Are the Egyptians in de-Nile?

Napoleon and I were on our own, as Roy was out with his dad doing some training. I drove up to the moor with peace in the Landy, no great jostling for position, no Roy trying to hang out of the window (which means it open in all weathers), both trying to sit next to me – this time it was just Napoleon sprawled out on the two seats, his head on my lap and snoring gently.

On the moor, there was still a bit of shoving as he wants to be out NOW – I’m much too slow on exit, it’s my bad knee.  Anyway, it was a day of heavy rain and strong winds, I had to wear my cap with earpieces that Geraldine says makes me look by Basil Fawlty, but needs must, it’s warm and waterproof.

As we trekked up the valley, we crossed the stone bridge of local granite that was used to carry the pipeline that took the china clay from the Shannon pit to the drying ovens at Wenford Bridge.

We walked over the bridge and turned left and followed the stream upwards, Napoleon flushing a Snipe, which we talked about in an earlier blog, in the boggy ground.  Mind you, most of the ground is boggy at present.

The stream here is one of the tiny starts for the De Lank river.  The Camel Valley and its major tributaries, the Allen, Ruthven and De Lank are designated Special Sites of Scientific Interest (SSSI) and also forms a Special Area of Conservation.  The De Lank river is only nine miles long, which is really a tiddler in the big picture, but of huge environmental relevance.

This wasn’t fazing Napoleon much as he was pretty sure there were some more pesky Snipe to be sorted out.  The De Lank river has several tributaries and the real start is up the valley nearer to Rough Tor but where we were, we could actually see this part of the river rise from the moor.

Napoleon was less concerned about the geographical interest and the fact that there may be a stone or two under the first little waterfall on the river. But here we were, at the very start of a river – I thought it was pretty cool.  The photo shows the first water flow with a misty Rough Tor in the background.

With my head ducked against the driving rain, I thought about rivers, initially the one trickling down my collar and running down my back, but also the fact that so many people take rivers for granted.

Rivers act as the primary drainage mechanism for the world, they fertilise flood plains, support a host of wildlife, act as transport systems and provide food and energy.  If we look at rivers, some of the statistics are truly remarkable.  Firstly, even today, it’s not clear which river in the longest on Earth.  It comes down to the Amazon or the Nile and there are still disagreements as to which is longer – traditionally the Nile was considered slightly longer, now recent data suggest otherwise (which is why the Egyptians are in De-Nile, ha-ha).  Anyway, both are about 4000 miles long but there the similarity ends.  

The Amazon is simply gigantic by any other measurement.  It discharges 200,000 to 350,000 cubic metres per second (about 50 million gallons a second) - the next river in size, the Congo, discharges 41,000 cubic metres per second and the Nile is a mere trickle, in 93rd place at 2830 cubic meters per second.  If you dip a bucket in the sea 400km off the mouth of the Amazon, you’ll get fresh (ish) water.  It drains an area that is a third of the South American continent, or three quarters the size of Europe.  Even today, there is no bridge over the main river channel.

Rivers create some of our greatest natural features, especially waterfalls.  The highest waterfall in the UK is 200m high – it’s called Eas a' Chual Aluinn, since you ask, located in northern Scotland but the 6km boggy hike and an unpronounceable name don’t help make it a top tourist attraction.  Most of our waterfalls are on relatively small rivers and streams.  One of the most amazing things I’ve been lucky enough to do is visit Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe on many occasions and I would recommend anyone with half a chance to see it should do so.  The local name is Mosi-oa-Tunya – the Smoke that Thunders, far more descriptive than the name David Livingstone, loyal Scot that he was, came up with when he was the first European to gaze on the wonder on the Falls in November 1855, as he still does with a bronze statue positioned at the western end.  

However, he was pretty poetic when he wrote, of that first sight, “No one can imagine the beauty of the view from anything witnessed in England. It had never been seen before by European eyes; but scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight." Today, small private planes fly tourists around the Fallson charters called The Flight of Angels (clever, eh?).

Anyway, the point is that the Falls are pretty much the biggest by overall size – 1700 wide (call it a mile, dammit) and about 100m high.  The bizarre thing is that the rainfall in the headwaters takes three months to reach the Falls, peaking in April, and in October the Falls can be almost dry.  I’ve been lucky enough to lie (bit of vertigo) on the top of the Devil’s Cataract, at the western end, when it’s completely dry.  In full flow, the spray and mist are so intense you get soaked and it supports a small zone of Tropical Rain Forest in the immediate area.

Even without the Falls themselves, it’s always a great place to visit.  The village of Victoria Falls is in Zimbabwe (the river forms the border with Zambia) has world class hotels and when I was working there, we used to go most weekends and it was the PARTY town.  You could go on a booze cruise on the river above the Falls (keep listening to that engine note, George), you can bungy jump off the railway bridge or white water raft through the seven gorges that mark the historic position of the Falls – both of the latter mean you spill your drink, though.

Closer to home, for a small island, we have some incredible rivers – the Dee, the Severn, the Thames.  The Thames must be one of the most famous rivers in the world.  It’s over 200 miles long, it has 200 bridges over it, it has regularly frozen over up to the 19th century, it supplies 2/3 of London’s drinking water and its name means “dark”.  Think of Kings and Queens that have been rowed up and down it, traitors taken to the Tower; it has a Boat Race every year and it has 45 inhabited islands on it.

So, the next time you see, wade in or catch a fish from, a river, just think about what they are all about.  As Ken Dodd said, “I went to the doctor and he said, do you have trouble passing water?, I said well, I go a bit dizzy when I go over a bridge”.

Anyway, as a wet and cold Napoleon and I meandered (river theme, ha-ha) back through the village, we bumped into Jim, from the recent fox and dressing down incident.  Following on from African stories, he told me his latest exploit involved a safari-like episode.  Perhaps deciding foxes were too challenging he has turned his attention to smaller beasts.  The colder Autumn weather has driven many (harmless) spiders indoors and I for one try to reduce Geraldine’s irrational fear by catching them and putting them outside (where they probably hot foot it round to another door).  Jim’s wife, Ginger, isn’t too keen on our 8 legged friends so when he saw a monster in the bathroom, he thought he’d score a few points by disposing of it.

No nasty squirty stuff, no squishing or tissues for Jim.  He decided to haul out his air rifle and dispatch it humanely (or spiderly).  The first slug hit the wall, never mind, I’ll re-paint.  Reload, the next chipped out some grout from the tiles.  Reverting to a John Wayne voice, “Darn it” he said.  The third shot winged him (or legged him, as it were), he fell back, quite theatrically and played dead.  The next Jim looked, it had moved a foot away so, by now six inches away, he managed to complete the deed.

It reminds me of the time, many years ago, we were in South Africa, at a friend’s house, when the kids came running in from the  garden screaming there was a snake.  There was too, a poisonous cobra that was a real danger, but instead of getting a spade or similar, our host fetched an enormous revolver (lots of guns in SA).  With great confidence, he aimed at the snake and succeeded only in knocking a large chunk off the wall and breaking his wrist with the recoil. Simple is best.

For now, we can sleep easier in the village with Hoss Cartwright looking after our safety from these horrendous arachnids.