Abacus on Amphetamine

The met office website is one of those places I pick up weather information before deciding on whether to go paddling or not. The inshore forecast they provide, plus a look at some wind sites that give more localised info, help me make my decision.

Never really thought much about how this stuff was put together, so I was intrigued when on their website the Met Office put an invitation for people to come along to their HQ in Exeter for an open day. I applied for a ticket and without delay one arrived in the post.

A very early morning wake up to the light of the moon

I'm well into England and down the M5 before we rotate into the sun's rays. Coming off at Jn 29 you can't really miss the Met Office's Hadley Centre, not that there are Monty Python like sun rays out of dark clouds pointing you to it, but more like numerous highways agency sign posts. They don't want you to miss this expensive building.


To say the place is impressive would be an understatement. It is super high tech and a super cool open plan environment. Each wing of the building isn't named Block A, B, C etc. No, not cool enough, each are named after a lighthouse around the world that begins with that letter. Eddystone, Fastnet are the only two I remember, the others are from far flung corners of the world. The place is heated by using the heat generated from it's computer system to heat up stone heat sinks in the floors, and then blow air over it to circulate it around the building.

There is a stream running through "the street" inside the building, and there is even a part built lighthouse structure at one end. The place has overtones of a Google Office work environment with think areas, comfy sofas and "intelligent art". Not quite my preconceived idea of an MOD department. Well done I say.

This open day is part of a consultation with the general public to find out what we like/don't about their service and what we would like to see in the future.

One of the newest offerings of their forecasting system will be made available shortly. A huge increase in the number of locations that we can access for weather predictions is going to be made. We will be able get forecasts for some 5000 points in the UK.

You can even ring them up for a localise forecast for your garden party. To help them with their predictions of the weather chaos system they have a computer.

Their current IBM supercomputer

The beast in the basement thing is being fed huge nay colossal amounts of data from satellite and real land based readings. These are fed in to the computer for a complex predictive model to be run which then spits out the weather (sort of).


I often wondered why the inshore forecast was updated in 6hr intervals, well it seems that it takes a while for each of these runs to complete, and then a forecaster to interpret and tweak and add that vital bit of human interpretation override. Can't always take a computers answer for it you know, even one that cost £33 million.

To call HAL's big brother a £33 million pound oversized calculator, would be insulting to its ability to make 137 trillion computations a second. This is a supercomputer, and one of the fastest on the planet.

Oh did I forget to say they have 2 of them. Just in case the main one fails there is a back up that can come on line and take over. This weather stuff is of national importance. The Met provides information to the military, airlines, environment agency, health, and loads of things I didn't appreciate they do.

The subtle irony of this centre, which provides for the UK Government an assessment of both natural and man-made climate change, is that the center itself produces some 12,000 tons of carbon dioxide a year. Presumably it's the amount of carbon dioxide created at the power station to generate the 1.2MW of electricity a year it uses (enough to light a small town). This is used mainly to power the beast in the basement. This is mitigated by an estimated 20 million tons of carbon dioxide a year saved globally due to the use of their aviation forecasts allowing aircraft to save fuel by using the wind direction at different levels of the atmosphere, as well as various economic savings through bad weather warnings (flood, ice, marine) which allow the various authorities and individuals to take appropriate action (or not).

The guys here admit, they do get it wrong sometimes, it is after all only a probability of an event happening within a chaotic system.

As I looked out the window I half expected in pure Kubrick style "Just what do you think you're doing, Eurion?" to pipe out of some hidden tannoy.

"Just checking the weather!"

Strange Goings On

It's been one of those glorious mornings. Hywel had suggested one of his regular trips. So after a very lazy start to the day, Adrian and I met him at Swanbridge and left the enticemennt of the Captains Wife for a jaunt over to Flatholm.

Low neap tide and a high pressure together with little wind provided us with a fairly calm playground.

Flatholm, with strangeness occurring at the waters edge

What I hadn't expected, or had I seen before, was the way the opposite side of the Bristol Channel looked. Some strange atmospheric conditions were causing mirages to occur and the opposite side of the channel was broken up in to what looked like lots of islands.

Steepholm to the right with a new island to the left (Brean Down)

Brean Down 'Island' with other 'Islets'
(click on the pic to see a slightly bigger version)

Hywel approaching Flatholm

Giving way!

