The warm weather continues.
A single day when the temperature gets into the upper 20s Celsius here is notable but we have now had 5 or 6 on the trot and today is set to best those again. More remarkable is the lack of a breeze. Geographically speaking the North Atlantic is just over there and then it’s 3000 miles of open water such that weather and wind is the normal order of the day. But again, the day has dawned breathless.
Walking down the track through the redwoods I startle a squirrel which makes off with that zig-zagging tail flicking run they do to confuse predators and then claws a tattoo staccato on soft bark and is gone aloft.
The river level is dropping day-by-day, so there is not even the usual chatter of the water to carry through the trees and stepping carefully down the tree roots to the bank the water is even more mirror like than yesterday. Clearer too, that and I am 15 minutes earlier today so I am catching the sunshine that has not yet swung away from the rope swing, but shafts down into the deepest part of the river, picking out the scoops of golden sand between the dark rocks. The smooth water slides up my leg as though I am pushing my foot through some sort of membrane. Lazy concentric circles spread until the reflections begin to bounce back from the bank, colliding and jumbling the surface.
Birds flit and dart, a wagtail skitters down to the stones I have just vacated and jitters nervously almost as if it doesn’t actually want its feet in contact with the ground. High above a seagull heads up river with a squawk, whilst a pigeon zooms fat breasted over my head away downstream. The shallows by the rapids are filled with flitting fish.
The gaggle of ducks upstream by the shallows corrals and keeps a distance from my slow progress against the current. Finally they divide, the 2 males are not in the least bit concerned and seem almost to be asleep just gliding away from me at the last moment. Meanwhile the mother duck shepherds her flock of 4 well grown young to the far bank beneath an overhanging branch, she stands erect in the water keeping both eyes on me whilst the young are penned, but are otherwise nonchalant. Close by a dipper stands perfectly still on a stone in the shallows of the splashing river.
The current sweeps me back to the pool where a solitary duckling, younger then the others I have just seen and still with ragged downy feathers, peeps forlornly. One duckling on its own with no mother is not a good sign but she seems able enough and forages amongst the riverside plants.
Swimming back up to the top of the pool the male ducks still don’t care and mum and ducklings are happy to watch me sweep down in the current once more, this time floating on my back in the dappled sunlight. Of which there is a lot less now. Half an hour and the pool is now half in shade and the water is now dark and mysterious.
I have just picked up my towel when there is a splash by the bank nearby and a kingfisher flits onto a tree branch, adjusts its breakfast in its beak and then whirls across the water and into a tree on the far bank. I continue to drip and watch. The bird flits down to a log resting in shallow water and then begins an aerial ‘battle’ with a second, each darting from its perch to displace the other only in turn to be displaced. They go round and round for a few moments and then shoot away downstream.
And so the day begins, heralded in by the 8 o’clock clanging of the church bell as I walk back to the car.