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Low Tide In December
Usually we try to go out on the river at high tide, because the upper Tamar is VERY muddy, and low tide involves way more mud than is pleasant. But you don't get a day like this every day in December. So we drove down to Weir Quay, hoping that would be close enough to the sea to not be completely muddy. This hope was... sort of fulfilled. The slipway at Weir Quay is gravelled, and went nice and level all the way down to the water even at the low tide. This is a great improvement over the Calstock slipway, which is very steep and phenomenally difficult to stand on except at high tide.
There were a lot of mudbanks - but that was no bad thing, because we'd hoped to see avocets. And we did! but not close enough to photograph, unfortunately. Still, it was very lovely and quiet, nobody else out on the water at all.
There were birds all over the mudflats, but they looked at us in an offended manner when we floated by, and trotted up onto the mud so they wouldn't have to look at us. We admired the barnacles on this sunken branch instead.
This heron was also peeved with us. We were hardly chasing him, but he took off three times because he felt that we were a bit too close. Then, of course, when I thought, Oh well, we have to paddle past him, I'll see if I can get a photo of him taking off, he decided to take root and just sat there grumpily.
Sun setting over the mud. (Photo taken from the delightfully firm slipway, hurray for the dinghy club, who I think we can thank for the presence of the gravel.
There were a lot of mudbanks - but that was no bad thing, because we'd hoped to see avocets. And we did! but not close enough to photograph, unfortunately. Still, it was very lovely and quiet, nobody else out on the water at all.
There were birds all over the mudflats, but they looked at us in an offended manner when we floated by, and trotted up onto the mud so they wouldn't have to look at us. We admired the barnacles on this sunken branch instead.
This heron was also peeved with us. We were hardly chasing him, but he took off three times because he felt that we were a bit too close. Then, of course, when I thought, Oh well, we have to paddle past him, I'll see if I can get a photo of him taking off, he decided to take root and just sat there grumpily.
Sun setting over the mud. (Photo taken from the delightfully firm slipway, hurray for the dinghy club, who I think we can thank for the presence of the gravel.
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