Sunday, November 20, 2011

Hamble and back, lessons put into practice

Today we did 4.5m paddling across the mouth of Southampton Water from Calshot Castle to Hamble. It was another really nice day, the late autumn/early winter sun low in the sky and I forgot my sunglasses....great! But a great day for kayaking and not really cold until we got out and the end.

John and I were joined by Stuart, who hasn't kayaked with us for a couple of months now, but is back in action although admitted to finding it quite hard work after so long away from the water.

We arrived at Calshot and, unlike our previous excursion from there when we parked on the main road and launched from the beach, today we drove all the way along to the castle itself and launched from the slipway. The big difference was the fee.... £6 to park and launch from there as opposed to gratis from the beach but..... there you go.

After out recent aborted trip to the IoW, both John and I had done some research this time. We knew what the tide was doing so were fairly sure the paddle across to the other side of Southampton Water, about 2 miles into the marina just up the Hamble River, would be relatively easy. Tide was low and we were paddling around the time of the lowest tide, so it was all fairly calm from that point of view. However the water in the middle was fairly choppy. Occasionally a cruiser went past creating a bit of wake, but it's fair to say that we were getting pushed around a bit as we travelled along the waves coming up Southampton Water from The Solent.

Once we got across to Hamble, it was very calm and the river was very easy paddling, although we only went for a short distance to the first marina. At that point our previous experiences told us that, before the tide starts coming in we should get back out of the river to make our lives as easy as possible.

So, after a Snickers break off we went. More choppiness, a number of breaking waves and a decent breeze didn't really quell our enthusiasm for what was, we all agreed, a really good paddle.

Lessons learned.... the hard way, yes, but we got there in the end.

An awkward moment on these trips is the decision whether to change into dry clothes or just put a towel on the driver's seat and get home asap. I decided to change this time, and only just retained my modesty as another vehicle came from nowhere and started reversing down the slipway where I was changing behind the car door. All present and correct in the nick of time, I'm pleased to say.

After a cuppa in John's VW Transporter mystery machine we had a pint at Calshot Activity Centre (that's my favourite of the activities offered there!) and then agreed that, before Christmas, we would have to make another attempt at crossing to Cowes....

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Replies to our begging letters!

A few weeks ago Jon and I spend a couple of hours writing emails to various companies asking for help with our cause, and setting up a sponsorship website.

We had started to get pretty disconsolate at the lack of replies, but today Jon has received two.

The first was from http://www.phseakayaks.com/ saying that they are going to send us a 2012 expedition support request form.

The second was from http://www.aswatersports.co.uk/index.html offering free training and discounted equipment, plus saying that they will write to their suppliers to see what else could be offered.

Great to finally get some replies, and the offer of free training is particularly useful given our experience on The Solent at the weekend!

Let's hope it's the first of many replies. I've heard nothing from Eurotunnel yet!

Abortive Solent attempt

Jon and I resolved to cross the Solent on Sunday, and were suckered into a false sense of security, then paid with a hard slog back to Lepe after bailing out half way to Cowes. Well, I say Cowes...

When we got to Lepe, the sea was like a mill pond. But there were 8-10 sea kayakers who weren't falling for it. When I asked whether they were heading to the island, they said "no chance". They were off to Lymington for the day, and promptly set off in that direction, cutting through the water in a way that our trusty and well-appreciated sit-ons can't really achieve. We wanted slightly envious as the effortlessly powered off to the west. They had warned us that there was a force 4-6 coming in later and it would be coming from the north, meaning that it would be a hard paddle back if we went over to Cowes.

But...what did they know? The water looked serene, and we decided to go for it.

It started to get choppy after about two hundred yards, and progressively worse.....and then went like a mill pond again. I kept thinking that perhaps this wasn't a good idea. I think Jon thought the same, but equally we both felt condident that we wouldn't sink in a sit-on, and so the worse that could happen is we could get rolled on a heavy wave and have to jump back on.

So we [sort of] powered onwards. We approached a massive buoy which had a bell on it, donging away every time it swayed on the tide. As we passed it, I realised it was coming towards us at speed, then it rushed passed us and headed off towards Cowes.

