By Anna Gurney
After three days of camping, eating pasties and lounging around in the sun at a music festival in Hertfordshire, the hangers on from our gang (six of us) decided to do something a little bit different and very English. We made our way down to a nearby river where we could rent out Canadian canoes and, along with a liquid picnic and plenty of sun tan lotion, were planning on a relaxing jaunt with the swans.
We met Madge at the local campsite; a very "outdoor" lady who almost seem to relish treating full grown adults (I can't even class myself as a young adult any more) as seven-year-olds. She dressed us in life jackets with condescending phrases, "hands above your head now" and, "shall I tighten that for you?" before helping us pack our beer and chocolate into specially designed waterproof barrels. With a severe lack of foresight we thought the barrels were for hairy capsizing situations on the raging river. It didn't occur to us until later that the water our stuff needed protection from might actually be rain.
We heaved the large silver canoes down the bank, three of us per boat, and were off with as much enthusiasm as people who were wearing orange life jackets and had slept twenty hours in four days could muster.
The risk of drowning, capsizing, or having anything other than a peaceful opportunity to admire the Hertfordshire countryside on this particular stretch of water was, however, minimal. Much more of a problem was the fact that the second boat was grounded on the first bend, we used the oars as punts for a while and tried to stay away from the banks. On the bright side, ducks were the only other traffic we encountered. As no real sized boats could fit in this "stream" there was no danger of needing to carry out any evasive steering maneuvers — with our level of cerebral functioning and skill we were having enough difficulty trying to move in a straight line.
After a beer break and a toilet break we were rather embarrassed to see Madge pop her head over the bank and give us a wave from a friend's garden. We had taken forty minutes to get about two kilometers and she happily informed us that at our present rate we had about three and a half hours to the pick up point. Ah.
We paddled under the overhanging trees, and passed muddy banks where cows were paddling. There wasn't a road or a building in sight, and then the rain came.
The sky had been grey and threatening for a while when Dan spotted a small rapid up ahead. We didn't want to get grounded again and were involved in a discussion of the most sensible line to take when we realized the disturbance on the surface wasn't a rapid, but was actually heavy rain coming towards us. It was hammering down on the flat surface, creating hundreds of concentric circles and a worrying amount of noise. The disturbance on the surface was coming closer. We realized there was no escaping it, and, with our limited equipment, no preparing for it either. So we just sat staring in silence waiting for the rain to engulf us.
Once the cloud was on top of us, the rain didn't seem actually seem too heavy, and we pushed on. The two people sensible enough to bring any items of warm or waterproof clothing got dressed. The rest of us got cold.
I can't believe we can still find rain so fascinating after 17 years of living in Britain, but when we hear the noise of extremely heavy rain we are all fixated by a patch so small (about 5 meters in diameter) that it just passes us by as we look on. Like a cartoon rain cloud where everything around it is still dry.
Spirits plummeted as the downpour got heavier, and by the time we were huddled in our canoes sheltering under the biggest trees we could find the fascination had all gone. As well as the two waterproof jackets, we had very sensibly brought with us a small green child's umbrella, designed to look like a frog. This helped us see the funny side of the situation — six adults huddling in canoes under a weeping willow, wearing bright orange life jackets in three foot water, one child's umbrella, some cows looking on, and two beers left which were rapidly being passed around.
I could feel the puddle I was sitting in gradually soaking up my back and we all knew the mission needed to be aborted as soon as possible. After much discussion of what was physically possible we headed for the road.
The bank was six feet high, and canoes are heavy. There was a lot of mud, and we were wearing the most inappropriate footwear possible, ranging from sandals to non-grip trainers. The point with the least steep bank involved everyone's full strength hoisting/pushing/dragging then carrying the beasts through a section of woodland path and over a style. From the style we had one uneven uphill field to cross before the gate to the road.
In true countryside style, Pim got half way across the field before spotting the cow with enormous horns. Everyone froze and looked on suspiciously. Was it a bull or not? We had no other way of getting to the road so the best course of action was to try and tiptoe on, without drawing too much attention to ourselves, whilst really really hoping it didn't decide to charge towards the orange dots making their way past.
As you can imagine, creeping quietly across a ridged muddy field whilst wearing flip-flops, trying to avoid walking on thistles, and balancing an enormous canoe on your shoulders is not an activity that comes naturally. The farmer who poked his head over the hedge certainly looked surprised about it. He wasn't up for lending any practical help, and there were definitely signs of a smirk, but at least he set us straight that there were no bulls in the field before disappearing to tell his wife.
Due to fantastic network coverage on the B327 near Sedge Manor we were able to call for the van, and within twenty minutes are back to our own cars. The moral of the story is to remember that even if it has been sunny for four consecutive days, that doesn't mean it won't piss it down on the fifth. But in fact we couldn't have asked for a better day, it had all the needed ingredients; some mental challenges, some fitness, just enough hardship to make the hot shower really deserved.
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