Five am, and eight of us plus two guides are pushing out onto the black water of the canal. Quiet – quiet as a city gets. The water’s still, no chop, and nothing to really call current – if I paddle four strokes then stop, then I’ll glide onward in that same direction. After all those months of folding my limbs into a lotus position under the spray deck, the sit on top kayaks with their backrests and endless legroom feel absurdly comfortable – like being adrift on a living room lounger, but with the added benefit that the widescreen view unfolding ahead of you is real.