A Relaxing Day at the River: Hampshire's River Itchen

Rivers are a gift to the land, drawn to the sea from all corners of the country - meandering and flowing over rocks, through woods, grassland and sometimes ancient villages that had built up around them.

I have never visited a place as captivating and relaxing as the River Itchen in Hampshire.

A beautiful August day provided the perfect setting. Peering over the mature stone bridge, I knew I must get inside this most picturesque scene.

A narrow, almost uninterrupted path led to the low banks of the river. The constant swishing, gurgling noise drew me closer to a small observation site that stretched half way across its breadth.

Taking off my shoes and socks, I sat down, timidly submerged my feet in the water, and began to be drawn into the serenity of the surroundings.

Never before had I seen such crystal clarity in a stretch of water. Being a chalk stream, the Itchen, I knew from past reading, would have rich, green low banks and water as clear as that from a tap.

I could never have imagined, however, how enraptured I would be sitting amidst one of its gurgling streams. The almost constant stir was infinitely pleasing and somewhat enchanting.

Rushing over a pebbly bottom and streaming over green weeds that moved like swaying arms, the water created an intense, yet calming atmosphere.

In the background, hidden out of sight, ran a water wheel. Its euphonic sound led me gently into a meditative state. Ahead of me, the stream meandered out of sight, leaving it to my imagination as to what lay beyond. To the right, a sun scorched field spread into the horizon. To my left stood a rambling cottage, partially clothed in a patchwork of lush foliage that was catching shards of light and creating a spectrum of green hues.

The sun dancing on the surface of the water through the canopies of the trees, which bowed over to protect the stream from the intense August sunshine, created a mesmerising sparkle that glinted in my eyes. I could have sat here for hours, just listening to the melodious birdsong and constant bubbling flow of water.

Just downstream, a family of Moor Hens was going about its daily business, the dedicated parents feeding their young and adjusting their homely nest where the rushing stream may have swept part of it away. A little closer to me, a Water vole quickly scampered across the stream to the opposite bank. Seemingly, he must have had an urgent errand to run and could not stop to appreciate how beautiful his kingdom really was.

The haughty trout were plentiful in this stream, their pink bellies apparent just under the surface. Some were splashing at the water polished stones, others breathing their royal graces up to the stream's surface.

I did not want to leave this place, but the call of the real world, not overwhelming, but inescapable, was imposing on this most wonderful experience. I will go back, one day. Until then, when I need to relax, I will cast my mind back to the Itchen, glance over my photographs, and happily recall some of my most cherished memories.