Paddleboarding the Esk in North Yorkshire

An unusually hot and sunny Yorkshire afternoon casts a golden hue over the historic town of Whitby, where the River Esk, a vital artery of North Yorkshire, winds its way towards the North Sea. Standing poised on a paddleboard on the tidal section of the Esk, just beyond Whitby’s iconic New Bridge, the juxtaposition of the bustling town and the serene river is striking. The rhythmic flow of cars over the bridge contrasts with the tranquil water below, setting the scene for an immersive journey. The Esk, stretching 28 miles from its source in the North York Moors, holds a unique distinction as Yorkshire’s only major river flowing directly into the North Sea, making it a critical ecological corridor and a cultural landmark.

Ahead, the vibrant marina teems with boats, a testament to Whitby’s enduring maritime spirit. Dominating the skyline is the majestic ruin of Whitby Abbey, an English Heritage site with centuries of history, overlooking the town’s East and West piers. Whitby itself, a magnet for tourists, bustles with visitors drawn to its famous fish and chips, nostalgic amusement arcades, and the rich tapestry of tales woven around Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the voyages of Captain Cook. Come autumn, the town transforms again, hosting the renowned Whitby Goth Weekend, where elaborately costumed enthusiasts parade the cobbled streets, adding another layer to its unique charm.

Yet, on the river, a profound tranquility reigns. The water, a shimmering mirror under the expansive sky, offers unexpected glimpses of nature’s rhythm. A salmon, a symbol of the river’s health, leaps energetically to the right, its silver flash momentarily breaking the surface. Beneath the board, bubbles rise from swaying seaweed, indicating the vibrant aquatic life thriving in the tidal currents. To the left, the verdant riverbank gently reclaims abandoned boats, their weathered forms blending seamlessly into the grassy knolls. For those who venture out on an evening paddle, the scene might be enlivened by the sight of local rowing crews – from Whitby Coastal, Friendship, or Fisherlads – powering their way through the water, a tradition deeply embedded in the town’s sporting heritage.

Launching a paddleboard is conveniently done from the slipway at the far end of the marina back car park, near Coates Marine. For those arriving by public transport, the train and bus stations are just a few minutes’ walk away. The ideal time to embark on this adventure is approximately one and a half hours before high tide, allowing paddlers to navigate the tidal currents as they head right towards the New Bridge and the charming village of Ruswarp. It’s crucial to remain mindful of the tidal nature of this section, as water levels can drop significantly, affecting navigability and access points.

Paddling upstream from Whitby, the river gradually sheds its urban fringe. After soaking in the magnificent views of the harbor and abbey, the journey towards Ruswarp, a couple of miles inland, reveals a different facet of the Esk. The route passes under the imposing Larpool Viaduct, a Victorian marvel of engineering that now carries the 22-mile Cinder Track, a popular route for walkers and cyclists along the former Scarborough & Whitby Railway line. Graceful willow branches dip into the water, providing welcome pockets of shade on a warm day. Swans glide serenely, their white forms contrasting with the emerald banks where shaggy Highland cattle graze nonchalantly in the fields. Hikers can be spotted along the path that runs alongside the river, sharing the peace of the dale.

The author, Jo Moseley, a seasoned paddleboarder and author of "Stand-Up Paddleboarding in Great Britain," recounts first experiencing the Esk with her young sons in 2006. Two decades later, it remains a "peaceful, hidden gem." Ruswarp, a picturesque village, offers another access point for river exploration. Ruswarp Pleasure Boats, a local institution established in 1874, provides kayaks, rowing boats, and paddleboards for hire. For those bringing their own craft, a private jetty is available for a modest £5 fee, a valuable option given the limited river access along this stretch. Free roadside parking and a nearby Arriva number 95 bus stop make it easily accessible. Paddlers can venture upstream to Perry’s Plants garden centre at Briggswath, just before Sleights, before turning back. Along the way, The Waterside restaurant offers a scenic dining spot, and Whitby Wellbeing’s wild sauna provides a unique opportunity for relaxation, allowing family and friends to "eat, sweat or dip while you float along, letting the river carry your worries away." A post-paddle treat from Botham’s in Sleights, famous for its Resolution tea and iced lemon buns, promises a truly "grand paddleboarding day out in Yorkshire."

Wild Camping on the Dart in Devon

Deep within the ancient, granite heart of Dartmoor National Park, a landscape defined by its rugged tors and sweeping moorland, the River Dart begins its captivating journey. Two primal tributaries, the East Dart and West Dart, converge beneath a canopy of ancient woodland at the aptly named hamlet of Dartmeet. From this symbolic junction, the River Dart embarks on a 47-mile odyssey, flowing from the open, exposed moorland into steep, secretive wooded valleys. It traverses diverse ecosystems, from peat bogs and dramatic tors to remnants of ancient oak forest, passing through market towns and rolling pastures before finally embracing the sheltered, tidal waters of the south Devon coast.

