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)

Kayaking – a matter of discipline

Nige reunited with a sea kayak after 4 years.
Not sure if that is apprehension on his face or not.

Chris and I wanted to return the experiential swapping sentiment to our river paddling friend Nige. After Nige had looked after Chris and myself so well on the Ogmore, we thought we could do no less than to oblige him when he wanted to return to the salt air and denser waters of the sea after a four year leave of senses.

The inshore forecast however looked as if it could be interesting.

Wind: Easterly 4 or 5, occasionally 6 at first.
Sea State: Smooth or slight, but moderate for a time in southwest.
Weather: Fair.
Visibility: Good.

Going with an ebbing tide, the wind on our backs and a get out plan should things not be to rosey, we decided to set up the shuttle and check on the actual situation on the ground (or sea even).

Nige Chris and Jim at Llantwit Major. I have no idea what Chris is trying to do!

The more local wind forecast, which tends to paint a far more accurate picture of what to expect, was painting a more optimistic situation, a max top end of F4 and this was reflected in the conditions that met us.

Jim and Chris at Col-huw Beach - think Jim is saying no photos!

Plan then, was to leave Col-huw Beach and use the ebb to head west towards Southerndown taking in the east Nash buoy on the way.

Jim meets up with us at Llantwit and we are soon all set to go.
We are on the water about an hour after high tide.

Thanks to the combined wind and tidal stream, it seems we are at Nash Point in no time at all.

Nash Point

Jim just passing Cwm Marcross

We zip past the East Nash cardinal at a tad under 7 knots. The sun is out and the wind has all but gone.

We enjoy the paddle along the glorious heritage coast to arrive at Southerndown just as the tide is approaching the rocks to land on the last of the sand.

I think Nige even enjoyed it.

Could that be a smile on Nige's face?

A short but enjoyable 6.2 Nm (11.5km) trip.

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.

Sands of Time

Sea kayaking on the Bristol Channel can't get much better than this in February, can it?

I’m going to take you to a private island that will be all yours for the duration of your stay, and a sandy beach filled with sand of such fine quality that it is dredged for its renowned smoothness.


The down side of this is that the beach is notorious, nay often described as treacherous and it is not attached to the island. To maximise your stay on either you will need to visit them a few hours either side of spring low tide. But I think it’s worth the effort.

Nash Sandbank is the sandy beach, and the detached island is of course our trusty Tusker Rock.

Leaving St Donat's Bay

Adrian, myself, Jim and Richard, leave the slipway at Atlantic College on a fantastic clear morning.

Jim in full swing

And head westward with the ebbing tide.

Approach to Nash Sound from the east

Cwm Marcross

At Cwm Marcross, the eastern tip of Nash Sandbank lies just off the cliffs of Nash.

Richard finding some excitement in the slightly confused water

Shadowed by the two Nash Lighthouses, the sandbank here is marked by an east cardinal buoy. The west Nash cardinal is a further 8 miles along the sand bank and can't be seen from here, not even on a day like this.

Our little place for a while

The Mid Nash cardinal, well, is in between the two in, errr the middle.
Not all of this vast sand bank is visible at low tides, but enough on the eastern side dries out on a spring low tide to enable a brief visit.

On Nash Sands looking down the sandbar towards the west

I think it's quite impressive.

My blue boat having a rest

Strange things happen at sea

The sand bank has a history of taking many lives, most notably the disaster that occured on the 16th of March 1831. The passenger steamer “Frolic” was wrecked on the sandbank, with the tragic loss of all on board (estimated at 80 passengers and crew – General MacLeod, army officers and Pembrokshire merchants among them).


As a consequence of the public outcry that followed, in 1832, Trinity House built the two lighthouses that can be seen today.

An early etching of the lighthouses at Nash Point

The Nash lighthouse was the last manned lighthouse in Wales. It’s other claim to fame is that in 1977 a rare tuberous thistle (Cirsium Tuberosum) was discovered growing in an unploughed limestone pasture in it’s grounds. Just thought you might like to know.

