River Dart, Devon: It probably came here for the shoals of grey mullet, but just for a second, it’s more interested in me and my paddleboard
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here’s a lull between the storms, and for the first time in days it’s calm enough to take out my stand-up paddleboard. It’s 7.30am, and on this sheltered tidal creek on the River Dart, the water is barely moving: a gentle pulse in the scum line along the beach is the last gasp of the tide’s energy.
When I join the main course of the Dart, the water state changes. Here the river is thick with leaves and smashed twigs, and it’s moving with purpose. A day’s worth of Dartmoor rain is flowing downstream, encouraged by the tide, which has just begun to ebb. I shorten my stroke, working hard to maintain momentum. My aim is to paddle a couple more masochistic kilometres upriver, then turn and enjoy an effortless glide downstream.
I push on, bent double, lifting my paddle higher in between strokes to avoid the fluted waves. I straighten up for a breather and look behind me. Then freeze: just a few metres away there is a grey seal. It’s following me with casual ease, watching me with its deep, round, black eyes. It’s common to see seals on this stretch of the Dart, where they follow grey mullet shoals as far upstream as Totnes. But I’ve never come as close to one as this.
