Ahead of me is a bustling marina, the famous abbey<\/a> and the West and East piers. The town is full to the brim with visitors in search of the best fish and chips, amusement arcades and tales of Dracula<\/a> and Captain Cook<\/a>. Later, in the autumn, goths<\/a> in their finery will parade the cobbled streets.<\/p>\n Here on the river, however, it is tranquil. A salmon leaps from the water to my right, bubbles rise from the seaweed beneath my board, and to\u00a0my left, the riverbank absorbs abandoned boats into its grassy knolls. On an evening paddle, you might spot the crews from one of the\u00a0town\u2019s three main rowing clubs\u00a0(Whitby Coastal<\/a>, Friendship<\/a> or\u00a0Fisherlads<\/a>).<\/p>\n A few miles inland from Whitby, the Esk passes under the Larpool Viaduct. Photograph: Maciej Olszewski\/Alamy<\/p>\n You can launch from the slipway at the far end of the marina back car park near Coates Marine. Arriving by train or bus, it\u2019s a few minutes\u2019 walk from the station. Launch about one and a half hours before high tide and head right towards the New Bridge and Ruswarp. Be mindful, this section of the river is tidal and water levels do drop.<\/p>\n After taking in the magnificent view, I turn and paddle towards Ruswarp, a couple of miles inland, passing under the Larpool Viaduct, which carries the 22-mile Cinder Track<\/a>. Branches of willow trees droop elegantly into the water offering welcome shade. Swans glide past and Highland cattle graze nonchalantly in the fields. A couple hike the path that runs alongside the river.<\/p>\n double quotation markI first paddled on the Esk with my young sons in 2006. Twenty years later, it still remains a peaceful, hidden gem<\/p>\n I first paddled on the Esk with my young sons in 2006. Twenty years later, it still remains a peaceful, hidden gem. We hired kayaks from Ruswarp Pleasure Boats<\/a> (established 1874) just above the weir, which also rents rowing boats and now paddleboards. For a \u00a35 fee, it offers a private jetty to launch your own craft, which is ideal as access to the river is very limited along this stretch. There is free parking on the roadside here, and with the number 95 bus<\/a> stop (Arriva) nearby, public transport is an option. Paddle up to Perry\u2019s Plants<\/a> garden centre at Briggswath just before Sleights and then turn back.<\/p>\n You\u2019ll pass the Waterside restaurant<\/a> and Whitby Wellbeing\u2019s wild sauna<\/a> along the way, so family and friends can eat, sweat or dip while you float along, letting the river carry your worries away. Afterwards, nip to Botham\u2019s<\/a> in Sleights for some Resolution tea and lovely iced lemon buns. I promise, it\u2019ll be a grand paddleboarding day out in Yorkshire. Wild camping on the Dart in\u00a0DevonSian Lewis wild camping next to the River Dart. Photograph: Sian Lewis<\/p>\n On the uplands of Dartmoor, two tributaries \u2013 the East Dart and West Dart \u2013 join beneath ancient woodland at the well-named hamlet of Dartmeet. They entwine as the River Dart, which flows for 47 miles from open moor into steep wooded valleys and passes peat bogs and tors, oak forest, market towns and rolling pasture before it runs into the sheltered waters of the south Devon coast.<\/p>\n Its upper reaches retain a pristine wildness that feels increasingly rare in southern England. The Dartmoor national park is criss-crossed by some of the cleanest bodies of water in the country, home to salmon, sea trout and otters, while the wooded valleys below are rich remnants of ancient temperate rainforest.<\/p>\n The Dart\u2019s name is thought to derive from an old Celtic word meaning \u201criver where oak trees grow\u201d, and the lower banks are indeed lined with native oak trees, thick with mosses and ferns. It may be one of Britain\u2019s smaller protected landscapes, but Dartmoor feels remarkably untamed. You can cross it on foot in a\u00a0few days, yet it\u2019s surprisingly easy to\u00a0lose yourself in the rolling mists, twisting woodlands and miles of open moorland of this ethereal landscape.<\/p>\n The River Dart runs past tors in the Dartmoor national park. Photograph: Maciej Olszewski\/Alamy<\/p>\n It\u2019s that sense of freedom that keeps drawing me back. I love nothing more than stuffing a tent into my rucksack and heading out on foot for a riverside camp, following the Dart and its web of streams and creeks until I find a quiet bend or grassy bank for the night. I fall asleep to the steady rush and rumble of the water and wake up early for a swim in one of its deep, crystal-clear pools before packing up and walking on.