There are tales of the sand bank being used to gain revenge:

In the mid-15th century Sir Harry Stradling set sail from Somerset (his permanent residence) to visit his castle at St.Donats and en route his ship was captured by the Breton pirate Colyn Dolphyn. His ransom of 2,000 marks was so high that he was forced to sell his manors of Sutton (Glamorgan) and manors of Bassalleg, Rogerston and Tregwillim (Monmouth).
A year or so later he received information that this same pirate was approaching the Glamorgan coast, probably to revictual her in one of the inlets near St.Donats. That night by the use of false lights on the cliffs, Sir Harry lured this ship on to the treacherous sandbank at Nash Point, where he and his followers captured Colyn Dolphyn. After a summary trial, for which he was afterwards severely reprimanded, the pirate was condemned to death. The method of his execution was to bury him up to his neck in the sand at the mouth of Tresillian Cave, leaving him to drown when the tide came in. It is said that his screams still haunt Tresillian.
Stradling - Legends of St. Donat's Castle

Children in the local school at Wick, re-tell the story of Colyn Dolphyn the pirate – who used to take refuge on the island of Lundy.

Adrian crossing the sandbank

Leaving these tales of woe behind we head out towards the Mid Nash cardinal with the last of the ebb, arriving at slack water.

Richard passes Mid Nash Cardinal

Glamorgan Heritage Coast at its best

We head now against the start of the flooding tide, towards Tusker Rock to stop off for our lunch break.

Tusker has it's own stories to tell

We sit and watch as the tide begins to rise and reclaim the rock. This place also has claimed many lives and vessels in the past - but I think we'll leave this for another time - enough history for one post I think.

Looking back towards Nash from Tusker

After taking our tucker on Tusker, we hitch a ride on the accelerating conveyor back through Nash Sound at a sedate 6.8 knots.

Rounding Nash Point we head on back to St Donat's Bay to finish quite a spectacular day's paddling.

14.5Nm (26km)

Two new lads - new buoy and new boy.

Reflecting in the after glow of an epic first surf of the year, I'm thawing out in front of the solid heat of a log fire, contemplating 2 trips, early start or lazy start.

Aching I decide on the later.

At noon the next day I find myself outside the Captain's Wife at Swanbridge, situated right next to Sully Island. The sun is out, fleetingly, and then decides to disappear for the duration behind the clouds of an overcast day.

My worries of being overdressed are put to rest as Hywel is intending to do some rescue practice for his up and coming 4 star assessment. We meet up with one of his regular paddling friends Rob who has 'volunteered' to get in the water for him.

Rob - wondering if this beats Sardinia as a location

It's neap tides and the intention first is to paddle up the channel to Lavernock Point and play on some rough water as the tide turns. A new play ground for me, so I'm looking forward to seeing what is on offer.

We arrive at the slab at Lavernock just in time, a little later and we would have sweated to get around. We sit and wait for the flow to build up.

Nothing exciting materialises.

We look out towards Flatholm and decide on one of the buoys out in the channel is fair game.

A nice ferry glide out. Seems to take no time to arrive, the flow has build up to just over 3 knots when we sit in the eddy behind the buoy.


This was a new buoy for me - so had to look it up on the charts when I got home (sad I know).

Special Mark Buoy

Special Mark - used to mark areas of no navigational significance but of a special nature. In this case it is the end of an unspecified discharge pipe. Does make you wonder what it is if they are not specifying it.

Rob reaches the buoy

You can just see the red Raine buoy in the distance.

Looking onto Barry - lovely innit

We paddle down with the tide, and in no time at all arrive at Sully Island ready for a little immersion - well Rob and Hywel are.

Hywel psyching himself up to roll. Flatholm in background.

I'm happy to stay in my boat and am satisfied with just a few left/right rolls.
Talk about ice cream head! That water is getting mighty chilly.

Best retreat to the Captain's Wife for refreshment. Various legends bound about this place, but it is said that before it became a pub, Sully House stood here, and was once tenanted by a ship's captain. He was in the habit of taking his wife to sea, for I'm sure he enjoyed a spot of home cooking. In them superstitious days it was considered unlucky to take a woman to sea and on one of his voyages she caught a fever and died on board. Having a corpse on board was also regarded as unlucky, so the captain stuffed her body doubled up in a lead-lined trunk in his cabin. On arriving at Sully the captain hid the trunk in the woods near the house while he could make arrangements for her coffin and burial. When he returned to collect the body, the trunk and body had gone. A ghost of a woman has haunted the site until during the 1970s when during some renovation work, underneath the area of the old stable block, a skelrton of a woman was found, doubled up. The remains were given proper burial, and the roaming captain's wife ghost was seen no more.

Not forgetting the apprés de-brief at the Captain's Wife!

Short trip today, but I'm glad we made the effort. No, really!

Not a huge trip, but nice to get out all the same