As Devon bike rides go, cycling the Grand Western Canal from Tiverton is an exceptionally beautiful one. 22 miles and flat, it's a slice of paradise that I'd never known existed.

I became aware of the beaver thanks to the shutter sounds of far fancier cameras than mine. My eyes searched the water and there it was, a brown head, calm eyes and an elevated nose, working its way across the river.

The rain is falling like fairy dust. It's drifting down from the smudged, white sky. The sparrows are chattering, clinging onto brickwork and rattling off calls. One swoops up into the nest right outside my open balcony door. I hear a burst of cheeping, hungry mouths that never seem to be sated. 

We meandered along the club road and stopped to see if any would take off as there were already a few in the sky, gently circling under clouds in hope of gaining altitude. Turning around, we saw a glider streaming down straight towards us, only to steer away at the last minute and land with a gentle bump onto the field.

Vertebrate Publishing got in touch with me back in April to ask if I fancied a copy to drool over and review. I mean, they didn’t use the word ‘drool’ but I’m assuming that was what they meant because I have never, ever seen such a perfectly put together hiking guide.

I’ve decided to get to know my arboreal neighbours. The ones that will offer shelter in a rain shower even if you turn up uninvited.

Suddenly we could look up and down the canal as well as the river. The morning sunshine spun gold through the reeds and herons hung out on the banks, statuesque with a single, raised eyebrow.

Haldon makes it easy for everyone to get outside. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you grew up on Ben Nevis or London’s stifling streets, it opens its arms to everyone.