Report – Wednesay June 12TH , Blackwater Estuary, Essex<\/em><\/p>\nHello all! If memory serves my last update was written in the windy northern latitudes\u00a0of Saltburn by the Sea – I’m down south in Essex now, but it’s no less windswept; I’m\u00a0pausing here for a couple of days for re-supplies and boat maintenance before heading\u00a0onwards and into the Channel.<\/p>\n
After I last wrote from Saltburn the weather finally eased and I pushed on south, calling\u00a0at Whitby where a photo and interview was arranged with the Whitby Gazette, and\u00a0paddling through a calm evening as far as Scarborough. It’s one of the greatest pleasures\u00a0of the voyage when the wind dies, to paddle on through a still evening and pull ashore\u00a0just as the light finally fades to cook up a meal. The tranquility and solitude have their\u00a0own special magic to them, quite unlike anything else. From Scarborough I crossed Filey\u00a0Bay and passed the gannet colonies of the high Yorkshire cliffs, rounding Flamborough\u00a0Head in bright sunshine to head in to Bridlington. At the coastguard station I had another interview arranged, with further salty grins for the camera!<\/p>\n
South from here the imposing Yorkshire cliffs give way to a low mud cliffline where the\u00a0shore is eroding at several metres a year. I passed whole buildings tumbling slowly into\u00a0the North Sea as the waves gobble up their underpinnings – it’s quite a sad spectacle. At\u00a0the end of the mud cliffs lies Spurn head, a curious spit of land reaching into the sea; on\u00a0a grey and windy day I picked my way between passing ships to cross the Humber and\u00a0reach the Donna Nook Firing Range. Here the owl-like calls of the seals greet you – these\u00a0animals live, apparently unperturbed, right in the firing line. From here leads on mile\u00a0upon mile of sandy foreshore – featureless to paddle past, and hard to gauge your
\nposition accurately against; dispiriting stuff. As the wind picked up and the sea grew\u00a0wild again I pulled in at Mablethorpe Sands for shelter. A refuge from the windblown\u00a0waves it may have been but with nearly half a mile of sandy expanse, it took a\u00a0Herculean effort to get the boat beyond the high tide line for the night.<\/p>\n
In the morning I pushed on to Skegness, pausing for lunch at Chapel Point. A knot of grannies huddled on the beach quizzed me about the usual things – how far out do you\u00a0paddle, and isn’t it lonely? – and then I was on my way down to Skeggy itself. It is everything you would imagine it to be and, quite possibly, more. The next morning\u00a0heralded a rare (and highly fortunate) calm day, so I pushed off for the 15 mile crossing and by lunchtime was meeting a couple of other sea paddlers on the Norfolk shore – the\u00a0first kayaks I’d seen on the trip and nice to pause and talk for a while. Making the most of the calm day I pushed past the long miles of shingle on the tide and finally landed in
\ngentle surf at Cromer – 40 miles covered in a thirteen hour day!<\/p>\n
From Cromer to Southwold however, a similar distance to Skegness to Cromer, took a further three days of bashing into strong south east winds. I passed the seaside resort of\u00a0Yarmouth on a grey and windy day – a few hardy souls braved the rain on the funfairs but it didn’t look any fun – more like a bad day in purgatory. Making a difficult landing\u00a0in heavy surf at Yarmouth I pitched tent just beside a golf course. The large signs headed ‘Warning Private’ were sited just too far away to read properly so I bedded down\u00a0discreetly for the night and moved on quietly in the morning. Southwold is a pretty old seaside town with multicoloured beach huts, and I landed amid these and squelched up to the post office to collect a re-supply parcel – my tent poles had snapped and I’d arranged new ones to be sent on. They weren’t there yet, but full marks to the postman who came out with a special delivery for a canoe somewhere
\nin the harbour the following morning! Leaving Southwold I could see the nuclear power\u00a0station at Sizewell from many miles away, but it took ages to reel the huge sinister box\u00a0in. Incongruously, it sits next door to a pretty village of weatherboard cottages, with\u00a0crab and lobster boats pulled up on the shore. Beyond Sizewell I paused for the famous\u00a0fish and chips at Aldeburgh – a lovely place and the chippy does indeed live up to its\u00a0culinary reputation!<\/p>\n
Paddling in to Folkestone I called the harbour radio and arranged to cross the busy\u00a0shipping channel – Folkestone is one of the busiest ports in Europe and ships line up\u00a0outside it rather as planes stack up near Heathrow – and nipped between the outgoing\u00a0Stena catamaran and an arriving container vessel, feeling like part of the same marine\u00a0world. I crossed to Walton on the Naze and scrunched ashore at the foot of the\u00a0coastguard station there. The team on watch made me very welcome, so many thanks to\u00a0Mark, Mick, Dave and Sarah for a hot shower and a room indoors for the night! With\u00a0just a few hours sleep I was out on the morning tide. Frustratingly, after weeks of\u00a0bashing into south easters, as I finally turned the bows west the wind veered and I was\u00a0punching into a force 6 southwester. It kicked up a fierce sea against the two knot tide
