Canoeing is good for the soul

Last year I went to Wareham, hired a rowing boat and rowed up and down the river for an hour. There’s something about rowing. Something of a long-gone world, carefree days with just yourself, a boat and the splash of the oars. Of course, I’m not an experienced or good rower and my carefree hour was mostly spent swearing at the reeds as I crashed into them yet again.

This year I hired a canoe. I’ve never been canoeing. In fact, it’s only recently – literally the last year – that I’ve figured out the difference between a kayak and a canoe. I’ve kayaked. I planned to get my 1 Star qualification this year, or whatever the new equivalent award is called, and my 2 Star next year. I’ve paddleboarded, although I still haven’t edited the video or written the blog. I’ve had a go at sailing. But one watercraft I’ve never even tried is a canoe.

I hadn’t decided to go canoeing until I arrived. I stood on the quayside and looked at the rowing boats and the canoes. I’d been concerned that the canoes were too narrow and would be unstable but they seemed to be just as wide as the boats except that they were narrow at fore and aft. Ok, I could sit in a canoe. One was accordingly fetched for me, sponged down , as if I cared about a bit of mud in the bottom, and I was handed a paddle.

I very quickly discovered that canoes are so much more manoeuvrable than rowing boats. I only crashed into the reeds if I put the paddle down to take photos but when I did crash, it was very easy to reverse out and get myself back on track. So much lighter, so much easier. This was a joy!

Well, there was one problem. One paddle. I don’t know anything about canoeing and although I was told two methods of turning when I was handed the canoe, it turns out paddling with one paddle – for an inexperienced amateur like me – will just send you round in circles. Even when I thought I had it going in a straight line, or a straight line relative to the bends of the river, to take each corner like a very slow racing car, it turns out canoes understeer. The number of times I found myself sliding sideways, the bow coming round and the riverbanks approaching in a way I hadn’t calculated!

Face of horror as I realise the canoe is skidding sideways
Accidental sideways canoeing!

When I got home, I googled “how to paddle a canoe” and was instantly presented with videos showing tranquil calm perfect paddling. Yeah, with two people, one paddling on each side. I’d wondered about bringing someone out in the canoe. I had to swing the paddle over after every stroke. Any shipmate would either have to sit at the back and watch out or get their head taken off in the front. Of course, if there was a second person there would be a second paddle and I wouldn’t need to swing!

But this was all in the future. For now I paddled one side and then offset the violent turn by paddling the other side. Eventually that settled more or less into two to the right, two to the left, two to the right etc. It absolutely wasn’t the right way to do it but under the circumstances, it worked.

Despite my frantic paddle-flailing, canoeing was all very peaceful. It was a grey Sunday morning in October and no one else was out on the river. It’s quite likely there was no one out for the rest of the day. No paddleboarders coming the other way to dodge, no private school Oxbridge wannabes harrumphing as they rowed their beautiful girlfriends, no small motorboats for non-paddlers. Absolute silence, except the two main roads in the distance and my own splashing. Despite the tiredness in my shoulders and arms from swinging that paddle, I felt like this solitude and exercise and water was cleansing my soul.

It was definitely cleansing my feet. Instead of kneeling as I understand is traditional, my canoe had three woven seats. I’d tucked my feet under my seat to keep them out of the way, until they went numb and I had to stretch them out. Sitting on a low seat definitely isn’t good for the circulation in your feet. But as I paddled and swapped sides, I flung water into the bottom of the boat. Not a lot, not enough to endanger my craft but enough that it began soaking through my shoes. Last year I rowed in sandals and this year I’d considered my waterproof mountain boots. My feet would be well and truly dead, tucked away under the seat in narrow-fitting solid boots but at least they’d be dry.

High angle canoeing selfie

The River Frome is a tidal river. I’ve never really seen it at high tide before. The water at the quay had been spilling right up over the road and it came within about a foot of the highest points of the arches supporting the bridge. I was asked “which way do you want to go?” and I’d chosen right. I was always going to go right but left didn’t look like an option, what with the water so high under the bridge. “Oh, in this kind of boat you’d be fine. Just lie down flat” wasn’t reassuring. So I paddled away from the bridge, not under it. It would be nice to think that in the unlikely event of the canoe capsizing, I’d simply swim to the side of the river but not today. Well, to be honest, not ever. This is all wetland and it remains wet and marshy for a long way. But today there was a lot of vegetation in the water, as the level was higher than I’ve ever seen it. There was also a lot of stuff that isn’t vegetation, and I’m not just talking about the grey wagtail, heron and ducks.

High tide under the bridge
Well, would you canoe under there?

There are a lot of expensive houses with huge gardens along here, gardens that go right down to the river. Or today, that go into the river. Time and time again I encountered a bench or a few plastic garden chairs standing in six inches of water. Not floating in the river, not causing a hazard, just standing in the water in a clearing in the reeds. Do the people who own these massive gardens not realise that their furniture is at risk of floating away every single day? I know the houses are so far away you mostly can’t even see them from the river but do they really not know that it’s encroaching on their land like this every single day?

Blurry boundaries between river and bank

For the sake of my numb feet and aching shoulders, I was glad I’d only gone for an hour but all the same, I enjoyed my time on the river. I’ll definitely be back next summer and I’ll definitely be canoeing, not rowing, and I’ll have watched a lot of videos on how to steer one single-handedly.