Chelsea Kayak Club

Anglesey – September 2014

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

Hayling Island 2014

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

Skomer 2014

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.

Cremorne to Kew

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

Drama and manoeuvres in Shepperton

As training sessions go, this one seemed to skip along happily like a kayaker in the wake of a Thames party boat. The three newbies, Dan, Dave and Nick figured a beautiful autumnal day along the quiet Shepperton river banks lined with post rehab rocker villas would be like chicken soup for their busy London lives. Little did they know that ‘wet work’ isn’t another term for drinking on the job. By the end of the day, they learnt just how fast you can spin around your bum in icy water wearing wetsuit tutus.

The day started out with a couple of ripples and grumbles from various leaders. It’s always interesting to see who can come up with the best excuses to be late. As Geoff single handedly loaded all eight kayaks down at Cremorne, various texts arrived on his phone.

Phil and Jaqui – “Our hamster got stuck in the chandelier!”

Judes – “Sam Neill is stalking me!”

Once down at Shepperton, under Phil’s direction the main training got underway and the newbies trailed up and down, zig zagging along as Judes kept calling out “Rudder to the left of them, rudder to the right of them, rudder in front of them, Volley’d and thunder’d; Storm’d at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell!” A little sense of drama never hurt a paddler, especially when a leader is trying to get that stern rudder steering into your head before you manoeuvre around on the Thames. In the end Geoff and Jacqui even managed to get Slow Dane to paddle backwards blindfolded and singing ‘God Save the Queen’ while hitting her head with one paddle and taking out a couple of signets with the other.

As the day finished off, the group rounded Desborough island and slalomed around a couple of near sighted rowers. Once back on land the three boys earned their BCU 1 Star + status, slow Dane narrowly escaped flushing herself down the seventies Sci-Fi toilet and we finished off the day with a well-deserved drink on dry land.

Solvej (aka the Slow Dane)

London Kayakathon 2012

Yesterday, three intrepid CKC members put themselves up for the endurance paddle of 26.2 miles in the London Kayakathon 2012 for charity; Ann Gales, David McCormick and John Mayne.

This year there were just under a hundred sea kayaks that took part in the charity event – mustering at Tower Hamlets, then paddling from under Tower Bridge to Chiswick Bridge and back again. It took place on the same day as the London Marathon, so it needed some careful planning to get people and boats to starting point to counter all the road closures – but we all knew that at least there would be a few people cheering from the bridges as we paddled under them (even if they were there for the runners!).

Following a clear safety briefing by the organisers, we all headed to the river and a bit of a tricky get-in, which took a bit more time than expected to launch so many boats. When we finally set off it was great to see so many smiling faces and paddlers from all over the country and even a contingent that had travelled from Italy to be part of the kayakathon.

The weather was typically British throughout the marathon distance up and down the Thames – switching from sunshine (do we need sun cream) to bitter cold pelting rain (do we need a blanket and thermos?). The changing weather didn’t stop us marvelling at how impressive our tight flotilla looked kayaking on the river as we passed the iconic landmarks including Big Ben, The London Eye, Battersea Power Station and HMS Belfast.

We all had to paddle at a comfortable pace, set by the race marshals and safety RIBS, so it wasn’t too gruelling, especially as we had tidal support – but after about five hours we all really started to feel it. When we finally completed the official distance by passing under Tower Bridge nearly eight hours after first getting in to the boat – we knew that arms, shoulders and backs would ache for the following days (and they did).

However we signed up for endurance (and pain) in the name of good causes – causes that we’re more than happy for you to help support (if you’d like) by following the links below and donating a few of your well-earned pennies:

David McCormick (supporting Cancer Vaccine Institute): http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=davidmccormick
John Mayne (supporting Cancer Research UK): http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=johnmayne
Ann Gales (supporting Samantha Dickson Brain Tumour Trust): please send any pledges directly to Ann

The next London Kayakathon will be in 2014 – it would be great to see a few more CKC faces step up and take the challenge… keep an eye on their website for details.

Also – you can watch David’s funky video here: London Kayakathon 2012 video

London Kayakathon – 100 days to go

There is a very exciting date in the kayaking calender – The London Kayakathon – which is taking place on Sunday 22 April 2012, or if you’re really keen and counting down… 100 days from today. This is the same day, date and distance as the Virgin London Marathon, but sadly is often overlooked by all the thousands of people focused on the running masses, as kayakers paddle 26.2 miles along the Thames.

