Chasing Rainbows

Taking the Cetus out for the first paddle of the year.

No gold found though

Raynard's Cave at Tresillian Bay on the Bristol Channel

Headdon's Mouth to Lee Bay (Exmoor day 2)

Morning dawns at some point that I'm unaware of and as high tide is at 1600 hrs there is no rush to get up. 

The day really warms up as the sun reaches over the steep valley top and I extract myself from my bivy bag to a bright sunny morning.

It's going to be a fantastic day.

Heddon's Mouth 

One or two people have already made the trip down to this very pretty valley, either along the cliff tops as part of the South West Coast Path or following the deep valley walk along the river towards the sea.

In its past it has been visited by more than just walkers and day trippers. During World War II, German U-boats would re-stock with water and stretch legs along this section of remote coastline. For more information read what Martin Hesp has to say about secret Nazi U-Boat landings for water and a game of football along these deep watered shores.

After a lazy lunch and having packed the boat at the high tide level - it only remained to lie in the sun waiting for the tide - this sea kayaking lark has it's moments.

Once on the water, heading west, I pick up on the beginning of the ebb tide. What's in store is an overpowering sense of how small I am as I look up at these towering cliffs. The tallest is over 1000 feet - and are the highest mainland cliffs in Britain.

I get sucked early on into exploring the base of the cliffs. Progress is slow due to the curiosity and the urge to go look-see.

Time to crack on if I'm to get to Lee Bay and get set up before dark. Reluctantly I put my effort into making some headway - so I by pass the very interesting looking Combe Martin Bay with it's secluded sandy coves and Watermouth Castle. Heading off shore a wee bit to pick up on the increasing tidal stream I make towards Illfracombe.

On the approach I see MS Oldenburg heading into port. I decide to follow and make phone contact with my mates to find out the latest on the arrangements to Lundy.

MS Oldenburg - passenger ferry for Lundy - with heated saloons a bar and buffet - I'll be getting there by kayak,  fuelled by chocolate, bananas and Jelly Babies  

After shore side comms. are over and resisting the huge temptation of hot fish and chips, I'm back on the water and picking up steam at a comfortable 6 knots towards Lee Bay. In my enthusiasm and unfamiliarity of the coast I almost overshoot my destination, convinced it was around the next headland.
Safe arrival, I gett all my stuff off the boat and settle down to cook tea while watching the sun go down.

After food I make my way up the Lee valley to visit The Grampus Inn to sample the delights of it's various guest ales and socialise with a few local maritime characters 'till the wee hours. Since the 4am launch has been postponed there is no desperate rush to get back . . .

Lee Bay the following morning

The days coastline (11.2Nm/20km) - well worth a closer more leisurely paddle - will return soon!

Getting further from home

gNashing at the Heddon Mouth (Exmoor Day 1)

The big plan was to head out to Lundy Island to escape THE wedding - I couldn't imagine a better place to indulge in a few well earned beers after a few days paddling, lie in the sun and do nothing.

Zero Carbon impact or just the impulsion to give it some stick I decided it would be a satisfying challenge to paddle there from the South Wales coast.

A three stage plan was hatched. Paddle a fairly long crossing to Headdon Mouth from Nash Point, then next day bumble along a few miles of the highest sea cliffs (250m) of mainland Britain to Lee Bay west of Illfracombe, meet up with some friends and paddle on to Lundy Island to sample the delights within the Marisco Tavern.

Loaded up at Nash Point waiting for the top of the flood

Looking back at Cwm Marcroes

Launching from Nash under beautiful sunny sky there is just a little breeze. I paddle straight out on my bearing which I hope will get me to the right point the other side!

It's not long before the clouds come. The day turns overcast and fairly cool which makes for a good paddling temperature. A fairly brisk easterly cross wind picks up which is a bit of a pain. Even with the skeg fully deployed and my boat packed to be stern heavy it  weather cocks annoyingly. Occasionally I need to paddle with biased blades - left shaft longer than the right - to try and maintain a constant paddling rhythm. I wished that the boat would track better in a cross wind. Just had to plough on.

Meeting other seafarers - best keep out of their way!

As requested I call in my position every hour to the CG and watch the tidal drift track on the GPS as I wait to be picked up on channel 67. Bang on neap tides, as expected, there is still quite a flow building up, thankfully, as my aimed off bearing is based on some of it.

Another big one - not that many out here today

After a few hours I've passed the middle and can see the English side getting closer - slowly!

England looms closer, Exmore - but it's still a bit dull and overcast

It doesn't actually feel that long a time before I finally arrive at Headdon Mouth and the sun decides to eventually pop out to provide a glorious evening on the beach to cook tea on.

Headdon Mouth - with the tide still going out

Actually the maths seemed to work - sort of

3 hrs 45 mins to paddle the 33km (averaging 4.6 knots) - seems I paddled over quicker than it would have taken to drive! I'm fairly chuffed. Time for some grub and watch the sun go down before heading off to the Hunters Hotel. Did I forget to mention there was a convenient-ish public house up the wooded valley? Oh yes!

Looking out of Headdon Mouth along the coast that will be tomorrows trip

At the end of a satisfying day!