Of course, this isn't what was happening at all. The water piling up in front of it simply gave the impression it was moving. In fact we were being swept along at a fair pace by the tide rushing past the static buoy, noisily tolling away like a death knell. It was the final encouragement we needed.

Let's go back, we said almost in unison.

It wasn't easy. I fixed on a yellow buoy just off Lepe, and lined it up with the cafe on the beach. But the gap between the two viewpoints widened as we tried in vain to paddles against the tide, crabbing slowly towards our goal.

Eventually, knackered, cold but more experienced than when we set out, we arrived in the calm, still mill-pond-like water off Lepe. The tide had retreated considerably and we had to carry the kayaks much further up the beach than we had down it on arrival.

As we went back over our paddle, grateful not to have been washed ashore in Cornwall somewhere, we looked out at the bell buoy we had passed, and realised it was well to the west of Cowes, where we had been headed. The tide had taken us well off course, and we hadn't even realised until now.

A really important lesson about understanding the tide times and the currents and, of course, the weather.

But we'll get to the island at some point, and it'll be a real boost when we do!

Saturday, September 24, 2011

First blood

So, during the week I texted John and Stu and said "how about we kayak from Eling to Hythe, leave a car at either end, and then we'd have done 5 miles".

John's reply was "how about we kayak to Hythe and back?".

A sharp intake of breath later, and I was unbelievably agreeing that this was a good idea. Earlier in the year we went on the Christchurch River and out to Mudeford, coming back against the tide and river flow. We did about 4.5 miles that day, and it was flipping hard work, plus the pub on Mudeford quay wouldn't serve beer to people in wetsuits. And I fell in at the end.

Eling is similar in that, when the tide goes out, you have the flow of the River Test and the tide against you. So, of course, we chose high-ish tide (but starting to fall) as the time to leave Eling, meaning that a couple of hours later, when we were paddling back, we were against a very strong current.

"Dig deep" said John as he paddled on ahead, obviously with either a deeper place to dig in to, or he's just a lot fitter than me. Luckily for Stuart he wasn't able to make it. John got back probably a full ten minutes before me.

Personally it was a big struggle for the last 45 minutes. We could see the entrance to Eling marina for almost an hour before getting back there, because the tide was so strong. It was like a light at the end of a very long tunnel, that didn't seem to be getting closer. I felt like Sam Tyler, stuck in a time loop, paddling away but not really getting anywhere, desperate to get home! Apparently that is what it's like half way across The Channel... you see France but it doesn't really come any closer for ages. So there's a mental challenge as well as a physical one.

Once I had finished, I thought that today would lay down a marker for the future. Not least because, if I re-read this post in six months time, by which point I hope it will be a very nice spring day on The Solent and paddling 15 miles in a day won't be a problem (thanks to a winter of fitness building...!), I will realise how far I will have come. Or maybe I'll stuff my face over Christmas, put on a stone or two, get on the kayak and just sink.

I really think that, by the time we get to Shakespeare Beach and head off towards the French coast, we don't want to be worrying about the distance - if we are, then we won't have done the right preparation. We want to be worried about ships and weather and needing a poo, things like that.

So, a winter and spring of kayaking round and round the Isle of Wight?

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Pub

So to the pub for a chat and a bit of a reality check - is this really possible, are we capable of organising it etc?

To be honest, both those questions seemed irrelevent. It was more a case of ignorant confidence. Of course we can organise it, and of course it's possible. The problem is, when we try to be as rational as possible, it seems like it ought to be easy. It's only 20 miles (in the busiest shipping lane on Earth) after all.

Anyway, as the pints were being supped, we came up with a list.

Crossing
·         Safety boat
·         Best dates and times?
·         Expert on channel crossings
·         Advice from veterans
·         Nutrition
·         Van
·         Hotel
·         RNLI advice on crossing/support requirements
·         Speak to previous cross-channel kayakers about support boat, other requirements etc
·         Maritime & Coastguard Agency (based in Soton) for advice/guidance
·         What are the rules/laws/regulations governing cross-channel attempts?

Training
·         Kayaking regularly (weekly inc through winter)
·         Someone to advise us e.g. personal trainer
·         Stamina
·         Strength
·         Kayak Club which uses Hounsdown School pool, for training?

