creek to Open Sea

The encounter with the Humpback  (on 2nd Aug) is the most exciting wildlife spectacle I have witnessed from my kayak, by quite a long way.

Explosive drama.

Humpback Whale

The scene is rather more serene at the upper tidal limit of the River Torridge. In fact not a lot could be more serene.

Torridge Swans

The Swan family are thriving and drift about in the complete silence of a late summer morning.

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately the family with three cygnets on the River Tamar is not doing so well.

Morwellham Swans

They are now down to one youngster as I passed the corpses of the other two cygnets yesterday floating at the surface, over a mile apart. ????

Most birds stopped singing at the end of June when their breeding season came to an end, but swallows are an exception and are not only still singing, there are still young in the nest. Some pairs will rear a third brood which may not fledge until early October.

The soundtrack  of the summer.

 

The top of the tidal estuaries are fresh water and are the home of Dippers who just can’t resist bobbing.

 

 

 

 

One of the bonuses of choosing Devon and Cornwall as a kayaking destination is the hundreds of miles of sheltered creek to explore when the exposed coast and open sea is lashed by wind, as it has been on and off for the last couple of weeks.

 

 

 

 

It’s great to see the pretty little Mandarin Ducks that seem to have made the Upper Torridge their home. They originate from escapes from collections and have only been in this area for a few years.

Mandarin Duck

Heading down towards the sea Curlews demonstrate how to spruce oneself up despite an enormous bill, and Little Egrets spear little fish in the shallows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The flock of Black-headed gulls is irresistible to a passing Peregrine that slices through the middle of them. You will see it cut through the flock from right to left. Unsuccessfully, on this occasion. It looks brownish so it is probably a this year’s youngster.

 

 

 

 

This next clip is a bit depressing. A Herring gull with a plastic bag wrapped round its leg. I don’t fancy its chances.

 

 

 

Seals sometimes venture far up the estuaries because there is the potential for good fishing. Even if salmon and sea trout are not as numerous as they used to be, there’s plenty of mullet that follow the tide in.

This is a Harbour Seal well up the Fowey estuary. It clearly wants to take a mid-morning nap  but is unfortunately spooked by the approach of a rowing scull.

 

 

I have sneaked out along the coast during the very few spells of lighter wind during the last few weeks. The Turnstones have returned to the barnacle encrusted rocks. Here one is still in full summer plumage (the smarter-looking bird) while the other is in the less smart winter plumage.

Turnstones, Mevagissey

It was a bit of a surprise to see a Redshank out on the rocky coast…they usually prefer the mud of estuaries. On migration, no doubt.

Torbay Redshank (looking a bit knock-kneed)

The problem with wearing Crocs for kayaking is that when you stop for a cup of coffee and a Crunch Cream and walk across a beach they have an almost magnetic attraction for the most painful and spiky stones and shells to get inside and poke the soles of your feet.

It’s a common occurrence, but this is the first one to have been alive.

Hermit Crab in Croc

At Mevagissey this is the first Crystal jellyfish I have seen this year…didn’t they star in Avatar, by the Tree of Life?

 

 

Grey Seals always make me chuckle when they are ‘bottling’ i.e. sleeping vertically in the water. They can be really deep asleep and I have actually accidentally bumped into them before.

This one at Mevagissey was certainly fairly well gone and you can hear it snoring. Fortunately I didn’t disturb it at all and managed to depart the scene without it apparently waking.

 

 

I came across more seals in Torbay; a woolly-looking bull Grey Seal and a perky Harbour Seal. Harbour seals used to be rare in SW England but they seem to be slowly invading.

Grey Seal bull, Thatcher Rock

Harbour Seal, Thatcher Rock

There has been a single window of opportunity for an offshore paddle during the last couple of weeks, lasting only a few hours and early in the morning. The Cornish Riviera at Mevagissey was my destination and I was very pleased to see half-a-dozen Porpoises and a little pod of four Common Dolphins.

Way beyond my expectations on a choppy day.

