Dusk Till Dawn

I wasn't expecting quite the vampire-ic experience of Seth and his brother Richard at the "Titty Twister" in Mexico. The only similarity in fact was that there was a Richard amongst us, it was dark and the planned duration was akin to the movie title. 

I've had it in my mind for a few years to do a there and back trip across the Bristol Channel with a twist (no titties) - crossing one way during the day to Porlock Weir and return at night under the stars. The plan had originally involved a visit to the pub followed by sleep.

Flat calm - looking out across the Bristol Channel

Conditions were right, a combination of: high pressure; forecast of little wind; it being a weekend and me just feeling "up for it". A slight variation to the plan was hatched and executed at short notice - there was to be no pub and very little sleep. Fair play to both Richard and Paul for coming out to play, Paul was given only a few hours notice. But what better way to end a paddle than to paddle in at the break of a new day!

The bay at St Donats - the sun has just slipped over the horizon

After a last check of the weather Paul, Richard and myself gathered our stuff together on the slipway at St Donats and we slipped off at 2115.

Open crossings can be very photographically boring as they tend to be, well, boring, just mainly sea and this paddle was going to be in the dark, further reducing the photo opportunity. With the twilight past, and with the tides being neaps there wasn't much of a moon. What light there was from it was being masked initially by a little bit of cloud but one by one the stars could be made out through the patches of clear sky.

A rather warm paddling at first - I was glad to have taken one under layer off before starting. It had been difficult to judge how much to wear under my dry-suit, knowing that I wouldn't easily be able to reduce the thermal layers out on the water if I got too hot, but as the cloud lifted and we were gifted with a jewel filled sky, the temperature dropped noticeably a few notches and I was now at a comfy temperature.

It was like a mill pond out there. Heading southish towards the north Somerset coast there was very little light pollution compared to the industrial light show of Cardiff and Newport, so we were treated with spectacular views of the constellations and moonlight reflecting of the few ripples. It was serene.

Landing at Porlock Weir (picture by Richard)

Three hours of paddling, at a non stop pace, we arrived at Porlock Weir.

View from Porlock Weir: The light pollution looking back to the Welsh coast is exaggerated by the long exposure.
You can just make out some of the stars, in what to the naked eye was a dark black sky.

After messing about taking photos in the dark - we jump in our bivy bags and get a few hours kip.

3am we were up packing and dragging our boats down to the much lower water line. It's noticeably darker as now as the moon has also set. 0350 we are away again. Once clear of the headland we get exposed to a little bit of a SE breeze. The return journey is not as smooth, every now and again we hear the sound of breaking water. The sea state has picked up slightly, but we keep our whits about us and plod on. Every so often we see dark objects rise to the sky from the sea, no vampires, just disturbed resting birds on the water taking flight.

Ever so gradually at first a barely perceptible lighter tint appears on the horizon as the night sky gives way to the crack of dawn. After about an hour or so there is no mistaking that a new day has dawned.

Crack of dawn as the sky goes from light pink through to orange

Still a few miles to go

We paddle in silence, buried in our own thoughts, putting one blade in after the other. It's bizarre that those last few miles seem to take forever as land fall suddenly stops getting closer and you wonder if you are actually making any progress at all.

0720 after 3.5 hrs we finally land. Just in time for breakfast!

Richard lands after a paddle across the channel with the second largest tidal range in the world, twice.

44km 6.5hrs, no vampires

Cold as Ice

What possesses someone to get out of bed on a freezing cold morning – no I really mean FREEZING (well for us in the UK anyway) – and go sea kayaking? It’s the day before Christmas. I’m not in work, it’s warm in my bed and it’s -4 degrees C by the backdoor (I know it’s not cold by any arctic standard).

Britain, still gripped in the snow and ice, has ground it to a halt, The temperature has locally been down as low as –16, but today the sun is shining, the forecast is looking good and it promises to be a great day for paddling.

I read about Stuarts earlier trip along the coast and saw his photographs of the icicles hanging on the cliff faces – something that we rarely get to see here. So decided to go and find some of these myself.

Arriving at Llantwit Major beach (Col-huw) the place is like an ice rink. Treading carefully I get down to the beach from the car park trying hard not to slip and break any bones, I’m on the water at 11am (3.5 Hrs before LT). It’s all very wrong – we shouldn’t have ice or snow at the seaside!

Traveling west I have the sun behind and it is all very pleasant. It doesn’t take long before icicles appear in abundance.





Not long before I’m entering Nash Sound and pass through at an effortless 7.5 knots.

Nash Point Lighthouse

I’m treated with sights of the snowline creeping down to meet the shoreline. With the sun being so low at this time of year there are quite a few places where it’s rays either don’t reach or are there for such a short time they haven’t been able to melt the snow. Much to my childish delight.

Arriving at Southerndown (Dunraven Bay), my scheduled turn about point,  I come across this little feller

Christmas Roast?

– or feller-ess to be more precise as after a bit of asking about it turns out to be a female Cape Shelduck.

With my early arrival and still about 2 hours of ebb in my favour I let the coastguard know I was going on to paddle further to Tusker Rock before heading back.

Within 30 minutes I’m sitting on the rock having my hot soup and sarnies and taking in the fantastic picture poastcard views of this tremendous heritage coastline.

Wreck remains on Tusker Rock

Ogmore by Sea from Tusker Rock

Dunraven Bay from Tusker Rock

The tide hasn’t quite turned when I leave within 40 mins of low water but I can make steady ground. Today daylight dictates the travel plans over ease of paddling. Heading on out into the Bristol Channel my plan is to go out over the Nash Sand Bar and pick up on the main tidal flow as it turns and the flood kicks in.

