24 hours on the Wey
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The best Wey to wake up; the dawn chorus waking you in your tent as the first glimmers of sunlight reach your tent, knowing that a lovely spring day was just begun, and you'd be spending it paddling. That was how I woke up last Sunday, after a lovely evening camped in my "usual spot" near the banks of the river. I nipped out of my tent to relieve some pressure, the "plains" in front of me clad with a thin layer of mist, before returning to the cosy warmth of my sleeping bag to wait for my coffee to brew.
After a long, lazy breakfast as the sun burnt off the moisture, I drifted slowly down the river past dots of spring colour and disturbing a fishing cormorant.
After an hour's exceedingly relaxed paddling, and a short but energetic lock portage, I was back at the Tannery for 10am. And then the day's paddle could begin!
Jim, Maj, Nick and Graham were just unloading, all I had to do was carry my camping gear bag up to the car to lighten the load. Soon, we were all afloat by Tanyard Bridge.
The day was turning out to be glorious, no wind and endless blue skies, reflected in the mirror of the water. After low overnight temperatures, just above freezing, it was already rising into the teens, and the sun's warmth was remarkable for March.
Heading up through Send, we were soon passing the Worsfold Gates and turning down the backwater for Gresham Mill, passing the Weird House with its hints of Hammer House of Horror films and the Prisoner combined.
[
Regular readers will know what's to follow; the longest portage on the Wey. It was warm enough to have us all removing layers. Nick and Graham carried, for once I used the trolley to reduce pressure on my slowly recovering knee injury, and new back injury from the night before! The joys of ageing...
20 minutes later, we were taking it in turns to clamber down the steep banks and into the weir below the renovated old mill.
The water level was good, middling flow, middling depth, and streams were ushering out of each of the 3 arches. In these levels, the middle arch has a nice smooth flow with clean eddies either side. So we had a bit of a play, those finding new moving water skills being able to play with angles of entry, speed and getting nice clean ferry glides. Sometimes. I advised all to be cautious of Colin's Stream on the right, though a couple of us had a little play - still more boily and unpredictable than the middle arch.
Now it was time to enter the Lair of the Beast, or Samson the Swan, and we turned down towards Old Woking. Maj made sure he was neither first or last, as he'd heard those are the guys that get it in the horror movies.
Today, though, Samson was nowhere to be seen, and Delilah barely opened an eye to watch us pass as she relaxed in the sun.
With the effort of portaging, and the perils of the Surrey wildlife behind us, we left behind the village and entered my favourite world, where the Wey meanders down for a couple of beautiful miles to Papercourt Lock.
Today, it was an utter delight, a nice modest flow letting us drift with no effort, the sun warm on our shoulders, and the fluffy clouds reminding us that summer was on the way. At one point, I completed my own "circle", passing my 5 star accommodation from the night before.
After a lovely spell of perfect paddlin' the Palace came into sight in all its tatty brick, stone, modern roof and temporary metal barrier glory.
We clambered out of our invisible canoes. (There is a reason for this, and its not that Jim fell in!)
Lunching at the Palace is by Wey of a tradition these days, and today was no exception. The only difference being that, where Henry VIII was once entertained after a hard days' deer and next wife hunting, our very own minstrel played an atmospheric set of (mostly) appropriate tunes, as I'd left my guitar in my canoe from the night before. I may have had a go too, but having heard Jim at "work", I have discovered that I can no longer blame the Baby Taylor for my own performances...
We were joined by a fellow open canoeist for a short while, a chap who clearly knows the Wey almost as well as us. If you stumble across this post, do say hello!
After a looooong, relaxed lunch, we eventually tore ourselves away, and proceeded in a downstream direction. Conditions were dreadful.
As we reached the junction with the Navigation below Papercourt Lock, Graham and Nick turned and said their goodbyes, for they were heading immediately to the upper reaches of the Thames, for a few days' paddling down towards Oxford. Hope you had a good one chaps.
The remaining three of us turned downstream towards Newark Priory, and the short portage of the weir. As we passed the moorings at the start of the backwater, a friendly couple of residents warned us that work would soon be starting on a weir replacement, so we'd better make the most of this trip as it would be blocked for a while. This could be months, judging on how long it took them to renovate Walsham weir downstream. Anyway, we were soon using Maj's Majic Stick to aid out exit onto the bank.
The level below was fairly low, but the flow good. As always, this short section between weir and road bridge feels like a place to just keep your wits about you, with its turbulent weir flow just above the put in, and plenty of fast bits with potential tree issues below.
Coming out under the worryingly slanted (lowering towards the far side) road bridge is always a great moment, as before you is a scene like something out of a landscape painting. It should be Turner, as he regularly came to this spot, but it looks more like Constable to my eye.
This is such an amazing spot, in a green meadow unreachable on foot (legally!), where the ruins of Newark Priory have crumbled since the heydey of the Palace where we had lunch, nearly 500 years before. Their history, of course, goes back even further, to the late 12th century.
What neither Henry VIII, or the Augustinian Monks, probably knew, was that there's a nice little eddy just on the corner of the river opposite the ruins, and a good spot for ferry glide practice alongside it. We paused here for a few minutes play in the sun.
Soon, though, having checked the barn owls were in residence and dozing sleepily waiting for sun down, we were once more heading for the Navigation.
Maj stayed to explore a little more, but by now my 24 hours on the go outside were taking its toll, and Jim and I portaged Newark Lock, then later Papercourt lock, and made our way back to the Tannery.
