The (not) Coquet Island Race

Every summer the town of Amble is host to a friendly sea kayak race. This years was a little different in that waves the size of small houses were breaking over the harbour breakwater, clearly visible from the start line in the river Coquet. It was no surprise then, that the organiser had a more sheltered route planned; up the river for a mile, turn around a bridge pillar, back past the start and down to the harbour mouth, round a buoy and back to the start. It was about 4 miles long compared to the usual 5.5 mile round the island route.

The mass start kicked up lots of waves as we were all jostling for position on the more sheltered side of the river. We were soon settled into some formation wash-hanging. The turn, around a bridge pillar caused one participant to go and take a look at the fishes while the rest of us carved a neat turn and got into our rhythm again for the dash past the start/finish line on the way to the harbour. The water got a little choppier as we approached the turn but not enough to give the rescue boats any work . All this way I had been wash-hanging an Aleut II, but gained about 50 m on them at the turn. I was unable to maintain this gap and was soon overtaken. Just shows how much assistance you can get from a wash. Tried to sprint past them at the line but had nothing left and crossed the finish line fourth overall. Got the prize for fastest lady. There were probably about forty competitors in total.

Pembrokeshire Coastline, Angle to Cardigan

After a fantastic three days at the Stackpole Sea Kayak Festival, I was left with a week off work, a great weather forecast, a coastline I'd never paddled and no plan. Here's what happened.

Tuesday morning at the Stackpole Centre, and Mark Tozer was running a three star course. The significance of this was that he would be taking a minibus to the coast, with space for one more. Thus my start point was to be West Angle Bay. Initially I had planned to start at Stackpole Quay but the thought of getting shot at or arrested for paddling past the Castlemartin firing range did not appeal. Likewise, getting trashed in big surf at Freshwater West was bottom of my to-do list.

West Angle was a good sheltered launch, but that was not to last as I headed out towards Rat Island (lovely name) and the shipping lanes of Milford Haven. Pete Astles (Peak gear) came with me as far as West Blockhouse Point. We had to wait a while for this small boat to enter the Haven before we could make a dash for the other side of the shipping lane. It felt a bit like a game of chicken.

Once we reached the far side, Pete said goodbye and turned right to paddle a short round trip and back to Angle. I turned left and headed for the exposed point of St Anne's Head. I had to keep a fair way offshore as big swell was crashing into a rocky coast, sending spray skyward. The next bit of coastline was demoralising. Waves were still big and unbenownst to me, I was paddling in an eddy, reducing my speed to a mere 4km/hr. I was heading towards the red cliffs of Gateholm Island.

After Gateholme, my speed improved and I started thinking about a place to spend the night. The map showed places with names such as Rainy Rock and Deadman's Bay, but by now I was within a stones throw of Jack Sound, the gap between Skomer and Midland Isle and the mainland, and so despite knowing that the tide would be against me, I thought I'd take a look.

Flow was swift but by sneaking up the eddies I was able to pass through Jack Sound and round Wooltack Point for a little respite at St Martin's Haven. As a tour boat spewed at least fifty passengers onto the landing stage I decided this was not the sort of place for a surreptitious wild camp and continued on to St Bride's Haven. This was more like it. A quiet beach, few people and a small patch of flat ground by a restored limekiln for my tent.

Next morning I awoke to blue sky, little wind and a choice; straight across St Bride's Bay to Ramsey or round the edge of the bay for more interesting scenery. The scenery won, and I set off towards Stack Rocks and Broad Haven.

Following the shore is definitely more fun than a crossing. You can at least be certain you are making progress, and the view changes constantly. I was in a very relaxed mood as I cruised along the back of St Brides Bay, watching the surfers at Newgale. Perhaps I was looking to the right a little too often, as all of a sudden a towering wave came out of nowhere to my left. I turned my boat to face it and paddled as fast as I could, to make it over just a second or so before it broke. The roar as is crashed was incredible and I was rather glad I was safely to seaward. Could have been interesting and once again the sea reminds me to keep alert.

From Newgale there were fantastic cliffs all the way to Ramsey Sound. Loads of arches and caves, layered rocks folded and buckled and tiny bays accessible only by kayak. As I reached Ramsey sound, an hour into the south going flow, I thought I'd have a go at getting through. The water was flat but moving fast as I eddy hopped my way towards St Justinian. Round the corner Whitesands Bay was heaving with people, so I sped on past to Porthmelgan, a small sandy beach accessible only on foot along the coastal path or from the sea. Above the beach I found the perfect campsite, complete with four legged friends.