\nand I faced my hardest day’s progress yet, just as I was in sight of a rest and a hot bath –\u00a0I didn’t know whether to howl or weep with the frustration.<\/p>\n
Finally I beached at Bradwell in the Blackwater estuary, dragged the boat into a shed to\u00a0dry pending repairs, friends put a cold beer in my hand and I slunk into a hot bath –\u00a0heaven!<\/p>\n
THE SOUTH COAST AND WALES<\/h5>\n
Report \u2013 Wednesday July 24TH, Menai Strait<\/em><\/p>\nHello, I’m afraid it’s been a long time since I’ve been near a PC to scribble an update, but\u00a0at last here it is. I’m currently in the beautiful Menai Strait, waiting for the afternoon\u00a0tide to take me down past Bangor and so onward towards Liverpool and the final leg of\u00a0the journey – a return to Scotland!<\/p>\n
After I last wrote I waved goodbye to friends at Leigh on Sea and pushed off from the\u00a0Essex coast, crossing the Thames in a brisk wind and racing tide and working my way\u00a0around the Kent coast. My first port of call was the resort town of Leysdown on Sea, a\u00a0place of unrelenting awfulness and not one of my better decisions. A desperate, hourlong\u00a0boat drag across a quarter mile of oozing mud flats led to a campsite near a loud\u00a0and tacky amusement arcade… it rained non-stop and to cap it all I awoke to find\u00a0someone had stolen my tent pegs in the night (give me strength, etc).<\/p>\n
Having no desire to prolong acquaintance with Leysdown, I pushed off early, rounded\u00a0North Foreland, Ramsgate and pulled ashore on the sands near Deal; just around the\u00a0corner lay Dover, with its congested waters and frantic ferry traffic. The harbour control\u00a0took it all in their stride however and waved me across between the stern of an\u00a0outbound ferry and the bow of an inbound dredger, and from there it was just a short\u00a0hop to the sheer white cliffline of Beachy Head, its red and white striped lighthouse\u00a0dwarfed by the towering chalk wall above it.<\/p>\n
As I reached Hythe the red flags of the firing range were flying, and puffs of smoke accompanied sounds of artillery fire – reluctant to become an unwitting target, I took an\u00a0enforced pause through the afternoon. Firing finally stopped at 5 pm and I was on my\u00a0way again – but there was bad news. Lydd Range, ten miles further on, would be firing\u00a0all the next day. I would have to clear Lydd that night or waste a day sitting on the\u00a0shore tomorrow. I pushed on to break past Lydd that night, racking up an exhausting\u00a038 miles that day and pulling ashore shattered on a benighted beach. Too tired to pitch\u00a0tent in the dark, I chanced the weather and rolled out my bag on the shingle to sleep\u00a0under the stars.<\/p>\n
Over the next days I worked my way along the south coast, fighting into strong westerly\u00a0winds almost every day. Energy reserves drained low, sapped by my long haul into the\u00a0\u00a0night to clear the firing ranges, and by days constantly battling wind and waves.\u00a0Struggling to make 15 miles most days, I watched the schedule slip away from me while\u00a0feeling powerless to do anything about it, a frustrating and dispiriting experience.\u00a0However, on the plus side the south coast is home to family and numerous old friends,\u00a0so for a change I was able to stop off and spend time with familiar faces – my family\u00a0visited me with a picnic, and I even pulled in at Ricardo plc in Shoreham to catch up\u00a0with old colleagues. There were some strange looks from people arriving in the\u00a0morning to see a tent pitched on the company’s front lawn! As I readied to go on the\u00a0slipway a crowd of inquisitive schoolkids arrived and suddenly we were engulfed in ten
\nyear olds, fascinated at this strange adventurer. Small hands fumbled with cameras and\u00a0a barrage of questions had to be answered. Ready at last, I rolled up my trousers and\u00a0slithered the boat across the knee deep mud, children cheering and waving, friends\u00a0recording the indignity on film.<\/p>\n
Gradually I clawed my way windward – through the Solent and across Christchurch bay\u00a0to Swanage, where once again firing ranges dictated the schedule, this time a 4 am start\u00a0to get past before hostilities commenced. Visiting Weymouth – delightfully pretty as\u00a0you enter the town from the sea – I called in to chat to the Coastguard before rounding\u00a0the notorious Bill of Portland and crossing Chesil beach, a 15-mile stretch of\u00a0inhospitable shingle and dumping surf. Any landing here can quickly lead to drowning\u00a0in the vicious undertow, and I’d long worried about this exposed stretch so it was with\u00a0relief that I pulled ashore after 8 hours without a stop. Slowly I ticked off the shores of\u00a0Dorset, Devon and finally Cornwall, making steady but hard won progress. In Devon I\u00a0waited out storms, and encountered some of the wildest seas I’d ever been in. Off\u00a0Salcombe Estuary at Bolt Head, where tide and river and wind all meet at once to fight\u00a0over their differences, I found myself suddenly engulfed in wild breaking seas,\u00a0towering above me and crashing down towards me in walls of white – fighting hard to\u00a0stay upright and bracing in all directions in the confused seas, I fought for an hour in\u00a0water that was frighteningly powerful and at times close to terrifying before finally\u00a0arriving in the tranquil estuary of Bantham, and tying up by the picturesque boathouse\u00a0with its thatched roof and old ships’ figureheads in the eaves. It was the scene of happy\u00a0childhood holidays, and a needed tonic after the day’s hard fight on the water.<\/p>\n
