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.

Positively Barmy 1.1.11

After the Christmas Eve afternoon paddle the temperatures today were positively balmy. With the smallest of swells running a few of us managed to get out for our traditional New Years Day paddle - this year for a surf rather than a paddle out to Tusker Rock.

After a couple of hours we felt as if we'd burned off enough calories to justify a pint to welcome the beginning of a New Year

Here's wishing everyone a Happy New Year full of paddling fun and adventure!

Thanks to Chris E. for the photos - who was feeling a bit rundown after the New Year's Celebrations - and regretted not getting his kit on.

Hywel

Nige

Chris "I stopped drinking at 7 this morning and still went for a surf" Constantine

The Surfing Hamster - moi

All the best for 2011!

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)