Watch Jon's fantastic compilation of pictures and video from our Channel crossing!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Ourselves -v- The English Channel
Rough seas, sharks, container ships ploughing into us at 40 knots per hour....
These were just a sample of the types of things which went through my mind as I tried to sleep on Friday evening, knowing that first thing on Saturday morning we were going to be crossing the Channel. It's fair to say that none of us got very much sleep.
1 September, 8.30am, Dungeness. Bleak, windswept and dominated by a big nuclear powerstation. Not the nicest place to start a kayak, but this was different....this was our cross-Channel kayak, finally.
After a light breakfast, here we were, stood on the shingle beach and staring out at half a mile of mud flats before the Channel lapped at the shore. When I say "lapped" I mean it in the loosest sense. It was a bit lively but not as impossible as it had looked the night before. Launching the kayaks was like landing in a pool at the end of a flume, the water spraying all over you. We were wet through from the very start.
We couldn't understand why we had been told to launch here, because it was low tide and we had to drag our kayaks down the shingle and then across the mud. Before we carried our kayaks down to the shore, we got a prawn fisherman (a successful prawn fisherman too...he had a big bucketful of them) to take some photos of us kitted up and ready to go.
When we eventually got out of the waves and off-shore, we had to use the bilge pump I had bought at the last minute to remove puddles of water from our kayaks. Jon spotted a seal which was a good start to a day when we hoped to be paddling alongside dolphins, as had happened in previous crossings we had read about online.
I had lost my sunglasses and one of my water bottles in our attempts to get off the beach through the waves, and Stu's video camera case had got a little damp, but the device itself was unharmed.
We called Will at Full Throttle Boat Charters, who was going to provide the safety boat for us, and he told us to set off at 110 degrees and he'd be with us shortly. Unfortunately the cheap compasses we'd bought had different readings, so we were guessing.
We set off, the Channel sprawling in front of us. About fifteen minutes later we heard engines in the distance and turned to see two boats racing towards us. Full Throttle had caught up with us and, after a few introductions, told us the correct direction to go in.
And off we went. After about an hour we spotted a headland in France which we seemed to be heading towards, but the power station and the white cliffs of Dover were still very visible behind us. It didn't feel like we'd gone very far.
"Six miles" said Will when I asked him. This was a bit disappointing, I was sure we'd done eight. "No, hang on," he said. My spirits lifted momentarily. "My mistake, 4 and a half. No, four." My heart sank. I decided not to ask him anymore.
Stu was struggling with keeping his kayak straight, so we stopped to move some stuff about in his boat, putting some of the weight into one of the rear pods. We were starting to feel that we weren't going very quickly.
A massive car transporter passed in front of us, the wake waking me up a little, although it wasn't particularly strong. Conditions were good, and we ploughed onwards, stopping occasionally for water or a quick snack.
The three of us rafted up for some drink, still energised, but starting to worry that we hadn't got very far. Stu said he thought we'd gone a third of the way across at best. Will on the safety boat watched us floating about, sticking his thumb in the air to check we were ok. We paddled towards his RIB, and he told us we were almost half way, with about 13 miles to go. We suspected he was trying to motivate us and that this statement might not quite be true, but nonetheless we opted to believe him and this lifted us considerably.
Conditions changed a little as we went along, but not too dramatically and nothing we couldn't handle or hadn't experienced in The Solent or off Poole.
We started to make out the cliffs and features of the French coast, but knew from bitter experience that we were much further away than we might at first appeared. This helped us retain a sense of reality and concentrate on the job in hand. We got into the eastward shipping lane, a container ship passing in front of us quite some distance ahead.
It felt like we had plenty still in the locker, and our target became more visible and we could make out yachts along the coast. Again, we were cautious not to get too excited because we knew that distances are very decieving at sea.
Jon ploughed ahead of Stu and I, and then stopped next to the safety boat to wait for us to catch up. He held up his hand, as if to wave, but I realised he was saying "five miles" and suddenly we got a second wind. Five miles!!! We were going to do this, there was no danger of the light fading before we made it and this was all very achievable now.
Then as we neared the coast, progress seemed to slow. Jon gave me the victory sign but it was surely too early to stop. As it turned out, he meant there were two more miles. Stu and I rafted up, had a drink of water and a quick snack, the paddled on for the final push. Will told us that we were now pushing against three knots of tide and so our target, a tower on the top of a cliff, would be missed unless we crabbed to the west. We didn't seem to be getting anywhere now, and progress became very slow.
Jon gave me the bird, but by now I realised he meant one mile to go. One mile!!!
The tower and the cliffs came closer and I wondered where we were going to land. The decision was taken out of our hands, because the coastline was all rocky and the sea state was a little rough, and Will told us that if we were to land anywhere we might not manage to get back out. We got as close to the land as we could, and Will told us that we had completed the crossing.
Wow!! We'd just paddled to France. Amazing!
Will and his crew took some video footage and pictures of us, and we congratulated each other. We had done the crossing in six hours and ten minutes, which Will said was an excellent time, averaging 4-5 knots - much quicker than I had personally expected us to do it in (but then I'm usually fairly slow anyway!).
We were rightly very proud of what we'd achieved and, as we jumped out of our kayaks and onto the support boat, the achievement begun to dawn on us. Stu called Becky to tell her the news, and our wives were together back at a fete in Ashurst cheering.
Suddenly it got a bit tense, as Stu was clambering aboard, because one of Will's crew spotted a French coastguard ship nearby, motoring in our direction. Will started up the engine and said he was going to "potter" in the other direction. Which was just as well, because Jon had left his passport in the car in Dungeness. They continued to head towards us, as we moved into a crowd of fishing boats....not that we looked inconspicuous. But...the coastguard turned and moved off up the coast, so it worked.
