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Friday 23 October
The start of October half-term holidays and for most of us (Rob, Tudor, Izzy, Goers, Corinne and I) the evening was filled with roadworks and slow moving traffic down to Swanage. Fiona escaped that excitement by catching the train earlier in the afternoon. The highlights were watching the fish whilst crossing from Sandbanks to Studland, admiring the wood panelling in the lounge of the YHA and taking on bets on when Geors and Corrinne would arrive…
Saturday 24 October
We met at 9am for a planning meeting. The forecast was not promising (rain and wind up to force 5) so the options were limited. Having discussed our varying levels of experience, fitness and what we wanted to get out of the weekend as well as what the wind and tide would be doing we agreed that the best plan would be to spend the day exploring the relatively sheltered waters of Poole harbour.
We drove in convoy towards Shell Bay and parked up in a convenient layby. It was raining but we donned waterproofs and carried out a quick recci of our chosen launch spot before unloading the boats and kit and getting changed. A note on boat unloading/loading – for Geors (and more specifically for the Mazda Bongo) – this was no mean feat. Each load/unload required a stepladder, someone to go up the ladder, at least one other person to hold the ladder, two/three tall people to assist with manoeuvring the kayaks and a few others to offer ‘helpful’ advice.
Once everyone was happy we departed for our first destination – ‘that sticking out bit of land over there’. The rest of the morning was spent crossing from point to point along the SW shore of the harbour – taking in numerous sightings of grebes, oyster catchers and an egret or two. Fiona squeezed under a wooden pier; Corinne played chicken with a ferry and we abided by the polite notices on private islands (‘KEEP OFF. NO LANDING’). It was grey and overcast with fairly strong winds but pleasant enough. I was dry and warm for once – thanks to my new dry suit – so I wasn’t complaining!
After negotiating some shallow sections of water just before Round Island, we stopped for lunch at Arne Bay. A curious seal took a shine to Rob and followed him towards the shore– prompting shouts of ‘he’s behind you’ – inevitably as soon as he turned the seal promptly vanished. Our lunch spot contained some amazing trees with exposed roots, providing convenient seats.
After lunch we spent time extracting ourselves and the boats from the black, sticky mud before successfully re-launching into the harbour. We contemplated heading for the north side of Brownsea Island but changed course given the increasing wind, the ominously dark clouds and the need to retain some energy for Sunday’s trip. Instead we headed back through the channel between two islands; crossed eddy lines; played in the waves from passing ferries and observed the oil well and more bird-life. On our return to our launch site, we were relieved that the tide had not left us with half a mile of mud to contend with.
We spent the evening sampling some traditional Dorset delights in the Red Lion pub – including local cider, ales, sausages, ham hock and apple cake!
Sunday 25 October
Daylight saving gave us an extra hour overnight. We could have spent this time sleeping but Rob had other ideas…and we left the YHA at 8.05 to drive to Kimmeridge Bay. The plan was for a 22km trip to Durdle Door and back with the additional option of rock-hopping along the way.
After parting with a hefty £10 per car* we dropped the kayaks off at the slipway then got organised (a.k.a faffed). The weather was amazing. Clear blue skies, warm sunshine and NO WIND. As a result the sea in the bay was completely flat – like a mill pond. Further out – on the rock ledge to the right of the Bay – there was some impressive looking surf but we skirted round that with ease and were on our way.
The morning’s paddle was so lovely. We were spoilt with brilliant weather, calm seas and amazing cliffs and strata lines courtesy of the Jurassic coastline. The wind (what little there was) was behind us and we were going with the current / tide. We spotted some enormous jelly fish and Rob and Corinne had fun rock-hopping. We arrived at Lulworth cove and were tempted to stop for lunch and a rest but we pushed on so that we could take advantage of the tide.
Between Lulworth cove and Durdle Door we met a group of kayakers from the New Forest. Sharing stories, it transpired that they had paid £5 to park at Ringstead and were heading for Lulworth cove before heading back. We found a rock arch to duck under and admired the huge strata lines in the cliff in the bay behind then it was onto the main attraction. We were at Durdle Door surprisingly quickly and it really is an impressive arch! A bunch of people were coasteering in the area and jumping off the far side of the arch, which looked like fun!
The return section back to Lulworth cove for lunch was slightly harder – some wind against tide and kayakers hungry for lunch but we made it in good time and lined up our kayaks alongside those from the New Forest club – it was pretty impressive seeing all 15 in a row.
The longer return trip back to Kimmeridge was hard work. We were paddling into a head wind but fortunately the tide/current had turned, which helped enormously. Izzy discovered what happens if you don’t pull your kayak far enough up the beach when you have a toilet-stop but aside from that it was uneventful!
We were all relieved to see Clavell tower appear in more detail as we got closer and closer to Kimmeridge. What was less pleasing was the surf forming on the rock ledge once more; fortunately we realised that if we skirted far enough round to the right we could avoid the breakers although it was a little lumpy for a short time.
We ended the trip with well-deserved cups of tea and slabs of cake in the Clavell café before heading back to London.
