So, following the success (kinda...) of last weeks day out, Birchwood and I decided to go back this time with camping gear, and a working petrol outboard...
That was the theory.
We loaded up the boat at a slipway somewhere in Kent, connected up the outboard. Pulled the cord.
Nothing.
We pulled the cord, we swore, we cursed, we poked at the engine, and finally with a Euoi, we got it working. With a smile, we headed out into the central channel and headed down stream, 5 horsepower engine puttering away. After about 900m it spluttered and died... Curses... We think there may have been moisture or other gunk in the fuel. So, we swapped over to the electric outboard, and with more of a silent buzz than a hearty putter, we headed down stream to camp.
After just over an hour, we arrived off the coast of Scotland...
Wait what. *pokes gps*
"This thinks we just did a 978km trip"
"What?"
"Yeah, we're apparently just off the coast of Scotland"
"Eh"?
"And we did it at a max speed of 282315.3kph"
"Smooth ride for the speed"
I poked about at the gps some more, noting how somehow our river trip had not only broken the sound barrier, 230.45 times over, but had also peaked at 32736m above sealevel, before plummeting down to 32680 below sealevel. Where upon it decided to alternate up and down several times accumulating 525165m of ascent, and 533993m of descent...
So with much puzzlement, we set up our tents, next to the river, somewhere off the coast of Scotland, noting with confusion how flat, warm, and free of midges the area was...
I identified a nice flat spot of land, and erected my basha next to it... using an open sided configuration utilising 2 walking poles, 2 random sticks, and a tent pole I borrowed off Birchwood. Then after a cup of tea, I took it all down, and reerected it 3 feet further south so that the flat bit was actually in the middle of the shelter ready for my bed, and not next to the shelter as previously...
Birchwood put up her tent, and we then set about the important task of dinner. I cooked, using Birchwood's gas camping stove. Where upon I discovered that said stove has three settings: Blow torch, Incinerate, Vapourise... this made cooking the sausages that little extra challenge...
While I cooked, Birchwood built a fire using the abundant supply of wood that littered the river bank. Some had come from the section of tree that fell in the storms, some was left there when the water level dropped after the floods. The fire was delightful, there was little breeze, so the smoke largely went straight up, giving us both clear vision as we watched the birds float by, and the fish swimming at the surface. Not bad, considering we were somewhere in the North Sea off the coast of Scotland...
With nightfall, also came the rain, starting with a gentle shower, and we both headed for our respective shelters. Me in a bivvi bag under my basha, Birchwood in her tent.
It was very peaceful snuggled down into my bivvi bag, listening to the rain on my basha, and far off in the distance a nightingale sung. I woke a few times during the night, noticing different birds singing, and eventually the sun rising in the east. I'd hung my solar panel on the log by my basha, and was pleased to see that I had correctly identified which direction east was. Before going back to sleep. I woke up properly a few hours later (oops).
While I had been lazy and having a lay in, Birchwood had gone for a couple of walks, tidied up the firewood/driftwood that littered the are, serviced the engine, and more importantly, put the kettle on!
Bacon was cooked, birds were watched, and the sun came out. It was time to pack up the boat and head up stream. This was made slightly more interesting by the fact the petrol engine really did not want to start, and the crock clip on the electric had fallen over board at some stage during the night... Birchwood did manage do get a working connection through the creative use of a shackle, and with a quiet whir, we headed up stream, doing the 3.6km from camp back to where we started at a much more sedate 3.1kph.
So while neither of us had expected to camp in the middle of the sea off the coast of Scotland, we both had a lovely trip. Looking forward to when we can get out on the river again soon.
I will upload photos when I've got them out the camera.
Julia
PS Just incase you are thoroughly confused by the geography of this, I enclose for you a picture of the journey my GPS thinks we did:
That was the theory.
We loaded up the boat at a slipway somewhere in Kent, connected up the outboard. Pulled the cord.
Nothing.
We pulled the cord, we swore, we cursed, we poked at the engine, and finally with a Euoi, we got it working. With a smile, we headed out into the central channel and headed down stream, 5 horsepower engine puttering away. After about 900m it spluttered and died... Curses... We think there may have been moisture or other gunk in the fuel. So, we swapped over to the electric outboard, and with more of a silent buzz than a hearty putter, we headed down stream to camp.
After just over an hour, we arrived off the coast of Scotland...
Wait what. *pokes gps*
"This thinks we just did a 978km trip"
"What?"
"Yeah, we're apparently just off the coast of Scotland"
"Eh"?
"And we did it at a max speed of 282315.3kph"
"Smooth ride for the speed"
I poked about at the gps some more, noting how somehow our river trip had not only broken the sound barrier, 230.45 times over, but had also peaked at 32736m above sealevel, before plummeting down to 32680 below sealevel. Where upon it decided to alternate up and down several times accumulating 525165m of ascent, and 533993m of descent...
So with much puzzlement, we set up our tents, next to the river, somewhere off the coast of Scotland, noting with confusion how flat, warm, and free of midges the area was...
I identified a nice flat spot of land, and erected my basha next to it... using an open sided configuration utilising 2 walking poles, 2 random sticks, and a tent pole I borrowed off Birchwood. Then after a cup of tea, I took it all down, and reerected it 3 feet further south so that the flat bit was actually in the middle of the shelter ready for my bed, and not next to the shelter as previously...
Birchwood put up her tent, and we then set about the important task of dinner. I cooked, using Birchwood's gas camping stove. Where upon I discovered that said stove has three settings: Blow torch, Incinerate, Vapourise... this made cooking the sausages that little extra challenge...
While I cooked, Birchwood built a fire using the abundant supply of wood that littered the river bank. Some had come from the section of tree that fell in the storms, some was left there when the water level dropped after the floods. The fire was delightful, there was little breeze, so the smoke largely went straight up, giving us both clear vision as we watched the birds float by, and the fish swimming at the surface. Not bad, considering we were somewhere in the North Sea off the coast of Scotland...
With nightfall, also came the rain, starting with a gentle shower, and we both headed for our respective shelters. Me in a bivvi bag under my basha, Birchwood in her tent.
It was very peaceful snuggled down into my bivvi bag, listening to the rain on my basha, and far off in the distance a nightingale sung. I woke a few times during the night, noticing different birds singing, and eventually the sun rising in the east. I'd hung my solar panel on the log by my basha, and was pleased to see that I had correctly identified which direction east was. Before going back to sleep. I woke up properly a few hours later (oops).
While I had been lazy and having a lay in, Birchwood had gone for a couple of walks, tidied up the firewood/driftwood that littered the are, serviced the engine, and more importantly, put the kettle on!
Bacon was cooked, birds were watched, and the sun came out. It was time to pack up the boat and head up stream. This was made slightly more interesting by the fact the petrol engine really did not want to start, and the crock clip on the electric had fallen over board at some stage during the night... Birchwood did manage do get a working connection through the creative use of a shackle, and with a quiet whir, we headed up stream, doing the 3.6km from camp back to where we started at a much more sedate 3.1kph.
So while neither of us had expected to camp in the middle of the sea off the coast of Scotland, we both had a lovely trip. Looking forward to when we can get out on the river again soon.
I will upload photos when I've got them out the camera.
Julia
PS Just incase you are thoroughly confused by the geography of this, I enclose for you a picture of the journey my GPS thinks we did:
Thank you....I coffee'd my keyboard 