Land’s End marked a huge psychological turning point – finally I would be heading\u00a0North, finally each mile would be taking me closer to, instead of further from, Spey Bay\u00a0and the finish line, and most important of all the strong south-westers would now be\u00a0blowing on my back – helping me instead of punching me back at each stroke. Heading\u00a0up the north coast of Cornwall progress seemed to leap ahead – suddenly twenty five,\u00a0even thirty or more miles in a day were possible. As well, I was now seeing new\u00a0wildlife – grey seals following the boat along, manx shearwaters zooming up to the\u00a0kayak at wavetop height, a rare sun fish floating by and even a school of basking\u00a0sharks. One of these lumbering monsters I didn’t see until he was just feet off the bow.\u00a0A two foot high dorsal fin slid by inches off my bow and a colossal grey bulk glided\u00a0\u00a0primevally past the kayak; close enough to touch, he was fully as long and a great deal\u00a0more massive than my slender, fragile craft. I admit I felt a minor tremor of fear and\u00a0instinctively put in a couple of hasty paddle strokes. Basking sharks however, despite\u00a0their Jaws appearance and massive size, are toothless, gentle beasts, which drift lazily\u00a0along our coast grazing for plankton, and mean the passing canoeist no harm.<\/p>\n
Reaching the northern tip of Devon I made the short hop over to the Isle of Lundy – one\u00a0of my favourite haunts – and in the Marisco Tavern there I prepared my navigation for\u00a0the biggest and most committing open crossing of the voyage. I planned to make a\u00a0thirty mile trip from the Island across to St Govan’s Head in South Wales. Poring quietly\u00a0over my charts, I tried to be patient with a crowd of onlookers advising me to ‘watch out\u00a0for the weather’, including one chap who asserted “I bet you’ve never paddled right\u00a0round\u00a0 Lundy!” The next day saw me miles out on an open sea, paddling on a compass
\nbearing for a landfall that slowly emerged as a hazy grey outline, gradually took form\u00a0over the hours to become cliffs and bays, and finally turned into the sandy paradise of\u00a0Barafundle Bay – an almost tropically beautiful beach on the south Pembrokeshire coast,\u00a0and a fine reward for a ten hour paddle across the Bristol Channel!<\/p>\n
Despite the previous day’s exertions, I had to be on the water at seven if I was to catch\u00a0the west-going tide, so it was an early turn to. On a bright day I joined the tide race\u00a0going past the St Govan’s Head cliffs, and by evening I was in the tiny cathedral city of\u00a0St Davids. The weather now held fair for the first time since the beginning of the voyage\u00a0in May, and I made fast progress up the welsh coast to Newquay, where a resident\u00a0community of dolphins was out feeding in the ebb tide as I arrived – fantastic! I’d\u00a0caught only passing glimpses of dolphins during my voyage, so it was a treat to simply\u00a0stop and watch them, gracefully arcing out of the water, sometimes noiselesly wheeling\u00a0back under, other times bursting right out to splash back in with a crash. This is well\u00a0known dolphin territory and is being studied by the Marine Wildlife Centre in\u00a0Newquay. Thanks to Steve who runs the centre I had a bed indoors for the night, and\u00a0enjoyed a beer with the centre volunteers that evening – very civilized!<\/p>\n
North of Cardigan I pushed on to Porthmadog, where I had arranged to meet up\u00a0with Dave Evans of the Cwm Pennant outdoor centre. Dave generously offered to pick\u00a0me up off the beach with a minibus… however, as we loaded the boat the van began to\u00a0sink slowly and ominously into the sand! Frantically we tried to dig the bus out as it\u00a0sunk down to its axles, with us getting progressively dirtier, wetter and more desperate!\u00a0A passer by stopped, watching our labours for a while before mindlessly observing “You\u00a0wouldn’t think the sand was soft, would you?” Sensing, perhaps, that he was in greater
\ndanger than even our imperilled minibus he wisely moved on….<\/p>\n
Leaving Porthmadog I paddled past the breathtaking but mist-shrouded mountains of\u00a0Snowdonia, took Bardsey Sound at the slack – a place with a fearsome reputation, but\u00a0calm on the day I was there, thankfully – and headed north towards Menai. Arriving in\u00a0\u00a0the strait just too late to go all the way through (Menai has some of the most complex\u00a0and seemingly contradictory tides on the UK coast), I pulled up on the slip at the Plas\u00a0Menai watersports centre. As I pulled in a sailing dinghy passed and we exchanged\u00a0yells in the wind. “Going round the island?” “Yes, the island of Britain!” “WHAT?”
