Mersey Canoe Trail - Northenden to Carrington (with special guests)
The plan was to paddle the 13 miles from Nothenden weir to the official get-out at Carrington Recreational ground.
The Rec is usually locked, so this meant a brief stop on the way home on Friday to collect the gate key from the local Parish Councillor and to inspect the river.
He informed me that egress from the water may be difficult, as vandals had removed the landing stage a couple of months ago, and the bank side path may be steep, muddy and overgrown.
As we later found out, he wasn't wrong!
While Mrs N completed the car shuttle and I sorted the boats out, Thomas and Will enjoyed some 'kayak sledging.'
We were underway at about 12.30, with Thomas and I in the open, and Deb and Will in the Devil's Craft.
The riverbanks were busy with cyclists, joggers, horseriders and birdlife.
It wasn't long before we encountered the first of many small rapids.
In the excitement my single-handed camerawork was a little shaky.
I didn't realise the boat was so untidy!
Like 'firebreather' in his blogg last week, we quickly rounded up escaped convicts from Strangeways plastic duck penitentiary and deposited them on board.
I briefly collected a passenger.....
....... as we ambled slowly downstream.
We passed beneath the M60 and stopped for lunch near Sale golf club, which gave the boys time to find some lost balls.
After a 20 minute breather, we were just packing away when Mrs N spotted a canoe and a kayak approaching.
It turned out to be SOTP regular 'Howard Mc' and his mate Tony who were travelling the full length of the trail, also as far as Carrington.
They were kind enough to offer to accompany us the rest of the way.
Once introductions were completed, we set off, with Howard picking the best line through any drops, watched RL by The Lone Ranger and Tonto.
Unfortunately, Howard's example meant that for the rest of the day the kids would suddenly spring meerkat-like to their feet without warning, doing their best to tip us in.
This was the first time that we had encountered any SOTPers on a trip, and both Tony and Howard were great company and a hit with the boys.
We halted for a brew stop and portage around Ashton weir, which according to the guide should not be paddled under any conditions due to a hidden wall positioned below it to prevent erosion of the riverbed.
From this point on the river changed character, and became slower, more meandering and less like a canal. I don't recall seeing or hearing another person for the remaining 4 miles.
We passed through the Banky Meadow nature reserve, home to a colony of sandmartins who nest in the bluffs overlooking the water.
Bird life was abundant with the regular electric blue flash of a kingfisher, 2 buzzards and many herons sighted.
Tony and Howard Mc.
There was a hallelujah moment as a shaft of sunlight briefly illuminated us near Flixton Bridge.
We weren't far from the end now. Just as well, as the boys were getting tired.
Unfortunately the get-out was nearly invisible from the water and we unknowingly passed it before turning around near the outfall pipes of some sort of chemical works.
We had to retrace our steps and paddle back upstream for 200 yards before stumbling across a narrow clearing in the undergrowth.
One by one we clambered out into ankle deep mud and hauled the boats up the steep bank through stinging nettles and what looked like elephant poo, until we reached the edge of the Rec.
I had one of those 'Oh God, what have I done' moments when I couldn't lay my hands on the gate key.
We were all locked on the wrong side of an 8 foot fence with no way of getting out. As I desperately emptied all the bags it became clear that the key wasn't with us!
It must be in one of the cars, either just across the road, or, unthinkably, 13 miles away back at the start.
Before Mrs N could set about me with a paddle, I leapt almost athletically over the gate and ran off down the road.
Fortunately for our marriage, as I opened the glove box it fell onto my knee. Yes!
We said our goodbyes to Howard and Tony, who headed off to the Windmill Inn for a well-deserved pint, and 20 minutes later we were heading home, muddied and weary.
Thanks, guys for a great day out.
A pleasure to meet you both.
Newbond
'In the end, it's not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away.'
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Apart from the key bit, it sounds like an enjoyable run.
May the gentleness of morning, greet your silent passage through endless waters...