The London Kayakathon was started in 2002 by Simon Osborne who created the event ‘Kayaking For Cancer’, ten years on it has grown to well over a hundred boats and Simon has raised over £30,000 for Leukaemia Research in memory of his brother Mark.

This year I will be taking part and raising money for Cancer Research UK, in memory of someone who was very dear to me who sadly lost her fight against the disease last year – I’m hoping to garner some support to reach my personal £100 per mile target.

Some details of the London Kayakathon and my personal mission can be found here: facebook.com/KayakaJohn2012 it would be great if you could like and share this with as many people as possible (and maybe even donate too?)

John Mayne

CKC Christmas Party 2011

33 CKC members and partners congregated together at the Hurlingham Yacht Club on a clear crisp Friday night to celebrate its second Christmas together.

Thanks to Richard Bate bringing along a last minute extension cable we were up and running with a compilation of the years trips via big screen slideshow, bringing back memories of the 16 paddling trips we had over the year and hopefully inspiring those who missed out to sign up to more in 2012. Miranda threw in a last minute ‘Caption Competition’ with Tim Mansel being the star feature!! Andy managed to take the large box of choc prize with ‘Join CKC it’s a great ‘crack…’

John the Chef provided a fabulous 3 course meal leaving everyone loosening their belts and in need of good long hard paddle to work it all off.

Throughout the evening members added memories from past trips and ideas for upcoming 2012 trips to the UK + southern Ireland map Miranda handily bought, along with pens and post-it notes to boot. Looks like it’s going to be a busy year…

The evening rounded off with a few games of Giant Jenga and quiet drinks… perfect!

Can’t wait to see what’s in store for the coming year!

Jac x

PS see also see Andy’s blog from 2011 giving a fab round up of the year.

CKC buys a canoe …. sssshhhhh…..

Ok so we are mostly a kayak club. Chelsea Kayak Club. And we are mostly a sea kayak club. Chelsea Kayak Club. Does what it says on the tin, innit.

But we do say we are London’s only paddlesport club devoted to sea kayaking and touring. And of course touring is rather nice in an open canoe. And you have to do a bit of work on your single blade boating skills if you want to get your BCU 2 star. And it’s helpful to have a canoe to point at when you need to explain the difference between kayaking and canoeing to people who thought they were going canoeing but are now being told they are going kayaking.

Of course the above reasons were all ex post facto justifications when John Mayne, ever a man with his eyes on the prize and his finger on the pulse, got first refusal on a brand new Old Town Penobscot 164.

Out of the blue John came across a charity auction that contained a pretty large canoe, so he made a tentative offer, swiftly got the backing of a majority of the committee, ensured we had enough money in the tin and got me access so I could collect it and bring it to Cremorne.

So anyway, now we have a canoe.

All we need now is a couple of paddles. And someone willing to try it out on the water.

Andy

Sardinia September 2011

9 (Instead of 11) Paddle Sardinia

Sitting at my desk, nursing a lemsip, reflecting on the first really chilly London day in December, I could swear that today, it actually started getting dark before it got light. It is therefore pretty tough trying to picture myself stretched out on the sand with a cold beer and a bunch of friends, watching the sun set over an idyllic cove in the north of Isola Maddalena. The photos, and the stories (one of which I was reminded of this afternoon in the pub, by Tim), convince me that it really did happen, less than three months ago, so I thought I’d share some of them to remind you that summer is real, it does happen, and there is another one just around the corner!

The first thing to mention was that it wasn’t quite as it should have been – Phil and Jacqui, whose inspiration the trip was, and whose hard work made it such a great trip, were not present. We missed them, it wasn’t the same without them, and not a day went by when I didn’t imagine what one or other might say or think of the sights and events we were experiencing.

So just 9 of us found ourselves at Camping Tavolara, on Sunday 25th September, making good headway into the expedition wine supply and having a gander at charts of the northwest coast of Sardinia, the Costa Smeralda, and the Maddalena Archipelago. Clark Weissinger, of Sea Kayak Sardinia, came to meet us at the campsite, with a selection of 9 excellent boats, and gave us a bit of a local lowdown over a glass or two of said wine, and a tune or two from Andy’s ukulele.

Day 1
Wind: F2 NE
Outlook: Sunny
Distance: 7 Nm (Andy and Richard 8Nm )
Set off: 1200
Broke Camp: 1600

A beautiful day to set out. Clark arrived to collect us at 0900 and after a pleasant shuttle in the van, listening to Christy Moore on the CD player, we were all down at the beach loading our kayaks (or drinking cappuccinos, for those who managed to cram a week’s worth of supplies into their boat first) against the dramatic backdrop of Isola Tavolara.

