The aim was to go along the coast from Seaford to Eastbourne, but a force 5/6 onshore wind had turned the sea into a roiling mass of white water so we paddled down the Cuckmere river with a quick (and rather messy) trip into the surf instead.
Then back up the tidal stretch of the river to Alfriston and beyond, the river getting smaller and the water and vegetation changing from estuarine mud to a clear stream with reeds and damselflies, narrowing at points to a couple of feet and ending abruptly at a tidal lock.
This seemed like an obvious point to turn back and from there on the boat guided us with unerring resolve into the village of Alfriston, where a sign directed us neatly into the garden of the George pub. Which does a good line in Sunday roasts.
An area I thought I knew well, but Alfriston was transformed from a cramped, touristy place full of cars into a spacious open vilage, with a little church and a village green I had never noticed before.
Back down the creek and as we approched our disembarcation point we spotted a man and a boat, sitting on a small pontoon and looking just as if he had been waiting for us. As we got closer, we found the boat to be an old Anas Acuta, the elegant precursor to my Nordkapp and truly a thing of beauty. And Tom (as he turned out to be called) was delighted to see some fellow sea kayakers, apparently a rare breed in East Sussex. So we all went home happy.
Back in the UK, and the spirit of the explorations is alive and well.
Then back up the tidal stretch of the river to Alfriston and beyond, the river getting smaller and the water and vegetation changing from estuarine mud to a clear stream with reeds and damselflies, narrowing at points to a couple of feet and ending abruptly at a tidal lock.
This seemed like an obvious point to turn back and from there on the boat guided us with unerring resolve into the village of Alfriston, where a sign directed us neatly into the garden of the George pub. Which does a good line in Sunday roasts.
An area I thought I knew well, but Alfriston was transformed from a cramped, touristy place full of cars into a spacious open vilage, with a little church and a village green I had never noticed before.
Back down the creek and as we approched our disembarcation point we spotted a man and a boat, sitting on a small pontoon and looking just as if he had been waiting for us. As we got closer, we found the boat to be an old Anas Acuta, the elegant precursor to my Nordkapp and truly a thing of beauty. And Tom (as he turned out to be called) was delighted to see some fellow sea kayakers, apparently a rare breed in East Sussex. So we all went home happy.
Back in the UK, and the spirit of the explorations is alive and well.
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