The sand bar is some 14 miles long, but only parts of it broach the surface at the lower points of the tide. It produces some wild conditions when the wind and tide dictate.

Even with the fairly benign conditions I face today you can tell when you pass over the shallow water. The water surface gradually moves through glass like to ripples to small breaking waves. Today it is manageable. The water around here does weird stuff, flows in odd and for me at least, unpredictable ways.

I give it the respect I think it deserves. Creepily it gives me the feeling of a small welcoming smile growing to a chuckle and onto hysterical manic laughter. I don’t trust it. I’ve been here before when it seems to entice you into it’s playful arms.

Out into the channel the tide is taking me nicely with the accelerating flood. Closing into Nash Point  I’m surprised to sea some of the sea birds ‘walking on water”. From my low seating angle I can’t see the last remains of the sand bank protruding through the water for them to stand on. I decide, as I’m passing, to land and take some photographs of the cliffs lit by the beautiful late afternoon sun.

My luck just as I land the sun nips behind a cloud and the golden light drops off the cliff.

Looking west along the sand bar heading towards the Gower,
the submerged bar causing the confused waters beyond.

Swirly waters taking back the sand bar

The water level is rising with each wave and I don’t fancy staying out of my boat for long, as my firm footing starts to change to quick sand.

Leaving Nash I keep well offshore and ride the conveyor belt back to the frozen car.

After all that, I hope it’s fairly obvious why you don’t need much more of an incentive to get out of bed and go for a paddle!

15.7 Nm (29 km)

Strange Goings On

It's been one of those glorious mornings. Hywel had suggested one of his regular trips. So after a very lazy start to the day, Adrian and I met him at Swanbridge and left the enticemennt of the Captains Wife for a jaunt over to Flatholm.

Low neap tide and a high pressure together with little wind provided us with a fairly calm playground.

Flatholm, with strangeness occurring at the waters edge

What I hadn't expected, or had I seen before, was the way the opposite side of the Bristol Channel looked. Some strange atmospheric conditions were causing mirages to occur and the opposite side of the channel was broken up in to what looked like lots of islands.

Steepholm to the right with a new island to the left (Brean Down)

Brean Down 'Island' with other 'Islets'
(click on the pic to see a slightly bigger version)

Hywel approaching Flatholm

Giving way!

We do an anticlockwise circumnavigation of and head on back to the Captains Wife to sink a well earned pint of "Tribute" and contemplate projects.

A short trip, but what a glorious day and a fantastic pint.

7Nm around the island

Caves, Cliffs and Kayaks

Newton is a sandy beach sitting just east along the coast from Porthcawl. At this time of year you can park right close to the slipway that takes you down to the sand, and access to the water is easy. Paddling here there always seems to be a little bit of agitated water near the point. I'm paddling with Adrian today with the intention of going up the Bristol Channel with the flood tide through Nash and to finish up at St Donat's.

We make a beeline over the bay towards Ogmore and paddle up along the coast to east of Black Rocks. The tide is not too high yet, but high enough to get access to get to explore some of the caves.

Some of the rocks at the base of the cliffs provide a playground for a bit of rock hopping.

This section of coast between Ogmore and Southerndown always offers something different depending on the state of the tide and swell.

There is a tiny bit of swell and I get rock hopped onto a ledge when caught by the rogue wave in a set.

There is a definable pattern of surf sets building up, this is a pleasant surprise as we thought it would be fairly flat today. Gradually we make our way towards Southerndown at every opportunity looking in every available nook and cranny.

We stop for a bite to eat on the exposed sandy beach at Southerndwn. Follow this up with a bit of surfing. We have the surf all to ourselves as the unexpected sets haven't attracted any of the regular boardies.

Traeth Mawr towards Nash Point

Continuing along Traeth Bach and Traeth Mawr (the Welsh for little and big beach).
Just before we round Nash Point to play, it's nice to spot a seal in the water off Cwm Marcross. After giving us a few stares, he doesn't follow us as I guess he's busy feeding in the shallower waters.

Nash Lighthouse

We have a bit of excitement on the lively waters around the point and head on towards St Donat's under the shadow of the two lighthouses at Nash Point.

Great afternoon paddle.

(9.4Nm just over 17km)

Purple Haze. Not quite Hendrix, but still an experience

I really enjoyed the late evening paddle last night. The high pressure and calm weather are still with us, so decided on a repeat of the trip out from Southerndown beach to the Mid Nash buoy to catch the last of the day's rays.

Leaving at about 1900 the water was like a mill pond. With no wind to talk about I'm at the buoy within 40mins.

More Black Yellow Black Cardinal Buoy than
"White Boy Black Boy Blues"

It's not until you get to the anchored buoy that you have any idea of the speed of the water flow that you're traveling over.

Golden Brown texture like sun . . .

There is a lazy hazy feel about the evening. No sound at all other than when I'm paddling. It's bordering on the transcendental.

I see wind

You can see the light breeze on the water. It's dancing in front of your eyes, the pattern it introduces to the water reveals its intention, you can anticipate the moment it touches you as it approaches.

The sun heads on down and the sky turns colour and the offshore wind begins to play with the mirror finish as the balance of heat changes from land to sea.

The Purple Haze

The sun disappears over the horizon, and I turn and head on back to dry land.
As I said, not quite Hendrix, but still an experience.


5.9Nm (11km)