Two of the kayaks were lashed to the RIB and the other put into the powerboat, and we headed off on an exhilerating hour-long ride back to Dungeness at almost 30 knots. We bounced up off the waves, which were now much larger than earlier, and landed with a really jarring crash back onto the sea each time we hit a larger swell. I'm sure that the pain we were feeling later that evening was as much to do with the journey home than the journey out! It was great fun though.
The most telling part of the ride home, though, was how long it took and how far it seemed. It didn't seem possible that we'd just paddled all this way. It made the whole thing feel like an even bigger achievement, which was nice.
Will pulled up to the beach at Dungeness, and Jon jumped off into the shallows and we passed the kayaks into the water for him to pull ashore. Then Stu and I jumped off too and we pulled the kayaks up the beach. We waved goodbye to Will and he sped off back to base at Rye.
We'd been dropped a fair way from the lifeboat station where we'd parked, because the tide was out as it had been earlier. Stu walked off to get the car and, when he came back, we managed to haul the kayaks up to the road and get them onto the car. We all felt that a steak was called for and so headed off looking for a Beefeater or similar.
Tired, aching, but pretty pleased with ourselves, a nice steak and chips felt like a prize we deserved.
These were just a sample of the types of things which went through my mind as I tried to sleep on Friday evening, knowing that first thing on Saturday morning we were going to be crossing the Channel. It's fair to say that none of us got very much sleep.
1 September, 8.30am, Dungeness. Bleak, windswept and dominated by a big nuclear powerstation. Not the nicest place to start a kayak, but this was different....this was our cross-Channel kayak, finally.
After a light breakfast, here we were, stood on the shingle beach and staring out at half a mile of mud flats before the Channel lapped at the shore. When I say "lapped" I mean it in the loosest sense. It was a bit lively but not as impossible as it had looked the night before. Launching the kayaks was like landing in a pool at the end of a flume, the water spraying all over you. We were wet through from the very start.
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| Stu has a light breakfast |
We couldn't understand why we had been told to launch here, because it was low tide and we had to drag our kayaks down the shingle and then across the mud. Before we carried our kayaks down to the shore, we got a prawn fisherman (a successful prawn fisherman too...he had a big bucketful of them) to take some photos of us kitted up and ready to go.
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| All ready to go, just time for a quick pic |
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| Heading for the water. You can see the waves at the top of the picture, above the wet mud flats |
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| The shingle ends and the mud flats begin. But the kayaks were so heavy with kit that there was no choice but to drag them. |
When we eventually got out of the waves and off-shore, we had to use the bilge pump I had bought at the last minute to remove puddles of water from our kayaks. Jon spotted a seal which was a good start to a day when we hoped to be paddling alongside dolphins, as had happened in previous crossings we had read about online.
I had lost my sunglasses and one of my water bottles in our attempts to get off the beach through the waves, and Stu's video camera case had got a little damp, but the device itself was unharmed.
We called Will at Full Throttle Boat Charters, who was going to provide the safety boat for us, and he told us to set off at 110 degrees and he'd be with us shortly. Unfortunately the cheap compasses we'd bought had different readings, so we were guessing.
We set off, the Channel sprawling in front of us. About fifteen minutes later we heard engines in the distance and turned to see two boats racing towards us. Full Throttle had caught up with us and, after a few introductions, told us the correct direction to go in.
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| Launched and ready to go, the size of our task looks like it has dawned on Jon as he realised how far we have to go... |
And off we went. After about an hour we spotted a headland in France which we seemed to be heading towards, but the power station and the white cliffs of Dover were still very visible behind us. It didn't feel like we'd gone very far.
"Six miles" said Will when I asked him. This was a bit disappointing, I was sure we'd done eight. "No, hang on," he said. My spirits lifted momentarily. "My mistake, 4 and a half. No, four." My heart sank. I decided not to ask him anymore.
Stu was struggling with keeping his kayak straight, so we stopped to move some stuff about in his boat, putting some of the weight into one of the rear pods. We were starting to feel that we weren't going very quickly.
A massive car transporter passed in front of us, the wake waking me up a little, although it wasn't particularly strong. Conditions were good, and we ploughed onwards, stopping occasionally for water or a quick snack.
The three of us rafted up for some drink, still energised, but starting to worry that we hadn't got very far. Stu said he thought we'd gone a third of the way across at best. Will on the safety boat watched us floating about, sticking his thumb in the air to check we were ok. We paddled towards his RIB, and he told us we were almost half way, with about 13 miles to go. We suspected he was trying to motivate us and that this statement might not quite be true, but nonetheless we opted to believe him and this lifted us considerably.
Conditions changed a little as we went along, but not too dramatically and nothing we couldn't handle or hadn't experienced in The Solent or off Poole.
We started to make out the cliffs and features of the French coast, but knew from bitter experience that we were much further away than we might at first appeared. This helped us retain a sense of reality and concentrate on the job in hand. We got into the eastward shipping lane, a container ship passing in front of us quite some distance ahead.
It felt like we had plenty still in the locker, and our target became more visible and we could make out yachts along the coast. Again, we were cautious not to get too excited because we knew that distances are very decieving at sea.
Jon ploughed ahead of Stu and I, and then stopped next to the safety boat to wait for us to catch up. He held up his hand, as if to wave, but I realised he was saying "five miles" and suddenly we got a second wind. Five miles!!! We were going to do this, there was no danger of the light fading before we made it and this was all very achievable now.