It was a brilliant weekend! Huge thanks go to Rob for leading; Goers for organising; Alex H for YHA membership and Corinne / Rob for the photos.
*Fee is £10 for a car with a boat/kayak on the roof; £5 for cars without boats… unclear what the fee is if the kayak is in the car.
Sally Widdop
30 May – 6 June 2015: Kilchoan, Ardnamurchan
Not the title of a crappy sequel to the classic John Candy movie, but how a dozen CKC members got to this remote part of Scotland.
SATURDAY, 30 MAY 2015
Kilchoan is the most westerly village on the British mainland. It is so remote that you have to travel 26 miles down a single track road to get there. England is at least 5 hours away by car. A few of us (Dan, Kenneth and me) got the train to Edinburgh and were then lucky enough to get a lift in Alex’s car the rest of the way. Dave flew to Glasgow and got a lift from there. Others drove from various parts of the UK. And Philippe came in his van.
Lorna (coming from the Norn Iron branch of CKC), Geors, Richard, Phil & Jacqui (and 6 month old Ollie) and Sue completed the group. Geoff and Alex were the official leaders on the water.
Geoff was the driving force behind the trip and with his wife Sandra gave all of the CKC group tremendous hospitality on arrival. A dozen people turning up at odd times through the afternoon and evening, but all got a good feed and a glass or three of wine at their house in Kilchoan. Sandra’s pavlova was the subject of much comment, most of it suitable for mixed company.
At the last minute, Alex took the executive decision to rent a third holiday cottage to add to the other two. This had the benefit of less people having to share rooms. With a week long trip, this was well worth doing.
SUNDAY, 31 MAY 2015
Windy, from the west. F6 out in the main channel between Kilchoan and the Isle of Mull. However, we were keen to at least wet the kayaks, and so we hugged the coast just for a mile or so west of Kilchoan. Even well inshore, progress against the wind was hard work.
Eventually we reached a small bay in the lee of a headland and had a rest. Geoff gave us the option of heading out into the channel for some surfing. Three of us declined this “opportunity” but most of the group ventured out. Even the more experienced paddlers said that turning in the wind made the boat feel a bit “wobbly” but no-one capsized. Until …
What do a dancer called Kenneth and a Frenchman called Philippe have in common? They both re-defined “rock-hopping”. Both of them had finished out in the big stuff and were coming into the little bay side by side.
My recollection is that they were alongside each other parallel to the rocks when a wave caused Kenneth’s boat to hit Philippe’s causing him to capsize. Philippe got out of the sea and onto the rocks but in the confusion a wave then took Kenneth’s boat onto the rocks. More wave action ensued until for a split second Kenneth was sitting in his boat perched on a rock completely proud of the water. Anyway, the waves kept on coming, Kenneth managed to stay upright, and eventually he was back on the water.
MONDAY, 1 JUNE 2015
Very very very windy. No kayaking. Not even Katie and Lee (see Katie-and-Lee-at-sea on Facebook) who were circumnavigating Britain went out in it today.
So we had a 6 mile walk to Ardnamurchan lighthouse for a brew and a piece of cake.
In the evening, we all repaired to the local pub for a few drinks at the Kilchoan Hotel. This was a pattern to be repeated throughout the week.
TUESDAY to THURSDAY, 2-4 JUNE 2015
A weather window appeared for a few days, so the decision was taken to do a 3 day/2 night wild camping trip to Loch Sunart, a sea loch.
On Tuesday, the wind still had a bit of bite in it, so the first 2 mile crossing from headland to headland as we headed east in a following sea was testing for some of us. But no capsizes!
My experience is that each time I go out in conditions that test me, I get just a little bit better at dealing with them. Some titbit of advice on a course from way back or from a more knowledgeable paddler pops into my head and I try to apply it.
The sea conditions are unpredictable even as you get further up the sea lochs. In the space of 10 minutes or so the sea can go from benign to very choppy. Waves close together and a bit confused, rather than long regular swells, seemed to be the norm.
Tuesday evening we arrived at the spot Geoff had earmarked as our campsite for the night. Problem: it was boggy after so much rain and the spring tide meant that we had to be a good distance above the high water mark. Strike one. Dave then paddled off to scout around the corner but that location was too boggy also. Strike two. Then we got lucky and found a bit of level dry ground just across from the SE corner of Oronsay.
The feeling of remoteness, wild scenery and yet being with a lot of good company was priceless.
Throughout the week, there were so little signs of human activity. We may have seen just one sailing craft each day. The coastline was usually devoid of people.
After a night’s camping we left our gear there and headed further east up Loch Sunart, reaching Salen.
After a second night’s camping, we struck camp and headed west. We had to be on the water by 9.30am to catch the high tide in the creek so we could go directly west. Any delay and we would have had to go the long way around Oronsay. We made it.
We eventually headed around the point opposite Tobermory. We edged up the coast and then made the crossing to the south of the small island just south of Tobermory harbour. Just outside the harbour there was a waterfall which some more hardy paddlers went through. The reward for our efforts over the last few days was fish and chips in Tobermory.