We do an anticlockwise circumnavigation of and head on back to the Captains Wife to sink a well earned pint of "Tribute" and contemplate projects.

A short trip, but what a glorious day and a fantastic pint.

7Nm around the island

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.

It's life, Jim, but not as we know it

With Iceland's volcano Eyjafjallajokull (easy for some to say and entertaining listening to those that try) spewing ash into the air, British air space has been closed down and life on planet earth has taken a bit of a breather. No plane trails in the sky and wondrous sunsets are becoming the norm each evening.

Jim Krawiecki got in contact to ask if I fancied a paddle while he was down visiting God's Country. A paddle around Gower was in the offing, and almost the last bit of the South Wales coast I haven't yet paddled. It didn't take long to decide what to do.

I owe Jim a great debt. He co-wrote a book, with Andy Biggs, called Welsh Sea Kayaking - 50 great sea kayaking voyages. I was fortunate to pick up the book when I started to sea kayak. It provided inspiration and importantly the bits of information that made it possible for someone new to the sport to have at their finger tips the bits of information that can be used to plan and execute a successful trip. I have been steadily notching up each of the trips in the book - sad I know.

We meet at Port Eynon after work. The plan was simply to head out towards Worms Head, west, for a short paddle along the coast with the anticipation of watching the sun go down.

Jim taking pics of birds - he is a fountain of feathered knowledge

And I thought curlew's lived only on the marshes

Leaving the bay, just around Port-Eynon Point there is an odd inlet called Culver Hole.

If you don't look, you might easily miss it

Culver Hole

It's odd to see a blocked up cave in this area of unspoilt coastline. There are tales of it being a smugglers cave with an underground passage to the salt house at Port Eynon bay.

We could paddle right up to the base of it where there is an entrance. We didn't land to explore, leave that for a different trip. Culver Hole was most likely used as a dove cot to provide meat and eggs for the gentry.


As we move on around the coast the sun heads down, and the sky begins to fill with a vibrant orange. We are on for a show, the Icelandic dust is doing its scattering best.

Worms Head

Watching the sun going down I think of all those folk around the globe not being where they want to be. As for me, I'm quite content watching our star disappear over the horizon.



The sun put to bed, we turn to paddle back as the clear night sky turns dark and the stars begin to show themselves, the moon just about there. Out of this world.


Only downside was that sadly on returning in darkness to the beach we found that the fish and chip shop is closed.

We retire to the bar for recompense and the evenings entertainment begins in earnest.

Caves, Cliffs and Kayaks

Newton is a sandy beach sitting just east along the coast from Porthcawl. At this time of year you can park right close to the slipway that takes you down to the sand, and access to the water is easy. Paddling here there always seems to be a little bit of agitated water near the point. I'm paddling with Adrian today with the intention of going up the Bristol Channel with the flood tide through Nash and to finish up at St Donat's.

We make a beeline over the bay towards Ogmore and paddle up along the coast to east of Black Rocks. The tide is not too high yet, but high enough to get access to get to explore some of the caves.

Some of the rocks at the base of the cliffs provide a playground for a bit of rock hopping.

This section of coast between Ogmore and Southerndown always offers something different depending on the state of the tide and swell.

There is a tiny bit of swell and I get rock hopped onto a ledge when caught by the rogue wave in a set.

There is a definable pattern of surf sets building up, this is a pleasant surprise as we thought it would be fairly flat today. Gradually we make our way towards Southerndown at every opportunity looking in every available nook and cranny.

We stop for a bite to eat on the exposed sandy beach at Southerndwn. Follow this up with a bit of surfing. We have the surf all to ourselves as the unexpected sets haven't attracted any of the regular boardies.

Traeth Mawr towards Nash Point

Continuing along Traeth Bach and Traeth Mawr (the Welsh for little and big beach).
Just before we round Nash Point to play, it's nice to spot a seal in the water off Cwm Marcross. After giving us a few stares, he doesn't follow us as I guess he's busy feeding in the shallower waters.

Nash Lighthouse

We have a bit of excitement on the lively waters around the point and head on towards St Donat's under the shadow of the two lighthouses at Nash Point.

Great afternoon paddle.

(9.4Nm just over 17km)

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)