As usual a couple of adults came over to assess the threat I posed to the juvenile that they were escorting. Fortunately I was quickly deemed to be safe and they carried on feeding close to the kayak. I sometimes half-wish that they would hesitate for a split second before making up their minds, as if they had mistaken me for an impressive creature such as an Orca or a Great white. But they don’t. One glimpse and they have got me pigeonholed alongside floating logs and marine detritus.

Gorran Haven Common Dolphin

 

 

 

 

Common Dolphin and Tectona (sail-training ship)

For the next week or so the dolphins wont have to worry whether I am a Killer Whale or piece of flotsam, because I will not be out there in the strong wind. The weather is currently so poor and all other paddling venues so chopped-up, or with unfavourable tides, that the only suitable location is the good-old Bude Canal.

 

Sizzling Summer part one: The Scenery

For much of July Devon and Cornwall have been under blue skies so the dress code for kayaking is as minimal as possible. Just enough clothes to avoid sunburn, and embarrassment as you stroll up the beach for lunchbreak. For some reason people sitting on beaches always stare at kayakers.

Lantic Bay

There were a few dodgy and cool days to begin with, but they now seem long ago.

Simon at Polperro.

I’ve been getting about a bit this month.  From the top of creeks twenty miles ‘inland’ to far, far offshore.

Enjoy the photogallery:

The curse of the coast

Early start on Camel Estuary

Upper Camel

Mid Camel

Lower Camel

Scillonian Penzance

Dave and St.Mawes

St. Michael’s Mount

St. Anthony Head

Jed and Yours Truly

Jed, Fowey docks

Eddystone

Mark and Paul, Crackington

Strangles Beach

Beeny

Boscastle Cave

Torridge

St. Ives

Dave and Place House, St.Anthony

Looe island (not Love island)

Jed and the Lone Kayaker, Looe

Mark and Boscastle zawn

Pencarrow Head and Jed

Teignmouth

Fowey

 

 

Strangles Beach

Padstow Bay Lifeboat station

The cost of parking a car beside the sea is a source of grumblement. So it’s nice when the machines blow a fuse:

 

What better way to keep cool on the hottest day of the year?

River Torridge

Next blog coming soon:

Sizzling Summer Part 2: The Sensational Wildlife of the Southwest Coast.

featuring dolphins, porpoise, seals, jellyfish, peregrines, beaver, water vole and more.

 

 

 

Otter Encounter on the Torridge

Having not seen a single otter along the River Torridge last year, I was quite keen to try my luck now the water level had dropped after a week of dry weather. There was plenty of evidence of the recent heavy rain, however, with all the driftwood dammed up against the bridges.

Taddiport Bridge

Otters are incredibly difficult to observe because they are extremely elusive and shy, not to mention being mainly nocturnal. So I made an extra effort to get out onto the water at first light. By the time I paddled off my fingers, despite wearing gloves, were already numb. Maybe not a surprise as it was minus 3 degrees. What an idiot. I certainly didn’t anticipate encountering any other kayakers.

I wasn’t at all prepared to see the first otter which was just around a corner only five minutes into my trip. I was fiddling about with my camera and the otter sensed my presence and vanished. I have learned from experience that if you get too close they just disappear and you will not see them again, no matter how long you wait.

The Torridge is fun to paddle, whether you see any otters or not.

 

Today’s eighteen mile, five hour paddle was as absorbing as ever and I soon found myself in the ‘zone’, paddling along in absolute silence and looking out for the slightest movement on the water or along the bank. The only noise I made was the occasional slurp of a warming draught of coffee. And crunch of an Orange Club.

Seventeen kingfishers, twenty-seven Dippers, five Goosanders, a Woodcock and a possible glimpse of a Mink, and of course I was hoping for another otter.

I looked at all the little patches of sand along the banks as I drifted past, and to my surprise nearly all of them had footprints and little scuffs that I’m pretty sure were otter prints. The owner of the footprints often seemed to have come from out of the water, and some of the tracks in soft sand were clearly webbed, so some were otters for sure. There was hardly a patch of sand without any tracks, so it looks like there’s plenty of them about.

Otter print (with webs)

After a couple of hours, along a straight bit of river, there was a big otter swimming in the middle of the river directly towards me. I paddled as fast and as silently as I could to the bank and hung onto a branch with one hand while I prepared my camera with the other. Excellent, it hadn’t seen (or smelled) me.

