The gauntlet's been thrown

Which is faster, me in my boat, or David my boyfriend running? Tomorrow I'm going to find out. He's challenged me to a race from one end of Windermere to the other. His route is slightly longer than mine, and includes a few ups and downs while mine includes a short stretch of adverse current at the start and then, I hope a favourable wind along the 11 and a half miles of England's longest lake.

We're going to start at Newby Bridge and race to Waterhead at Ambleside. To see who wins you're going to have to log on tomorrow and check out the blog.

Too cold for paddling (or I'm going soft)

With Britain gripped in an Arctic chill, I decided to go somewhere a little warmer. And here's where I ended up. With hired gear and no skills, I threw myself down near vertical (at least it looked near vertical) precipitous mountainsides and emerged with just a few very small bruises to show for my effort. I must have enjoyed it cos I'm going to give it another go tomorrow.

Back to the salty stuff

After a few weeks of river paddling, open boating and caving it was time to return to the brine. The North West Sea Kayakers end of season meet was just the opportunity. What is a paddling season anyway? Surely it's an all year round thing. The sea doesn't dry up like the rivers do, so why stop paddling?

Saturday was a short bimbly pub paddle, starting and finishing at Moelfre (east coast of Anglesey) with a break for refreshment at Red Wharf Bay. The forecast was for strong SW wind so the choice of east coast gave us plenty of shelter. I paddled with Ray, Jason and Jimski. Not a lot to say about it just a few pictures.

Jim shows off the new light sabre on the fromt of his buoyancy aid

I try to photograph a cormorant hanging its wings out to dry.

Sunday had a better forecast so we headed off for Penmon and a trip to see the seals on Puffin Island. Here's what we saw.

Seals on the beach


Seals on the rocks


Very cute baby seal on the rocks


And again

Mum?

Turnstones

And an incredibly bright rainbow (the photo doesn't really do it justice)

More Underground Adventures

This week, the intrepid band of mud grovellers head for a pothole called Pool Sink. The entrance to this cave begins as a somewhat unnerving slightly-more-than-body-sized hole, with a couple of acute bends, just for the heck of it. Once this bit is done, the cave opens out into a lovely high meandering stream with small cascades to climb and four vertical pitches

Here's Chris just starting the descent of the second pitch.

And here he is again, at the bottom of the pitch.

This is what we went to look at, a highly decorated passage just off 'Straw Chamber'. The ceiling is covered in straw stalactites and helictites, and they're all glittery white.

Here's a close up.

Finally, all good things come to an end, and we have to leave. Here's Chris nearing the top of the fourth pitch.

And here's me just reaching the surface.

What a great way to spend an evening! All that remained was the long (well, it seemed long) walk back across the fell to the car and a very welcome set of dry clothes. Caving is a fantastic winter activity 'cos you don't need daylight. Thursday nights are caving nights from now on. I'm going to write up as many trips as possible and may eventually put them in a separate blog but for now, they're going to get mixed up with the paddling. You never know, I may entice one of you salty sea dogs into an underground adventure...any takers?

Something a little different

Having spent almost every waking moment this year either paddling, planning paddling trips, writing up paddling trips or washing salty paddling gear I was somewhat shocked to discover that my Cave Instructor Certificate is due for revalidation soon. My caving log is full of great trips but none of them are this year. Time to put that right.

Dave and I decided on an afterwork exploration of Cow Pot, part of the massive Easegill system, also known as the Three Counties System as it straddles the border of Cumbria, Lancashire and Yorkshire.

Just starting the descent of the daylight pitch.

A bit further down.

Dave gets to the bottom of the first pitch.

Then a section of easy crawling.

After another two pitches, named 'sneaky' and 'the crap trap' and a fair bit of wriggling, swearing and getting stuck we reach the Easegill main drain. It is somewhat sobering to see where the waterlevel was yesterday.

Foam was all over the place, sometimes twenty feet above our heads and a good reminder of the power of water. I wouldn't want to be here in the wet. We went for a short stroll down the stream to the sump and a brief forray into waterfall passage. The noise of falling water in the confined made conversation impossible. Eventually it was time to make our escape back the way we went in.

Here's Dave emerging, hot and bothered from the top of Sneaky pitch.

Me in the crawly bit.


Approaching the deceptively awkward wriggle before the final pitch.

Still wriggling.