\n(hand cupped to ear) “YES”! (for simplicity) He gave me a broad grin and a thumbs-up.\u00a0“AH! I’VE DONE IT A COUPLE OF TIMES MYSELF!”<\/p>\n
NORTH WALES, WESTERN SCOTLAND AND HOME TO MORAY<\/h5>\n
Report \u2013 Post-Expedition (Voyage Ended Sept 5TH)<\/em><\/p>\nHello all,
\nFirstly my apologies for the long delay since sending out any update! I finally pulled\u00a0the boat ashore for the last time on September 2nd in Spey Bay, Moray Firth, completing\u00a0four months and 2,000 miles of paddling! Since then I’ve packed up and moved to Spain\u00a0and started an MBA, so it’s been just a little busy. My apologies if it’s rather long… I\u00a0promise there won’t be any more!<\/p>\n
So, to pick up where the salty tale left off, in North Wales. By the time Banana Boat – for\u00a0so my ocean steed is named – (yellow, see?) and I pulled in at the Plas Menai sailing\u00a0centre she was limping from several impact holes in the bow, major stress cracks parting\u00a0the central bulkhead from the hull, and a hole torn clean through the stern from\u00a0dragging the laden kayak over sand. Cape Wrath in such a sad state looked a remote\u00a0prospect, so we pulled the sorry wreck into the workshop, and worked late into the\u00a0evening, grinding off the tattered remains of the keel and laying up a shiny new base to\u00a0the hull. Boat thus patched, we repaired to the bar. The following morning I launched\u00a0with the reassurance of a watertight hull beneath me once again!<\/p>\n
Such are the oddities of the tidal flows around Wales, that the sea is at times several feet\u00a0higher at one end of the Menai Strait than the other. So the sea surged through this\u00a0narrow passage like a river, spiriting me effortlessly to Bangor wearing the sort of\u00a0vacant, inane grin that comes with a free ride. I camped the night on a storm beach at\u00a0Great Orme, then it was off to Rhyl where the WDCS had arranged a press interview at\u00a0an aquarium. With a force 6 behind me I surfed in a wild sea the 20 odd miles to beach\u00a0in front of a camera man for by-now routine snaps, a fascinating tour of the aquarium
\nand and an education about all the stuff whizzing about unsuspected inches below my\u00a0backside (best not thought about too much, on the whole). By the time I’d figured out\u00a0just how much hungry stuff there was underneath me, the tide was miles out, so we\u00a0perched the boat on the back of the lifeguard’s quad bike and motored down to the sea!\u00a0After a welcome day’s pause on the Wirral with friends, it was off to Blackpool, a 25\u00a0mile crossing forced by the need to clear vast sandbanks that run miles out into this grey\u00a0and windblown sea, an eight hour stint steadily pulling Blackpool tower out of the\u00a0haze.<\/p>\n
Having by good fortune a string of friends along the coast here, I slept in a real bed for\u00a0several nights as I pushed north, crossing Morecambe bay and heading up past the\u00a0Cumbrian coast – quite a luxury! A broken rudder cable forced a day off the water north\u00a0of Walney Island; by a stroke of good fortune fellow-paddler Michael O\u2019Connell was on\u00a0the beach that morning. He and his wife took me in, a new cable was ordered overnight\u00a0from Valley and, grateful for their warm hospitality, I was soon on my way again! Then\u00a0it was across the Solway to Kircudbright – back in Scottish waters once more! After a\u00a0good night’s sleep on the beach at St Ninian’s Cave, and a quiet pause at the shrines
\nhidden within, I set out across Luce Bay, headed for the infamous Mull of Galloway. A\u00a0strong tide carried me to the Mull in an easy three hours, but as I entered the tide race\u00a0off the point, I was alarmed to find myself being pushed rapidly south west, out into the\u00a0open space of the Irish sea. Turning the bow now north, I punched a tide running at\u00a0some three to four knots, in a bucking and breaking sea. As if in sympathy with the\u00a0waves, the wind now kicked up and howled out of the north too. Feeling my\u00a0strength ebbing alarmingly, I knew this was becoming serious – unless I could somehow\u00a0fight against the wind and tide I would soon become exhausted and be forced to put out\u00a0a mayday call. I struggled close to exhaustion for a further two hours before the coast
\nbegan to inch closer, and finally I beached shattered in a small cove.<\/p>\n
Past the Mull of Galloway the coast leads into the Sound of Arran, and I crossed to the\u00a0Isle of Arran (where, alas, hebridean midges were already salivating at the prospect of\u00a0my arrival), and headed for the Crinan Canal. This shipping canal leads from Loch\u00a0Gilphead to Crinan, and with time short I opted for it, piloting my sea-weary craft\u00a0incongruously between trees and fields. Kayaks being forbidden in the locks, I tied\u00a0Banana Boat alongside the yacht ‘Anncara’ and sipped a civilised gin and tonic as we\u00a0motored along! Reaching Crinan all too soon, it was time to don wet clothes again, and\u00a0despite the oh-so-tempting offers of a stay on Anncara, it was time to go. I knew the tide
\nto be slack at the Dorus Mor race – If I went now I could be sure of making it through. If\u00a0later… who knows. If I’d learned one thing on the voyage, it was to go when the sea let\u00a0you, and the fiercest race on the scottish coast wasn’t the place to test this! So, sneaking\u00a0past the Dorus Mor while it wasn’t looking (and leaving the still nastier Corryvrecken\u00a0whirlpool a healthy mile or so off), I paddled into the idyllic Sound of Shuna. Truly,\u00a0this string of islands is so stunningly beautiful, and a solo kayak such perfect way of\u00a0weaving among them, it takes on an almost magic quality, a brief foray into another
\nworld.<\/p>\n