Sponsorship
·         Return crossing – Eurotunnel/ferries
·         Safety boat (£1,300?)
·         Facebook/Twitter/Blog
·         Corporate – HSBC, ESSO, Gill Technology, DHL
·         Kayak Manufacturers
·         Liquid Logistics for kit/training
·         Woodmill for kit/training
·         Van hire companies
·         Hotel companies
·         David Harrison (NFDC/T&ETC) – annual £10k funding allowance
·         Local pubs (fundraising)
·         John’s band – reunion or similar
·         Action Duchenne to provide support in terms of helping to organise sponsorship, forms, perhaps Just Giving page etc

What we need
·         Kayaks (durrr)
·         Food & drink
·         Channel crossing for return journey plus for wives etc
·         Support boat (£1,300??)
·         Van
·         Hotel accommodation
·         Time off work
·         Prizes for fundraising
·         Pubs to hold fundraising events
·         Training support
·         VHF radio
·         Flares etc
·         Advice on type of kayak – sea kayak or expedition sit-on
·         Life jackets/other kit

Publicity
·         Facebook/Twitter/Blog (cross-publish on Facebook/Twitter)
·         Daily Echo (Sarah Jones)
·         BBC South/Radio Solent

Training plan
1.       Kayak Lymington –Yarmouth
2.       Kayak Hythe to Cowes/Yarmouth
3.       Kayak Eling to Cowes/Yarmouth

...and so on covering greater distances. Doing this over the winter will challenge stamina and strength against adverse weather etc

NEXT STEPS:
·         Write to previous cross-channel kayakers for advice on crossing rules/tips/barriers to break down etc (John)
·         Draft sponsorship letter (Charlie)
·         Ask Action Duchenne whether they have a Just Giving site (John)
·         Establish exact cross-channel regulations etc (Charlie)

-----------------------------

So this is us "getting organised". It was quite a good effort I thought. Now we've just got to get on with it, which is likely to be the hard bit! Whilst we had little (no) doubt the crossing could be achieved, getting through this list of "things to do" was possibly going to be more challenging.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

So, was I up for it?

Amazingly, after reading the story of Henry Hendron and his crossing, I was definitely up for it. It will no doubt be, frankly, s**t scary. But if David Walliams can swim it, I'm sure we can kayak it.

Engulfing waves, here we come!

The story that started it all

Last Monday morning (5 September 2011) I was on the train up to London and realised I had a text from Jon Turner, who I regularly go kayaking with. It is reprinted below, and was without doubt the longest text I had ever received. Essentially it was the story of an attempt to break the world record for kayaking across the English Channel, but with the words "So, are you up for it?" added by Jon at the end. The original story is also available this link.

So, here it is. The text that started it all.

Channel Crossing Author: HENRY HENDRON
28/06/2003
Since Captain Matthew Webb became the first man to swim the Channel on 24th August 1875, in just under 22 hours, many have sought to better the quickest crossing time of the world busiest shipping lane, using a multitude of craft and an array of tools. Many have succeeded, many have failed and some have even died during the hazardous thirty four kilometre crossing.

For the canoeist, the challenge of kayaking the channel is extreme. The challenge of engulfing standing waves, the challenge of what can be severe wind, frequent rough seas, and tough currents. This is the lure of the English Channel.

I had sought to take on this extraordinary task after kayaking across the Solent and paddling around the Isle of Wight with my brother Richard and Oliver Blackwell from the Black Rabbit Canoe Club in West Sussex. However it was only while working in the House of Commons and trying to raise money for charity by canoeing into work every morning from Richmond to Westminster, that my mind was made, mainly because it was going to be an excellent fund raiser for a small charity called JOLT, which I was raising money for. With this in mind I sprang to work with research on the metrics and requirements of kayaking the English Channel. I soon discovered that it wasn't going to be as easy as I first thought.

My research took me to the Channel Crossing Association (CAA), the governing body of attempts to cross the channel. Then to Guinness, the world record keepers. From them I learnt that we were going to need to employ two safety boats, which would cost the best part of two thousand pounds, but on the positive side we also realised that a world record was up for the taking, and within our grasp, this proved incredibly motivating!