After lunch there was a choice of an open crossing to Kilchoan or getting the ferry. A few of us opted out of the crossing as the inshore forecast was eventually for F5 to arrive. As it turned out, most of the crossing was in benign conditions with just a bit of lumpiness at the end. Oh well, there’s always next time.
FRIDAY, 5 JUNE 2015
The group split between those opting for a short paddle on the north side of Ardnamurchan, or a walk tracking the kayakers route. We all met up at Sanna beach where Kenneth led an impromptu dance class. Yes, really!
In the evening it was a farewell dinner at the local pub. The manager arranged what was in effect a private dining room for all of us, but at budget prices.
SATURDAY, 6 JUNE 2015
A long slog back to London for many of us. Some took the opportunity to see more of Scotland.
The Thames just doesn’t seem as awesome after experiencing Kilchoan. Ah well, next year!
Tudor Grashoff, June 2015
(Photo Credits: Richard Gooderick and Alex Hester)
05.40 Alarm goes.
05.41 Alarm stops.
05.47 Finally accept that paddling requires body in kayak not in bed and get up.
07.00 Arrive at BBA.
And so started Saturday 25 April 2015 as four of us planned a trip from Margate. The group consisted of me, Miranda and Sally led by Rob Horton.
Miranda and I drove down to meet up with Rob and Sally in the centre of Margate. Where’s the centre of a town? The High Street, of course! So the satnav was duly programmed with “High Street, Margate” and off we went.
About 5 miles outside Margate on the main road in, the satnav decided to take us down a country side road. Interesting, we thought. It obviously knows a short cut. After much perambulation through back roads, the satnav proudly announced “you have arrived at your destination”. We were in a distinctly non-urban street, surrounded by fields. Turns out there is a “High Street” in the Margate area, it’s just not in Margate!
Luckily the satnav mishap caused very little delay and we met up with Rob and Sally at Angela’s Cafe. The postcode is CT9 1EX. I mention this as if you just Google “Angela’s cafe” you could end up in the one in Boston USA. Bacon rolls, tea and nautical maps followed.
Point of trivia (or maybe not after the general election): we were in the constituency that Nigel Farage is/was standing for. This is an apolitical blog and no further comment will be offered on this subject …
The tidal flows do interesting things around that north-east corner of Kent. There’s a split in the westerly flow as some goes up the Thames estuary and some heads south down the English Channel. So at the same state of the tide, if you are paddling along the coast and cross the split, the flow can reverse even though the tide hasn’t changed. If you see what I mean. It really needs a diagram. Anyway, Rob was on top of the options and the timings, ably assisted by Miranda’s big yellow book of UK tide maps.
We parked for free on the front just east past the Turner Contemporary gallery. The tide was out. Even by dropping off the kayaks at the top of the ramp down to the beach, there was still a bit of a hike to get to the water. The tide being out does that.
As we moved the kayaks down to the beach, a large group in fancy dress appeared. We don’t know for sure who they were but my guess was Rotary or Round Table. They proceeded to pick up rubbish on the beach for 15 minutes or so, and then partake in beer and games. No more eccentric than sea kayaking, I suppose.
A very shallow entry. No surf. Unbroken high cloud, dry. We headed east. The wind was offshore or parallel to the shore, probably F4.
Throughout the day, although the wind was strong, the sea was fairly flat. We had gentle following seas to start with and a following wind. At low tide a lot of rocky ledges were exposed. Despite our efforts, they weren’t suitable for rock hopping. Too much of a ledge formation rather than broken rock.
During the day our paths crossed with a larger group of sea kayakers. Turns out they were from Tower Hamlets and appeared to be mainly beginners.
We headed for Joss Bay but in the end paddled past and pressed on to a beach near Broadstairs. The beach had a long row of beach huts and we perched ourselves in front of them and had our lunch. This beach like all the others was very quiet, maybe one or two groups of people or none at all.
On the return trip, the rocky ledges had been almost covered by the incoming tide. There was a very slight bit of turbulence offshore as the tide moved around the point and over the ledges, but it was easy to skirt around it. The wind was against us on the way back, maybe gusting to F5 at times but still the sea was fairly gentle.
We returned to our start point to find that the rocks and sand had all disappeared. The sea now went up to the sea wall. The water was lapping up the ramp with some clapotic wave action as the waves bounced off the wall. Technically, this was probably the most challenging part of the day. Group score: 75%.
The clouds cleared up in the afternoon to the extent that when we had a final repast in another caff on the front, we were in danger of overheating.
Overall, it was a great trip along a coastline I hadn’t experienced before, not too far from London and with plenty of easy exits onto quiet beaches. A big thanks to Rob for organising it and to Miranda for doing the driving.
Tudor Grashoff
   
The Paddler’s Return on Anglesey is my kind of pub – the kind where you arrive knowing nobody, and leave feeling like a regular who knows everyone. So no one seemed surprised as I worked my way round the bar asking locals if they were from Chelsea.