As I was pondering this, I was hailed from a hundred year old sailing ship anchored in\u00a0the channel! “Do you want a whisky?” “Have you eaten yet?” Well, these are offers not\u00a0to be refused! Tying up alongside, I clambered aboard the ketch ‘Leader’, a meal was\u00a0pressed into one hand and whisky in the other! A delightful hour or so later, it was once\u00a0more time to desert good hospitality, and catch the tail of the ebb north in the fading\u00a0light – missing it would mean a day’s delay. I climbed back down into my canoe, waved\u00a0\u00a0goodbye, and pushed off into the dusk towards Oban. Passing Kerrera Island in the\u00a0dark, its gloomy bulk loomed sinister against the black sky, and I picked my way into\u00a0Oban by the blinking red and green buoys. Ferries, full of blazing lights and\u00a0 deeprumbling\u00a0engines, thundered through the eerie night and I sprinted between them to\u00a0find a quiet corner of beach to camp on.<\/p>\n
After a day’s frantic shopping for re-supplies in Oban, I pushed on to Tobermory and\u00a0rounded the most westerly point of Britain at Ardnamurchan Point. Here I stopped the\u00a0night with three girls doing a whale watch survey from the lighthouse (I’ve always been\u00a0interested in whales, me). We passed a lovely evening in the old lighthouse keeper’s\u00a0cottage before, as ever on my journey, it was time to say goodbye and take to the water\u00a0once more. This was known whale territory and sure enough – soon I heard the\u00a0distinctive blow of a whale behind me! Spinning around, I had cetacean company as a\u00a0Minke whale, smallest of the Baleen whales but still the size of a small bus, glided past
\nsome fifty feet away, grey fin rolling gently through the waves. Given that my journey\u00a0was all in aid of the Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society, this seemed only right\u00a0and fair but my grey companion, unaware of his benefactor, slid by without pausing to\u00a0chat.<\/p>\n
Picking my way through the sunken valleys that cast Skye adrift from mainland\u00a0Scotland, I headed on past Redpoint to Gairloch, where Belgian computer Laurence\u00a0Vanhelsuwe ran down from his croft to meet me at the waterside \u2013 later he sent me\u00a0some of the best pictures I have from the entire trip. Rubha Reidh slipped by, passing a\u00a0seal snoring as he slept, bottle-like, bobbing in the water and as the sun dipped below\u00a0the horizon, I pitched camp on a small flat-topped rock out at sea, simply because it\u00a0looked so appealing. The next day I docked at Ullapool for re-supplies, and it was time\u00a0to size up Cape Wrath. Exposed to the full force of the Atlantic swells and winds that
\nblow uninterrupted from Greenland and the arctic, the Admiralty pilot advises that\u00a0‘huge seas can build up extremely rapidly’, before making pessimistic notes on passage\u00a0here in small craft. Cape Wrath had echoed around in my imagination ever since I had\u00a0first dreamed of the voyage, its wild and powerful reputation unnerving me – this was\u00a0the final, biggest test of the whole expedition, a genuine challenge in the sense that I\u00a0would not know until I got there exactly what I would meet. I pushed past Point of\u00a0Stoer, punching through a powerful tide race pouring south off the point. (I’d nearly\u00a0come to grief in a similar race in Wales, where waves surging up the tide race had\u00a0smashed the kayak against the cliff. I had been lucky to escape disaster.)<\/p>\n
Fear unresolved, I stuffed the charts back inside the canoe and re-focused my mind on\u00a0the day at hand. Checking and re-checking my tides and the weather, I set off early for\u00a0the biggest day of the voyage. Accompanied by my ever-loyal squadron of fulmars\u00a0skimming the waves and wheeling around me, I set the bow for the last mile north in the\u00a0UK. The Fulmar is, perhaps, the most magnificent flyer of them all. These birds would\u00a0circle me most days for hours on end, surfing the updraughts of wind on the face of the\u00a0\u00a0waves, wingtips almost brushing the water. Watching them is utterly mesmerizing; in\u00a0all the long days I never tired of their company. A fast tide under me felt like an
\nenormous conveyor as I headed for the northwestern tip of Britain, boat rising and\u00a0falling on a rolling ocean swell. The wind eased just long enough for me to clear the\u00a0Cape, but rounding the corner the north coast became an intimidating fight in big\u00a0overfalls and fierce winds. Two thousand miles solo at sea had changed my perspective\u00a0however; this was a powerful sea, but I had learned how to ride it now – even turn it to\u00a0my advantage and enjoy the wildness of it. As I pulled the boat ashore that night, I\u00a0knew I’d taken on, solo, the toughest stretch of coast in Britain – and I’d won! It was a\u00a0fine feeling as I curled up in my sleeping bag and nodded off, a big grin still on my face.<\/p>\n
The northern edge of Scotland seems a succession of empty, windswept, perfect beaches,\u00a0separated by magical clifflines riven with geos which cut deep into the land – often\u00a0running back a hundred metres or more before opening upwards via sheer walls to the\u00a0sky, or tunneling back out to sea by another route. I explored my way along, carefully\u00a0timing my passage to avoid the infamous tide races of the Pentland Firth. Rounding\u00a0Duncansby Head, I finally turned the compass south at last! However, now the winds\u00a0were blowing from the bow again, and progress was blunted as a force 7 halted me in\u00a0Sinclairs’ Bay. In mixed conditions I picked my way southwards to Helmsdale. Now a\u00a0day short of my planned arrival, I looked at a borderline weather forecast and pondered\u00a0– take on the open crossing, or wait? Knowing I was picking a hard fight, but sure of my\u00a0fitness and strength by now, I headed into the open Moray Firth. At 25 miles, it would\u00a0take around eight hours. The first two hours were light; but as midday arrived the wind\u00a0stepped up to F5-6 and soon was I fighting a nasty southwester – as if it was the\u00a0weather’s last throw. The sea built up quickly and soon the waves were breaking