I set about organising the attempt to cross the English Channel, an attempt to set a new world record. It was going to be a team achievement with my brother Richard and friend Oliver Blackwell forming the party. The team was arranged, the motivation was in place, but safety boats were needed as a requirement of Guinness if they were to accept the record. After a few phone calls and a bit of sales talk, DHL -the world wide parcel carrier- came aboard as our official sponsor. With the finance sorted we were able to hire the two support boats and crew needed for the voyage, which we did via the Channel Crossing Association. Now we had to think about the boats we were going to paddle.
Initially we were keen on the idea of paddling Wave Hoppers or White Water Racers. These boats would be a lot lighter than sea kayaks, a lot more stable than K1's and easy to role if necessary. However after consultation with Richmond's own WWR guru, Sean Martin, we were persuaded that Sea Kayaks were the only answer, at least on the first attempt!. Oliver was now tasked, By begging, borrowing and steeling, with arranging the Sea kayaks!

We had done the training, sorted out a sponsor, secured kayaks and organised a contingent of motor boats and officials, and in the process we had raised some money for charity, now all we had to do was to paddle cross country!

The channel, like most seas, is a tad unpredictable. You cant just pitch up on the day on the off chance that no storm is brewing and hope that the weather is good enough to paddle it, commonsense and safety dictate to the contrary. The process is that you supply the Skipper of the lead boat with a series of dates that you can do, and the evening before each date he will call you up with a synopsis of the weather for the coming day and either yea's or nay's the go ahead based on the weather. Its all a bit last minute.

I had given skipper Dave Whyte, the chap who was to lead the safety boat contingent from the CAA, a series of dates, with the preferred one being Saturday 28th June. That week I began each morning with a short phone call to skipper Dave Whyte for a low-down on the weather. Dave being at the higher end of middle age, a composed man of few words, who had obviously grown up on the channel and was quite clearly as expert as you can find, was not even himself able to second guess the weekends weather. "Its always changing" was the common response when my line of inpatient questioning invariably turned to forecasting the sea and heavens. On the Thursday before the scheduled Saturday departure, Dave (speaking on his mobile phone out at sea in what sounded like a force 5 gale!) had pledged to call me on Friday evening with the latest weather forecast which was to decide whether we go the next morning or not.

At 1900 hrs on Friday, I still hadn't heard from skipper Dave, I assumed the worst, I called Dave, where a hesitant voice answered. Dave hadn't had the final forecast in yet, but he was doubtful about the crossing. He relayed that the wind was picking up in Dover and the skipper of the other boat had heard that it was going to get a lot worse. None the less he would wait for the official forecast and confirm that the crossing was off later. Within half and hour Dave had called me back to report that a "low pressure was coming in". I hadn't the foggiest what this meant, but thankfully, after some initial doubt, it meant that the record breaking crossing was on. It was going to be a windy crossing, but it was still going to be a crossing, and with that a new world record.

The next day, on a breezy and grey Saturday morning, we gathered at an equally grey Dover Marina. Assembled were the Hendron duo of myself and Richard, my sister Samantha who was acting photographer for the event, police man Steve Betts, a fellow canoeists from Richmond who was to act as our time keeper, and an array of about ten crew and assistants from the channel crossing association. It was a bit of a picnic!

After having the sea kayaks inspected for Sea worthiness, we had a short briefing, introduced all to all and donned our bright yellow embossed DHL caps and polo shirts, courtesy of our sponsors. After a few customary photos we were ready and rearing to go.

The two shortest points across the English Channel are from Shakespeare beach to Cap Griz-Nez. This was our route. Shakespeare Beach is a long shingle beach set in a bay, near Shakespeare Cliff. There are deep pools and a wavecut platform towards the cliff end of the beach, something of an attraction to fish. On the day anglers dotted the coast line and waves battered the cliffs. A nervous apprehension took told as we prepared to set sail.

Sitting in our kayaks on the seas edge, we waited anxiously for the safety boats to appear from the harbour. Once in sight, small hands, bobbing up and down with the boats, waved go. We were off.
Excitement, eagerness and determination, drove us all to an early sprint (sprint in a sea kayak is a difficult thing to achieve). As the white cliffs became smaller in the backdrop the muddy shores of France were not quick to show themselves ahead. Our sprint soon became a DW plod, with frequent slap support and high brace to fend off the pulls of gravity, as winds threw us and waves thundered the boat

After the first mile, the excitement weaned, the novelty subsided and the tedium grew. Once you have seen one bit of open sea you have pretty much seen it all. There is only two visually interesting phases to sea kayaking, the start and the finish, the trick is to keep the time between the two as short as possible!

