Big Spring Paddle around the Isle of Wight

The Vernal Equinox is just over a week away so as a welcome to the near beginning of Spring I'm meeting up with Mark, Richard and Graham, for the second year on the run, to circumnavigate the Isle of Wight as some emerging spring pagan paddling ritual.

The forecast is set for low winds all weekend on the south coast of England, perfect paddling conditions are promised. It all starts with a three and a half hour car journey after work from Wales down to Keyhaven on the southern coast of Hampshire opposite the Isle of Wight, it's going to be a tiring weekend but well worth the effort I hope. Last year I had such a great paddle, (all be it battling into head winds and withstanding freezing conditions),  and was up for another test of endurance this time round. The general idea was that this big spring tide was going to help us get around this chalk mound a little on the quick side if the timings were right.

Kayak packing in the dark

Looking over the salt marshes to the Isle of Wight

Arriving at the get in at dusk, the mudflats and salt marsh of Keyhaven, I have to laugh with utter amusement as I pack the Cetus HV with a weekends worth of food, water and camping kit - it just disappears inside with no effort or puzzle packing.

The moon has not risen yet as we wait for the incoming tide to creep in over the mud flats. There are examples here of medieval salt workings, not that we can see any of them in the pitch black. We paddle out into the dark towards the spit and out through our first small tide race to cross over the Solant to The Needles. It takes about an hour to cross over and pass through them and then to head east along the south coast towards Freshwater.

Our progress is slowed right down now as we are paddling against the tide and there is a little bit of a swell running creating quite a bit of excited water caused by the waves reflecting off the vertical chalk cliffs meeting the on coming wave - clapotis. We bounce between the nodes and antinodes like bobbing corks. Eventually after 2hrs of slogging through and against this we arrive at Freshwater. Unloading and hauling the boats off the steep shelving pebbly beach we all trudge up with our gear to camp on top of the cliffs that over looks Freshwater Bay.

Quietly, except for that familiar metallic clink and chink of poles and pegs, we each put up our tents and crawl in. I'm really tired now, it's been non stop since 9am (yesterday) when I dropped the kids off for school, it's about two in the morning and I've just realised after getting into dry clothes and my sleeping bag that I've left my water in the kayak down at the foot of the cliff on the beach - I REALLY can't be bothered, and make do with a bag of crisps and finish off the hot soup in my flask before flaking out.

It's mid morning by the time I come around - and what a great day it promises to be!

Chill time - we wait for the tide to turn

Amazing what you can pack away in a sea kayak if you are careful!

After suitable refueling and some more snoozing it's time to get the kayaking kit on and load up for the day's/night's paddle. Time and tide waits for no man and all that.

Leaving Freshwater Bay

The last of the sun

The sun slips over the horizon as we approach the tide race off St Katherine's Lighthouse and we continue in darkness stopping off at Ventnor to stretch legs. The moon has not yet risen as we push on across Sandown Bay and rises as we approach Bembridge Harbour.

Newly risen moon looking back across the entrance to Bembridge Harbour

Nice little camp spot

After a fairly misty dawn and a lazy morning, we pack up and get ready to ride the tide home along the northern part of the coast.

We make good time with the tidal stream and about four and a half hours later we are turning in past the spit back to Keyhaven and close the circumnavigation circle. The final half hour is a slog against the rapidly draining marsh land to arrive back at our start point.

Total satisfaction.

Now all I need to do is load up and sit on my behind for a further 3 hrs or so and drive home!

Hurst Castle and lighthouse as we approach the gravel spit before entering Keyhaven

 Another great weekend paddling. Good company and a cracking challenge.

100km in 13.5 hrs of actual paddling of which 8 hrs were at night

Going out for a BANG!

Clear sky and a fairly calm sea, I sent out a late round robin e-mail to see who fancied a night paddle out across the bay from Ogmore to Porthcawl and catch the fireworks displays from the water. Chris and Jim were up to the foray.

Ok, sorry, I have to admit that the pics are pretty dire, but they do have this arty feeling to them that sort of conveys the mood out on the water and its quite hard to hold a camera steady while popping about.

I was pleased to get out to watch the fireworks at last-have been trying to do it a few times, Jim popped his night paddling cherry and a great evening paddle was enjoyed by all.

Red sky at night

Who ate all the pies?

Tweedledum and Tweedledee?

Waiting for the sun to go down

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

Isle of the Needles

I knew very little about the Isle of Wight (IOW) other than my dad ran a marathon around it when I was small and he came back with a little medallion with an enamel map of the island on it. The shape of that map, for some reason has stayed with me for all those years.
A vague recollection of different coloured sands in glass jars and hovercraft are tagged IOW in those grey cells of mine. Another voyage of discovery was about to begin.

Wight is the bastardisation over time of the Old English word wiht – meaning a thing or sentient being. I had assumed it was something to do with the striking white chalk cliffs. The island is England's largest and provided us with a challenge as Liz, Mark, Graham and I were going to paddle around it.

This weekend is the vernal equinox, the beginning of spring and a rather special one as it is also a lunar perigee, that's to say that the full moon will be the closest it’s been to the earth for nearly 20 years. We’ll be riding the first spring spring tide. Boing, boing, so paddling would be a slight mis-description, more of a paddle and tidal conveyor belt ride – well that’s the plan.

All has a sense of magic about it

Launching from near the the small fishing port of Keyhaven we head out into the Hurst Spit protected salt marshes on mirror flat water. It's just gone 2115hrs and the full moon is giving us plenty of light. Still air, smooth waters. All is calm.