\nheavily across the boat. Some 12 miles from any land, losing body heat rapidly in the\u00a0cold, it was a struggle to hold concentration in genuinely frightening conditions,\u00a0knowing that the only way out was through, a further five to six hours in mentally\u00a0exhausting conditions. Waves smashed down on me, at one point tearing the maps\u00a0from the deck and washing them into the sea. Probably I’ve never been in such\u00a0demanding conditions for so long; without the fitness and the mental stamina built in\u00a0the preceding four months I doubt I could have completed the crossing. I yearned to\u00a0somehow escape, to abdicate responsibility; but I’d got me in, only I could get me\u00a0out. After the toughest day of the voyage, I pulled into Lossiemouth with relief and was\u00a0fed hot coffee by a friendly pair of geordies (“From Helmsdale? Good God, we was\u00a0nervous out there in 36 foot yacht!!”). Unable to unwind from the tension of the day’s
\nbattle, I slept badly but it didn’t matter: tomorrow was the final day, a short hop along\u00a0the coast to Spey Bay, friends and family and the journey’s end!<\/p>\n
On the final morning, I pulled on wet clothing for the last time, turned Banana Boat east\u00a0and wondered. How would it be to forsake my simple existence of sea and solitude, to\u00a0exchange it for the company of the madding crowd? My wonderings were\u00a0punctured as an inflatable zoomed up to me loaded with waving friends, the beach was\u00a0\u00a0full of smiling faces I’d missed over the months, cameras clicked and champagne was\u00a0uncorked; it was the end of a fantastic adventure, a crazy dream I’d followed all the way\u00a0to see where it might lead. I stepped ashore for the last time, accepted a glass of\u00a0champagne and felt slightly dazed by it all!<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/05\/Gairloch-fwd-pdlg.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nWith the voyage completed, it’s time say a big thank you to all the people who helped\u00a0make it possible – everyone at the WDCS for their enthusiasm and support; Avril\u00a0for being there 24\/7 as shore contact; Arthur and Eileen for their encouragement and\u00a0invaluable help; my mother for hiding the extent of her misgivings; the coastguard for\u00a0their professional support and encouragement throughout my journey, and all the\u00a0friends I’ve met and made along the way, who helped out so generously and who made\u00a0the journey so much more than a solo passage. And for now, Banana Boat now hangs in\u00a0the garage, filled only with memories and – who knows – future odysseys yet\u00a0undreamed?<\/p>\n
Richard Atkinson<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Appendix A \u2013 Equipment<\/h5>\nKayak:<\/h6>\n
Valley Skerray, ocean cockpit. Modifications: Rudder, double keel strip, foot
\npump (mounted on a 50mm box section of aluminium which served as footrest; the\u00a0rudder bar was then mounted above this), extra hatch covers let into forward part of\u00a0bow and into front bulkhead to allow access to area behind footrest. In addition the\u00a0standard glass seat was discarded and a foam \u2018Mega\u2019 seat glued in. The tent was stored\u00a0directly behind the seat and acted as a backrest.<\/p>\n
Reasons for choice: The Skerray is not the fastest boat available but is a) a fairly dry boat\u00a0to paddle and b) stable enough to read a map in a choppy sea. For solo work I prefer to\u00a0trade the edge in speed for friendly handling.<\/p>\n
Problems experienced: Keel strip wore through from dragging the laden boat over sand.\u00a0I used an inflatable dinghy roller to reduce this but it\u2019s only a partial solution.<\/p>\n
Paddles:<\/h6>\n
Lendal archipelago paddles, carbon blades, glassfibre shaft, variable joint,
\nsecured with a length of thin shock cord. Generally I paddled these with parallel blades;\u00a0this greatly reduces the repetitive strain on the wrists and reduces risk of carpal tunnel\u00a0syndrome. Only in F4-5 upward do you notice the wind pushing the paddle back at all.\u00a0Glass shaft gives some flex, for feel and comfort. Splits were a plastic-bladed version,\u00a0with non-variable joint.<\/p>\n
Camping:<\/h6>\n
Terra Nova Quasar. MSR Whisperlite stove and cooking tins, 2x 1 litre petrol
\nbottles. A Zippo will run on unleaded but it kills them eventually. Thin thermarest &\u00a0chair, vango down sleeping bag.
\nProblems: Tent poles snapped frequently, apparently traced to a quality problem at the\u00a0factory. Tent zip fasteners corroded to the zip in the salt environment; all the tent zips\u00a0failed at some point. Flysheet eventually lost its water-resistance. No problems with any other camping kit, thought the MSR stove did need a dealer overhaul post-expedition.<\/p>\n
Safety:<\/h6>\n
2 Garmin waterproof VHF radios. These were excellent; they come with a spare battery\u00a0(essential for long periods away from mains power), don\u2019t need a waterproof bag and\u00a0will fit easily in a BA front pocket. You absolutely need two radios; you cannot change a\u00a0battery at sea.
\nMcMurdo fastfind 406 EPIRB. Small enough to fit, along with VHF, into BA front\u00a0pocket. My most prized bit of safety kit!
\nUpward-facing strobe light on BA. Bivi bag in back pocket of BA.
\nReflective strips on boat and paddle.
\nParachute, smoke and small white flares. Stored in cockpit.<\/p>\n
Problems: One of the VHFs packed up after three months; replaced without quibble.<\/p>\n
Two bits of advice I\u2019d give:<\/p>\n
1) When it all goes horribly wrong in wild and nasty conditions, you\u2019re going to be\u00a0left with what you\u2019re wearing and lose everything else. So plan on that basis. I\u00a0carried the bivi bag, strobe, EPIRB and VHF in my BA.