Then as we neared the coast, progress seemed to slow. Jon gave me the victory sign but it was surely too early to stop. As it turned out, he meant there were two more miles. Stu and I rafted up, had a drink of water and a quick snack, the paddled on for the final push. Will told us that we were now pushing against three knots of tide and so our target, a tower on the top of a cliff, would be missed unless we crabbed to the west. We didn't seem to be getting anywhere now, and progress became very slow.
Jon gave me the bird, but by now I realised he meant one mile to go. One mile!!!
The tower and the cliffs came closer and I wondered where we were going to land. The decision was taken out of our hands, because the coastline was all rocky and the sea state was a little rough, and Will told us that if we were to land anywhere we might not manage to get back out. We got as close to the land as we could, and Will told us that we had completed the crossing.
Wow!! We'd just paddled to France. Amazing!
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| Success!! At the end of the paddle, shot from the support boat. |
Will and his crew took some video footage and pictures of us, and we congratulated each other. We had done the crossing in six hours and ten minutes, which Will said was an excellent time, averaging 4-5 knots - much quicker than I had personally expected us to do it in (but then I'm usually fairly slow anyway!).
We were rightly very proud of what we'd achieved and, as we jumped out of our kayaks and onto the support boat, the achievement begun to dawn on us. Stu called Becky to tell her the news, and our wives were together back at a fete in Ashurst cheering.
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| Safely on the RIB, I took this photo of Jon/Stu waiting to be loaded on themselves. |
Suddenly it got a bit tense, as Stu was clambering aboard, because one of Will's crew spotted a French coastguard ship nearby, motoring in our direction. Will started up the engine and said he was going to "potter" in the other direction. Which was just as well, because Jon had left his passport in the car in Dungeness. They continued to head towards us, as we moved into a crowd of fishing boats....not that we looked inconspicuous. But...the coastguard turned and moved off up the coast, so it worked.
Two of the kayaks were lashed to the RIB and the other put into the powerboat, and we headed off on an exhilerating hour-long ride back to Dungeness at almost 30 knots. We bounced up off the waves, which were now much larger than earlier, and landed with a really jarring crash back onto the sea each time we hit a larger swell. I'm sure that the pain we were feeling later that evening was as much to do with the journey home than the journey out! It was great fun though.
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| Jon on the RIB on the way home, leaning on one of the lashed-down kayaks |
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| Stu on the RIB ride home |
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| My kayak got a ride on the powerboat - you can see it sticking out the back. |
The most telling part of the ride home, though, was how long it took and how far it seemed. It didn't seem possible that we'd just paddled all this way. It made the whole thing feel like an even bigger achievement, which was nice.
Will pulled up to the beach at Dungeness, and Jon jumped off into the shallows and we passed the kayaks into the water for him to pull ashore. Then Stu and I jumped off too and we pulled the kayaks up the beach. We waved goodbye to Will and he sped off back to base at Rye.
We'd been dropped a fair way from the lifeboat station where we'd parked, because the tide was out as it had been earlier. Stu walked off to get the car and, when he came back, we managed to haul the kayaks up to the road and get them onto the car. We all felt that a steak was called for and so headed off looking for a Beefeater or similar.
Tired, aching, but pretty pleased with ourselves, a nice steak and chips felt like a prize we deserved.
The call comes
Friday morning, 31 August. The weather for Saturday looked very promising apart from some strong wind forecast after lunch, so we spoke to Full Throttle, the safety boat company, who - after a couple of hours deliberation - said we were "go".
Our collective stomachs dropped. This was really very definately happening now. Action stations.
Stu booked a hotel in New Romney, not far from Dungeness. Jon organised to leave work early. I called my boss and said I was done for the day and headed into Southampton to buy a few bits and pieces.... a bilge pump for one, which I thought we ought to have.
I took a trip to Tescos aswell, to get some water, food etc and other bits we would need en-route.
I was buzzing and I'm sure Jon and Stu were too. I couldn't quite believe this was actually happening.
Stu picked me up at 3.15 and we headed over to Jon's to put all three kayaks on Stu's car roof. This proved problematic and we hadn't practiced in advance, but we got there in the end. Miche, Becky, Kate and the kids were there too to wave us off.
And we were off. We headed along the south coast, in a direct challenge to the authority of the Sat Nav, who got very annoyed about it. But there was no way we were going to head up the M25 at 5pm on a Friday night.
We got to our hotel in New Romsey - The Captain Howey Hotel - in really good time but it was getting dark. We were keen to head down to our launch point at Dungeness and so, once we announced ourselves to the hotel owner, we got back in the car. To say that Dungeness is bleak is an understatement. It's a big wide spit of land sticking out into The English Channel. It has some dwellings on it which, for the most part, can be best described as shacks, and a massive massive nuclear power station. We looked at the beach and the waves were crashing in onto the shingle. It didn't look like it would be possible to launch from here in those conditions, and we wondered why Will at Full Throttle Boat Charters had suggested it.
Slightly concerned, we headed back to our hotel via Co-op to pick up some extra supplies, then had dinner with a couple of mineral waters. In the restaurant we were in a state of stunned disbelief that, in 24 hours, we will probably have paddled across the Channel. We were asking ourselves how we ever let it get to this point....why did Stu and I say "yes" to Jon, and why did he lay down the gauntlet in the first place? It is fair to say we were nervous.
We headed off for an early night - I didn't fancy my chances of getting to sleep.
Our collective stomachs dropped. This was really very definately happening now. Action stations.