Next morning, another beautiful day, I set off for the first time with tidal assistance. It was a good feeling being swept round St David's Head. The rest of the day was a fantastic series of cliffs, caves, arches and small bays. I went for a brief explore at Abereidi to find the 'Blue Lagoon', an old quarry, now flooded. At Strumble Head I had a choice of narrow gaps between islands or round the outside. The narrow gaps won.

After Strumble Head, I made for Fishguard Lower Town. I'd paddled a long way and felt I deserved an ice cream.

Back on the water I set off to find somewhere to spend the night, and passed some amazing rocky sculptures....

...and then found an ideal campsite.

A slaty pebble beach (boat friendly), flat grass, fresh water and ample firewood. What more could I want. A little later I had a visit from a contingent of Haverfordwest Canoe Club out for an evening paddle. I am more than a little bit jealous that they have this sort of scenery for an evening paddle.

The final day of my solo expedition was remarkable for the rock formations. Words aren't needed but here are a few pictures.

I finished my journey in the Teifi estuary. This was a week of amazing weather and a coastline I had never paddled before. It was also the first time I had paddled the Cetus LV loaded for expeditioning. I was initially a little worried that it may be too low volume to accommodate all the paraphernalia of camping but I needn't have worried. I even had room in the back for my trolley. I could have carried more, but would then have struggled with the launching and landing. The boat handled well when full but is definitely more fun empty.

Stackpole Sea Kayak Festival

Just a few photos from a fantastic event. The weather was kind, the scenary stunning and the company great.

Launching at Porth Clais

Playtime

One of the youngest participants, at 11 years old

Loads of boats

A Quick Lap of Walney

This trip was last minute planning at its best. One minute I was wondering what to do with a day off work and a good forecast, the next, I was wheeling my boat down to the far distant sea at Earnse Bay on Walney Island. Tides were good for a circumnavigation, so I set off southbound, with tiny wavelets lapping my boat from the side and the ghostly silhouettes of the windfarm turbines appearing out of hazy murk in an ever changing succession of transits. There wasn't a lot to see. The west side of Walney is low lying sand and pebble shore topped with flat grass. As I approached Hilpsford point a couple of wooden groynes broke the monotony and the tide began to make its presence felt as I was quietly given a helpful shove.

Round the corner I was met by a beach black and white with eider and oystercatcher. I managed a quick snap of a sandwich tern and was then followed by a large contingent of seals.

Once I'd 'done' the nature reserve I started the slog up the Walney Channel to Jubilee Bridge, where I met some intrepid open boaters who had abandoned the dry rivers and ventured onto the sea though I imagine that Walney Channel has a lot more in common with rivers than it does with most sea areas.

In no time at all I was rounding the corner at Lowsy Point and turning the boat southwards to get the circuit completed. Landing directy onto the slipway at Earnse cost me a welly full of water but did at least mean a short walk to the car.

Conwy to Puffin Island

Beautiful high pressure weather saw a huge flotilla of NWSKers descending on Conwy to launch beside the marina into the rapidly ebbing mouth of the River Conwy. The plan was to have lunch on Puffin Island and return via Great Ormes Head.

The seals on Puffin Island weren't bothered by our proximity as they basked in the sunshine

Kev managed to catch his dinner, ready for barbecueing later.

After lunch of jam and cream scones at Penmon Cafe, six of the party decided that a direct return to Conwy was in order, the remaining six set off at a brisk pace for Great ormes Head where a little speleology was in order.

This is the track we paddled, a total of 36km.

Circumnavigation of the Land of Tide Races

Following John Willacy's superb effort and smash of the Anglesey Circumnavigation record last year, I began thinking about records for women. A little research unearthed a time of fourteen and a half hours by Justine Curgenven and Fiona Whitehead for the same journey. I like the purity of a solo attempt so this is my main goal.

The following account is the story of my training, the tidal planning and ultimately the attempt itself.

The plan was hatched in the middle of winter. It was cold and frosty, snow was forecast, so I got my boat out. I don't really believe in the idea of a paddling season. I just put more clothes on when it's cold and get on with it.