Video:

 

It worked its way up the river catching a small crunchy snack at every dive. At the end of this next clip I think it can sense my presence so it submerges with hardlyt a splash, and is gone.

Video:

 

I waited for it to reappear but soon gave up because I was getting cold, and I more or less knew it wouldn’t show again anyway.

To my astonishment, half-a-mile downstream was  another otter also fishing in the middle of the river. This one put on a good demonstration of the technique of porpoising.

video:

 

I knew it couldn’t resist climbing out on one of the mini islands to ‘mark’ it, as it drifted downstream away from me, so was ready with camera raised when it did so.

video:

 

This otter was spooked by the whine of a slurry tanker in a field half a mile away, instantly disappearing as soon as the pump started.

Absolutely fantastic, two of my best otter sightings away from the coast of Scotland, and within a couple of minutes of each other.

Torridge Otter

 

 

 

 

River Torridge: Hatherleigh to Torrington

I like everything  about the River Torridge. It’s a great name, it’s my local big river (although I actually live just over the hill in the Tamar catchment), and it conjures up images of wild places with its link to Tarka the Otter, the novel written by Henry Williamson in 1927. No, I didn’t know the date off the top of my head, I’ve just Googled it.

The seventeen mile section between Hatherleigh and Torrington has so many twists and turns that you have got absolutely no idea of the direction in which you are pointing, and to add to the sense of  adventure some of the tangled woods through which you pass are so dense that they could easily act as cover for a pack of hunting Orcs.

My paddling companion today was Mark and we set off from just below the bridge at Hatherleigh.

Let’s go!

The water was quite low so there were lots of little gravelly beaches to lure us in for the odd coffee break.

River Torridge

After Beaford bridge until the outskirts of Torrington (11 miles) there is really very little sign of the existence of humans, apart from the occasional fishing hut several of which look like something out of Hansel and Gretel.

Beaford Bridge

 

 

 

 

We found a good beach for lunch but we were getting slowly but surely colder so didn’t dither about too long. I got a sandwich blockage in my gullet from eating too quickly but succssfully shifted it with an orange club and swig of coffee.

Speedy sandwich eating

 

 

 

The wildest part of the entire trip is Long Wood and it important to have a complete noise ban here because there is always the chance of seeing an otter.

 

 

On today’s paddle we didn’t see any otters at all, although to compensate we saw a load of birds: 25 Dippers, 15 Kingfishers, Goosanders and Mandarin ducks and Mark saw what was probably a Mink running along the bank (black and furry!).

Here’s a pic and video clip of previous otter sightings on the Torridge:

Otter duo

This cub looked like it was thinking about jumping  into my kayak (it was a classic otter day..they seem to love the rain):

 

 

The first weir to negotiate is a couple of miles above Torrington: Lady Palmer weir. We didn’t fancy getting wet so portaged down the face.

Lady Palmer weir

The second weir is outside the old milk factory in Torrington and is easily shootable using the salmon ladder on the right hand side. Mark makes it look effortless:

 

 

Exit is at Rothern Bridge beside the old railway station at Torrington.

Exit at Torrington

 

The Sensational South-West Coast (part 1)

Photo montage of assorted pics that have not appeared in any of this year’s blogs. Browse and enjoy.

But first listen to the spooky, deathly, grim reaper-type bell on the excellently named Udder Rock buoy off Lansallos in South Cornwall:

Prinsendam cruise ship in Fowey in May,

Prinsendam

and an even bigger one, the Europa 2, in early September.

Europa 2

Superb beach for a tea break. Great Perhaver near Gorran Haven:

Great Perhaver beach

Gorran Haven, picture perfect Cornish fishing village

Gorran Haven

but with hot competition only a few miles away in the shape of Mevagissey:

Mevagissey

Charlie and James speeding in the Gumotex Solar at Maidencombe,

Charlie and James

while Peggy and Becky cruise under the Torridge bridge:

 

Peggy and Becky

Paul is a bit further upstream by the Old Bideford Bridge:

Paul in Bideford

The south Cornwall seals put on a fantastic show:

but it’s great to see the less obvious wildlife gems from the kayak seat too:

Ringed Plover

Hat-trick of Dunlin

The Eddystone light lures me offshore,

Eddystone

while the seas down at Land’s End are forever restless:

Gwennap Head

A rare swell-free spell allowed a bit of exploration along the (usually) savage Hartland heritage coast in North Cornwall.

