It's a Canoe Day

Saturday morning we packed up lunches (pbjs, ham sandwiches, apples, carrots, tomatoes, and yummiest of all, The Real McCoy's ridge cut salt and vinegar crisps, they look alot like potato chips, but they're not), and drove 15 to 20 minutes to the Thames in Reading, 3 minutes from the Thames Valley Park where Mike works. We rented canoes and were set up with two guides, Phil and Matt, at a riverside business called Marsport. 



Michael studies the geese while waiting for daddy to arrange the canoe rental.

 

I have been warned that swans are aggressive, this one was quite mellow,
 and although it doesn't show, it was as tall as Dominic.
Later, several more swans joined the party and one in particular came after us,
hissed and showed its tiny sharp teeth...spooky!



It was a completely gorgeous day, sun shining, and it was in the 60s. When the sun is out, I feel compelled to soak in it. The sun in England is stripped of its virility, at least lately. Yesterday I saw it, a pale yellow circle in the clouds and felt a little sorry for it.  

Moving on, Dominic was paired with Matt. When we told him he would ride in a separate canoe with a strapping superhero he got completely distressed. "But I don't know how to canoe!!!" He wailed in the bathroom, as we climbed out of and into the life preservers we had previously been harnessed into. He pictured the two of them as a team. I reassured him that strapping Matt knew perfectly well that 5 year old Dominic did not know how to handle a canoe and he calmed down.





 Michael was graced with the sweet temperment and rowing skills of Phil. He patiently rowed behind as Michael enthusiastically dug in his paddle, pulled hard and flung it out with a spray of water into Phil's face, for an entire hour.





Matt is 20 and has been racing kayaks in competition since he was 11. He was feeling pretty good about hisself and he entertained us with stories of his glory days. Dominic was not impressed. He won 28 of 30 races entered, and had lots of tricks. He knelt down in the canoe and paddled like a pasty white Algonquin wearing a dry suit, shoving the front of the boat where Dominic was seated, up out of the water and propelled them at an impressive speed. Boring. He handled the boat with calm precision, that made the oar seem like an extention of his being. Boring.

We paddled down river about 1.5 miles to the charming town of Sonning, where there is a lock. There is also a stair way where you can carry your canoe or kayak and drop it in on the other side, called a portage. The town of Sonning was described by Jerome K. Jerome in his book Three Men in a Boat as "the most fairy-like little nook on the whole river". (Thanks Wikipedia!)

This is where the guides turned our party around. The river was peaceful and glass-like. Matt and Phil told us there are days when the current is so strong there are advisories against paddling, hard to imagine, seeing it so calm. It's about 12 feet deep in the middle, 215 miles long and has many locks and portages. It's the longest river entirely in England. Matt told us about a canoeing race called Devizes to Westminster, sometimes referred to as "The Canoeist's Everest", a 125 mile canoe race which has run every Easter since 1948. He said a person could be proud if they had completed that race. His mom finished it four years ago.

Along the way we passed a few long, skinny houseboats; when I see one, I want one!!! People live in them and tie up along the river here and there.  They are super cool.



Here is one that passed by as we finished our paddle.
It was loaded with fellows looking a little sinister, and in my opinion, post-apocalytic.
Mike's vote was hippies.

Matt ended the ride a little frustrated at not wowing Dominic. He pulled out his tiny, black freestyle kayak and went to town. He flipped it, bounced around, rolled with oar, rolled with just hands, etc. It was too much. Dominic has converted, and Matt is 100% awesome!