As is often the case when travelling with small children the peace was short-lived, and before long I found myself wading through the aforementioned river in order to carry Harrison and Dorothy onto a small island that the icy waters flowed around. Shafts of late afternoon sunshine penetrated the canopy above, covering the rippling water’s surface with flecks of magnificent light. As we sat there throwing pebbles downstream, the wider world faded away, gone were the thoughts and concerns that had filled my mind about the state of the world, replaced by a simply joy and freedom that I, and so many others, had so desperately missed in recent months.
We learnt very quickly that when travelling with young children it is best to not have too many plans, something we took to the extreme with this trip by not having any plans at all. Instead we were content to let the days unfold, act on a whim and enjoy just being away and, unlike most of our trips, not being on the move for some crazy adventure or cycling challenge. This approach soon paid dividends, as by exploring the campsite fully we found that a public footpath ran through the back, leading up through a quiet woodland strewn with wildflowers to the most majestic waterfall.