Not that I had much choice. It was my first outing as a club member. All I knew about my fellow weekend paddlers was that there were six of us, and Rob was organiser. It wasn’t long, however, before I was at a table with Alex and Fiona who had already been paddling. We were joined by Geors looking fresh from a day clambering up mountains. Finally, Rob and Sally turned up, looking rather wearier after the drive from London.
Introductions over, the weekend began to take shape. We agreed on a 10.30am start. What a civilised hour! And what a relief! I was not going to be outshone by a bunch of seriously hardcore paddlers. And so it proved. Fiona set the tone when she suggested we all say what we wanted from the weekend. Good company, enjoyable birdlife, and a general potter topped her agenda. Nobody disagreed.
We launched at noon to catch the tide flooding east, and left with the vast Wylfa nuclear power station behind us. Stay together, Rob advised. The advice hardly seemed necessary. The sea was placid.
It wasn’t long, however, before paddling got tougher; the current to our surprise was against us. We would not reach the derelict brickworks where we hoped to have lunch. Over our shoulders a pair of porpoises arcing among the waves failed to generate much interest. As we plunged up and down, we bunched closer and concentrated on staying upright in a sea that had become bigger, bouncier and more difficult.
By the time we found a spot for lunch – eked out by blackberries foraged by Fiona and Geors – the breather felt long overdue. A look at the map showed we had come all of two miles. Just as well we hadn’t been racing.
The paddle back was gentler, and we had time to poke into caves and mess about on the waves that surged between the rocks. But again the sea threw up a surprise, and we found ourselves battling to pass an overfall that stretched well out from the corner of the bay where we had left the cars. Hugging the cliff would have been the easy option, but fishermen perched on the rocks had got their first; we had to stay off-shore and fight the current.
And suddenly it was over. The waves flattened and we were back in our bay with time to relax and look around. Playtime! A kingfisher shimmered by and I heard the oohs and ahhs. With the water warmer than I’ve known it all summer, practicing rolls and getting in the water for rescues was a pleasure. The 200 yards back to the shore were the slowest part of the day.
That evening back in the Paddler’s Return Alex, happy owner of two Rockpool boats, was deep in conversation over the shape of the perfectly designed kayak with Rockpool boss Mike Webb, out for an evening in his local.
Later we were joined by Jim Krawiecki, author of the Welsh Sea Kayaking guidebook (known to its fans, he cheerfully told me, as Jimski’s Book of Lies). We had all puzzled over the vagaries of the tides but Jim assured us there was no puzzle; we had been struggling against a huge eddy. If only we had read his book, he said, we could have stayed offshore. The tide really would have been with us, and our day would have been much less strenuous. Valuable information. But somehow it didn’t seem to matter.
Sunday was spent on Anglesey’s south coast. I wondered if we might head for the tiderace at Penrhyn Mawr which would have meant an even tougher and more difficult day. But Rob lead us the other way along the coast. The day was to be short. London was calling
Rockhopping proved lively enough for helmets to emerge from hatches, and we had a return crossing of a mile or so. And that was the weekend done – my baptism as a Chelsea kayak club member.
I’ve now got Jim’s book and am looking forward to the next chapter.
Jonathan
    
There is a a CKC blog somewhere else on this site about a trip around Hayling Island in February. Brrrrr…..
Six CKC members descended on The Ship Inn at Langstone on 19 July 2014 with a view to paddling around the island at a more sensible time of year ie summer!
Quite possibly we are experiencing a vintage summer, to be referred to in wistful tones in Julys to come as THE summer of 2014. For all of use gathered in the car park this day will provide an enduring memory of that summer.
First however we had to negotiate the mud. We had arrived at low tide. There was lots of mud to be seen and very little water. The public slip by Hayling Bridge was a step in the right direction. Out there was water. But first we had to get to it.
Some of us negotiated the mud more successfully than others. OK, let me rephrase that. Everyone managed to get down the creek and reach navigable water in short order except for me.
My trusty Crocs, generally so perfect for all types of boating activities, revealed a hitherto undiscovered characteristic: a strong propensity to suck themselves deep into the black Chichester ooze, from which they had to be dug out by hand.
Once on the water we scraped ourselves across the shallows, past Northney Marina, into the Emsworth Channel. Which way do we go, we thought, as we approached a bifurcation in the creek? To the right.
As far as the navigation goes, right is the mantra. Right, right and right. Right around the island.
The Emsworth Channel led us south down the eastern side of the island. Easy paddling against a weak incoming tide in a gentle crosswind.
During the week the forecast had varied widely. High pressure was breaking up with the chance of some quite nasty showers ie the possibility of squalls, lightening and golfball-sized hail.
Thankfully, whilst there was some serious shower activity in the UK that day, it all stayed a long way north of Hayling Island.
By the time we pulled out for lunch on a beautiful white sand beach at Hayling Island Sailing Club the sun was shining and it was hot.
The sensible, intelligent, experienced members of CKC ie everyone but me, had brought packed lunches. However HISC is very welcoming to anyone arriving by water and I was saved by their cornish pasty, chips and beans at a very reasonable cost.
