I'm not quite the subject of the old Lemonheads' song – Always had a roof above me / Always paid the rent / I've never set foot inside a tent / Can't build a fire to save my life / I lied about being the outdoor type – but I'm not far off. The idea of camping and canoeing appeals rather more than actually doing it, and combining the two – with some fire-making thrown in – sounds like a wild adventure too far.
But the prospect of exploring a little-known stretch of Norfolk river while my camping equipment is dropped off ahead at the campsite, then getting a lift back to my car at the end, appeared to be the perfect blend of adventure and convenience.
And that is how I found myself hurtling on floodwater towards a footbridge that seemed far too low to pass underneath. With a wobble and a shimmy, I limboed backwards in my canoe, nose brushing against the bridge, to shoot safely out the other side like an ungainly, oversized Poohstick.
On the first morning, I was dropped into the river Bure by the pretty market town of Aylsham. The plan was to follow it for 10 miles to my campsite for the night, with another six miles the next day to the bustling village of Wroxham in the heart of the Norfolk Broads.
Travelling by canoe is a revelation, like looking at the world upside down; familiar places appear completely strange. Any notion that all of southern Britain is an overcrowded suburban place was dispelled by the first 90 minutes of paddling, during which I passed under one road, heard one tractor and saw no one. Instead, I was carried down a completely unspoilt valley of water meadows and yellow flag irises, with a new heron every 500 metres.
Later that afternoon, I pulled my canoe on to the bank alongside a small spruce plantation in the middle of nowhere. It was time to learn some bushcraft with my "Canoe Man" guide Simon "Munki" Drewery, a long-armed young man who could make rope from nettles and conjure fire from nothing. We lit a fire, then foraged some watercress while Munki cooked sardines, caught from the river Tesco, as he called it with a straight face.
As dusk fell, he taught me useful knots, how to erect a tarpaulin and how to make fire in nine different ways (without matches or lighters). Best of all, he gave me his den in the woods for the night.
I slept under his lean-to of leaves, on a bed of spruce, and it was considerably more comfortable than my tent. However, anyone who claims to sleep well when wild camping is a liar. I was woken at 4.30am by deafening cuckoos and the tractor rush hour, which starts early in these parts.
We think of our coast as a kind of common land (even though it isn't) but our riverside has been out-of-bounds for centuries. Almost all riverside is privately owned and most is inaccessible. In places, anglers have annexed enormous stretches and canoeists face a fight to open up new waters. On the Bure, fortunately, TheCanoeMan has worked with enlightened private landowners willing to provide crucial access to the river bank where "portage" – dragging your canoe over a field to avoid a weir or watermill, for instance – is required.
Apart from the tranquillity and the wildlife, I discovered one rather more guilty pleasure in canoeing: seeing all this private land exposed from our new vantage point on the water. I floated silently past all kinds of amazing riverside homes – old manor houses, tiny cottages, boathouses and mysterious creeks, and ogled, like a particularly inquisitive fish, at the secret riches of waterside life.
TheCanoeMan runs canoe camping trails on the Rivers Bure, Ant and Waveney in Norfolk and Suffolk, with wild camping along the riverside. thecanoeman.com, 0845 496 9177
Three great canoeing spots
• The two-day Discover Canoeing course at Plas Y Brenin, Snowdonia, is a good place to start www.pyb.co.uk
• Or try a private lesson in the New Forest – all equipment provided
liquidlogistics.co.uk
• If you'd like to take it further, Kim Bull, an experienced canoeist, can tutor you on the river Tyne in Northumberland
kimbull.co.uk