Stu booked a hotel in New Romney, not far from Dungeness. Jon organised to leave work early. I called my boss and said I was done for the day and headed into Southampton to buy a few bits and pieces.... a bilge pump for one, which I thought we ought to have.
I took a trip to Tescos aswell, to get some water, food etc and other bits we would need en-route.
I was buzzing and I'm sure Jon and Stu were too. I couldn't quite believe this was actually happening.
Stu picked me up at 3.15 and we headed over to Jon's to put all three kayaks on Stu's car roof. This proved problematic and we hadn't practiced in advance, but we got there in the end. Miche, Becky, Kate and the kids were there too to wave us off.
And we were off. We headed along the south coast, in a direct challenge to the authority of the Sat Nav, who got very annoyed about it. But there was no way we were going to head up the M25 at 5pm on a Friday night.
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| Fired up and ready to go. Pretending to be excited and happy. |
Slightly concerned, we headed back to our hotel via Co-op to pick up some extra supplies, then had dinner with a couple of mineral waters. In the restaurant we were in a state of stunned disbelief that, in 24 hours, we will probably have paddled across the Channel. We were asking ourselves how we ever let it get to this point....why did Stu and I say "yes" to Jon, and why did he lay down the gauntlet in the first place? It is fair to say we were nervous.
We headed off for an early night - I didn't fancy my chances of getting to sleep.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
News update - weather delays!
The countdown has begun, then finished, and is now in reverse!
The week of our kayak has arrived but currently the weather is making it impossible to kayak, with the safety boat company Full Throttle advising us the conditions are not yet right.
We are in daily contact with them and every day it gets moved back (quite rightly), so we are on tenterhooks constantly with a mix of excitement, anticipation and, of course, a healthy nervousness!
There is a high pressure rolling in over the weekend so we don't see this being strung out too much further, but once we get past Sunday then we become third priority for next week, because Full Throttle has a customer booked in already for next week, as well as someone still waiting who couldn't go last week!
So let's hope we get the paddle done over the course of this weekend, hopefully in nice sunny weather!
In other news, we've also been advised by Full Throttle to leave from Dungeoness rather than from Dover or Folkestone. There are pros and cons to this. The pros are that, given the spring tides at the moment, we are much less likely to get dragged into the ferry lanes between Dover and Calais (which may result in us being turned back or getting arrested), or end up in Belgium or Holland! This is because the tide is less racier at Dungeoness than it is further up the funnel towards Dover. The cons are that it is 3 or 4 miles further and, when you add the affects of the tides, quite possibly more than that, pushing us towards a 30 mile total distance. This is not a distance we have come close to before (21 is our max) and so it is a little daunting, but we laugh in the face of such minor issues, obviously...(!).
More updates as we have them.
The week of our kayak has arrived but currently the weather is making it impossible to kayak, with the safety boat company Full Throttle advising us the conditions are not yet right.
We are in daily contact with them and every day it gets moved back (quite rightly), so we are on tenterhooks constantly with a mix of excitement, anticipation and, of course, a healthy nervousness!
There is a high pressure rolling in over the weekend so we don't see this being strung out too much further, but once we get past Sunday then we become third priority for next week, because Full Throttle has a customer booked in already for next week, as well as someone still waiting who couldn't go last week!
So let's hope we get the paddle done over the course of this weekend, hopefully in nice sunny weather!
In other news, we've also been advised by Full Throttle to leave from Dungeoness rather than from Dover or Folkestone. There are pros and cons to this. The pros are that, given the spring tides at the moment, we are much less likely to get dragged into the ferry lanes between Dover and Calais (which may result in us being turned back or getting arrested), or end up in Belgium or Holland! This is because the tide is less racier at Dungeoness than it is further up the funnel towards Dover. The cons are that it is 3 or 4 miles further and, when you add the affects of the tides, quite possibly more than that, pushing us towards a 30 mile total distance. This is not a distance we have come close to before (21 is our max) and so it is a little daunting, but we laugh in the face of such minor issues, obviously...(!).
More updates as we have them.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Listen to our Radio Solent interview here!
Click below to listen to audio (accompanied by various snaps of us in action) of our Radio Solent interview on 23 August 2012, as part of The Julian Clegg Breakfast Show.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Our challenge features on BBC Radio Solent!
This morning Stu, Jon and I met at the BBC Radio Solent studios in Southampton City Centre where we were due to appear on Julian Clegg's Breakfast Show. We were excited and nervous in equal measure.
As part of the feature Stu had been asked to pick a year, place and a song which would be played at the end of our interview.
We met the producer in the reception of the BBC building, and then waited for about 15 minutes having been warned that, because of an exclusive scoop they had been given, our segment had been squeezed to a shorter length of time. This was a little disappointing but we remained really appreciative and grateful for the opportunity to promote our cause.
As it happened the exclusive was an interview with the chap who had flown Asil Nadir out of the country 20 years ago, and with Nadir due to be sentanced this morning having returned to the UK last year, this was a good scoop indeed.
We headed into the studio at 8.20 and met Julian who immediately put us at ease, sat down with a mic each and got ready to go.
He started by asking Stu about why we were doing the kayak, then spoken to us all in turn. We were delighted when he said that the interview would continue after the 8.30 news, and so we were getting longer than we had been led to believe when we arrived!
In the end I reckon we were on air for a total for 5-6 mintues, which is a long time in television/radio and so we were really pleased. It went really really well too, with none of us disgracing ourselves.
Julian read out our blog address and we had an unusually high number of hits in the hour after the interview.
