Scorpion's Tale

I lay absolutely still, as I could hear the footsteps coming closer, to the boat. It had just stopped rocking as a result of my boarding.

“I am sure I saw something moving close to the ground.” It was a female voice.

“I didn’t see anything,” replied a male voice “it was probably a fox. Anyway why do only the ‘special’ constables have to walk the river paths, whilst the regulars swan around in their warm patrol cars?”

“Oh shut up, will you? There’s a message coming through on the radio.” The older female officer listened to the static enhanced message. “We’re to return to the station. Someone has been spotted on the golf course towards the M11, and they are bringing in dog-handlers to help with the search.”

“Thank goodness for that. I want a cup of tea and my bed,” was the response from the male officer.

“Ok, I suppose we better go then,” the female officer replied, and I heard footsteps walking off into the distance.

It was only a temporary respite, as I knew the dogs would very soon pick up my trail. I needed to get under way as soon as possible, but something stopped me from returning to the river path, and continuing my flight. I was becoming accustomed to the darkness and could see something lighter than the surroundings by my feet. I reached down to touch it, and as I did so I heard the faint static of a radio. One or both of the police officers were still close by. I sat motionless on the floor of the cabin. I stayed like that hardly daring to breathe, and after about fifteen minutes I heard footsteps walk away for a second time. My place of refuge had now become my prison and I needed to escape. The object at my feet was an oar of a kayak, which gave me an idea, because the police dogs would not be able to track me on the river. I knew the River Stort led into the River Lea, and the waterways connected into the canals of East London. If I took the narrow boat it would be noticed, and I had never navigated one previously, but a kayak was another matter.

Very quietly I made my way out of the cabin into the cockpit and slowly peered through an eyelet of the tarpaulin. I couldn’t see anyone, but my vision was restricted. I climbed out from under the tarpaulin, nothing happened! There was no-one standing on the path ready to arrest me, and I could hear the police sirens some way away from where I was now. I saw the kayak lashed to the top of the narrow boat and within a few seconds I had it on the river path. I returned to the narrow boat and retrieved the oar plus a dark green waterproof. My ski jacket would keep me warm, but it wasn’t water proof, and I felt sure my rusty kayak skills would result in me shipping a lot of water.

The recent rain meant the river level was quite high, so getting into the kayak was not a problem, although I was quite clumsy when I climbed in myself. There was a spray cover stuffed down the front of the kayak, which I fitted around my midriff, before attaching it to the kayak. It was very dark on the water, with the clouds keeping any light from the moon well hidden, so the diffused street lighting was my only guide. I started paddling slowly because I wanted to keep close to the river bank, to avoid going in circles.

I was surprised how quickly and easily I was moving down river, the effort required to keep the kayak at a reasonable pace was minimal, as I was being aided by the river itself. The rains that accompanied the earlier storm had swollen the river which was flowing swiftly.

My confidence took a battering in less than ten minutes, when my route on the river was halted by a dead end. It was spooky on the river. It was quiet and very dark so I could not see what was preventing my passage. I could hear water passing me by and I wondered if I had paddled into a dyke of some sorts. I had to try and see where I was, so I turned on Tony’s mobile phone, using the light cast by the screen to faintly illuminate my whereabouts. Even with the merest light I could see what was blocking my passage. I had come to a lock across the river. I turned the kayak around and came to steps close by the lock, probably for narrow boat users, so that they could climb up to the river bank to operate the lock. I released the spray cover and grabbed the steps, hauling myself out of the kayak, careful to put the oar inside as I exited the kayak.

Once on the river bank I pulled the kayak out of the water, I then walked around the lock carrying the kayak with me. Before I left the lock I quickly studied the map nearby, again I used the faint light of Tony’s mobile, and it showed the navigation of the river as it led into the canals of London. I was at the South Mill Lock, and I counted that there were another fourteen locks to negotiate before I reached the River Lea, near Rye House in Hoddesdon.

Back on the water, it was under fifteen minutes when I reached the second lock at Twyford, and went through the same procedure as at the first lock. I found it tiring climbing in and out of the kayak, and I wondered if walking would be a better option. The tiredness was probably exacerbated by the fact I had not eaten for many hours.