The Stour River Part IV: Black-and-Blue
We soon came across the largest shootable weir on the Stour. The weir is located near a place called Wissington and has gullys either side with fast flowing water despite the low level of the river.
Nick was the first to go and once he had successfully reached the bottom we all followed. At first we were concerned about shooting weirs on inflatable kayaks which were laden with kit but they performed admirably and no one had any problems. We would have liked to have portaged and played at the weir but we were conscious the time due to the many delays and cars were was still some way off.
Paddling further down the river the scenery was much the same, passing quaint houses, churches and cottages, all very English countryside.
Our inflatable kayaks were now becoming quite heavy to paddle and were full of weed, mud and water. We were getting quite tired so we took the opportunity to stop and have a quick drink and bite to eat in a field. To get to the field we had to climb a six foot mud bank so we moored the inflatable kayaks at the bottom of the river bank. Nick decided to stop in his kayak as he did not have the energy to climb the bank. We sat in the field and watched a group of swans swimming down the river towards Nick. In case you didn’t know swans can be aggressive birds especially if they feel threatened and you are invading their territory.
As we watched them swim nearer they seemed to be forming a phalanx formation and we started shouting and waving to Nick that he was about to be attacked.
Not wanting to miss the sight of Nick being attacked by swans I started filming with my mobile phone from the edge of the bank. When the swans were about twenty feet away Nick raised his arms which caused the biggest swan to hiss at him. He immediately put his arms back down.
I started to edge down the bank filming as I did. As I was looking through the camera viewer I had a distorted perception of where I was treading and the next thing I felt my foot slip away from under me and my right shoulder, head and neck smashing hard against the dry mud of the bank.
My fellow paddlers rushed over to help me up as I was very dazed and for the first few seconds I thought I had broken or dislocated my shoulder. It took about forty five minutes before I felt I could paddle again. Gingerly I climbed back into my inflatable Kayak, nursing a swollen nose, lump on my head, stiff neck and painful shoulder. I felt like I had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson rather than a sedate paddle along a lazy river.
It was slow going for a while and we had already lost another hour. You would think that kayaking down the River Stour on a beautiful summer’s day would be a relaxing and tame affair. How wrong you would be.