We took the opportunity to visit loos, top up water bottles etc and then we were off into the briny blue. The sea. Not the estuary from where we had come. The element for which these boats are designed. When in the right hands.
A line of breakers stretched out to the west of the harbour entrance. Our next destination. Closer inspection revealed a relatively quiet patch and here we crossed one by one after our brave leader, Rob, had checked it out first.
There were some breaking waves which did not look particularly intimidating but I am sure that they would have been sufficient to tip me in. It was a relief to get past that bit and to set off west, along the seafront towards Langstone Harbour entrance.
The conditions were clearly a piece of cake for all the old hands in the party but I was having to concentrate on balancing the boat and even having to perform the occasional brace. This certainly was not the Thames.
The low point for me came when Philippa casually reached around to unscrew the lid off her day hatch and retrieve some kit. Without even using her paddle for balance! How could she do that, I thought. Clearly my sense of balance is so poor that I may as well give up all hope of sea kayaking on the sea. In other words pack it in altogether.
Fortunately it was at this point that Neil shared a few words of wisdom. Let your hips go with the waves, he said, like a pendulum. At first this sound a bit too zen for me. I was thinking through gritted teeth and relaxing was not high on the priority list. But after giving these pearls due consideration I tried to do what I thought he was suggesting. It was a revelation. Suddenly the stress disappeared; I could concentrate on paddling technique rather than survival; it became fun.
The Hayling Island seafront is comprised of a shingle beach with numerous groynes, beach huts, a fun fair, fishermen and families. It is quite charmingly old fashioned.
Out in the bay there was a fleet of small, high speed, foiling sailing dinghies with dark sails. The International Moth world championships were taking place. It was was quite a spectacle but we were not stopping to watch.
The water got a little more lumpy as we approached Langstone Harbour and I laughed contemptuously as waves thwacked the kayak from the side.
Pride comes before the fall but in this case I was saved from probable humiliation by another right hand turn into the tranquil waters of the Harbour
Close inside the entrance is a relic of World War II. A concrete Mulberry Harbour. Constructed in order to be sunk off the Normandy beaches. To provide protection and to allow the troops to be resupplied. Apparently this one broke its back when it was launched.
The tide was just right for a bit of rock hopping. Initiated by Rob. Closely followed by Neil and Philippe. If you don’t have a cave or reef at hand to practice your skills a convenient Mulberry Harbour offers a usable alternative.
The sea breeze must have kicked in because the wind was from behind as we made our way northwards, up the harbour towards the bridge, and mudageddon where we had begun the day.
Sometimes in boats you experience an almost trance like state and for me this was one of those moments. A gentle breeze and tiny waves from behind. The kayak and paddles getting into a rhythm that was quite mesmerizing. A wonderful last leg to enjoy and savor.
Back to a waterfront that had been transformed by the tide. Not a patch of mud to be seen. No need to carry them – we could paddle our kayaks almost to the cars.
Anyone for wet exercises asked Neil? And soon there were rescues, rolls, towing, braces and all sorts being practiced on a perfect summer afternoon.
What more could make it perfect?
How about a drink at The Ship Inn to finish off the day.
Richard
  
On the last weekend in June, Izzy, Loz, Sue, Colin, Vern and Rob headed to Pembrokshire for two days of guiding / coaching with Martin Leonard assisted by Lou Luddington on the Saturday and her husband Tom on the Sunday.
We met at 9 on the Saturday to do the usual kit faff and to discuss what we wanted to get out of the weekend. The consensus was that the main objective was to get out to Skomer to see some puffins and hopefully do rough water paddling as a bonus. The wind on the first day was forecast to be NE force 3-4 rising to 5-6 later in the day, which coupled with the spring tides meant that getting to Skomer on the first day wasn’t going to be an option. A plan was therefore devised to launch at Abercastle and paddle down the coast to Abereddi which gave us the option of a couple of other get outs if the conditions deteriorated. We had a bit of a warm up in the bay while waiting for the drivers to shuttle the cars during which Lou pointed out some different species of jellyfish and we spotted a large male grey seal having a snooze on a small floating platform.
Heading out of the bay there was some swell but the wind hadn’t picked up too much. It was a lovely piece of coast with some great rock hopping opportunities which I enjoyed all the more for being in somebody else’s (plastic) boat! A few of the headlands had small tide races off them which were good for practising breaking in/out, ferry glides and using the waves to surf upstream in the race.
We stopped at Porthgain mid-afternoon for a break and discussed how whether or not to continue as the wind had been steadily increasing. By the time we returned to the boats though the wind was a steady F5 and there were regular breaking waves out in the bay. Carrying on the the intended finish would a committing 8km or so with a couple of tide races so wasn’t really viable in the conditions. We spent an hour or so doing some surfing in the bay entrance before getting out and heading back to the bunkhouse.