Rounding the shingle spit we enter the Solent proper as we pass Hurst Castle lighthouse located next to Hurst Castle . The castle was built by Henry VIII to defend the western approach to the Solent and was upgraded during the Napolionic war to take 38 ton guns. WWII saw it become a coastal battery with the addition of searchlights-not that we need any of those tonight as the moon is doing a spectacular job.

By the light of the moon . . . we nearly get trashed by a cargo tanker

With the coastal defenses behind us we cross over the Solent towards The Needles without much incident save a realistic night time running lights refresher as we put on a healthy burst of speed to get out of the way of a rather large container ship. It was good to know that he actually saw us given that he let loose a few blasts on his ships hooter.

We approach the Needles and pass through the small race between the stacks. Up until now we have been on the north side of the Isle of Wight and as such the cliffs have all been in the shadow of the moon. All has been dark and mysterious with cracking views of the stars on this clear night. As we turn the corner this all dramatically changes as the rays of the moon suddenly create an explosion of light as they find white chalk cliffs to reflect from. The contrast is quite overwhelming. Paddling in awe struck silence we suck it all up. The only sound above the gentle waves lapping the feet of these sheer cliffs is the bird life flying above, woken I assume by our strange passage. They appear and disappear in flashes of moonlight caught on their white plumage like shooting stars as they fly up beyond the cliff top and disappear into the night sky.

Night paddling at its best.

We were lucky to have a perfectly cloudless night, goes some way to convey the mood
Postcard from a great collection of old Isle of Wight postcards

The temperature has been dropping by the time we arrive at midnight at the beach of Freshwater Bay and there is frost in the air. Landing on steep shingle we haul our kit up to the cliff tops, eat some grub and curl up in our tents to sleep on top of already frozen ground. Winter is holding on to the very last.

Just before sunrise on the last day of winter

Overnight temperatures were due to drop to about -3˚C, it was not to much of a shock to wake up with frozen tents in the morning, but it didn't take long for the sun to rise and give us the promise of a fair day ahead.

The first rays of light reflect from the chalk cliffs looking towards the Needles

We decide to have a wander about in wait for our 1400hrs afternoon launch. There was plenty to go have a look at. There is an interesting thatched church, St Agnes, in Freshwater.

Church of St Agnes, Freshwater Bay 

A brisk walk out onto the cliff tops we head out to the Needles proper and take in the iconic view of the light house and stacks that we paddled through last night.

The Needles

Arriving at the headland you find the remains of the Needles Battery. Built at the end of the 19th century to defend us from the threat of froggy invaders. The biggest surprise for me was to find that this was also the location of the British aerospace secret rocket testing site back in the 50s-70s. At a time when Britain was ahead of American and Soviet rocket propulsion systems, they were secretly testing right here. 

Space race at the High Down Rocket Test Site, IOW

The naturally curved shaped bay, facing south out into the sea meant that nobody on the mainland or on the IOW could hear the propulsion system being test fired. All the sound was reflected out to sea, which the Royal Navy had cleared of all shipping prior to ignition.

Kitting up ready for the off from Freshwater Bay

Before we know it it's time to get back on the water as the tide is calling. A bit of a headwind slows us down together with initial adverse flow made getting to St Catherine's Point a bit of a slog.

Liz pondering the answers to brain teasers posed to keep us sane

After 3 and a half hours we finally pick up speed and shoot through the big overfalls at the islands most southerly point.

St. Catherine's Point lighthouse

We sit and watch the sun go down on our approach to Ventnor Bay, and in awe as the moon begins to rise above the horizon ready to illuminate our second night time section. 

Tonights Super Moon was the last of the winter sunlight
as tomorrow is the beginning of Spring

1830hrs has us landing at sandy Ventnor Bay for the addition of a layer ready for the late evening section. We top up with some jammy doughnuts in lieu of fish and chips.

Moon Rise

After a further 3 hours of paddling under a slightly cloudier moonlit night we arrive at Bembridge for a nice gentle surf to our evenings camping ground.

Shangri la on the English riviera - Mark enjoys a morning cuppa before the off

Next morning we are on the water early in the day for a change and head up north into the Solant passing the all-weather RNLI station at Bembridge which houses a Tamar Class lifeboat.

The new lifeboat house at the eastern entrance to the Solent

We aim up and out towards No Mans Land Fort which was recently up for sale complete with revolving bed. The video is worth a watch. It is one of the Palmerston Forts built between 1867 and 1880 by the then British Prime Minister to protect Britain from French invasion. I've seen many examples now of his follies as they are sometimes called. Some are closer to home on Flatholm but he seems to have really gone to town around the Portsmouth/Solent area with his forts.

No Mans Land Fort

Turning west at this point, I encounter one of the largest boils I have ever seen, just after the two eddy lines joined behind the fort - it must have been a good 3-4 boat lengths across.

"OK! I admit it. My position is unknown at this time."

We catch the flow and now enjoy a pleasurable afternoon paddling down the centre of the Solent with another headwind to contend with. We stop briefly in at Cowes for a lunch stop before continuing back toward the salt marshes from whence we started Friday evening, catching the last of the first spring sunlight before it sets. 45km in total today, 41km yesterday and 16km Friday night.

Graham passing behind the gravel spit with Hurst Castle lighthouse in the background

Rear of Hurst Castle, entering the salt marshes

My own medallion

101km circumnavigation, great company, fantastic adventure, wonderful memories - not a bad weekend all considered.

I only touched the surface (or rather skirted the circumference) of what this island has to unveil. There are many other interesting things to find out about it. I think, to coin the phrase of the sentient or wight of a mechanical nature, no doubt I’ll be back.