On a day when the main conversation was around Prince Harry's naked antics in a Las Vegas hotel room, I think we did our cause justice on local radio, a station which regularly attracts over a quarter of a million listeners every week.
Thanks to Julian and his production team for this excellent opportunity. Photos below!
BTW Stu's choices were 2006 (year Ben was born), Legoland (Ben's choice!) and Fix Me by Coldplay.
As part of the feature Stu had been asked to pick a year, place and a song which would be played at the end of our interview.
We met the producer in the reception of the BBC building, and then waited for about 15 minutes having been warned that, because of an exclusive scoop they had been given, our segment had been squeezed to a shorter length of time. This was a little disappointing but we remained really appreciative and grateful for the opportunity to promote our cause.
As it happened the exclusive was an interview with the chap who had flown Asil Nadir out of the country 20 years ago, and with Nadir due to be sentanced this morning having returned to the UK last year, this was a good scoop indeed.
We headed into the studio at 8.20 and met Julian who immediately put us at ease, sat down with a mic each and got ready to go.
He started by asking Stu about why we were doing the kayak, then spoken to us all in turn. We were delighted when he said that the interview would continue after the 8.30 news, and so we were getting longer than we had been led to believe when we arrived!
In the end I reckon we were on air for a total for 5-6 mintues, which is a long time in television/radio and so we were really pleased. It went really really well too, with none of us disgracing ourselves.
Julian read out our blog address and we had an unusually high number of hits in the hour after the interview.
On a day when the main conversation was around Prince Harry's naked antics in a Las Vegas hotel room, I think we did our cause justice on local radio, a station which regularly attracts over a quarter of a million listeners every week.
Thanks to Julian and his production team for this excellent opportunity. Photos below!
BTW Stu's choices were 2006 (year Ben was born), Legoland (Ben's choice!) and Fix Me by Coldplay.
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| Charlie, Stu and Jon in reception at BBC South |
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| Jon in the waiting room waiting to go "on air" |
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| Stu and Charlie in the waiting room waiting to go "on air" |
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| Jon, Stu and Charlie chatting to Julian Clegg during a break in his breakfast show |
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| Jon, Julian Clegg, Stu and Charlie in the studio at Radio Solent |
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Amazing Old Harry...and a pretty special bacon sarnie too
We had the most amazing kayak today.
Starting early off Sandbanks beach (not a great start because the most expensive parking ticket EVER - at over £10!!) we set off along in front of the entrance to Poole Harbour on a misty and murky morning. Neither The Needles nor the much-closer Bournemouth were visible in the morning mist which made for a spooky view out to see.
Our plan was to explore Old Harry's Rocks, which we had heard were a fantastic place to kayak, and we also needed to go out into open water so as to get a feel for what we might experience in The Channel, in less than two weeks time.
We paddled first along past Studland along the half-moon bay with the rocks at its outermost point. We did get a little diverted, however. At one point we got a little close to the shore and caught a strong whiff of cooking bacon. It was more than we can bear, and we pulled alongside the shore to investigate. Indeed, there was a small cafe called Middle Beach and we landed the kayaks, pulled them up onto the beach (the tide was coming in) and strolled up to the establishment in question.
And we had probably the best bacon sarnies I think I've ever had. And a cuppa too. Remember before you judge that it was by this time only 7.45am, so it was breakfast time.
As the mist started to clear and Old Harry and the arched rock formations came into view, we set off again. Paddling under the arches and around the rock stacks, was just an incredible and surreal experience. The rock formations were pretty special and there is a video embedded below which Jon took with his new on-board camera, so you can see for yourself.
Old Harry himself was a bit like paddling around a Jenga. A matching stack (Harry's wife) fell done a while back, and at some point Harry will suffer the same fate. But for now, I'm really grateful that we are able to see it at such close quarters, something which the walkers on the top of the cliffs, viewing the National Trust-protected site from above, couldn't possibly get the same appreciation for. One of the great things about kayaking is undoubtedly the alternative view you get of the world, something you cannot get from the shoreline or a footpath.
After we'd finished exploring the caves too, we set off alongside the white cliffs and headed towards and beyong Swanage, before heading out to see. The swell was much more noticable in the open water, large but wide waves moving us up and down, and on occasions rendering us invisible to each other as the swell passed between us.
This was a complete contrast to the earlier calm conditions (as seen in the video) but it wasn't massively hard work. The difficult bit was keeping in a straight line, something I personally seem to struggle with.
We went back past Old Harry and towards the balloon at Bournemouth before heading back directly towards the beach at Sandbanks. The conditions had become slightly choppier and we were washed up onto the busy and crowded beach a little unceremoniously. After just over 20 miles we aches a little and carrying the kayaks back to the cars was a real effort. But we felt a little better after a bottle of water and a KitKat, followed a little later by a pint of cider in the pub.
What a day, what a kayak....and thanks to the early start it was still only 3.30pm. I can imagine we'll be revisiting Harry and his friends again before long. In the meantime it was our second 20 miles trip and probably the last long kayak we'll do before The Channel in less than two weeks time....
Starting early off Sandbanks beach (not a great start because the most expensive parking ticket EVER - at over £10!!) we set off along in front of the entrance to Poole Harbour on a misty and murky morning. Neither The Needles nor the much-closer Bournemouth were visible in the morning mist which made for a spooky view out to see.
Our plan was to explore Old Harry's Rocks, which we had heard were a fantastic place to kayak, and we also needed to go out into open water so as to get a feel for what we might experience in The Channel, in less than two weeks time.