Sunday had a much lighter northerly wind which meant that getting to Skomer would be possible, although the strong tide meant that getting right round and back to the start point was not. We headed to Martin’s Haven, got onto the water and headed across Jack Sound to Skomer in a wide arc to avoid being taken down stream into the fast water. On landing we presented ourselves to the warden for the required introductory talk which included some information on the island’s wildlife, where we could and couldn’t go (basically stick to the paths) and relieved each of us or £10. We then had a couple of hours to wander round and explore the island. We saw large numbers of puffins and razorbills for which the island is famous. It is also famous for its Manx shearwaters; unfortunately the only examples of these we saw were numerous dead ones. The have burrows on the island and the parents take it in turns to spend the day at sea feeding, returning at night. When there is a full moon though they are easy targets for black back gulls, hence the large number of casualties we saw. The only way to see live shearwaters is to stay in the self catering accommodation on the island, something which would be good for a club trip in the future.
 
Returning to the boats, we paddled along the north coast to get a view of the island from the water, taking care to minimise our disturbance to the wildlife. Tom had played a key role in developing the Pembrokeshire Marine Code and was keen to stress to us the importance of minimising our impact both on this trip and in general. The website is well worth a look and contains lots of detailed specific information to different areas in Pembrokeshire as well as more general advice. We stopped just before the flow splits at Garland Rock to avoid being taken right past the island, and headed back across Jack Sound to Martin’s Haven where we loaded up the boats and started the long journey back to London.
Paddling the Ardnamurchan Peninsula and the Small Isles with CKC, June 2014
Kilchoan
Five Chelsea Kayak Club paddlers made their way North from London, through beautiful Scottish scenery, to join Geoff and Sandra in Kilchoan. The Argyll scenery is stunning, and Kilchoan is in a particularly beautiful part, nestled on the South Coast of the Ardnamurchan peninsula, with views stretching out across the Sound of Mull. Alex, Philippe and Dan, who had left London at 0430 in the morning in order to be on the water for 1830, made it in time to paddle out into the Sound of Mull for some pre-dinner rockhopping. Kenneth and I raced through the countryside and made it in time to join everyone for a gourmet Saturday night dinner courtesy of Geoff and Sandra, including fresh local lobster and gorgeous pavolva. Conditions for the week ahead seemed favourable, with force 4-5 winds forecast for the first couple of days, dropping off after that with sun poking through at the end of the week.
McLean’s Nose
Geoff, Philippe, Dan, Alex, Kenneth and I collected at the jetty in Kilchoan on a slightly overcast Sunday morning for our first day’s paddling.
Just before getting on the water, a slight heartsink for me – the skeg on my Scorpio LV was not working – a pain as the wind that had been forecast was just starting to make itself known, reminding me that a kit check at home prior to leaving for a long trip is always helpful…
We launched at the jetty, and set out for a shortish paddle along the South Coast of Ardnamurchan, east from Kilchoan to McLean’s nose, stopping near Rubha Ruadh for lunch. Afterwards, the tide still out, the six of us wandered along the shingle beach, lined with hardy oak trees, and stopped to inspect the flotsam and jetsam.
On the way back we kept up a brisk pace, despite our unaccustomed paddling muscles (some more than others!), and arrived home in time for a chilled evening at the ranch. Alex carried out some boat maintenance. Over our first hard-earned dinner of mushroom risotto we planned the next day’s paddling.
Fresh Mussels
I got up a couple of hours early on Monday morning to fix my skeg, and was welcomed by grey skies and a light drizzle. And a few midges. As it turned out, 2 hours was just enough time – I had to try three fixes on the “kink-free” rope and bungee skeg system before it decided to spring into action – only after I’d realigned the elastic bungee on the cog that levers the skeg down, changed the cog orientation, and retied the knot to shorten the bungee, which had become overstretched.
After breakfast and haring round Chris’s Ranch in the usual pre-paddle chaos, we had breakfast and set out in convoy to Loch Sunart for a lovely day’s paddling. Dan’s wire skeg had also malfunctioned due to a kink in the skeg wire which Geoff fixed before we headed out.
Paddling conditions were gentle and calm. We paddled under ethereal, bright, milk-white skies, the light diffusing gently through the thin veil of cloud overhead.
After heading down the beautiful Loch Teacuis, and stopped for lunch on Morven, where the CKC group had camped 2 years before.
Alex cooked up some delicious freshly collected mussels for us all, and then we set off round Carna Island back towards Kilchoan.
We made it back in time for Geoff to take us on a trip to Tobermory in the RIB, and hit MacGoghan’s for a delicious seafood dinner – delicious local fish and chips, fish pie, scallops with garlic, scallops with pea sauce, battered scallops…
White Sandy Beaches
We made an early(ish) start and headed for Portuairk, where we set out to recce the conditions for a possible crossing to the Small Isles. After about half an hour, bouncing around in the clapotic waves along the shore, it became apparent that the weather was just too severe – the further out towards Muck we headed, the bigger the waves became.
We turned back nearer shore and headed East along the North Coast of Ardnamurchan, waves still enjoyably bouncy, for a chilled afternoon paddle in the sun. We stopped at Glendrian, (in the same bay we’d stopped at on the way back from our crossing from Eigg, the previous year), for lunch, and just a little bit of disco dancing in the sun, before launching into the diagonal surf (expertly of course under Geoff’s expert tutelage) and carrying on towards Fascadale.