Having not been caving for so long, I felt like I had used every muscle in my body. The final pitch out was easy and we were soon walking back to the car in the dark. Great to have an activity not dependant on daylight.

Now I've just got a load of muddy ropes and kit to wash. I think salty sea gear is preferable to mud!

South West Sea Kayak Meet 2010

Congratulations to Mark and Heather for organising another great bash. There were loads of people, loads of boats, loads of beer, great company, great paddling and great atmosphere. What more could you want...and the weather was pretty perfect too. Here are some pictures.


Loads of boats ready to launch at Hallsands beach


Tim puts the new P&H Delphin through its paces...

...and discovers that it's lots of fun.

Now you can see why it's so manoeuvrable

Hard to tell where the spray ends and the bird poo begins. This rock stank!

Three people, three islands and three feasts

Three paddlers, three days and three island campsites. What could be better? Here's what Rob, Dave and I did.There's something quite liberating about setting off on a trip with no real plan where we were going. With Oban behind us, blue sky above, calm sea below the world was our oyster. We set off towards Seil, weaving in and out of tiny skerries. Every rock was topped with a cormorant or two and the view expanded as we rounded each corner. Insh island looked inviting so off we went enjoying the gentle up and down of the sea against vertical rock. With no suitable landing hunger spurred us on to a refuelling stop on Easedale. Finally we came to the point where we had to have some sort of plan so settled on the east side of Luing as a suitable campsite. The Cuan sound was flowing against us but the numerous eddies made progress relatively easy. In the pool between Luing and Torsa we crept past a seal colony, attempting to get past without a mass exodus into the water. Didn't work, soon, twenty or so pairs of dark eyes were watching our every move. Between Torsa Beag and Luing we ran out of water and had to haul the boats up a short shallow bit. Back afloat we found a lovely spot to camp, with evidence of past settlement, flat short grass, plentiful firewood and a wall to rig the tarp from. Perfect.

Here's Dave inspecting his culinary handiwork. With three nights camping and three of us, we each cooked an evening meal and tried to outdo each other in deliciousness. On the menu a la Dave was chicken breasts marinaded in ginger and lime roasted over a bed of hot embers, served with herby sweet potatoes and salad leaves with olives and feta cheese. Dave was most concerned that we shouldn't get scurvy so pudding was a fresh fruit salad.

Day two dawned clear and calm so we set out with the intention of a play session on the Grey Dogs. All good plans are there to be altered and this was no exception. As we rounded the southern extremity of Luing and the great bulk of Scarba came into view we thought it would be good to get to the Grey Dogs via the Corryvreckan. The ebb was coming to an end and we planned to creep through along the Scarba shore using the eddies. All was good until the final corner where we met tidal flow very nearly as fast as Rob could paddle. Plan B would have been to wait until the flow slackened further but Rob gritted his teeth and went for it and soon we made a lunch stop just short of our intended playground.

Here's Dave playing...

And here's our route to the midgiest campsite on earth, on Eileach an Naoimh, the most southerly of the Garvellachs. Within seconds of landing, the wee beasties were eating us alive. Our priorities were headnets, DEET, a smoky fire and then unloading.

It was Robs turn to cook and he produced smoked salmon on oatcakes as an appetiser, vegetable soup starter, followed by tagliatelli carbonara (with loads of bacon and mushrooms) and the piece de resistance, baked on the fire, chocolate brownie with custard.

Day three promised another smooth paddle so we set off on an exploration of the Garvellachs and then island-hopped our way to the Cuan Sound and made for the Bridge over the Atlantic.

Conditions were glassy smooth and we reached the Clachan Sound at low water, fortunately at neaps so there was plenty to float the boats. The final pull of the day was across to Kerrera and a campsite in the Shadow of Gylen Castle.

My turn to cook and the menu was Mexican. An appetiser of jalapeno peppers was followed by spicy bean and chorizo sausage wraps, with avocado salad, cous-cous and sour cream. Pudding was swiss roll and custard.

Next morning we parted company. I was on a tight schedule to get home ready to pack for another trip away so I paddled straight up the Sound of Kerrera back to my waiting van, while Dave and Rob took the scenic route round the island.

A short period of settled high pressure weather made this trip a lovely calm experience. We didn't cover any vast distances or paddle particularly fast, it was just a good chance to chill out a little, cook good food, drink whisky and enjoy the scenery.