Back to the Essex Badlands after some time spent down in Transpontonia. A cock up at Colchester Station didn't help, leading to a 2am bedtime, with high hopes of catching the 8:30am high tide.
We somehow made it, lugging the canoes down to the Quay, with only one resting stop en route.
The water looked rather dirty today - not a great omen as we had ambitions of paddling down to the Hythe and past the effluent waste re-entry point.
It's a dirty job, etc...
The fatigue of a weekend of high living back in South London caught up with me as we reached Rowhedge. Anna actually powered ahead of me in her fancy canoe with the funny rudder thing.
We turned around just at the Wivenhoe Wood approach and let the outgoing tide carry us back to the old hard.
We had company in a seal that tailed us for the entire return journey.
A brief chat with the Pop Genius of this Parish and we lugged the canoes back to base, a quick lycra change and then we hit the bicycles.
Bruncheon (aha!) in Walton was the plan. By now I was getting accustomed to Anna powering past me. She took me on Ten Penny Hill, so to speak. I was riding on a milky cup of tea, and not much else.
The Garmin worked wonders again. We lifted a Walton Lanes GPX from the modern interweb, and then followed the dancing arrow all the way across to the coast. Strava was playing silly buggers and didn't record the ride heading out.
My tired limbs were helped with a lack of any head or tail wind. Even the wind turbines along the route lay resting for the morning.
Half the roads heading out towards Tendring appear to have been resurfaced recently - and not very well either.
We rode along what is barely a gravel track masking as an B road for around fifteen minutes. I prayed to the Spoke Gods to treat my road bike favourably.
I'm always equally amazed with the art deco houses around these parts and the roadside tat that is put out for sale each weekend.
It's definitely not a London thing.
A cup of tea and a sizable slice of carrot cake along the clifftop restaurant was the reward. Strava kindly managed to capture the data for the return leg: just over 24kmh - and that was Anna pulling me in, if truth be told.
An afternoon of gardening followed. The wisteria is running wild, growing shoots of at least a foot long with my every London excursion.
I watched some local kids carry some canoes down to the Quay mid-afternoon. Strange, given that they were setting off at low water.
They returned about an hour later, caked in mud and dragging the canoes along the road. I didn't ponder for too long the current status of the effluent waste re-entry point.
Metroknobbers completed the acclimatisation.
Don't forget to breathe...