Keir Royale

An expedition is never the same without losing someone.
In this case, we lost an adult and four children - temporarily.

We hoped the adult was with the four children, but as it transpired, he was with the three younger ones.

It was a Hash Walk, commonly known as Whingers’ Walk, as whenever one is organised someone always complains about the way it’s organised, the weather, the location or the food.

As there were some four, five and six year olds in the party, it was inevitable that one of them would moan about the concept of putting one foot in front of the other for longer than it takes to get to the car.

And I guess the lone lost child could have offered a small whinge. As it was, once found, he put a brave face on it and stuck his nose a little deeper into his Harry Potter book.

But there could be no complaints about the weather (glorious) the location (the stunningly beautiful Tamar Valley) or the food (I can recommend lunch at The Plough in Bere Ferrers).

It was the walk from Bere Alston train station to the Calstock ferry that was our undoing.

With children ranging in age from four to twelve, there’s a big difference in pace.
There are the loiterers at the back who have to stop to peer at every fallen twig, and the advance party who run on ahead, waving sticks and hollering.

Ben was one of the loiterers (unusually for him) so I waited to check he was within sight.
As I stood, he and his friend sped past me and joined the advance party. I knew Mike was at the front, so I carried on walking with Hannah.

When we reached the ferry, which docks at a derelict-looking wooden pontoon with not a sign in sight, we discovered the advance party had not arrived.

We searched, we shouted, we checked our mobiles.
No service. Of course not, it’s a deep valley in the middle of the countryside.
All the mobile phone companies have deemed it commercially unviable to provide a mobile phone service to a few sheep.

What to do.
I was with Hannah, and I was hoping Mike was with Ben.
A friend had one son, but not the other.
Another had her daughter, but not her two sons.

As the ferry couldn’t take all of us together, we left three adults to search for the missing five, and the rest of us headed for Cotehele quay. where we ate ice cream and hoped for the best.

45 minutes later the next ferry yielded the rest of the party - searchers and searchees all accounted for. But my concern, that Mike may not have realised he was the only adult with four children, had been well-founded.

He’d been rushing to keep up with the younger three, who were running ahead with sticks, while the lone Harry Potter fan was left between the two parties. The lad, older and more sensible than the rest, stayed put and was easily found.
But, already a reluctant participant in outdoor pursuits, he now has an effective counter-argument next time his parents suggest a walk in the country.

It transpired that Mike and the three younger ones walked straight past the pile of wooden planks propping each other up at the edge of the river, not recognising them as a ferry terminal.
Easily done, given the absence of signs saying “FERRY“.
They ended up walking half way to Cotehele before realising their error and turning back.

So - extra exercise for the ones who don’t stay with the group… a useful lesson?
No.

On the next leg of the walk - from Cotehele to Calstock - Mr I-Don’t-Wait-for-Anyone-Mike was again way ahead of the rest of the party, fortunately without any children this time.

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