We paddled first along past Studland along the half-moon bay with the rocks at its outermost point. We did get a little diverted, however. At one point we got a little close to the shore and caught a strong whiff of cooking bacon. It was more than we can bear, and we pulled alongside the shore to investigate. Indeed, there was a small cafe called Middle Beach and we landed the kayaks, pulled them up onto the beach (the tide was coming in) and strolled up to the establishment in question.
And we had probably the best bacon sarnies I think I've ever had. And a cuppa too. Remember before you judge that it was by this time only 7.45am, so it was breakfast time.
As the mist started to clear and Old Harry and the arched rock formations came into view, we set off again. Paddling under the arches and around the rock stacks, was just an incredible and surreal experience. The rock formations were pretty special and there is a video embedded below which Jon took with his new on-board camera, so you can see for yourself.
Old Harry himself was a bit like paddling around a Jenga. A matching stack (Harry's wife) fell done a while back, and at some point Harry will suffer the same fate. But for now, I'm really grateful that we are able to see it at such close quarters, something which the walkers on the top of the cliffs, viewing the National Trust-protected site from above, couldn't possibly get the same appreciation for. One of the great things about kayaking is undoubtedly the alternative view you get of the world, something you cannot get from the shoreline or a footpath.
After we'd finished exploring the caves too, we set off alongside the white cliffs and headed towards and beyong Swanage, before heading out to see. The swell was much more noticable in the open water, large but wide waves moving us up and down, and on occasions rendering us invisible to each other as the swell passed between us.
This was a complete contrast to the earlier calm conditions (as seen in the video) but it wasn't massively hard work. The difficult bit was keeping in a straight line, something I personally seem to struggle with.
We went back past Old Harry and towards the balloon at Bournemouth before heading back directly towards the beach at Sandbanks. The conditions had become slightly choppier and we were washed up onto the busy and crowded beach a little unceremoniously. After just over 20 miles we aches a little and carrying the kayaks back to the cars was a real effort. But we felt a little better after a bottle of water and a KitKat, followed a little later by a pint of cider in the pub.
What a day, what a kayak....and thanks to the early start it was still only 3.30pm. I can imagine we'll be revisiting Harry and his friends again before long. In the meantime it was our second 20 miles trip and probably the last long kayak we'll do before The Channel in less than two weeks time....
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| Ready to go! Sandbanks beach before 7am |
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| Old Harry's Rocks in the distance, safely from a cafe with great bacon sarnies |
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| One of the arches at Old Harry's Rocks |
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| The amazing Old Harry himself |
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| Jon takes a look break two miles off Swanage. Swanage later lost its blue flag as a result |
Monday, August 13, 2012
Our challenge and Duchenne are featured on ITV local news
The English Channel Kayak Challenge featured on Meridian Tonight (local ITV News) this evening - see the video below. Thanks to Kerry from Meridian for doing such a good job of covering our cause.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
20 miles around Poole Harbour
Poole Harbour is the third biggest natural harbour in the world, apparently, after Rio and Sydney (or the second according to The Famous Five books, but what do they know). Going around the edge of it in a kayak is certainly a good way of realising just how big it is.
Jon was away in Wales on holiday, and Stu and I decided on a change of scenery so moved along the coast westwards and, at about 6.30am on Sunday morning we got into the water at Baiter Park, Poole, where there is a slipway and carpark on the north east side of the harbour. Across the water in the morning gloom was Brownsea Island, home of the Scouting movement.
We set off anti-clockwise, paddling across the entrance to the ferry terminal and quay area, and past the Condor catermaran where the industrial area of Poole turned into the more natural low cliff, wetland and beach environment which makes up the vast majority of the length of the coastline of the harbour.
It was a lovely morning but the most unexpected part of the environment we were in was that the conditions were so changeable. As we paddled around the western edges of the harbour, the water was like a mirror, lovely and flat. At other times, for example when we later crossed back from Brownsea to Baiter Park, it was like a washing machine, and the sort of conditions we've paddled through in Southampton Water.
But the scenery was stunning, at one point there were deer on the shore, although at another point the view was interupted by a number of people lying on the shore who appeared to have been there all night (it was still only 7.30am). There was also the occasional tent back from the beach.
It reminded me that the bloke who sold me my sit-on kayak, whol lived in Poole, had told me that he regularly set out in the early summer evenings into the harbour and camped on the shore on the other side.
This wasn't exactly a testing paddle but, importantly, we cracked the 20 miles barrier which, just a couple of weeks before our Channel crossing could potentially take place, we felt was an important one to get over.
The final stretch between Brownsea and Baiter Park was the choppiest of the day by far, plus there was a little bit of traffic to work our way through. But when we beached back at Baiter we knew we'd broken the 20m barrier for the first time, and then felt pretty good.
Jon was away in Wales on holiday, and Stu and I decided on a change of scenery so moved along the coast westwards and, at about 6.30am on Sunday morning we got into the water at Baiter Park, Poole, where there is a slipway and carpark on the north east side of the harbour. Across the water in the morning gloom was Brownsea Island, home of the Scouting movement.
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| Getting ready to go, 6.30am at Baiter Park, Poole |
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| Baiter Park Slipway. The water in Poole Harbour looked a bit choppy, but perfect for a morning paddle |
We set off anti-clockwise, paddling across the entrance to the ferry terminal and quay area, and past the Condor catermaran where the industrial area of Poole turned into the more natural low cliff, wetland and beach environment which makes up the vast majority of the length of the coastline of the harbour.
It was a lovely morning but the most unexpected part of the environment we were in was that the conditions were so changeable. As we paddled around the western edges of the harbour, the water was like a mirror, lovely and flat. At other times, for example when we later crossed back from Brownsea to Baiter Park, it was like a washing machine, and the sort of conditions we've paddled through in Southampton Water.
