Porlock Weir and the Jolly Green Giant

With Paul licking his wounds after his unfortunate accident he was feeling really down and quite gutted at having to miss out on his planned training in Anglesey this weekend. This was to have been followed by his four star assessment the following weekend. Couldn't have happened at a worse time for him. :(

I was eager to get out on the water with the Jolly Green Giant and get some familiarising miles under my belt. The weather looked good for both Saturday and Sunday and I really wanted to take advantage of it with an overnight trip of some sort. Stuart had been in contact to ask if I'd like to go with him and Taran to Flatholm - I'd love to normally but really wanted something to get my teeth into and with a gift of two days low wind I asked if he'd prefer to join me for a challenging journey over the Bristol Channel to Porlock Weir, camp the night and return on Sunday. Besides we could all have a lie in Saturday morning and start later in the afternoon than his Holm trip and be back by lunch on Sunday. All sounded good.

So the three of us met up at for a 1330 launch at St Donat's.

Stuart and Taran preparing to leave the green green grass of home

After loading up all the gear for an overnight trip, (the Cetus HV can only be described as cavernous as it swallowed up all the gear without effort), we set off towards England. Couldn’t see it mind you, it was “over there” beyond the mist. There is something quite special about staring off on a crossing when you can’t see the other side, anticipation of where you will actually end up and the satisfaction when your navigation works out.

Once you start on a crossing like this, there is not much sight seeing. We don’t talk much as we get our heads down and into the paddling zone. We do get to see a group of three gannets fly over, which we thought was a bit early for them.

Stuart approaching Porlock Weir

Taran following up behind as we approach the dried out Porlock Weir

3hrs 15 mins later we are landing our boats at Porlock Weir. My God it’s cold on the hands when we stop!

It's a long tiring carry after paddling all this way!

It’s a cruel horrible carry up the beach that seems to go on for ever . . . and it’s getting cold as the sun has lost all it’s heat and is heading past the horizon. Porlock Weir being on the North of the Somerset coast doesn’t get direct sunshine as it’s tucked in behind the Exmoor plateaux so it’s not surprising that the grass still has a little bit of frost on it when we start to set up our tents for the night.

The top of the beach at Porlock Weir

Setting up camp near the pub for refreshments

Changing swiftly out of sweaty paddling gear to stop the rapid onset of cold that’s occurring, we retreat into our tents to stuff warm food in our stomachs. After an appropriate amount of chill out time the call of the public house is heard and we head over to sit in front of the log fire and warm our cockles while enjoying a pint of ale.

Taran and Stuart warming up by the fire

It doesn’t take long for me to start nodding off, so I decide to head over to get my head down for some kip – to be woken around midnight by a massive bang and a whole load of fireworks being let off. It was the wedding party at the hotel enjoying a finale to their days celebrations. And what a cracking calm and clear night it was too!

Up at the crack of dawn to catch the tide right for our return – not so far to portage he boats thank goodness.

Getting the boats to the water in the morning to launch isn't quite the arduous that getting them out was

Stuart heading out of Porlock Bay

Taran and Stuart heading home to Wales

Progress across is as on the first leg, except that the wind picks up slightly to provide a few white horses. In the distance we spot what looks like a couple of mast, but as we draw closer the top signs of cardinal buoys are made out. Well I hadn’t known these were here! Just goes to show that we need to continually check up for updates of our charts. There are updates posted on the Admiralty web site for each chart that they produce so you can pencil in new buoys. I’ve since found out that the position of a new wreck had been found and four cardinals had been set up to mark it’s position. Two of them have subsequently been removed. I logged their coordinates to transfer onto my chart later.

Didn't notice this one before

With a force 4 cross wind and semi loaded boat it was really quite a pleasant surprise to find out something regarding the skeg on the Cetus HV. My normal application of skeg in this situation is full on with the Cappella, but hey what’s this, the HV was lee cocking! I had to double and triple check this!! It certainly was, in fact I had to back the skeg right off to about 1/3 its travel (4 clicks out of 12). Another thing about the skeg control is that it is ultra ultra light, but I’ll touch on that sometime when I go over the boat in another post.

We arrive back at St Donat’s after another 3hrs 15mins doing the reverse crossing. We had to work hard though to get back in to the shelter of the bay and not overshoot into Nash Sound as the tide was starting to really rip as we approached the Welsh coast. But we got there.

Taran Taran Tarra Easy Peasy - Taran arrives back home -

Just over 26Nm in 6.5 hours across a spring tide

Have a read of both Stuart and Taran's take on the trip. It seems they both enjoyed it. I certainly did.

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

Cross your legs while crossing . . . Relief

A nice forecast loomed for the weekend. A quick barter for a free pass in exchange for a day of shopping sans children was made and Friday evening had me hastily putting together the plan to revisit the Bristol Channel Crossing. Hywel made a not too dissimilar transaction. It may have been hasty but it was thorough. Getting there was sorted, but our return the same day, to fulfill “the bargain”, posed a problem with tide times producing lack of daylight and at 2am with my brain going to sleep, my vectors were not checking out and I still needed to pack. Too many lemons and not enough oranges. One way trip it had to be.

Goodbye Nash

Setting off at 8.30 into the fog there was no sight of the other side and before long after seeing the last of Nash Lighthouse, there was no sight of land to our rear.


The fog heightened our awareness of crossing a shipping lane with this sort of viz. Every chug of a motor seemed to be coming directly towards us and those dark silhouettes of large vessels were appearing out of the fog in my mind at every turn. It made me feel very small and vulnerable indeed.

3 hours after departure the first sight of land . . . just

Then the sun breaks out as we cross Porlock Bay

4 hrs since leaving Welsh soil we enter Porlock Weir and are soon supping Somerset Cider in the glorious sunshine.

Entrance to Porlock Weir

14.4 Nm in just about 4 hrs would have been reduced
had I not needed to . . . well you know

There is a stark deviation to the very nice curve of the crossing near the English coastline at Hurlstone Point. Well I learnt that it is one thing to be prepared with a bottle for ones relief when away from landfall but without a zip or the means to gain access . . . well I put it off for as long as I could, and when I came close to the first bit of land I paddled like a man possessed against the tide and deviated for my own relief.