Our starting point was stunning – as we loaded the boats on the beach, the 5km x 1km limestone massif of Isola Tavolara sat temptingly in the near distance, with its highest point, Monte Cannone, beckoning us. We could have spent a couple of days just paddling this bay.

Loading up the boats before embarking on our expedition, Monte Cannone in the distance.

As soon as we got on the water, we paddled across for a gander, then headed to the spit at the western end for a quick swim and lunch, while Andy and Richard sprinted up to the other end of the island and back. Then we headed decisively off to get some distance under our belts. Until we saw the rusty orange wreck set beguilingly against the deep blue water on the near side of the bay, and we just had to have a little peek. Andy parked up and slipped into the water with his snorkel, a minor shriek from inside the upturned hull confirming that there was plenty of sea-life to see.

Idyllic flat calm conditions accompanied us alongside Isola Tavolara to the next headland, (lucky really, as we were spread out across the bay thinner than dripping on a wartime ration crust). We rounded the headland of Capo Ceraso. As the vast Gulf of Olbia opened up in front of us, we tried to establish the best crossing point.

Our Day 1 objective had been to reach the other side of the bay at least, and if there was time, press on round the next headland before camping for the night. My brain started doing neurotic sums. It was 1500, and the crossing would take at least an hour and a half, and we still had to paddle far enough towards the mouth of the estuary to make crossing the shipping lane as safe as possible. Then we had to find somewhere to camp, and we had absolutely no hints as to where potential wild campsites existed, bringing the total time before we could strike camp up to a possible 3 hours – half an hour after dark. Hmm. Just as my it’ll-be-fine holiday brain was telling my neurotic sum-doing brain to shut up the enjoy the paddle, Toons, who was leading for the day, announced a plan to start looking for a campsite immediately. (Ha. Neurotic sum-brain – smug grin).

Lucky – it took 45 minutes and 3 scenic little coves, with beaches all proudly displaying no camping signs, (one of which sported a shotgun hole), and 11 different threats in four languages, emphasising dire consequences, for us to realise that the best thing to do was ignore them.

Our first night's camp spot - ignoring the signs

We landed, Lyn made coffee, then we pitched our tents (waiting till it was nearly sunset in view of potential dire consequences) and sat around chit-chatting about the stars, the day’s events, and generally how wonderful it was to be there. Andy started up a chat about the day’s paddle, which gave everyone a chance to reminisce about the best points from the day, and some areas they would like to improve on the next day. We did a little planning over grappa and more ukulele strumming, and headed to bed determinedly not dreaming of Italian policemen waving truncheons and shouting “vietato!” Little did we realise we would soon be doing some on-the-water negotiating with the Carabinieri regarding our paddling intentions…

Day 2. Olbia to Punto Canigione
F3-4 NW
Distance 21.6 km
Set off 1015
Arrived 1645

We set of at 1015 after a night free of law-enforcement. (Unless you count the mozzies). John led a tightly formed 3 x 3 box formation across the shipping channel (in which we came across two boats). We crossed the bay of Olbia in 50min and crossed again to reach Capo Figari at 1215. We lunched on the beautiful Isola Figolaro.

Box Formation

A gentle 1.5m high swell rolled us towards the headland of Capo Figari. It was friendly, but still swelly enough for a bit of post-lunch exhilaration. The headland was eventually rounded and we all accomplished totally pro surf landings on a small beach (OK, a little poetic licence of hindsight, but don’t forget it has been a few months and things are starting to take on a bit of a rosy glow), in order for Mel and Toons to recover from their seasickness, and then paddle off to rejoin Cynthia who was happily bobbing about in the bay waiting for us.

We pressed on, looking for somewhere to land for the night, and sent out a scout group, who found us a really lovely cove, with a nice sheltered beach for camping, and a good sized lagoon which was perfect for a Sardinian CKC skills session. John, Richard, Andy, Tim, Lyn and I all splashed about practicing our rolling, rescues and generally showing off, before deciding we were too tired for any more and getting off the water for the usual evening routine. (But not before Tim managed injury #1 of the trip by “sneezing a rib”).

