A late Sunday afternoon paddle from Winchfield Hurst.
The wind was pretty strong yesterday, so sheltered waters were needed. In my part of the world, that means the Basingstoke Canal. Again .
I simply repeated my favourite bit - Barley Mow wharf to Colt Hill Wharf, Odiham. Whilst the wind reached me at times, for most of the time the trees blocked it nicely, and there were long sections of still water to enjoy. My usual pace was adopted, one where drifting and gazing played as strong a part as stroking and ruddering.
The Hall of Trees lacks the ancient overhanging beams of its former, pre-tree-felling, glory, but it remains a peaceful and pleasant place to sit for a few minutes and contemplate the sounds of the woodland.
A brief battle with a capricious wind, which came from the front, the side and behind all in the space of about 300 yards, and I passed beneath the next bridge, the gateway to more sheltered woodlands. Here the water was perfectly still, and here all the leaves had gathered.
Just a few walkers and cyclists came past me, many of them expressing jealousy of how peaceful my paddle looked.
The Basingstoke Niagara was softly gurgling.
A mile or so later, as the distance sound of traffic grew closer, I approached Odiham in the sunlight.
At Colt Hill Wharf I had a rest and a bite to eat, next to the newly built Basingstoke and Deane Canoe Club building.
It was time to return, almost as slowly as I'd come.
A rare sight. A family actually using one of the pretty ancient old hire canoes from Galleon Marine. They were having a great time and paddling pretty well.
The leaves and bracken are now turning, and whilst the full colour is not yet there in the trees, most of the bracken has turned to copper and brown.
Where the wind had teased me on my outward paddle, a mirror now awaited me.
The soft light of early evening bathed the brickwork in its warm glow.
The horse at the Old Thatch is still hungry.
A white dragon also grazed nearby.
Just a few quiet yards remained and I was back at Barley Mow bridge, after a most serene paddle.
I made a final diversion on the way home, to catch the dying sun over Ash ranges.
The wind was pretty strong yesterday, so sheltered waters were needed. In my part of the world, that means the Basingstoke Canal. Again .
I simply repeated my favourite bit - Barley Mow wharf to Colt Hill Wharf, Odiham. Whilst the wind reached me at times, for most of the time the trees blocked it nicely, and there were long sections of still water to enjoy. My usual pace was adopted, one where drifting and gazing played as strong a part as stroking and ruddering.
The Hall of Trees lacks the ancient overhanging beams of its former, pre-tree-felling, glory, but it remains a peaceful and pleasant place to sit for a few minutes and contemplate the sounds of the woodland.
A brief battle with a capricious wind, which came from the front, the side and behind all in the space of about 300 yards, and I passed beneath the next bridge, the gateway to more sheltered woodlands. Here the water was perfectly still, and here all the leaves had gathered.
Just a few walkers and cyclists came past me, many of them expressing jealousy of how peaceful my paddle looked.
The Basingstoke Niagara was softly gurgling.
A mile or so later, as the distance sound of traffic grew closer, I approached Odiham in the sunlight.
At Colt Hill Wharf I had a rest and a bite to eat, next to the newly built Basingstoke and Deane Canoe Club building.
It was time to return, almost as slowly as I'd come.
A rare sight. A family actually using one of the pretty ancient old hire canoes from Galleon Marine. They were having a great time and paddling pretty well.
The leaves and bracken are now turning, and whilst the full colour is not yet there in the trees, most of the bracken has turned to copper and brown.
Where the wind had teased me on my outward paddle, a mirror now awaited me.
The soft light of early evening bathed the brickwork in its warm glow.
The horse at the Old Thatch is still hungry.
A white dragon also grazed nearby.
Just a few quiet yards remained and I was back at Barley Mow bridge, after a most serene paddle.
I made a final diversion on the way home, to catch the dying sun over Ash ranges.
Paddler,blogger,camper,pyromaniac:
Blog: Wilderness is a State of Mind
Paddle Points - where to paddle
Blog: Wilderness is a State of Mind
Paddle Points - where to paddle