\n2) In a way, ALL your kit is safety kit. Epics tend to start off with the failure of\u00a0some small, apparently peripheral bit of kit, which reduces your ability to deal\u00a0with the next snag, which causes something else to happen, and so on. Failure of\u00a0even small \u2018trivial\u2019 bits of kit is dangerous. You got hypothermic because you\u00a0didn\u2019t eat so well because your stove wouldn\u2019t light because the matches got\u00a0soggy because the container didn\u2019t seal properly on the very day your hatch\u00a0cover chose to leak, etc. At sea, disaster can be quite a chain of events from root\u00a0cause, so be sure EVERYTHING is nailed down, be sure you have some\u00a0redundancy in your key systems and so on. It\u2019s a way of thinking, I think.<\/p>\n
Food:<\/h6>\n
I didn\u2019t take any de-hydrated or \u2018special\u2019 foods. I shopped at supermarkets and ate\u00a0ordinary food, fresh fruit and veg etc, just much more of it, munching through things in\u00a0their order of perishability. Some tips I found useful were:<\/p>\n
– Pitta bread beats other bread as it doesn\u2019t mind if you squeeze it\/ crush it into a\u00a0bulkhead.
\n– Bacon will keep for at least a week, sausages for 4-5 days.
\n– Buy things for their strong or re-sealable packaging if you can!
\n– Eggs are fine if you hard boil all six the day you buy them.<\/p>\n
I carried rice, pasta, porridge oats in screw-top plastic jars, and grouped most foods into\u00a0nylon draw-string bags so I could find stuff\/ pack the hatch easily. Breakfast was a big\u00a0bowl of porridge, lunch was something on a pitta or two (you eat all you can before you\u00a0chill from standing wet in the wind), dinner was anything but lots of it!<\/p>\n
Kayak Clothing<\/h6>\n
Mountain Equipment fleece salopettes, Helly-type briefs and thin long sleeve top. Yak\u00a0over-salopettes. Knoydart combination spraydeck (neoprene cover, nylon chest tube \u2013\u00a0easier for trunk rotation). Stiff-soled kayak shoes (zips, again, a problem). Yak cordura\u00a0cag \u2013 an excellent design which they sadly no longer do. Peak buoyancy aid \u2013 vest\u00a0design allows free chest movement. Tilley hat \u2013 keeps the sun off and is stiff enough\u00a0that it provides a good wave shield when bashing into short oncoming seas. Also floats.<\/p>\n
Navigation<\/h6>\n
Tidal flow atlases for UK waters
\nAll relevant Admiralty charts
\nO\/S 1:50,000 maps marked up with chart info, cut to A4, numbered and laminated\u00a0double sided (i.e. I laminate maps 1 & 3 back to back, 2 & 4 back to back etc so you have\u00a0fewer sheets but can always see adjacent maps). This is a long job to prepare but I found\u00a0it worth it because a) you need a mix of land info and chart info to navigate close inshore\u00a0and b) it is useful to always know what scale you are working with (charts vary). The\u00a01:50,000 grid is divided into 1 km squares, and 1km is just about half a nautical mile. I\u00a0divided these into chunks (the whole lot would fill the boat) and had them posted ahead\u00a0of me as I went.
\nI did carry a Garmin GPS but found I rarely used it.
\nNote that you can source charts secondhand (contact Marine Chart Services in\u00a0Wellingborough). This is far cheaper and since most of the kayak-relevant info doesn\u2019t\u00a0change much, it\u2019s a reasonable economy to take. Cliffs and overfalls don\u2019t move about\u00a0very much; it\u2019s generally buoyage changes and the like that put charts out of date.<\/p>\n
Sundries:<\/h6>\n
Sunglasses \u2013 get a good pair with wrap-around lenses. You need these for the sun, but\u00a0also to keep the constant spray off your eyes or they eventually get full of salt and sting\u00a0a lot!
\nHeadtorch \u2013 get one that uses LEDs rather than normal bulbs. The batteries will then\u00a0last for ever \u2013 I never changed a set in the four months.
\nCamera \u2013 I used a waterproof Canon Sure Shot 35mm. Digital may be fine if you can\u00a0keep the batteries charged. The Canon was totally reliable and waterproof and it floats.
\nMozzie net \u2013 an absolute must once you\u2019re in Scotland.
\nPhone \u2013 Nokia at least do a semi-waterproof one. Take a spare battery or find a way of\u00a0charging it away from the mains (Freeplay now offer a gizmo that does this).
\nWater \u2013 I carried 2 X 2 liter and 1 X 4 litre Ortlieb bags stored infront of my feet, plus one\u00a02 litre platypus carried on the rear deck. If you do this take one or two spare bite valves,\u00a0as they fall off.
\nRepair kit: Plumber\u2019s Sylglas tape, spinnaker repair tape, tube of gelcoat, various\u00a0replacement fasteners. Leatherman type knife tool. In my view there\u2019s not much point\u00a0carrying a proper fiberglass repair kit; you\u2019re unlikely to be able to get things dry\u00a0enough for long enough to really use it. With hindsight I would also take a spare rudder\u00a0cable.
\nNon-kayak clothing: Take the bare minimum; I reckoned this to be one pair light\u00a0trousers, 2 shirts, one fleece, a warm outer coat, a few set of undies, one pair boots.
