The River Cam

I awoke before 7am cosy as a clothes moth in a Cashmere jumper wondering why I’d agreed to this extra – early – outing. By the time I’d sunk some coffee and pedalled my bike to the river though, the crisp new day and cloudless sky had renewed my enthusiasm. At the boathouses, Midsummer Common and the River Cam looked especially lovely. Weeping willows were sprouting new leaves and even last year’s signets were thinking of sex.

Low winter sunshine made the swans look particularly pristine as they glided on a mill-pond-still river. I watched one couple approach each other, wings partly unfurled. They dipped their heads in greeting, then chattered beaks together affectionately, uttering low snoring sounds. They rubbed necks and, separating slightly to touch beaks again, their silhouette described a perfect heart shape.

Earlier in February - before that spring-like feel

This really is perfect time to swing an ‘eight’ onto the water and push out into a tranquil river. It takes a while to slot into the harmony of seven others’ strokes, but once that wordless communication has been achieved, it is like a mediation. We can’t think of anything else. It clears the mind of clutter as we power down to Baits Bite Lock.

The Cam at Baits Bite Lock