Very eerie Blaire Witch walking through the wooded gorge up to the Hunters Lodge for a few well earned pints - I'm rewarded by the sight of an old friend - Addlestones Cider. The brewery were kind enough to sponsor me and some friends with a few casks of the nectar on my first channel crossing. Time to pay them back!

After an enjoyable evening talking amongst friendly strangers, I make my way back to the beach by some totally different route, never the less the lack of light pollution sets the stage for a truly spectacular show of stars in the cloudless night sky. I have my very own planetarium.

After staring up at the sky from my bivy bag for a while, I'm fast asleep.

Trip of the light fantastic

Looking out towards Mumbles and the Gower

Seeing this as I'm doing the washing up, I just had to get out tonight. Nobody else available, I decided on a solo night time excursion. Unbelievably calm evening, absolutely zero wind, no swell, nearly dark. Perfect.

A rocky launch from Southerndown I head west and ride with the ebbing spring tide towards Ogmore. The New Moon has just passed so it will be a nice dark night.

It is just so calm out here tonight.

I'm there in no time, the water giving no indication of the full flow in progress. I turn tail anticipating a bit of a work out to get back as the last of the light disappears.

Now it's time to see if the magic I came out to see, appears.

Yes I saw it, or did I?

Gradually as the darkness deepens they appear like little fairies, fire sparks on the water, the magic of summer night time paddling - bio luminescence - don't even want to know how it works - it's a phantasmagorical phenomenon.

Returning to Southerndown, the tide now well down the beach for a nice safe sandy landing - just as well 'cos I can't see a thing.

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)

Kayak, Still sea, Nash and not so Young

I think a high pressure system may be sitting over the top of my house. The weather has been glorious all day, there is no wind, the sun has been out and it's Friday evening. It's getting late but I'm in need of some paddling, really quite fancy a dusky excursion.

Driving down the road to the beach I can see out across the flat calm Bristol Channel and spy the Mid Nash buoy way out off the coast and the Somerset coast beyond. That's it then, a paddle out to the buoy and back before dark.

The tide has started to ebb and we are on neaps. The navigation on this is going to be a bit suck and see, the buoy is directly off the coast so some sort of ferry glide is in order. Leaving the, now exposed, sandy beach at Southerndown I head out towards the middle of the Bristol Channel. Keeping the buoy on the down stream side, I use some dips in the hills on the backdrop as transit points and paddle out towards the Nash sand bar. It's very calm, almost eerie out here on your own.

Crossing over the sand bar and approaching the deeper waters the transit points are moving and I have to adjust my ferry angle as the tidal flow really starts to become apparent. The last few hundred yards I have to work hard not to miss the buoy. But I make it.

Mid Nash south cardinal buoy

3 miles off the coast and starting the return trip, I decide to let the coastguard know that I will be returning to shore and arriving at dusk. I didn't want the embarrassment of looking up at the Porthcawl lifeboat. Jim and Neil had that pleasure last year on a dusk paddle when they were helped out by a 999 call from a walker on an evening stroll.

After the normal questions of "what colour is your boat?" and "what's your ETA?", I'm rather amused by the question "what life saving equipment do you have on board?". I thought better of the reply that I would just nip below decks and check. Visions of defibrillators were going through my mind, so I asked politely that I didn't quite know what she meant. Lifejacket was what she was after. I didn't like to tell her I was already wearing it, just in case she got the wrong impression and thought I was expecting to go down.

The trip back towards the shore is a nice relaxed paddle, the sky begins to dim as the sun slips behind some low grey clouds that have materialised. The smell of bar-b-q smoke and fire lighter drift on the offshore evening wind playing with my nose and the flicker of the orange flames come into view on the approaching beach.

I land as the sun finally slips out from behind some clouds and starts doing that wonderful trick of turning into a fiery orange disk as it slips over the edge. Rock on the summer.

Self indulgent behaviour

It's Mothers Day today.
I had been warned, however, that there would be no paddling next weekend, as fatherly duties would be in order. But today was a free paddle day.

With the proviso I called in to see my mum at some point with it being mothers day an' all. As if I wouldn't!

Nobody else was about for a longish paddle so this was incentive enough to try something different. After recently reading a description of Stuart’s trip out from Limpert Bay at Gileston, I wondered why I hadn’t set out from here before. After all it is just a few minutes drive away.

I do know now though.

It is a horrible place to launch from at low tide when you are on your own.
Best described as a long carry out to the water over a natural obstacle course. Steep pebble boulders followed by a tiny bit of sand that quickly changes to a muddy silt covered sand. The silt varying in depth from a scant covering to ankle deep horrible patches, as well as seaweed covered rocks.

It is a long way out at low water, I said that didn’t I. Yes it’s a long way out. And when you get on the water the reef seems to go on for ever before the deep water is found. A note for the future – or in a glass boat – float the boat out quite a way first before launching, your keel will be happier with you!

Limpet Bay, with Aberthaw powerstation, a very very long horrible solo carry

It doesn’t have the most picturesque of backdrops either, Aberthaw power station imposingly looms over the bay. Just as well it will be out of sight, behind me, for the first half of the trip.