We dug out the wine, (which strangely didn’t seem to diminish, even though by now we had run out of water and several of us had run out of food). I enviously eyed up Lynne and Mel’s “Look what I found” meal, while my pasta cooked, but was pleasantly surprised by my fresh gnocchi with cheese and za’atar (courtesy of Toons’ travel spice dispenser). After 2 days, Andy’s one man ukulele journey (which begun on our first night at Camping Tavolara, until when the instrument had been completely new to him), had already become a musical odyssey, and while we quaffed wine with the waves lapping at our feet, the music was a real treat. Especially as he hadn’t put his mind to mastering “I used to work in Chicago” yet…

Day 3
F 2-3 NE
Outlook: Sunny Visibility Poor-Moderate
Distance 20.3 km Temperature 26C
Set off 1000
Arrived 1640

Having covered good ground the day before, we didn’t go crazy with early starts on the Wednesday. We did need to restock with provisions though, so our first stop was just 5Km up the coast, the Marina at Porto Rotondo. After nestling our boats surreptitiously in a corner of the rather smart beach, we headed past the immaculately-clad yachties in the pristine marina, towards the village supermarket. It wasn’t exactly awash with bargains, with tuna at €13 a tin, but we managed to get some good grub.

Mel and Lyn at our lunch stop

2 hours later, we set off across the bay, with a green domed peninsular as our destination, the white triangle at the tip eventually turning into a quaint whitewashed lighthouse. From there John and Cynthia in the lead set a cracking pace, and soon we were all well on our way to the next headland. After a couple of hours of blissful, quiet paddling over a broad, flat prussian blue sea, sparkling in the midday sunshine, Mel and Lyn answered a call from nature, which led us to a beautiful beach. It was lined with the flags of various nations, and had a smart white edifice in the middle, surrounded by sunbeds and parasols. We made for the secluded corner of the beach, where the shallow aquamarine bay was perfect for a quick dip – Richard jumped in, followed by Toons, who snorkelled up to the pontoon and found a shoal of brightly coloured fish. Lyn spotted some spiky sea urchins

– Tim: “Why did the razorbill raise her bill?”

– Cynthia: “So the sea urchin could see ‘er chin…” Sea – ur – chin… Gerrit?

We set off with Richard at the front, and rounded the Capriccioli headland, heads down, and core muscles engaged, expecting to be hit by the NE F4 wind and some choppy water, but neither materialised until later, when we had just rounded a deceptively small peninsula.

Up till now we passed mainly green hillsides covered in sprawling mansions, but here it changed, with spectacular rock formations coming right down to meet the sea. Toons, Andy and John headed over for some rock-hopping – no-one else was tempted initially, but as we passed on the inside of a particularly stunning rock formation, Lyn was lured in for a quick go.

The Wreck

We continued North towards Porto Cervo. Rounding the Golfo Pevero headland we regrouped to make the call on whether to press on to Porto Cervo or head inland and find a camp spot. The Autumn sun was beautiful, and gave the seascape a silvery glow, but it was low in the sky, and making out any detail in the coastline was tough – hard to know if there might be any potential camp spots or not. Cynthia spotted a tempting looking beach on Isola Nibani, just off the coast, (later to be named Killer Mozzie Island), and she, Toons and Andy led an exploration.

Venturing slightly inland, the rest of us reccied the coast. To our left, only rocks. On the far side of the bay, tourist beaches, with just visible parasols. Cappuccinos, cold beer, calamari, spaghetti alla vongole (or “arselle” in Sardinia) and gelato miraged around our heads, and we gazed longingly towards the parasols.

Then the radio sprang to life with Andy’s voice:

“John, John this is Andy. Over.”

“Andy this is John. Over.”

“We have ID’d a site, safe landing, good camp site.”

“Andy this is John we are currently reccieing an alternative site, will advise. Over”

“Thanks. Will await further contact.”

“Andy, listening on 8, out”

The calamari-gelato mirage popped, and another perfect surf landing later, we were hoiking our kayaks up onto the steep beach of Isola Nibani, before pitching camp, while Tim repaired his tent and sustained his second injury of the trip (Calf Gouging).

After tea and chocolate, Lyn provided rosemary crackers and pecorino cheese, which we washed down with cold beer. Gazing out at the mainland in the near distance, the view was idyllic, with a beautiful rock formation bathed in the early evening Mediterranean sunlight. Punctuated only by shrieks of rage as Lilo Lyn discovered Andy raiding her floating sea-grass beer-fridge, as she bobbed around unsuspectingly on her lilo.

