River Ure, Sleningford Mill, near Ripon.
The Ure, while being very beautiful
Is the most dangerous of rivers.
The water flows off the high moors
causing to Ure to rise quickly,
it catches people unawares.
We first came here in the 1970’s
when our son became a canoeist.
We loved the deep, darkness of the
fast flowing river. It is full of rich
peatiness colouring it brown.
The site where the tents and
caravans parked was dense
with trees, tall grasses and flowers
making it a mysterious wonderland.
small animals and birds abounded.
Now, in 2017, we went for a day
down memory lane when our
active grandson celebrated his
entry into his teenage years by
competing in his first slalom.
The place and the River Ure,
still, has its magic hold over us.
Maybe more bushes line the
riverbanks, the bigger trees
more mature and autumnal.
The canoeing is still the same,
enthusiastic paddlers, even more
enthusiastic parents shepherding
their water-bound children.
A new crop of race officials.
The unseen army of course designers,
the team of people who erect the course.
The kitchen team who feed everyone.
The Judges, who sit on the bank
timing and score the competitors.
It was a special day for us,
a great occasion communing
with our past and delight that
Grandson is following his much
admired Uncle down the River.
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