In a similar vain to last weeks forecast, the reality was different to the predicted. Force 2-3 predicted, locally more like a 3-4. Windfinder was spot on again.
I was going to be in for a bit of an exercise paddle today.

I launch, eventually, and get out beyond Breaksea Point, the southernmost point of mainland Wales (Flat Holm Island being the most southerly, but it's errrr, an island), and head down the coast.

Fishermen at the southernmost tip of Wales, on Breaksea Point,
with the powerstation water intake on the horizon

Getting on the water 40 mins before low tide, I had a fresh head wind to contend with on the outward trip. With an open day ahead of me, the plan was to paddle as far as I wanted, or could, against the wind and the soon to turn tide, stop for a bite to eat and then come back with the flow, with the wind on my back.

With the tide so far out there would be no opportunity to do any rock hopping or swell riding - there was no swell at all anyway.

That little white speck in the middle is Nash Point lighthouse

Mentally I set my lunch stop and turning point at a small beach just before Traeth Mawr, the other side of Nash Point. The incentive was to get there before the tide had built up enough to stop my rounding the point.

Tresilian Bay, with Reynard's Cave on the left (scene of the execution of pirate Colyn Dolphin). The tide not high enough yet to go and explore

Given the conditions, I was maintaining just over a fairly respectable 3 knots. That was until I passed Nash Lighthouse and went around Nash Point. Just beyond the opening of Cwm Marcross the waters quickly kicked up a state of confusion as they passed over the rock ledges.
I was quite surprised how confused they were so close to the shore. My speed here fluctuated wildly, between 2 and 3 knots. I was glad to see the back of the overfalls and headed for the first sandy spot as a prize.

Looking back along the beach to west side of Cwm Marcross

I was pretty tired after just over 2hrs of constant paddling. It was a welcome rest stop and time to have hot soup and some lunch to recharge. I was going to pay for this I could tell, as my muscles cooled down and stiffened up.

Normally I would stop every 30 – 40 mins for a drink, allowing the muscles a little rest, but today I was more concerned about making as much headway as possible before the flood tide had a chance to pick up any opposing flow. Any stopping would have had me going backwards with the wind and tide.

The view the other way towards Traeth Mawr

Pulling the kayak up the sandy beach, I could relax, and take in the view. Time was a little on my side now, the tide would be building up to its peak flow, so my return trip should be a breeze.

When the tide reached up to the boat, lapping at it, trying to draw it in, it was time to leave my rest spot. Muscles were aching a bit as I got back in, and not being in the grove so to speak I was bit apprehensive being drawn immediately through the melee of confused water. The battle was swift, and at 7 knots it wasn't going to last very long. It was a bit of relief to get out the other side and get on the conveyor belt home.

Weeeeeeee.

It took just over an hour to paddle all the way back. My speed seemed to be around the 6 knot mark for most of the return.

Looking down and out across the Bristol channel to England

from the southernmost tip of mainland Wales

Arriving back at Limpert Bay, the tide was quite a bit further in than when I had first left, so the carry out wasn't quite so bad, except that the boat now seemed to weigh a ton on my aching shoulders!

Limpert Bay is well known for fossils, but not for me today, I feel a bit of an old fossil myself limping up to the car.

At the top of the beach there are left overs from coastal defences laid out during the second world war.

Remnants of WWII coastal defences

At the going down of the sun . . . still a reminder

Looking back from Gileston, at the water intake and the concrete blocks

After leaving a bottle of bubbly with my mum, I couldn't wait for a nice hot bath with some relaxing bubbles of my own and a big glass of red wine.

Today I felt I was in need of it.

Lying in that hot bubbled-bath water, I couldn't move without groaning, but I felt indulged to the max.

12.8Nm (23.7km)

Please . . . just a Small Miracle

Today is Saint David's Day. St David is the patron saint of Wales and today is the feast day we remember his death in 589. David was a bit of a miracle worker in his time, the most noted being the one he produced when he was preaching in Llanddewi Brefi. A crowd of people gathered to hear him preach but those at the back couldn't hear him, so he laid a handkerchief on the floor to stand on, and the ground beneath him rose up, those at the rear could now hear him.

I had hoped for some sort of miracle myself, with the weather today being windless and sunny (does that count as a miracle in itself?), but fatherly duties came first and I just could not wing a day out sea kayaking. The children all get dressed up in national costume and get packed off to school, I went to work and sulked like a bid kid.

And then a glorious shining light appeared . . . stop it . . . sorry . . . getting python silly.

Looking back towards Dunraven Bay

It's starting to stay lighter later in the evening now, so this evening I decided to take advantege and escape to the sea just before sunset. Leaving Southerndown the sun was already heading for the horizon.


With the sun down low on the horizon I was treated with glorious golden light that brought the cliffs alive.

Our very own Mount Rushmore - almost?

That last bit of deep red light as the horizon is kissed

I paddled along the coast against the slowing flood tide towards Ogmore. As the sun slowly dropped I was treated to wonderful natural sculpture bathed in its warm light.

"And a glorious shining light appeared!"

I was so glad to have made the effort to get out, even if it was for a short paddle. Miracles do happen.