Anglesey has everything in the tidal planning textbook. There are conventional 6 hours each way tides, there are floods stronger than ebbs, ebbs stronger than floods, inshore flow that starts before offshore flow, offshore flow stronger than inshore flow, tide races on many of the headlands, eddies behind headlands and then there is the Menai Straight where all rules are broken. A circumnavigation attempt can fail at the planning stage so I spent many happy hours poring over books, charts and maps, safe in the comfort of my living room.

The first decision was which direction to go in. That was the easy bit. The flood on the west and north coast is stronger than the ebb, while the ebb is stronger in the Menai Straight. Clockwise has to be the faster option.

The next dilemma to work out is the starting point. First I identified the crux section, which I took to be the transition from flood to ebb at the entrance to the Menai Straight. If this bit goes wrong I end up paddling uphill, just when I'm 3/4 of the way round and absolutely shattered. I'm also keen to be in the Straight, where the shore is never far away towards the end of the attempt.

I'm keen to do as little paddling in the dark as possible. Spring floods tend to begin in the small hours of the morning leading to a pre-dawn start on the west coast. The area between Llanddwyn Island and Rhoscolyn has very little flow close inshore, so starting here in the last few hours of ebb could be a good plan, getting me to Rhoscolyn, just as the flood is beginning. This way I can make full use of the flood round Penrhyn Mawr and the Skerries and as far as possible towards Puffin Island.

My sources of tidal information included the tidal stream atlas in Ralph Morris' 'Cruising Anglesey and Adjoining Waters', Terry Storry's 'Snowdonia, White Water, Sea and Surf' and the diamonds on the Admiralty charts. Terry Storry's book (sadly out of print and hard to come by)had the most detailed information regarding tidal streams close inshore. I had also done some home research on many previous trips to Anglesey.

Finally I drew all over a map of Anglesey, a black line for my estimated paddling speed of 7km/hr and a red line for the expected tidal assistance for each hour of the journey. This method gave me an estimated time of fourteen hours for the whole trip. It certainly looked feasible.

As far as training goes, I didn't do anything special in preparation for this attempt, just went out paddling as often as possible. I tend to focus on technique more than fitness and so every trip I am constantly working on efficient forward paddling. I use a wing paddle which I think makes it easier to generate a good efficient style, in that the paddle does a lot of the work for you.

There is no such thing as a low angle stroke with wings!

Planning dictated a 5am start and I was already beginning to regret the whole idea as the alarm reverberated around my trusty paddle waggon, in which I had been sleeping. It was the middle of the night. Reluctantly I got up, dressed and breakfasted and got ready to face the challenge.

Pitch black, and I'm going paddling, alone, how daft can that be? I certainly felt a little daft as I set out for Rhoscolyn Beacon without a clue as to where Rhoscolyn was. Eventually I made out the lights of the nearby village, so set off for a point just to the left of the most westerly light. What little night vision I had was instantly spoiled every time I looked up. The floodlights at Valley Airfield are certainly bright.

Just as I began to feel the helpful pull of the tide, someone switched the lights on and dawn had dawned. Rhoscolyn beacon was right in front of me and I was already ahead of my schedule. No stopping, straight to Penrhyn Mawr with the tide accelerating all the time. The tide race was running with waves over my head and one that helpfully broke over me sending gallons of water straight down the open neck of my cag. Great, I had no plans to stop en-route so was destined to spend the rest of the day in wet fleece, lovely. My paddling speed briefly reached 15km/hr then plummeted as I ploughed through an eddy. It took nearly a kilometre to get back to a decent speed. I was keen to avoid these eddies as I needed all the help I could get to get the journey completed. In comparison, South Stack was flat, fast moving but flat. I shot past the lighthouse and on past north Stack, staying well out into the current. In the haze of early morning I couldn't make out the Skerries or Carmel Head so I just set off for where I thought they should be and hoped that I wouldn't get it wildly wrong. Just as Carmel Head was making its presence known, I saw the Langdon Bank buoy, and shortly after, crossed an area of decidedly funny water. This was fun. By now I was well into my stride and initial aches and pains had gone, the sun was burning through the mist and I spent a wobbly minute or two delving into my day hatch to exchange woolly hat for sunglasses.