<\/p>\n I can roam about like this because Dartmoor is the only place in England<\/a> where wild camping is legally permitted. In the national park, \u201cbackpack\u201d, or wild camping, is allowed for one or two nights in some areas, provided you stay away from roads and settlements and leave no trace of\u00a0your visit.<\/p>\n Sometimes, I have company on the riverbanks. I\u2019ve huddled in bivouac bags with friends and woken totally covered in sparkling droplets of dew. I\u2019ve\u00a0camped on the water\u2019s edge and woken in the middle of the night to what sounded like an invading army around my tent. It turned out to be a troop of scouts, arriving spectacularly late at their campsite and gamely pitching flimsy-looking tents by the light of their headlamps. And once, at dusk, I think I glimpsed the sleek head of an otter slipping into the current. But more often than not, once evening falls and I sit by the door of my tent watching the water darken, I have the Dart all to myself. Fishing on the Dove in\u00a0the\u00a0Peak DistrictAndy Pietrasik considers his tactics beside the Dove. Photograph: Andy Pietrasik<\/p>\n There\u2019s a trout rising upstream from where I am standing on the bank of the River Dove in Beresford Dale, on the border of Staffordshire and Derbyshire. I mark the spot \u2013 just beyond that overhanging tree branch \u2013 and rue the fact that it will make casting a fly without getting snagged tricky. I need to get into the river and wade over to the other bank for a clear shot. But it\u2019s a steep drop to the water and the pools look deep in this stretch; deep enough to go over my chest waders. I walk back downstream to a spot where I can safely enter the fast-flowing river, but realise it\u2019s going to be a long wade upstream. Too long and splashy, which will disturb any fish and scatter them. So, I get out again and walk back to where I first spotted the feeding trout. I am caught in indecision, and repeat this pattern several times before giving up on this particular quarry.<\/p>\n The meander at this section of the river has formed a little peninsula, and standing in the middle of it is a fishing hut, where I go to drink a coffee and consider my tactics. This isn\u2019t any old fishing hut, however. This one is a substantial structure, built from stone, with pillars framing the door and with an inscription in Latin, \u201cPiscatoribus Sacrum\u201d (Sacred to all Fishermen).<\/p>\n The \u2018little fishing house\u2019 constructed on a peninsula in the Dove by the poet Charles Cotton. Photograph: Andy Pietrasik<\/p>\n In the lintel stone is a cypher of intertwined letters: CC and IW, for Charles Cotton, the poet who built this \u201clittle fishing house\u201d on his estate in 1674, and Izaak Walton, who wrote The Compleat Angler in 1653. Cotton added \u201cInstructions how to angle for a trout or grayling in a clear stream\u201d to accompany the fifth edition of Walton\u2019s book, considered to be the first technical manual of fly-fishing and one of the most reprinted books in the English language.<\/p>\n The River Dove is the spiritual home of fly-fishing because of Walton and Cotton, and it still holds a mythical place in fishers\u2019 minds. As someone who grew up on the Staffordshire-Derbyshire border, and fished the Dove where it joins the River Trent at Newton Solney in my youth, I was well aware of the river\u2019s special status. But, at that age, I wasn\u2019t about to give myself the extra homework of reading a 17th-century treatise on fishing and nature. Instead, an English teacher who fished furnished me with the only line I needed to know: \u201cyou will find it one of the purest crystalline streams you have seen.\u201d<\/p>\n double quotation markThe River Dove is the spiritual home of fly-fishing because of Walton and Cotton, and it still holds a mythical place in fishers\u2019 minds<\/p>\n The stretch of the Dove I\u2019m fishing \u2013 called the Temple beat after Cotton\u2019s fishing house \u2013 races and tumbles through a narrow tree-lined dale hemmed in by limestone crags. Near the bridge above a section known as the Pike Pool, a family is splashing and paddling in the early summer sunshine. There\u2019s a popular 4-mile loop that starts at Hartington village, and the path is too busy with walkers to fish, so I enter the river at the bridge and wade and fish \u201cthe vale it winds through like a snake\u201d until I spot the rising trout and stop for my coffee break.