08-06-10, 08:15 AM
Hi all
Petey and I had heard whispers, in the dark places, of a Chelmer wild camp spot. last night we went in search of the mythical location.
Petey and I met at 7pm, loaded our steeds and set off, Petey a tad wobbly as he was not using his outrigger.
We headed downstream on the silent and still canal in a steady drizzle disturbed only by a flash of blue as a kingfisher went about his business. We soon came upon and paddled under the the infamous poo pipe of Maldon and then on to Rickets lock.
One of the whispers suggested that the mysterious lock island was worth investigating and we duly dismounted and set of on foot, carrying paddles to beat off the viscous Essex nettle. Our foray onto the island was in vain. Back in our steeds we set off with whisper number two in mind... the whisper said "look for the ancient gravel bed" and sure enough we eventually paddled up to a spot that fitted the description.
A not very simple clamber out of our boats lead to a copse of trees that fitted the description, we investigated the the dark and gnarly trees but sadly they were protected by a foul stench that rendered the area uninhabitable (bloody cows).
Clambering back through nettles and mud we remounted our trusty Apaches and headed off. Still hunting..............
Much later we reluctantly head back upstream, back at Rickets lock we decided to investigate the weir stream, I had been here before with Biff but this time we limboed and scrabbled our way much further than before. Having jambed ourselves up the narrow channel we noticed it was getting dark and it occurred to us to check our time pieces.
It was way after nine and it was a bit of paddle back to the cars.
We gave up on the weir stream and limboed and scrabbled our way back to the canal. A quick portage and a steady paddle brought us back to the cars at 10pm, in the dark.
Sadly the whispers were deceptive and the mythical wild camp location lays lost in the mists of the beautiful Chelmer. Oh well, I had a great paddle with a good mate. Thanls Pete.
Mark
Petey and I had heard whispers, in the dark places, of a Chelmer wild camp spot. last night we went in search of the mythical location.
Petey and I met at 7pm, loaded our steeds and set off, Petey a tad wobbly as he was not using his outrigger.
We headed downstream on the silent and still canal in a steady drizzle disturbed only by a flash of blue as a kingfisher went about his business. We soon came upon and paddled under the the infamous poo pipe of Maldon and then on to Rickets lock.
One of the whispers suggested that the mysterious lock island was worth investigating and we duly dismounted and set of on foot, carrying paddles to beat off the viscous Essex nettle. Our foray onto the island was in vain. Back in our steeds we set off with whisper number two in mind... the whisper said "look for the ancient gravel bed" and sure enough we eventually paddled up to a spot that fitted the description.
A not very simple clamber out of our boats lead to a copse of trees that fitted the description, we investigated the the dark and gnarly trees but sadly they were protected by a foul stench that rendered the area uninhabitable (bloody cows).
Clambering back through nettles and mud we remounted our trusty Apaches and headed off. Still hunting..............
Much later we reluctantly head back upstream, back at Rickets lock we decided to investigate the weir stream, I had been here before with Biff but this time we limboed and scrabbled our way much further than before. Having jambed ourselves up the narrow channel we noticed it was getting dark and it occurred to us to check our time pieces.
It was way after nine and it was a bit of paddle back to the cars.
We gave up on the weir stream and limboed and scrabbled our way back to the canal. A quick portage and a steady paddle brought us back to the cars at 10pm, in the dark.
Sadly the whispers were deceptive and the mythical wild camp location lays lost in the mists of the beautiful Chelmer. Oh well, I had a great paddle with a good mate. Thanls Pete.
Mark