The English Channel, being the busiest shipping lane in the world, did however give us plenty of passing boats to look at. None more inspiring that the SeaCat, which frequently and modesty roared past unforgiving in its determination to get to land (we could now understand that sentiment!). In its wake the SeaCat left a mixture of rough water and exciting surf. Directly behind it, spray of 15 feet high marked its passing. Its certainty ao get to land (we could now understand that sentiment!). In its wake the SeaCat left a mixture of rough water and exciting surf. Directly behind it, spray of 15 feet high marked its passing. Its certainty an awesome sight and was a welcome break of the monotony of what is sea kayaking.

Meanwhile onboard Skipper Dave's boat, police man and time keeper Steve Betts had rediscovered his childhood penchant for sea sickness. For twenty minutes police man Steve lay half draped over the side of the boat with offerings of last nights dinner to the sea! It seemed Steve was having a tougher time than we were.

We caught sight of France a couple of miles before the halfway mark. An inspiring moment. With parallels to the start, the excitement and deception of how close France was, drove us into sprint mode in the insane belief that we would be on a French beech in any second. Similar to our early sprints, it wasn't long before we rediscovered the DW plod mode!

The only other excitement came when Richard began complaining about a sinking sensation he was having in his boat, a complaint that I put to rest with the words "just paddle". Just paddle he did, and in so doing became progressively slower, until in the end we were forced to raft up, where we whipped off his spray deck and were met with the sight of a paddling shoe floating above his knees, if he did as I had initially suggested and 'just paddled', within ten minutes he would be have sank! A mid sea empty was going to have to be tried and with out the help of the support boats as Guinness World Record Rules for crossing the channel is that you are unaided, this meant that we were going to have to empty Richards boat ourselves without help. This involved three supposedly simply steps.
Step one: Get Richard out of the Boat - after some persuading and a push he was out!. Step Two: Turn the boat over- we did this ending up with more water in the boat than before. Step Three: Raise boat over other kayak and heave- easier said than done. Sea Kayaks are heavy enough without water in, with water in its like tugging at a whale! Despite a bit of a palaver we were emptied and ready to push on. France was getting nearer.

One of the toughest things about crossing the Channel is that for over ten miles France seems only a stones throw away, when the reality is otherwise. You develop a feeling that your wasting your energy, paddling hard, fixed on a landscape ahead that seems to be moving away as one moves forward. There is no appreciation of the ground one is making as it is difficult to measure how fast you are really going ,since, apart from the French horizon, there is nothing else to judge your speed by.

Eventually we neared the French coast. Four hours had elapsed since we headed off from the UK.. Now, unlike the start, when we were full of excitement and energy like intrepid explorers. we had become exhausted, sun burnt, bored and hungry, but as we landed on French soil none of that mattered, it was almost like the rush and sensation of completing a non stop DW, when the pain and the exhaustion disappear as you cross the finish line at Westminster Bridge. We had successfully completed the Channel Crossing, and with it we had set a new world record of the quickest time across the channel in single kayaks. The preparation, the planning and the training had all paid off. A record had been set, over £1ooo had been raised for charity, and a good time was had by all.
Thankfully we didn't have to paddle back to the UK, we jumped in our support boats and drifted back to Dover, smug in the satisfaction of completing the 18.2 nautical miles that sits in-between the Shakespeare Beech in the UK and Cap Gris Nez, France - the shortest distance between England and France. It's a distance that remains one of the hardest and most prestigious endurance challenges in the world, whether its swam, sailed or kayaked.

Addendum
Some months after our crossing, our elation at gaining what Guiness had told us was a new world record, suddenly came to crashing to a halt, with a letter stating that although at the time of crossing they thought we were the new record holders, it had since come to their attention of a successful quicker attempt in the 1970's. So alas victory snatched, but we had still paddled the channel, an acheivement in itself"