<\/p>\n Later that day, I lose all sense of time in the hypnotic flow of catching and releasing a series of small wild brown trout. Just beyond the fishing house, someone has carved a large hole into the base of a dead oak tree, the perfect place to sit and watch dippers skit along the banks and damselflies dance upon the surface. A\u00a0little further on, a large Hereford cow is drinking from the river, framed by overhanging trees and with a verdant conical hill in the background. The scene strikes me as being a pastoral masterpiece, much like The\u00a0Compleat Angler. A day ticket on the Temple beat can be booked through Fishing Breaks from \u00a365<\/p>\n skip past newsletter promotion<\/a>Free newsletter | Twice a week<\/p>\n Sign up to The Traveller<\/p>\n Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays<\/p>\n after newsletter promotion<\/p>\n Sourcing the Severn and\u00a0Wye in mid-WalesKevin Rushby and Stevie: the Severn gets a finer \u2018start in life\u2019 than the Wye. Photograph: Kevin Rushby<\/p>\n It will prove to be the best of hikes, and in some ways the worst. I start out early from Eisteddfa Gurig on the A44, hoping to get going while the day is cool. My plan is to visit the sources of two of Britain\u2019s greatest rivers \u2013 the Severn and the Wye which, by a fluke of geography, lie a couple of miles apart on a mountain ridge in mid-Wales.<\/p>\n The path leads me up Pumlumon Fawr, a 752-metre (2,467ft) massif with magnificent views to the Irish Sea. The day is scorching hot and the bald sheep-nipped hills look only an inch of topsoil away from becoming a desert. Of the two rivers, the Severn gets the finer start in life. There is a marker post next to a deep, dark pool of water that is being squeezed from the bog. In\u00a0ancient times, humans worshipped springs, but there are no garlands here, only a few sea shells carried upstream by hikers from the Bristol Channel on the 224-mile (360km) Severn Way<\/a>.<\/p>\n double quotation markA short walk downstream brings me into a deep valley where the Severn, already gathering force, bounces through ferny glades<\/p>\n A short walk downstream brings me into a deep valley where the Severn, already gathering force, bounces through ferny glades. It feels as if someone is caring for this river, determined to give it a good start in life. There is a useful car park<\/a> further down the valley, but I cut away through the forest to find the origin of its twin, the Wye.<\/p>\n I have hopes of a dip in a mountain pool, but there are misgivings. Arguably the loveliest river in Britain, the Wye has been hitting headlines for a severe decline in water quality<\/a>. Dead salmon have been found, algal blooms reported<\/a>. Campaigners, however, have scored a major victory in creating a charter of rights<\/a>, including the right to flow and be free of pollution. Significant authorities, including Powys and Herefordshire, have adopted it. There is hope.<\/p>\n A footbridge over the River Severn in Hafren forest, close to the river\u2019s source. Photograph: Maddie Red\/Alamy<\/p>\n The first omen is the defunct Nant Iago lead mine<\/a>, a reminder that human impact on the environment is nothing new. Government statistics show that about 900 miles (1,500km) of our rivers and estuaries are still contaminated by 19th-century mines<\/a>. I skirt around the old workings and walk up the valley. In the wrinkles of this hillside, the Wye has a moorland birth, a harsh ordeal. No sooner has the clean, bright water started out than it\u2019s being crapped in by sheep and messed about by humans. Any thought of a dip in a pool, or even a sip from the source, is brutally quashed.<\/p>\n The moorland\/forested contrast with the Severn is not unplanned: scientists have been controlling and assessing<\/a> these non-identical twins since a time when flood risks and algal blooms were not issues. Whatever their conclusions, however, our expectations of rivers remain pitifully low. In 17th-century Britain, by contrast, salmon were so plentifully available for people to fish for themselves that there was little market for them<\/a>.<\/p>\n I carry on down the Wye Valley Walk<\/a>, a 136-mile route whose leaping salmon logo is looking sadly inappropriate. After a few miles, I turn west up a side stream that has a toxic reddish tint. Only a Martian would take a dip. This has become a grim trudge, but finally, up a side valley, I stumble on deep pools alive with tiny frogs. Spruce and pine have been planted. There are orchids and bog asphodels. Then, a magnificent golden-ringed dragonfly<\/a> settles next to me. My spirits are restored. Maybe the Wye can bounce back. I set off for nearby Llangurig<\/a> where there\u2019s a pub, the Bluebell Inn,<\/a> and a tearoom<\/a>. Canoeing the Tay in\u00a0PerthshireAilsa Sheldon and her teenage son canoe the Tay.<\/p>\n The Tay is Scotland\u2019s longest river (117 miles) and Britain\u2019s mightiest, discharging more water than the longer Thames and Severn combined. Rising on the slopes of Ben Lui in Argyll, gathering strength from Highland burns before widening through Perthshire and eventually reaching the North Sea at Dundee.