A fantastic day on a river, part wonderful solo camp and the sense of peace that brings, part fabulous paddling in great company with a musical lunch. Until the next one chaps!. Actually, I've just come back from that one now...
After a long, lazy breakfast as the sun burnt off the moisture, I drifted slowly down the river past dots of spring colour and disturbing a fishing cormorant.
After an hour's exceedingly relaxed paddling, and a short but energetic lock portage, I was back at the Tannery for 10am. And then the day's paddle could begin!
Jim, Maj, Nick and Graham were just unloading, all I had to do was carry my camping gear bag up to the car to lighten the load. Soon, we were all afloat by Tanyard Bridge.
The day was turning out to be glorious, no wind and endless blue skies, reflected in the mirror of the water. After low overnight temperatures, just above freezing, it was already rising into the teens, and the sun's warmth was remarkable for March.
Heading up through Send, we were soon passing the Worsfold Gates and turning down the backwater for Gresham Mill, passing the Weird House with its hints of Hammer House of Horror films and the Prisoner combined.
[
Regular readers will know what's to follow; the longest portage on the Wey. It was warm enough to have us all removing layers. Nick and Graham carried, for once I used the trolley to reduce pressure on my slowly recovering knee injury, and new back injury from the night before! The joys of ageing...
20 minutes later, we were taking it in turns to clamber down the steep banks and into the weir below the renovated old mill.
The water level was good, middling flow, middling depth, and streams were ushering out of each of the 3 arches. In these levels, the middle arch has a nice smooth flow with clean eddies either side. So we had a bit of a play, those finding new moving water skills being able to play with angles of entry, speed and getting nice clean ferry glides. Sometimes. I advised all to be cautious of Colin's Stream on the right, though a couple of us had a little play - still more boily and unpredictable than the middle arch.
Now it was time to enter the Lair of the Beast, or Samson the Swan, and we turned down towards Old Woking. Maj made sure he was neither first or last, as he'd heard those are the guys that get it in the horror movies.
Today, though, Samson was nowhere to be seen, and Delilah barely opened an eye to watch us pass as she relaxed in the sun.
With the effort of portaging, and the perils of the Surrey wildlife behind us, we left behind the village and entered my favourite world, where the Wey meanders down for a couple of beautiful miles to Papercourt Lock.
Today, it was an utter delight, a nice modest flow letting us drift with no effort, the sun warm on our shoulders, and the fluffy clouds reminding us that summer was on the way. At one point, I completed my own "circle", passing my 5 star accommodation from the night before.
After a lovely spell of perfect paddlin' the Palace came into sight in all its tatty brick, stone, modern roof and temporary metal barrier glory.
We clambered out of our invisible canoes. (There is a reason for this, and its not that Jim fell in!)
Lunching at the Palace is by Wey of a tradition these days, and today was no exception. The only difference being that, where Henry VIII was once entertained after a hard days' deer and next wife hunting, our very own minstrel played an atmospheric set of (mostly) appropriate tunes, as I'd left my guitar in my canoe from the night before. I may have had a go too, but having heard Jim at "work", I have discovered that I can no longer blame the Baby Taylor for my own performances...
We were joined by a fellow open canoeist for a short while, a chap who clearly knows the Wey almost as well as us. If you stumble across this post, do say hello!
After a looooong, relaxed lunch, we eventually tore ourselves away, and proceeded in a downstream direction. Conditions were dreadful.
As we reached the junction with the Navigation below Papercourt Lock, Graham and Nick turned and said their goodbyes, for they were heading immediately to the upper reaches of the Thames, for a few days' paddling down towards Oxford. Hope you had a good one chaps.
The remaining three of us turned downstream towards Newark Priory, and the short portage of the weir. As we passed the moorings at the start of the backwater, a friendly couple of residents warned us that work would soon be starting on a weir replacement, so we'd better make the most of this trip as it would be blocked for a while. This could be months, judging on how long it took them to renovate Walsham weir downstream. Anyway, we were soon using Maj's Majic Stick to aid out exit onto the bank.
The level below was fairly low, but the flow good. As always, this short section between weir and road bridge feels like a place to just keep your wits about you, with its turbulent weir flow just above the put in, and plenty of fast bits with potential tree issues below.
Coming out under the worryingly slanted (lowering towards the far side) road bridge is always a great moment, as before you is a scene like something out of a landscape painting. It should be Turner, as he regularly came to this spot, but it looks more like Constable to my eye.
This is such an amazing spot, in a green meadow unreachable on foot (legally!), where the ruins of Newark Priory have crumbled since the heydey of the Palace where we had lunch, nearly 500 years before. Their history, of course, goes back even further, to the late 12th century.
What neither Henry VIII, or the Augustinian Monks, probably knew, was that there's a nice little eddy just on the corner of the river opposite the ruins, and a good spot for ferry glide practice alongside it. We paused here for a few minutes play in the sun.
Soon, though, having checked the barn owls were in residence and dozing sleepily waiting for sun down, we were once more heading for the Navigation.
Maj stayed to explore a little more, but by now my 24 hours on the go outside were taking its toll, and Jim and I portaged Newark Lock, then later Papercourt lock, and made our way back to the Tannery.
A fantastic day on a river, part wonderful solo camp and the sense of peace that brings, part fabulous paddling in great company with a musical lunch. Until the next one chaps!. Actually, I've just come back from that one now...