“The architecture of geology holds for us
mere humans some of the greatest stimuli in our lives. Rivers and waterfalls,
along with mountains, have the greatest impact. For those of us who are
impressed with these things, and we are legion, it is a lifetime love affair.
There is an irresistible urge to stop at any spot where there is moving water.”
Tony Wilkinson, 2005
For me, I would have to include the sea and
the Earths great oceans, as well as rivers, waterfalls and mountains. Although
it is quite appropriate to find a quote about rivers, whilst writing a blog
about a kayak trip from a rivers source, to the mouth where it meets the sea.
Day 4
Lazy Otter - Denver Sluice
Lazy Otter - Denver Sluice
It had turned out, that we had set up camp
on the edge of a marsh next to the riverbank. Luckily for us, we hadn’t had too
much rain during the night, and were awoken by the glorious sunshine.
Catching some early morning rays
We knew we had to make good time today, and
were going to reward ourselves with a quick stroll around Ely for lunch… If we
made it on time! This part of the river continued in its sterile fashion. Wide
and surprisingly slow flowing. The riverbanks dominated by the pontoons and
barriers for the numerous barges and boats that travelled up and down these
parts of the river.
Apart from the odd wren and warbler in the
reeds, and swan families foraging along the banks, the wildlife was few and far
between. Another factor that contributed to this barren feeling was the fact
that we were passing through the Great Fens. The surrounding land was flat, and
dominated by irrigated fields. Fascinating how they came about, as the same man
that designed drainage ditches of Netherlands, designed the thousand drainage
ditches here in Norfolk, helping to keep the Fens a dry place. A feat that has
taken over 2,000 years to accomplish!
The river felt long, wide, and each and
every meander opened up another stretch of river, just as long as the last,
just as wide, and just as seemingly sterile. But it is exactly for this reason
that this part of the river has been used for centuries as a busy transport
route, being used since long before the Romans. A welcoming sight around one of
the long meanders… Ely Cathedral!
Ely!
Soon enough, we were coming into Ely, with
a newfound determination, and inspiration. Grey clouds and light rain peppered
across the grand skyscape. A cormorant, sleeping in the top of an old tree on
the riverbank, lifted its head briefly as two red kayaks passed underneath.
Cormorant in the Tree
I was going to put a photo of Dad and I
standing on the bridge looking back down the river in the centre of Ely, but I
look like I am riding a rodeo, with my floppy hat and one hand above my head
for some reason… I am starting to understand why my old man calls me a moron
sometimes! Instead, here we are standing by the Eel of Ely…
The Eel of Ely!
The city’s name is thought to have derived
from the incredible animal itself, the Eel. Eels are fascinating animals,
having quite the complex life. These animals will live and feed in our rivers
until they are about 10 years old, when they undertake one of the greatest
migrations on the planet. On dark and moonless nights (my least favorite kind)
mature eels make a one-way journey across the Atlantic Ocean, over 3,000 miles
to the Sargasso Sea. Here they will breed, and young eels, called elvers, make
the return journey back to our rivers to grow. So not only will they complete a
6,000 odd mile round trip in their life time, they will adapt from life in
saline water, to freshwater, and back to saline water. In the words of Chris
Packham… ‘Twuly Incwedible!’
Inside Ely Cathedral
The cathedral is a far more anthropogenic
wonder. A flying visit into the entrance, a quick chat with the holy lady about
the cost of weddings in the cathedral (not that either of us plan on any form
of wedding, let alone a wedding in this place!), and back out of the entrance
to grab some lunch and get back on the water.
Loaded with more Mentos, we hit the river
for a good three hours. We made good distance, but found the mental challenge
of withstanding the burn of kayaking constantly, and watching what appeared to
be a never-ending cycle of the same reeds and riverbank passing by, over and
over, a difficult one to deal with. This stretch was called the Ten Mile Bank.
Which to me, appears to mean ten miles of the same riverbank. We tried singing,
which made me frown slightly less than I already was, but yet again, Mentos
came to the rescue when we stopped on the banks of The Ship pub. The bursts of
fruity flavor, as you suck and chew on the chewee dragues. Ahhh, I will never
look at them in the same way again.
The Red Swan
I had found a swan’s feather, and
christened the kayak the ‘Red Swan’. Dad opted for ‘Sky Bus’ for his. This is
what our conversation and thought processes had come to.
The sky gradually cleared in places, and
the river started to become a lot more interesting the closer we got to Denver
Sluice. Trees were once again over-hanging the river; kingfishers were darting
below the branches, swan families, coots and moorhens in the reeds.
Quite a tranquil part of the river
A mirror calm surface to the water, a still
in the air, and the sun dropping down gave us the opportunity to enjoy the
surroundings, appreciate the peace, tranquility and halcyon river. The sound of
our paddles smoothly breaking the surface, as drips blemished the glassy
surface, and we left nothing but the wake behind us.
Sky Bus
A barn owl quartering across the fens to
our right, flew directly across the river in front of us. The reflection of its
deep beating wings perfect in the water beneath, golden in the late sunlight.
Around the next bend… Denver Sluice!! The
joy was phenomenal. It had felt like the finish line. Particularly as this was
the end of the freshwater river, and beyond was the tidally influenced estuary.
We knew the next day would be a short, but hard push to the actual finish line.
But for me, with the perfect scenery, the end of a mixed day with ups and
downs, and the fact this was the true end of the freshwater we had been
travelling on for the past four days, this felt like the victory I had hoped
for.
Denver Sluice
The Setting Sun
Now to find a part of the riverbank that
wasn’t plagued with vicious and deadly ponies, so we could set up camp.
We watched from camp as rain clouds closed
in onto us, obscuring the sunset. We fell asleep to the sound of rain beating
down onto the canvas of our tent. I was just thankful that we would not have to
endure another night of Ainsley Harriots pre-packed boil in a pan cous cous.
Even Sky longed for her dry, solid biscuit food from home.
Looking out from the safety of our tent...
Day 5
Denver Sluice - Finish!!!
This was our last day kayaking. We made the
mistake of deciding to kayak on the Relief Channel, to prevent getting caught
in any tides that we were unsure of. This meant the river was long, wide and
very straight. We passed Downham Market and finally made it to Saddle Bow, just
on the outskirts of Kings Lynn. The day was dull, grey and very dank. A bit
like the deflated feeling of not being able to get out and down past the lock
at the end of the channel and get into Kings Lynn.
Sky Bus approaching the lock
After the elations of last night, this
could not feel like more of a let down. A fisherman, who was fishing from the
banks of the power plant situated here, greeted us. He was not supposed to be
there. After approaching the lock gate too closely, we were obviously not
supposed to be there either, as an announcement was made over the speakers,
warning us to exit. The fisherman did not care in the slightest that we had
just finished a kayak trip about 86 miles long.
“What made yew do that?”
Good point.
The end of the river!
Anyway, we had finished, exited on the
slipway to the power plant, and carried for the last time to the road, where,
after a few issues with dads phone, a trip to the police station and a
convenience store, Grandad and Uncle Bolla picked us up.
The beautiful ending
All in all, the trip was incredible. It is
just a real shame the end of our kayak trip, on a gloriously wild, seemingly
peaceful and wonderfully diverse river, ended on the road outside of a power
plant in Kings Lynn.
I will pretend it ended at Denver Sluice,
and the fifth day never happened…
Thank you all for reading, I hope you have
enjoyed, I shall end with a photo of the incredible wake of a Grass Snake on
the Ivel. There is also an extra
special treat on the way (hopefully within the next week) of a video clip that
I am sure you will all enjoy as much as I enjoyed filming it…