<\/p>\n It\u2019s the middle stretch, from Killin to Dunkeld through Highland Perthshire, that I love best. At Killin, we\u2019ve happily lost whole afternoons to picking wild raspberries, skimming stones and climbing trees. My boys climbed their first Munro here, Ben Lawers, when their legs were much shorter. We should have had beautiful loch views from the top, but reached the summit in cloud instead. They loved it.<\/p>\n Further along the banks at Lawers and Kenmore is where my sisters and I head for restorative escapes: alternating freezing loch swims with a hot tub has become our preferred form of therapy.<\/p>\n double quotation markWe pull the canoes ashore on a little island for a picnic, and as we eat our sandwiches, there\u2019s a flash of iridescent turquoise<\/p>\n I\u2019ve often walked by the river, but was curious to see it from a different angle: by canoe. Aberfeldy is a two-hour drive north from Edinburgh, so it\u2019s an early start for me and my son Louis, 15. We\u2019re welcomed at Beyond Adventure <\/a> with coffee and a briefing, then transferred upriver with two long orange canoes and our instructor, Kevin Meldrum.<\/p>\n Our route begins on the River Lyon<\/a> just before its confluence with the Tay. In this calm eddy, we get a quick lesson in paddling and turning the boat. Louis is 6ft-plus and I am not, which seemed a recipe for paddling in circles. Kevin keeps us right, and Louis soon learns to calmly counteract any erratic paddling on my side. We meet the Tay over a gentle rapid and begin paddling downstream. We settle into the river\u2019s rhythm, learning to read the current and steer around camouflaged anglers patiently waiting for salmon, and spotting herons standing guard in the shadows.<\/p>\n Kingfishers can sometimes be spotted on the banks of the Tay. Photograph: Alex Cooper\/Alamy<\/p>\n The banks of the Tay are changing, thanks to the returning beaver population. We don\u2019t spot any (they emerge at dusk), but we do see evidence of stripped bark and felled trees by the river. Paddling into a tree-lined eddy, we admire a carefully constructed beaver lodge.<\/p>\n We pull the canoes ashore on a little island for a picnic lunch, and as we eat our sandwiches, there\u2019s a flash of iridescent turquoise. My first ever sighting of a kingfisher.<\/p>\n It\u2019s great to be on the water with a guide who knows the river so well. At each stretch of rapids, we\u2019re set a route, and navigate each one facing downstream, still smiling. As we return to Aberfeldy, we paddle under General Wade\u2019s Bridge<\/a>, unchanged since it was built in 1733. We\u2019ve been on the water for three hours, but it feels all too soon when we approach the Beyond Adventure base. Reluctant to leave, we find a deep, peaty pool for a swim.<\/p>\n Heading home, we stop for a pizza (a teenage second lunch) and cold drinks at The Taybank<\/a> in Dunkeld. Watching the Tay flow past the beer garden, I realise the river looks different to me now. Once you\u2019ve travelled with it, it\u2019s hard not to wonder what\u2019s waiting around the next bend.
Jo Moseley is the author of Stand-Up Paddleboarding in Great Britain<\/a><\/p>\n
Sian Lewis<\/p>\n
Andy Pietrasik<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/1782977709_429_500.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
Kevin Rushby<\/p>\n
Ailsa Sheldon
Beyond Adventure<\/a> offers half-day discovery canoeing tours from \u00a363 adults, \u00a347.25 children, \u00a3199.50 for a\u00a0family (two adults, two children)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Paddleboarding the Esk in\u00a0North Yorkshire It\u2019s early afternoon on an unusually hot and sunny Yorkshire day. I\u2019m standing…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":732289,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[59,57,58,50,56,54,55],"class_list":["post-732288","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-united-kingdom","tag-gb","tag-great-britain","tag-greatbritain","tag-news","tag-uk","tag-united-kingdom","tag-unitedkingdom"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/732288","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=732288"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/732288\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/732289"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=732288"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=732288"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=732288"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}