And it turns out that if you canoe upstream when the tide is coming in, you can travel a surprising distance before the light goes, and then, if the tide is still coming in, it can be rather hard work to make your way back down to the slipway where you launched. And putting the canoe back on top of the car in darkness is a bit of a fiddle.
On the other hand, you get to see the sunset, the twilight, the moon-reflections and the bats, and hear the owls calling across the river.
On the other hand, you get to see the sunset, the twilight, the moon-reflections and the bats, and hear the owls calling across the river.
I think the camera has exaggerated the darkness in these next two photos for effect.
Yes, it's Calstock Viaduct again. As viaducts go, it's a particularly well-located one.
This is an abandoned village and port called New Quay. There was just enough light to still see the huge granite walls of the old quayside and the roofless houses as we paddled past
But as we came up to Morwellham Quay, the light had almost gone.
It was time to turn around.
No photos of the long paddle home under the moon and stars: a canoe is not the natural setup for long-exposure night photography.
We slipped secretly back past houses in the darkness, peering in through the lit windows like a stealthy swan, albeit one with rather stiff and aching arms.
We slipped secretly back past houses in the darkness, peering in through the lit windows like a stealthy swan, albeit one with rather stiff and aching arms.