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| Elsewhere in the harbour, the water was stunningly flat |
But the scenery was stunning, at one point there were deer on the shore, although at another point the view was interupted by a number of people lying on the shore who appeared to have been there all night (it was still only 7.30am). There was also the occasional tent back from the beach.
It reminded me that the bloke who sold me my sit-on kayak, whol lived in Poole, had told me that he regularly set out in the early summer evenings into the harbour and camped on the shore on the other side.
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| A break at 10.5m. Stu refused to leave his kayak given (quite rightly) he won't be able to do so in the Channel |
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| A quick stop, assessing the traffic between Brownsea Island and Baiter Park as we near the end of the paddle. At this point we'd completed almost 19m |
The final stretch between Brownsea and Baiter Park was the choppiest of the day by far, plus there was a little bit of traffic to work our way through. But when we beached back at Baiter we knew we'd broken the 20m barrier for the first time, and then felt pretty good.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
TV spot promotes Duchenne and the Channel Challenge
Local ITV News (Meridian Tonight) came to film and interview us today about the Channel challenge and to speak to Stu and Becky about Duchenne. Kerry from Meridian spent some time at their house first and then we all went down to Calshot Castle to do some kayaking on camera.
In the pictures below (courtesty of Katie Turner) you can see Ben getting to grips with the camera as Stu and Becky prepare to be interviewed, plus Kerry filming us on Southampton Water.
We ploughed back and forward on a really nice day at Calshot (would have been perfect for a much longer paddle!), as Kerry tried to get the best shot for her story, our rhythm only occasionally broken by the wake from a couple of huge container ships, like the one in the picture.
We expect the story to be on Meridian's evening news programme (6pm) nearer the actual crossing date (i.e. later in August), but it could in reality be on anytime in the next few of weeks. Kerry has assured us we'll get some notice so will try and publish it via our FB site, so you can watch it if you so desire! I'm sure it'll be a quality bit of television so don't miss it...
In the pictures below (courtesty of Katie Turner) you can see Ben getting to grips with the camera as Stu and Becky prepare to be interviewed, plus Kerry filming us on Southampton Water.
We ploughed back and forward on a really nice day at Calshot (would have been perfect for a much longer paddle!), as Kerry tried to get the best shot for her story, our rhythm only occasionally broken by the wake from a couple of huge container ships, like the one in the picture.
We expect the story to be on Meridian's evening news programme (6pm) nearer the actual crossing date (i.e. later in August), but it could in reality be on anytime in the next few of weeks. Kerry has assured us we'll get some notice so will try and publish it via our FB site, so you can watch it if you so desire! I'm sure it'll be a quality bit of television so don't miss it...
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| Kerry from Meridian filming us in "action" |
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| Ben tries his hand at being a cameraman |
Thursday, August 2, 2012
If only we had sails...part 2
So Tuesday night arrived. I'd been watching the weather and the forecast looked ominous. We'd arranged to meet at Lepe to try going across to the Isle of Wight, but that was a non-starter. The tide was at 3 knots through the middle of the Solent, and the wind (going in the same direction) predicted at 14 knots, which is a lot!!
We pulled up at Lepe and, as it was indeed very gusty, all agreed that we'd try somewhere else, plus two out of three of us had forgotten to bring any change for parking. We headed off on a bit of a wild goose chase, trying to find a slipway that was visible on Google Earth along the Beaulieu River, and looked like it was fairly well built up and accessible from a track off one of the roads through Exbury.
After a bit of driving around and no help whatsoever from a Tom-Tom free RAC man, we tried up a gravel track that looked like it was fairly private. The sign on the road ("private") gave it away, really. But it was worth a try and, after about half a mile, we came to a gate. A bemused chap was stood there loading something into his car, and informed Jon that this was a private road (you don't say) and also that the slipway was private.
A bit crestfallen we headed back to Lepe and opted to head out and up the Beaulieu River, only needing to endure a short stretch of open water before getting to the more sheltered rivermouth.
It wasn't actually that windy anymore. We easily got across to the spit that separates the river from the Solent, and decided instead to paddle along the coast towards Lymington. By now the sun had come out and it was beginning to look and feel like a pleasent evening. Occasionally we'd hit a patch of choppy water, but it would pass or we'd simply move further out into the water where it was deeper and the effects of the waves were less pronounded.
We ploughed on. Stu was enjoying it less than usual, having pulled up straight from work and a couple of sleep-deprived nights, but kept a close eye on his water-protected iPhone to measure the distance. We admired some of the rather expensive-looking properties along the shore as we passed them, wishing we had sponsor forms with us.
As soon as we got to 5 miles, we did a 180 and headed back.
The light was starting to dim now, and with the tide and wind behind us, we made steady but difficult progress, the waves constantly trying to move the direction of the kayaks parallel to themselves. This became hard work but we've learned to rear-rudder using the paddles, so aren't completely helpless. It is, however, a difficult slog doing this for five miles.
But it was a pleasent evening and, through the murky dusk we spotted Jon's VW Transporter like a shining beacon of hope. Cowes was lit up like a Christmas tree and there were no other boats on the water, so no immediate danger.
No pub this time.....too knackered even for that. But a good paddle of a decent distance, which went some way to making up for Sunday.
We pulled up at Lepe and, as it was indeed very gusty, all agreed that we'd try somewhere else, plus two out of three of us had forgotten to bring any change for parking. We headed off on a bit of a wild goose chase, trying to find a slipway that was visible on Google Earth along the Beaulieu River, and looked like it was fairly well built up and accessible from a track off one of the roads through Exbury.
