"Canoeists' Guide to the River Severn" published by the Environment Agency indicated an access point at Pool Quay - there was even a picture of it - but there was no sign of any sensible access so the 3 intrepid paddlers (Peter Dixon, Steve and Chris Pollington) climbed over a locked gate and snuck in down the slippery bank. 
The river was narrow and extremely meandering, and our first 2 kingfishers were spotted within five minutes. Willows overhung the river, and in some places reduced the navigable gap to 18 inches, so that we had to haul ourselves through by hand as paddling was impossible.
The Breidden Hills rise 1000 ft out of the Severn plain, and as the river twisted and turned they appeared randomly in front, behind, to left or right for the first 10 miles. There were buzzards in evidence, perhaps from the Welsh hills only a few miles behind us. A steady current helped us along, together with riffles every few hundred yards. The EA Guide mentioned Stoney Rapids; there were barely stony and not very rapid but it was the only whitish water of the day The River Vyrnwy joined from the left, and the Severn widened and crossed into England. A late lunch was taken at the Royal Hill - a pint of "Lemon Dream" real ale - and we cruised down the rest of our 22 miles to our riverside campsite at Montford Bridge.
Another cloudy but bright day dawned as we paddled off towards Shrewsbury. The river was increasing in width all the time, but the current and riffles remained, so progress was steady. The buzzards were replaced by ducks, and swans - but nowhere near as many as last year on the Wye.
Our campsite owner blamed mink, and had recently put a mink trap in place, trapping 4 in 4 days. From the river, Shrewsbury seemed a pleasant town, with lots of bridges and riverside walks, but hardly any obvious egress for paddlers. We were obliged to haul ashore at the Boat Inn's private landing stage for refreshments, before sliding over the weir and paddling on to Atcham. 43 miles gone, and a cloudless blue sky to finish the day.
Trevor and Rene joined us at the site, so our shuttle on day 3 included taking the camper van to the day's finish at Bridgnorth so that Rene could explore the town while Trevor joined us on the river. But the weather was awful all day. We seemed to paddle infto a strong headwind with lashing rain for the first 3 hours, and as the river's meanders were less tight by now there were stretches where the wind had managed to whip up waves heading up river.
We sought refuge and a pot of tea for an hour in the Riverside Hotel just as smartly dressed diners were arriving for Sunday lunch. We left our sodden BAs and spray decks in the umbrella stand in the hall and tried to look unobtrusive in a corner.
Lunch was taken shivering under the shelter of a bridge, but we finally escaped the wind as we entered the Ironbridge Gorge.
In spite of the rain, this was a lovely stretch of river through a wooded gorge filled with wild flowers and with cottages on the hillsides - the impression from the river is completely different from that gained from the road.
Jackfield rapids were marked in the EA Guide, but Trevor insisted that they would be a non-event as he had paddled in a slalom here in the past. The increasing roaring sound as we approached cast some doubt upon this and, sure enough, Trevor spoke with forked tongue. A rushing chute filled with foaming brown water sloped off to the right, followed by a left wheel to avoid the rocks and an exit through big bouncy standing waves. A real rapid after 50 miles, and the only real white water on the whole trip. And on through the valley to Bridgnorth, where the rain finally gave out at the same time as we did. 67 miles down.
By the morning it was merely dull, but with a forecast improvement in the weather. We drove back to Bridgnorth and completed the 5 miles back to the campsite at Hampton Loade in time for morning coffee courtesy of Rene. An extended car shuttle, greatly delayed by roadworks on the Kidderminster ring road, meant that it was well into the afternoon before we set out on the next 19 mile section, but the weather had improved.
There were lots of fisherman on this section, and steam trains from the Severn Valley Railway passed every hour. The section from Bridgnorth to Bewdley was as attractive as any, through a slightly wider valley with open views and lots of birdlife. Bewdley and Stourport were (again) devoid of landing sites, so Lincomb Lock (after Stourport where the Severn is canalised) was our first landing challenge. The EA Guide advised that all locks should be portaged, but there was no obvious get-out, so we scrambled up the 4 ft vertical steel piling. However there was a floating mooring stage down-river, and a similar mooring stage up-river of our destination at Holt Fleet Lock at 91 miles.
Day 5, and Trevor and Rene drifted North, leaving our intrepid three persons in three boats to complete the course. In at Holt Fleet and down to Worcester, where we pulled up for lunch at some steps leading up to the County Cricket Ground opposite the Abbey. Again, Worcester was pleasant to paddle through, but there were few landing points.
Diglis Lock is on the southern outskirts of town and there was no sign of a possible get-out, so Steve paddled on to the lock. The lock-keeper emerged, invited us to pass through the lock, and said that he would 'phone ahead to the next lock to let them know that we were on our way. We mentioned our problems at the first lock, and he replied that, contrary to the EA Guide, they were happy to pass (properly-equipped) paddlers through the locks!
By now the river was straighter and wider, and we expected to see more traffic on the river but there was hardly any. The birdlife was less, and there were fewer open views - this was the least interesting section of the journey. The "Conway Castle" registered in Dartmouth (!) runs river trips, and it led us into Upton on Severn. Upton is an attractive little town, and we scrambled ashore under the bridge abutment for a pint of Banks' and a packet of Nobby's Nuts. (Steve is a Civil Engineer, so we paused under every bridge for a brief exposition on riveting or concrete, piling or piers).
The final 5 miles took us to Tewkesbury and a celebratory handshake having completed the course.
We had covered 115 miles in 5 days, had no blisters, had seen countless kingfishers and paddled a lovely section of river in the middle. We took home a bootful of damp clothes, and a real feeling of achievement.
Peter Dixon