We drew up the boats at the water’s edge as the sun plummeted towards the horizon. Just in time for a campfire; and facing west, a chance to watch the setting sun turn the whole of the western reaches burnt orange and golden. Drink in hand, we watched in awe as darkness descended and a chill grew across the water. Listening intently as the noises of the day dropped one by one, the intensity of the night-time sounds grew greater; grunts and barks of wildlife echoed and there was the occasional screeching of a female tawny owl. And then we heard it, the plop and plunge of paddles slicing the calm waters as two canoes swished past, rippling through the water in the dying light; making their way homeward, secretively, cloaked of darkness.
Photo copyright Englepip ©