Duckpool

Lower Sharpnose Point

Hartland Cliffs

Now autumn is knocking on the door, it’s easy to forget how warm and sunny summer was, and how exceptionally clear the sea was this year:

Tabby seems to be flying

Don’t forget the dazzling dolphins:

Common dolphins Torbay (in Feb!)

That’s it for now. Part 2 soon.

 

 

 

 

Terrific Torridge

From its confluence with the River Taw at Appledore the Torridge estuary provides nine miles of varied scenery and a really excellent paddle. A big Spring tide will get you within two miles of Torrington.

I’m always a bit unsure about whether you are supposed, or allowed, to paddle on the river above the tidal extremity. I certainly wouldn’t even give it a thought during the fishing season which is the beginning of March to mid-October. I have mixed feelings about all this but if there is a prohibition to paddlers it means that the river is kept quiet and provides a safer and more acceptable home to the Torridge’s number one special creature, the otter, then it can only be a good thing. Otters seem to be very sensitive to human disturbance although I suspect it is actually the dogs who hang around the humans that really spook them. Incredibly otter hunting was only banned in the 1970s.

And there are a lot of otters on the Torridge. It was of course home to Tarka.

You don’t need to venture out of the tidal reaches to see otters. Very early in the morning I have  seen them in the last couple of miles above the bridge at Annery Kiln.

The first stretch from Appledore to Bideford takes you past Appledore shipyard and a load of boat carcases before you pass beneath the new Torridge Bridge and into Bideford. The Old Bridge doesn’t impact on the skyline quite so much.

New Torridge Bridge

Old Torridge Bridge

Bideford is an underated town and looks pretty smart on a glassy day.

Upstream of Bideford is one of my regular paddles. And it’s popular with activity groups with good road access from the A386. It’s imperative that you time there-and-back upstream paddles with the tide unless you want to be burning up huge amounts of energy and not actually going anywhere. On a Spring tide high water arrives at the very upper reaches about thirty minutes after Bideford.

Sit-on-top heaven

I have had some memorable wildlife encounters here, whether it is families of Swans or Shelduck in the Spring, or a Roe Deer swimming across the river in front of me. Or a peregrine taking a stoop at some Teal.

Swan Family

Shelduck Family

Swimming Roe Deer

Above the bridge at Annery Kiln the Torridge takes on the look of a freshwater river. Kigfishers attract attention with their piercing whistle, although they seem very wary and never allow you to get too close. This seems true for most of the Torridge birdlife…a bit of a contrast to the birds on the River Thames.

Annery Kiln Bridge

Torridge Dawn

Dippers inhabit the extreme upper reaches and bob about on the rocks.

But the Torridge is all about the Otter. They are always very difficult to photograph as they tend to be out in poor early morning light and are often tucked in under the bank.

Relaxed Torridge Otter

Torridge Otter

But it is always nothing short of thrilling to see them. If you are watching an otter you are in a very special place. It is about as close to the true wilds as you are going to get, otherwise the otter wouldn’t be there. They are very discerning and picky about where they hang out. And at the slightest wiff of a problem (or even the slightest wiff), they are gone and you do not see them again.

One exception to this. I once paddled round the corner and surprised a big dog Otter on the River Tone. I immediately drifted into the depths of a riverside bush and waited in silence to see if it would reappear. I gently turned my head to detect the source of snuffling from an even denser patch of bush to my left, and saw the otter was in there as well, waiting for me to reappear, or ideally not! That was the day I came of age in terms of otter-spotting……I was beginning to think like one.

otter plus lunch

Fortunately public enemy number one (or wildlife enemy number one , at least), the Mink , seems to be less common than the Otter.

Mink

Beam Weir….not for the faint-hearted