After Tim and I made a photographic tour of the Island, we all attempted to spend the evening in the communal area of our Nibani Island campsite, to dip into the wine stash and regale each other with the day’s stories. Sadly the swarm of mosquitos that arrived at sunset refused to leave us in peace, and most of the party managed a little “me time”. John, Tim and I bravely stayed up playing cards, drinking whisky and writing the journal but soon retired for a few quiet reflections on the day’s paddling.

Day 4NW 3-4 Easing in pm
Outlook: Sunny
Distance 29.9 Km

On the water for 0815. Big sigh of relief leaving the mozzies. We crossed NW toward the headland, just North of Porto Cervo, in moderately choppy water, and after an hour of paddling, a couple of Carabinieri motored up behind us.

– Carabinieri: “Bad sea, atennzione, atennzione. Where you go?”

– Tim: Chats cleverly away in his EuroTalian.

Carabinieri not too happy when we explained we were headed North to the Maddalena Islands, but Tim and Andy somehow managed to reassure them, and off we went. We subsequently discovered that three Welsh canoeists had been reported missing following an overnight trip on the South of the island that week, so the concerns were understandable, especially in view of the choppy seas. Happily the Welsh group were found safe and well.

Andy, John and Cynthia plan our route round to our destination on the northern aspect of La Maddalena

Andy’s calm reassurance to the Police officer regarding our sea kayaking prowess was still ringing in the air when Mel’s piercing shriek of “Aagh a wave” made us all jump out of our skins. Fortunately the law enforcers were well out of earshot, and Mel managed to remain upright, despite a large wave coming out of nowhere to break over her head, shunting her a few feet sideways. It turned into yet another lovely paddle, and at 1000 we had a beach break on Isola della Bisce, then headed across a beautiful calm open stretch of water, encountering a yacht race, a sailing boat floundering with a twisted spinnaker, and a catamaran, before reaching Isola Caprera and turning North East to head up the channel to the Maddalena Archipelago.

Paddling North Between Isola Caprera and La Maddalena

After 6 hours of paddling, we finally rounded the North aspect of Isola Maddalena into a beautiful quiet bay. With other priorities than finding a campsite, most of us headed to the beachside kiosk. Before joining everyone, I leapt into the turquoise water for a celebratory dip to wash away the salt crusts. Unwise as it transpired, as by the time I arrived at the jolly kiosk the beer was all gone! Aperol and prosecco spritzers made up for it though, after which we stumbled across the bay to find our spot for the night. Richard and I jumped in for a swim, and watched the stunning sunset from the water, through the golden blanket of sea, punctuated with little domes of dark blue-black fluttering through the surface. We looked up and saw Toons and Andy, silhouetted under a red crescent moon, chatting about Andy’s planned paddle to Corsica in the morning.

Paddling Until Last Light!

Day 5

The next two days were spent relaxing in the gorgeous islands. On Friday, Andy sprinted to Corsica, only to find it was shut. Toons and I enjoyed a lazy day, with a short trip round the coast, getting there just in time for a swim followed by a beautiful sunset paddle back to the campsite, to discover Andy relaxing on the beach after his epic journey. John led an energetic trip to the outer islands, (uncovering James Bond’s secret hideout) during which an exhilarating time was had by all. Mel, Tim and Lyn went for the trekking option, and hit the town of La Maddalena

Toons Paddling Back at Sunset

Day 6
NE 2-3
Distance 14 Km

Paddling back on the last day

The dawn broke over a brilliantly sunny sky for our last idyllic Mediterranean paddle back down to the mainland along the west coast. We made fantastic time – 6km/hr, due to flat calm conditions. After 5km of coastline we started looking in earnest for a spot for a quick swim. We were astounded when we reached La Maddonnetta del Pescatore, a little church right on the edge of the water. Andy moored his boat, and, well, see the photo for details…

Andy Summits La Madonnetta

We eventually found our swimming beach, before rounding the south aspect of the island into the busy shipping channel between La Maddalena and the mainland, which we crossed without incident, past all the ferries going in and out of Palau. We parked up at the end of a beautiful sea lido, and skipped up some stone steps to a restaurant for a celebratory meal of pasta, red wine and fish before being scooped up by Clarke and driven back to Tavolara.

Arriving at our final destination - the beachside lido in the port of Palau!

Once there, Tim, Andy, Toons and I sped down to the beach for a last cappuccino and ice cream, to find that the beachside restaurant was boarded up, with the proprietor stacking up chairs inside ready for the winter. He smiled and shook his head, and with a dismissive wave of his hand, suggested, “l’anno prossimo!”.

L’anno prossimo it is…