Down-river to the sea, the sun was setting over these Devon hills. A couple of miles, then I turned to face the moon, full and high. Up-river now, guided by a silvery light, to the weir at the tidal limit. An occasional hooting owl, a rustling in the reeds, but otherwise a beautiful stillness, the water mirror-calm. Two hours on and I was back at the slipway. Not another soul from start to finish.