The upper reaches of the Dart embody a pristine wildness that is increasingly rare in southern England. Dartmoor National Park is criss-crossed by some of the country’s cleanest bodies of water, supporting thriving populations of Atlantic salmon, sea trout, and elusive otters. The wooded valleys below, often cloaked in perpetual dampness, are precious remnants of ancient temperate rainforest – a globally rare habitat, characterised by a rich profusion of mosses, lichens, and ferns that cling to every surface, testament to centuries of undisturbed growth. The river’s name itself, thought to derive from an old Celtic word meaning "river where oak trees grow," underscores the profound connection between the waterway and its sylvan surroundings, its lower banks indeed lined with native oak, thick with vibrant epiphytes. While Dartmoor may be one of Britain’s smaller protected landscapes, its character is remarkably untamed, and its ethereal beauty is capable of absorbing visitors completely. It’s possible to traverse its breadth on foot in just a few days, yet it remains surprisingly easy to lose oneself in the rolling mists, the twisting woodlands, and the vast, open moorland that defines this mystical region.

This profound sense of untamed freedom is what continually draws the author, Sian Lewis, back to the Dart. Her preferred way to experience it is by stuffing a tent into her rucksack and embarking on a riverside wild camp. Following the Dart and its intricate web of streams and creeks, she seeks out a quiet bend or a secluded grassy bank to spend the night. Falling asleep to the steady, hypnotic rush and rumble of the water is a deep communion with nature. Waking early, she embraces the invigorating chill of a swim in one of the river’s deep, crystal-clear pools, a cleansing ritual before packing up and continuing her walk, leaving no trace of her passage.

This ability to roam and camp freely is largely due to Dartmoor’s unique status: it is the only place in England where wild camping is legally permitted under the Dartmoor Commons Act. Within the national park, "backpack" or wild camping is allowed for one or two nights in designated areas, provided campers adhere strictly to principles of responsible access, staying away from roads and settlements, and, critically, leaving absolutely no trace of their visit. This right, though recently challenged and reaffirmed in court, highlights Dartmoor’s exceptional role in providing access to wilderness in a densely populated country.

Sometimes, the riverbanks offer unexpected company. Lewis recalls huddling in bivouac bags with friends, waking to find themselves covered in sparkling droplets of dew. Another night, camped by the water’s edge, she was roused by what sounded like an "invading army" around her tent, only to discover it was a troop of scouts, gamely pitching flimsy tents by headlamp light after a late arrival. On one memorable dusk, she glimpsed the sleek head of an otter, a true indicator of a healthy river ecosystem, slipping silently into the current. But more often than not, as evening descends and she sits by her tent door, watching the water darken under the vast Dartmoor sky, she has the Dart entirely to herself, a profound solitude in a truly wild landscape.

Fishing on the Dove in the Peak District

In the serene confines of Beresford Dale, nestled on the verdant border of Staffordshire and Derbyshire, the River Dove unfurls its crystalline waters, a sacred place for anglers. The author, Andy Pietrasik, finds himself in a familiar dance of anticipation and strategy. Upstream, a trout rises, its subtle dimple on the surface a clear invitation. He marks the spot – just beyond an overhanging tree branch – and instantly recognizes the challenge: a precise cast without snagging. The river here runs deep, requiring chest waders, but the entry points are tricky, a steep drop to the water. A long, splashy wade upstream would inevitably disturb the fish. Caught in a contemplative loop of indecision, the inherent patience of the angler is tested.

Retreating from the bank, he finds solace on a small peninsula formed by a meander in the river. Here stands not just any fishing hut, but a substantial stone structure, its door framed by classical pillars and bearing the Latin inscription, "Piscatoribus Sacrum" – Sacred to all Fishermen. Carved into the lintel stone is an intertwined cypher: CC and IW, representing Charles Cotton, the poet who built this "little fishing house" on his estate in 1674, and Izaak Walton, the author of the seminal "The Compleat Angler" (1653). Cotton’s later "Instructions how to angle for a trout or grayling in a clear stream" became an essential addition to Walton’s fifth edition, solidifying their collaborative legacy and establishing "The Compleat Angler" as arguably the first technical manual of fly-fishing and one of the most enduringly reprinted books in the English language.

The River Dove, therefore, holds a mythical status, revered as the spiritual home of fly-fishing. For Pietrasik, who grew up on the Staffordshire-Derbyshire border and fished the Dove where it joins the River Trent in his youth, this special status was always palpable. While not immersing himself in 17th-century treatises as a boy, he carried a potent piece of wisdom from an English teacher who fished: the Dove, he was told, is "one of the purest crystalline streams you have seen." This description perfectly encapsulates the river’s essence, even today.

The specific stretch Pietrasik is fishing, known as the Temple beat in homage to Cotton’s fishing house, is a spectacle of nature. The river races and tumbles through a narrow, tree-lined dale, dramatically hemmed in by towering limestone crags, a classic Dovedale landscape. Near the bridge above a section known as the Pike Pool, the sounds of summer are audible – a family splashing and paddling, enjoying the early summer sunshine. The popularity of the area is evident; a well-trodden 4-mile loop from Hartington village draws numerous walkers, making the banks too busy for undisturbed fishing. So, Pietrasik wisely enters the river at the bridge, wading and fishing "the vale it winds through like a snake," until the sight of the rising trout prompts his coffee break and tactical pause.

