As mentioned in Rogers earlier blog we had set up camp towards the end of the 12th on the marshy Otter estuary .
It had been what seemed a long day and we were both eager to stop and were both carrying an extra 2litre of water adding to the weight of already heavy packs, thus adding to the want to stop asap.
From the start we felt the site was questionable, seeing as it was close to a popular dog walkers path, along with the fact we did not know if the estuary was tidal or if our pitch site was at risk of flooding.It was a concern but our need to stop dismissed it.
We got everything out as usual, and the ground appeared to be relatively dry with grass looking healthy and thick ,indicating that this pitch area was not accustom to often flooding .However the worry remained and we checked a gully near the tent to alert us to any rise in tide. I checked just before going to sleep at around 9 and all seemed fine, in fact the water in the gully seemed lower .
I fell asleep but didn't sleep well waking up at about 2 ,mainly out of paranoia of a flood but fell asleep again quickly , comforted by the fact we were still dry .
A tingle at first on the side of my pelvis. This is what I had been dreading, however ,at first I hoped it was just pins and needles from laying on my side, unsure I quickly reached down to check... my finger tips touched cold water! I pulled down the sleeping bag and roused Rog. "Water, there's water!", "Where?!?" ,"WHERE DO YOU THINK!".
the next 15 minures was pure, cold, dark mayhem . As explained in Rog's earlier blog.
I was confused and tired, almost half wondering if it was a dream .
No such luck! Stumbling about in 6 inches of cold water at 4 in the morning is not the best way to wake up !
All our gear was eventually transported to higher ground, everything piled into sopping backpacks and the blue rubble bags we usually wrap sleeping bags and clothes in.
Once everything was safe we started to lay out everything on our carry mats . It was a disaster zone, everything was saturated, clothes sleeping bags, damp books and water was even in my head torch which amazingly still worked after being visibly full of water in the lense.
We clad ourselves in water proofs and hats to stay warm and proceeded to ring stuff out and set about restuffing our packs in more orderly fashion. The dampness of everything added greatly to the weight, but we donned our packs and began to trudge the path to Sidmouth, water still slopping in out boots. Our feet were so, so cold and numb, "like walking on stumps 'as Rog said. But warmed up eventually after while.
At first we attempted a short cut along track through a farm complex lit only with dim orange lights, the dark meant we could not see a way through as shown on the map, so we quickly retreated to the original path, afraid of waking some angry farmer.
We trudged on, the path was luckily reasonably unchallenging, which was good seeing as the only light we had were our water logged head torches. After a while the sun began to rise, a stunning vista of orangey scarlet light shining off the sea, allowing us to see more clearly.
Me and Roger discussed the crisis that still lingered in the heavy packs and damp trousers as we walked, recalling what happened and laughing at our own stupidity and
"It's good to spice things up abit I spose"
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