After a short break for a cup of coffee, some dried fruit courtesy of Philippe, and a quick navigation check, we completed our journey to Port Ban for our first night of wild camping.
Despite the low lying cloud that had been with us all day, we pitched our tents in the beautiful warm glow of the evening sunshine, to the (happily quite vague) interest of a few passing cows. After dinner, as the sun went down we were treated to a stunning light show as the low fluffy clouds were lit up in dazzling shades of pink, pale blue, orange, peach, turquoise and rose by the setting sun.
Isle of Muck
I woke at 0723. For a moment I was at a music festival, crowds of people clomping past my tent. I re-oriented to my rugged Ardnamurchan home, and before venturing out of the tent, I remembered the passing thought I’d had as I drifted off to sleep – I bet the cows head down to the beach first thing in the morning for a salty breakfast, and we have pitched our tents right in their paths. I poked my head out. They did, and we had.
We all stumbled sleepily out of our tents to see what was going on and saw an extremely hefty bull standing down on the beach between our kayaks and the water’s edge. “Daddy” remained stubbornly in his seaside spot for ages. Finally the farmer came down and gave him a friendly slap and a nudge. He trundled after the rest of the herd to his breakfast on the hill in the next field.
We set off from Port Ban, the sea like a millpond. Geoff pointed out that after our early morning wakeup call, we were in good time for another attempt on the crossing to Muck, with plenty of time to return in the afternoon if needed. Everyone was keen. We listened to the Stornaway Coastguard’s 1010 weather forecast, which was excellent, and plumped for the crossing. Despite the forecast deterioration in the weather “later”, we hoped it would hold long enough for us to camp for the night on Muck and return to Sanna in the morning.
We set off again at 1030, and when we reached Fascadale, we took a bearing of 320o towards Port Mor on Muck. Conditions were perfect, with a broad gentle swell and a light Southerly wind. We stopped for a water break every 40 minutes or so, and completed the 11km crossing in just over two and a half hours.
We arrived on Muck just after high tide, rafting up at the harbour entrance for the 1310 weather forecast on the VHF. After paddling the last half a Km into the harbour, we pulled our boats up onto the rocky shore, and meandered up the road to the tea shop, past two small lambs with matte black coats like coal. We ate our lunch lounging in the brilliant Muck sunshine – Cullen Skink with chunks of homemade brown bread, toasties with home-roast ham, pots and pots of tea, and delicious fruit cake and carrot cake. No holds were barred with the carb consumption as we now had another 3 hour crossing ahead of us – the weather forecast had banished hopes for a night’s stopover on Muck, as the wind looked to be up again within a few hours.
We set off again at 1530 and headed out into the bay. The wind picked up. It made for interesting swell on our return journey to Portuairk. Initially conditions were helpful enough, windy but with a following sea. As we paddled on, the swell grew taller, and more clapotic. After about half an hour of bouncing around, I noticed that the rest of the group was disappearing regularly into the troughs of the waves, (putting the Sea State at 4, or “Moderate”) which were coming at us from behind and to the side. Despite the stability from the fully loaded boats, we were all being thrown around quite a bit in the swell, and paddling now required concentration and frequent brace strokes. A trailing low brace came in handy on the most clapotic waves, but for the most part we stayed stable by keeping momentum up and powering forward, placing blades firmly into the front of the waves as they came at us from the side. We arrived in Sanna Bay at 1800, exhilarated from the trying conditions, all of us on a high, after three hours of paddling absolutely in the moment without a thought for anything extraneous.
A wee dram was in order, and we toasted Geoff as a thanks for a great day’s kayaking. The tide was well on its way in as we lugged boats up the beach and loaded cars. As we had paddled up the cove on our way in, we’d noticed a sheep stranded on a low rock and despite the day’s efforts, Alex still had enough oomph to rescue it and send it scampering on its way.
Wild Camping and Fine Dining
Restored by Kenneth’s hearty dinner of bean and vegetable stew and toasted bagels on Wednesday night, followed by cheeses, oatcakes and a couple of glasses of wine, we were more than ready for another day’s kayaking on Thursday morning. Eventually. We made it out of the ranch at about 2pm, headed for Loch Moidart, loaded up with firewood and some good food for that night’s campfire meal.
The drive to Loch Moidart was stunning, through breathtaking scenery, and on the way we stopped at the shop in Salen. We bought Nutella and fresh rolls for the next day, stocked up on Whisky and had a little sit-down for coffee and cake (as it was still only 3pm…) Then we made our way to the get-in and loaded the food and whisky into the boats, along with plenty(!) of firewood. After our chilled, meandering day, we set off at 1700 for our paddle through the Loch. No-one was in a hurry, and it was low tide as we made our way past the Casteal Tioram ruins, down the South Channel and out past Eilean Shona to the open sea.