Later that day, immersed in the hypnotic rhythm of the river, time dissolves. He experiences the quiet satisfaction of catching and carefully releasing a series of small, wild brown trout, a testament to the river’s ecological vitality. Just beyond Cotton’s historic fishing house, someone has carved a large, inviting hollow into the base of a dead oak tree – a perfect, natural hideaway. Here, Pietrasik sits, observing the darting movements of dippers along the banks and the delicate dance of damselflies upon the water’s surface. A little further downstream, a large Hereford cow, a picture of bucolic serenity, drinks from the river, framed by overhanging trees and a verdant, conical hill in the background. The scene, he reflects, is a "pastoral masterpiece," a living echo of the timeless beauty celebrated in "The Compleat Angler." This enduring connection between nature, literature, and the gentle art of fly-fishing makes the Dove an unparalleled experience. Day tickets for the Temple beat can be booked through Fishing Breaks, starting from £65, offering a chance to partake in this rich tradition.

Canoeing the Tay in Perthshire

The River Tay, Scotland’s longest at 117 miles, is also Britain’s mightiest, discharging more water than the combined flows of the longer Thames and Severn. Rising on the rugged slopes of Ben Lui in Argyll, it gathers immense strength from countless Highland burns before widening majestically through Perthshire, eventually reaching the North Sea at Dundee via the expansive Firth of Tay. While its entire length is impressive, it is the middle stretch, from Killin to Dunkeld through the heart of Highland Perthshire, that holds a special place in the author Ailsa Sheldon’s heart.

Killin, a picturesque village at the western end of Loch Tay, has been the setting for countless happy family afternoons – picking wild raspberries, skimming stones, and climbing trees. It was here that her boys summited their first Munro, Ben Lawers, despite reaching the peak shrouded in cloud, an experience they cherished nonetheless. Further along the banks at Lawers and Kenmore, the Tay offers restorative escapes, where the bracing chill of loch swims is famously alternated with the warmth of a hot tub, a preferred form of therapy for Sheldon and her sisters.

Having often walked the riverbanks, Sheldon harbored a curiosity to experience the Tay from a fresh perspective: by canoe. The adventure begins with an early start, a two-hour drive north from Edinburgh to Aberfeldy, for her and her 15-year-old son, Louis. At Beyond Adventure, they are welcomed with coffee and a thorough briefing, before being transferred upriver with two long, orange canoes and their expert instructor, Kevin Meldrum. Their route commences on the tranquil River Lyon, just before its powerful confluence with the Tay. In a calm eddy, they receive a quick, essential lesson in paddling and turning the boat. Louis, over 6ft tall, and Sheldon, less so, initially seemed a recipe for paddling in circles. However, Kevin’s calm guidance proves invaluable, and Louis quickly masters the art of counteracting any erratic paddling from his mother’s side, establishing a harmonious rhythm. They meet the Tay over a gentle rapid, a thrilling introduction to the main river, and begin their downstream journey.

As they settle into the Tay’s powerful rhythm, they learn to read the current and expertly steer around camouflaged anglers patiently waiting for Atlantic salmon, a species of immense ecological and economic importance to the river. Herons stand guard in the shadows, their stoic presence a common sight on these waters. The riverbanks themselves tell a story of change, thanks to the reintroduction of beavers. While the nocturnal creatures themselves remain elusive (emerging at dusk), the evidence of their industrious work is everywhere: stripped bark, felled trees, and meticulously constructed beaver lodges. Paddling into a tree-lined eddy, they pause to admire one such lodge, a testament to the beavers’ successful return and their transformative impact on the riverside ecosystem.

Pulling the canoes ashore on a small, secluded island, they enjoy a well-deserved picnic lunch. It is during this peaceful interlude that a flash of iridescent turquoise catches Sheldon’s eye – her first ever sighting of a kingfisher, a moment of pure, unadulterated natural beauty. Having a knowledgeable guide like Kevin, who knows the river intimately, profoundly enhances the experience. At each stretch of rapids, he sets a clear route, and they navigate each one facing downstream, a blend of exhilaration and newfound confidence. As they approach Aberfeldy on their return, they paddle beneath the historic arches of General Wade’s Bridge, a marvel of 18th-century military engineering that has stood unchanged since its construction in 1733, connecting them to centuries of Scottish history. After three hours on the water, the journey feels all too brief, leaving a sense of reluctant departure. Before heading home, they find a deep, peaty pool for a final, invigorating swim.

Stopping for a well-earned pizza and cold drinks at The Taybank in Dunkeld, a popular spot with a beer garden overlooking the river, Sheldon reflects on her journey. The Tay, she realizes, now looks profoundly different to her. Once experienced from within, having traveled with its currents and witnessed its hidden life, it’s impossible not to wonder what awaits around the next bend, forever changed by the intimate connection forged on the water. Beyond Adventure offers half-day discovery canoeing tours from £63 for adults, £47.25 for children, or £199.50 for a family (two adults, two children).