\nEnsure that whatever you take can dry quickly (so no jeans) as otherwise when it gets\u00a0wet it will stay so which is deeply miserable. Boots are bulky – go for something you can\u00a0crush down easily, with a good sole and preferably semi-waterproof. I used old DMs.<\/p>\n
Appendix B \u2013 Some Notes on Routine<\/h5>\nWater:<\/h6>\n
You probably need 2-3 litres per day for drinking and cooking, and since water
\nis heavy you can\u2019t carry much of it (for me 8-9 litres was the maximum). So every third\u00a0day or so you need to get fresh water. This makes the trip begin to feel like a tour of the\u00a0UK\u2019s coastal public loos.<\/p>\n
Battery charging:<\/h6>\n
Keeping VHF and phone batteries charged is a constant concern. My
\nGarmin VHFs had two batteries each, if I had all four charged I was generally OK for 1-2\u00a0weeks.<\/p>\n
Petrol:<\/h6>\n
Surprisingly perhaps, this is one area that\u2019s not really a problem. A litre of fuel
\nlasted me 3-4 weeks, and doesn\u2019t take up much space.<\/p>\n
Bad weather days:<\/h6>\n
Over the length of the trip, I averaged one day in four off the water
\nfor bad weather. I think this is similar to other people\u2019s experience around the UK.<\/p>\n
Communications:<\/h6>\n
I briefed the coastguard ahead of my journey, and then contacted
\nthem at the start and end of every day on the water. They deal with plenty of ejits so\u00a0take the trouble to go well prepared. They could not have been more helpful to me\u00a0throughout the voyage.<\/p>\n
Appendix C \u2013 Training and Preparation<\/h5>\nSea skills:<\/h6>\n
I took the theory part of the Yachtmaster exam, which covers navigation,
\nmeteorology, rules of the road etc. Essential preparation, anyone contemplating a major\u00a0sea expedition should do this.<\/p>\n
Fitness:<\/h6>\n
I trained several times a week in a K1, plus several long crossings at sea as I
\nbuilt up. You probably need a good three months to get fit, depending on where you\u2019re\u00a0starting from. Within bounds, you can allow your fitness to build during the trip if\u00a0you\u2019re cautious in the early days.<\/p>\n
Experience:<\/h6>\nDo as many multi-day trips with all your intended kit as you can so you
\nlearn what does and doesn\u2019t work for you while you still have time to change it.<\/h6>\n
People:<\/p>\n
Talk to wizened old voyagers who\u2019ve done it before, they\u2019re happy to help if
\nthey see you\u2019re preparing properly.<\/p>\n
Books:<\/h6>\n
Read Bill Taylor, Brian Wilson, Chris Duff etc. Also solo yachtsmen and polar
\nexplorers useful, many of the mental\/ emotional challenges are, I think, similar.<\/p>\n
Appendix D \u2013 Costs (approximate)<\/h5>\n
EPIRB – \u00a3400
\nRadios \u2013 2X \u00a3200
\nO\/S maps of UK – \u00a3400
\nCharts – \u00a37-800
\nKayaking and camping kit \u2013 budget on buying new for most items even if you already\u00a0have kit. Anything that is either part-worn or not of the highest quality is going to fail\u00a0you at some point in the trip and this is usually where epics begin.
\nI think I probably spent around \u00a36,000 in total on the voyage.<\/p>\n
Appendix E \u2013 Medical Notes<\/h5>\nWrists<\/h6>\n
I paddled with parallel blades to avoid carpal tunnel syndrome (caused by constant\u00a0wrist rotation), but still found that by about half way my right wrist was beginning to\u00a0seize up. Even with parallel blades I was tending to use my right wrist as the control\u00a0wrist and thus use a firmer grip. I practiced switching the \u2018control wrist\u2019 to the left hand\u00a0and eventually re-trained myself to use a fairly even grip between the two hands.<\/p>\n
Eyes<\/h6>\n
In the early days I paddled without sunglasses on overcast days. The constant spray in\u00a0the eyes builds up the salt and eventually this became quite uncomfortable so I began to\u00a0use the glasses all the time, as much as water shield as sun shield, and the problem\u00a0eased.<\/p>\n
Rashes<\/h6>\n
Wherever the clothing rubs, you\u2019re going to get sore. Just make sure the clothing is as\u00a0comfortable as possible before you go. Do some long crossings in it to find out! Cream\u00a0will soothe things but really you\u2019ve just got to try different kit until you find something\u00a0that doesn\u2019t rub.<\/p>\n
Skin splodge marks<\/h6>\n
My hands became all splodged like your granny; apparently it\u2019s the sun, they do goaway. Except if they\u2019re cancerous.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by Richard Atkinson<\/p>\n
These are the updates written during my solo journey around mainland Britain in 2002, they tell the story of my solo kayak voyage around mainland UK that summer. The journey began on 5th May in Spey Bay, Moray Firth, travelling clockwise and returning to\u00a0Spey Bay September 2nd. At the end I\u2019ve added some appendices which may be helpful\u00a0to those preparing a similar trip.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4182,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[50],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-250","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-gbcircumnav"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/250","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=250"}],"version-history":[{"count":18,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/250\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5762,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/250\/revisions\/5762"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4182"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=250"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=250"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.performanceseakayak.co.uk\/Archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=250"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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