We pootled up the coast to our second wild campsite, going quietly as we passed a group of seals resting on the rocks, and arrived in time to set up camp before sunset. Alex donned his rubber suit and headed back in the water to perfect his already not-too shabby offside roll. I pitched my tent, on a hillock above the beach, as a sea-otter fished for its supper in the bay beyond. There was a lowered sandy plateau on the beach below our campsite, with a lovely echo – perfect for Dan and Kenneth to have a little percussion jam session with the firewood. Then Geoff lit a perfect cooking fire for our evening meal, (the usual paddle nosh but also baked sweet potatoes, carrots and shallots warmed in foil in the fire). We ate on the sand, enjoying just being, under the sky and by the sea, as the sun set over the Sound of Arisaig.
Sun and double scallops
Day 7 dawned sunny and lovely. We left our beautiful campsite, and paddled our way through turquoise waters, in the blazing sunshine back to Loch Moidart.
We made our way through the North Channel, stopping to explore on the way. We beached at Casteal Tioran, our lunch stop and climbed up to the Castle ruins for a wander. Passing walkers and kayakers were friendly and had come from all around. We chatted to an older couple from Cheshire, out walking their gorgeous collie, (who wasn’t allowed any leftover salami due to his special diet) and two other sets of sea-kayakers enjoying a beautiful sunny day paddling round the peaceful waters of Lock Moidart.
We had a pretty epic lunch, finishing off all the left over provisions, topped off with coffee and delicious maple waffles drenched in Nutella (thanks Kenneth!) We meandered back to the get-in, stopping before we got out for some skills practice (who could resist in the beautiful warm sun), Geoff demonstrating a beautifully poised balance brace, Kenneth slickly executing a roll, and Alex practicing leaning backwards into a low scull. I went for a long, cool swim in the Loch – my first wild swim of the season – and then we unpacked the boats, loaded them on the cars and headed back to Kilchoan. We just about managed to unload and rinse the kit in time to get in the RIB and head back across to Mull – spotting a porpoise on the way out, heading toward Tobermory lighthouse. We celebrated our last night in style at MacGochan’s – there was a good old Scottish jam session in full swing when we arrived. Two accordions, bagpipes and a frenzied percussionist playing sticks on the table top belted out reels, jigs and a traditional medley of Marie’s Wedding and Scotland the Brave. Brilliant. Then a round of double scallops and dark ale before heading back to Kilchoan across the dark and quiet Sound of Mull.
Miranda
Photos courtesy of Miranda, Alex Hester, Kenneth Tharp
Bognor Regis Winter Paddle, 24th November 2013
On a beautiful crisp winter morning 5 intrepid CKC members (Neil, Dan, Rob H, Miranda and Jac) headed to the south coast.
There was a lovely shingle beach –
(not so gently sloping in places) and free easy parking – perfectly selected.
We had a lovely paddle, using the reverse eddies in our favour up to Little Hampton and back (even though the Coastguard didn’t think we would make it).
We paddled along bathed in the pinkly ethereal light, until the spell was broken by four noisy jet skis – we then took this opportunity to start heading into shore for lunch.
As it was the first super cold paddle of the season lunch consisted of discussing the pros and cons of various thermos and concluded with Neil’s £4.95 Morrison’s version being the best of the lot.
Heading back Jac thought Neil needed to challenge his last reserves of stamina – so without much convincing he hooked his towline to her boat, allowing Jac the opportunity to perform the role of trip photographer.
Dan found some cosy couches by the fire for a cheeky drink before the drive home.
Gorgeous day, and we all made it down to Cremorne bright and early for a paddle out west. High tide was at 1130am so we had the tide with us for a good chunk of the first leg.
Before we knew it we were at Kew, in fact we were there by 1145 so some time to kill before lunch. We found the shingle beach, and couldn’t resist “lunch from a shingle beach”
The pubs of Richmond beckoned, but consensus wagered a seat would be hard to find, so we went for a mosey up the Grand Union Canal instead. Interesting. A little too interesting as it turned out…
The Thames Lock was fun on the way in, my first lock and going up to a whole new water level was fun. On the way back after lunch, however, the water levels were less amenable to changing. In that the lockeeper was nowhere to be seen. So we considered our options. Shooting the weir was discarded as we couldn’t really see where the route went after the weir. Yelling out for the lockeeper got a bit boring after a while. We phoned him but that didn’t work either.
So portage was the only option. We took it in turns to clamber up the wall, and hauled the boats out with towlines. The get-in on the other side of the lock was even more fun. Vern immediately sprung into action and organised a team lowering the boats down the 15 foot wall with a pulley system of towlines, and Gieve went down first to help people make the leap from the ladder into their boats.
Jacqueline, Neil and David did a slightly longer portage and lauched off a jetty round the corner and we all met up to cruise back out on to the Thames and navigate with the ebb tide back down to Cremorne under Dave Tuttle’s expert navigation guidance.
Great day, thanks all!
Miranda
Done some work on the site.
- Optimised the google and bing trawling, they were killing us with requests
- Database optimisation work
- Upgraded the server, now twice as much memory as before.
- Done some additional page caching work
What does this mean? Hopefully the website will be faster. If you notice any problems since the upgrade give me a shout.
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