The north coast seemed to fly by. Tidal assistance was great and progress was marked by a quick succession of mice, approximately forty minutes from West to Middle Mouse and a further forty from Middle to East Mouse. At Point Lynas, I thought I was paddling well offshore in order to keep out of the eddy that forms behind the point. The GPS track shows that I was nowhere near as far out as I had planned. Still, I think I avoided the eddy.

The section from Point Lynas to Puffin Island was hard. It took me two and a half hours to cover the twenty kilometres and it was unremittingly boring. I was half way across before I could even see Puffin, so most of this section was paddled on a bearing. With no coastline close by to change the view I had to resort to crazy tactics to maintain some form of mental stimulation. First of all I tried counting paddle strokes. That was about as exciting as watching paint dry. Then I measured how far I moved in 100 strokes and calculated how many strokes to Puffin Island. The result, 4000 was depressing. Then I tried guessing when I had covered a kilometre. To start with I was fairly accurate but as I got more tired my guesstimates got shorter and shorter. For a while I used my tried and tested technique of self-coaching my forward paddling style; ten minutes of concentrating on my feet, ten minutes getting the catch further forward, looser grip on the paddle, more movement on the seat, less splash and so on. Eventually, what had been a tiny pimple on the horizon turned into Penmon lighthouse and on the rocks beside I saw David, my boyfriend. This cheered me up no end as I sped past with just a few words exchanged.

Tide in Puffin Sound was against me, but the high water level meant there was a big eddy close to shore and I was able to blast through into the relative calm of the Menai Straight. At long last the easterly wind was now in my favour. The tide was fairly slack but the wind made some good waves to surf me along the way. As I approached the swellies I felt like I was on an ever accelerating conveyor belt. The speed was exhillarating as the GPS touched 19km/hr, I was flying!

Speed remained good all the way down the Straights. The proximity of the shore and changing view was enough to relieve tired arms and my only real suffering was a huge blister on my left hand. This was all to change as I emerged from Abermenai Point and directed my bow towards Llanddwyn Island. I came to realise how sheltered the Straights had been as a sharp NE wind hit me from the side. With skeg down and gritted teeth I continued the mission.

The last twenty kilometres were unremittingly tough. The strong wind forcing a closer inshore route than I wanted, adding a couple of kilometres to the total. Finally the finish beach was in sight, and I even managed a bit of a sprint to the end, and a very welcome stopping of the watch at thirteen hours and eight minutes.

David was there with my portage trolley, and gallantly trailed the boat up the beach for me as I staggered along behind. I was very pleased to see him.

NWSK Start of Season Meet - Holy Island

I haven't yet come to terms with the idea of a start and end of the paddling season, but a weekend in a bunkhouse on Anglesey is too good to miss, especially when there will be thirty other paddlers there along with more pizza than we could possibly eat (thanks Kev).

On Saturday the forecast was for NW force 4, and the tide was such that an anticlockwise circumnavigation of Holy Island was possible with an early morning launch just a few hundred metres from base. Jimski, Barry, Glen, Jean and I trolleyed our boats to Borthwen beach and were soon heading off at a brisk pace up the Cymran Straight towards Four Mile Bridge. After a quick change of woolly hat after a near falling-in I managed to snap a few pictures of birds in the Inland sea.

At Stanley Embankment we were forced to stop for a second breakfast while waiting for the tide to stop flowing in, or alternatively a bit of play time.

Once in Holyhead Harbour, a quick radio call confirmed we were unlikely to be run over by a Sea Cat ferry. Still, we stuck close together to give boats a good chance of seeing us and made our way rapidly towards the relative safety of the open sea and the conveyor belt that leads to North Stack. Owing to HW in the Inland Sea being an hour after HW Holyhead, and North Stack begining to build up an hour before HW Holyhead, it was in fine form as we reached it. A moderate north westerly wind may have added to the fun too.




After all the fun of the race we were in need of another food break, and where else but Parliament Cave. Entertainment was provided by a group of climbers abseiling in, in preparation for a gravity defying ascent of cliffs to the north.

After relaunch it was a mixture of rockhopping, and short-cuts across bays until a group of tired paddlers made it back to Borthwen and copious cups of tea at the bunkhouse.

Thanks to Glen, Jean, Jim and Barry for a fun day out.