After a bit of driving around and no help whatsoever from a Tom-Tom free RAC man, we tried up a gravel track that looked like it was fairly private. The sign on the road ("private") gave it away, really. But it was worth a try and, after about half a mile, we came to a gate. A bemused chap was stood there loading something into his car, and informed Jon that this was a private road (you don't say) and also that the slipway was private.
A bit crestfallen we headed back to Lepe and opted to head out and up the Beaulieu River, only needing to endure a short stretch of open water before getting to the more sheltered rivermouth.
It wasn't actually that windy anymore. We easily got across to the spit that separates the river from the Solent, and decided instead to paddle along the coast towards Lymington. By now the sun had come out and it was beginning to look and feel like a pleasent evening. Occasionally we'd hit a patch of choppy water, but it would pass or we'd simply move further out into the water where it was deeper and the effects of the waves were less pronounded.
We ploughed on. Stu was enjoying it less than usual, having pulled up straight from work and a couple of sleep-deprived nights, but kept a close eye on his water-protected iPhone to measure the distance. We admired some of the rather expensive-looking properties along the shore as we passed them, wishing we had sponsor forms with us.
As soon as we got to 5 miles, we did a 180 and headed back.
The light was starting to dim now, and with the tide and wind behind us, we made steady but difficult progress, the waves constantly trying to move the direction of the kayaks parallel to themselves. This became hard work but we've learned to rear-rudder using the paddles, so aren't completely helpless. It is, however, a difficult slog doing this for five miles.
But it was a pleasent evening and, through the murky dusk we spotted Jon's VW Transporter like a shining beacon of hope. Cowes was lit up like a Christmas tree and there were no other boats on the water, so no immediate danger.
No pub this time.....too knackered even for that. But a good paddle of a decent distance, which went some way to making up for Sunday.
If only we had sails...part 1
It's been a windy week, and I'm not talking about the effects of our post-race night hangovers (sorry to be gross).
We had grand plans to paddle 20 miles for the first time on Sunday. We set off from Calshot and headed over towards the eastent shore of the Solent, intending to travel up towards Portsmouth. Within about 5 minutes I was in trouble, bouncing around all over the place in what were, I think, the strongest winds I've been out in....but never before on the sea kayaks. Jon and Stu didn't seem phased, but I was pretty uncomfortable in heavy chop and not seeming able to keep the boat straight.
I came as close as ever to capsizing, although in reality simply learned yet again how stable these kayaks are. I zig-zaged across to the other side where, because it was low tide, the situation deteriorated. Not only is the eastern shore very shallow (meaning rolling breaking waves), but it's also on the side of the Solent which the wind is blowing towards. It wasn't long before I called Jon and Stu back, who were quickly progressing up the coast ahead of me. This wasn't my idea of a pleasant but challenging day on the water...
I guess I stuck it out for about 20 minutes, but I didn't fancy 20 miles of it. We headed back along the coast and then, amazingly, saw our boats come into their own. We paddled back into the wind and waves head on, aiming back to Calshot, and the kayaks performed fantastically well. I remember Sam from Liquid Logistics telling me that this was what they were designed for, and he was spot on. It was actually very enjoyable.
After an hour or so paddling in the general direction of Lepe, we stopped at a cafe for a bacon sarnie and a cup of tea and then headed back. The day was a bit of a write-off with only 8 miles on the odometer, but we resolved to try again on Tuesday with a minimum of 10 miles after work.
We had grand plans to paddle 20 miles for the first time on Sunday. We set off from Calshot and headed over towards the eastent shore of the Solent, intending to travel up towards Portsmouth. Within about 5 minutes I was in trouble, bouncing around all over the place in what were, I think, the strongest winds I've been out in....but never before on the sea kayaks. Jon and Stu didn't seem phased, but I was pretty uncomfortable in heavy chop and not seeming able to keep the boat straight.
I came as close as ever to capsizing, although in reality simply learned yet again how stable these kayaks are. I zig-zaged across to the other side where, because it was low tide, the situation deteriorated. Not only is the eastern shore very shallow (meaning rolling breaking waves), but it's also on the side of the Solent which the wind is blowing towards. It wasn't long before I called Jon and Stu back, who were quickly progressing up the coast ahead of me. This wasn't my idea of a pleasant but challenging day on the water...
I guess I stuck it out for about 20 minutes, but I didn't fancy 20 miles of it. We headed back along the coast and then, amazingly, saw our boats come into their own. We paddled back into the wind and waves head on, aiming back to Calshot, and the kayaks performed fantastically well. I remember Sam from Liquid Logistics telling me that this was what they were designed for, and he was spot on. It was actually very enjoyable.
After an hour or so paddling in the general direction of Lepe, we stopped at a cafe for a bacon sarnie and a cup of tea and then headed back. The day was a bit of a write-off with only 8 miles on the odometer, but we resolved to try again on Tuesday with a minimum of 10 miles after work.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Fantastic race night raises over £900!
As part of our fundraising effort, we decided a few months ago that we'd hold a race night, something which Jon's wife Kate did very successfully to raise money for Action Duchenne a couple of years ago. That had been a great night, but could we repeat it?
So we booked the same pub, The Forest Inn in Ashurst (lovely pub at the other quieter end of Ashurst than the two big, more commercial pubs - and they serve Doombar!!! Extra gold stars!), and we booked the Race Night chap, Colin, to come and run the evening.
Ticket sales seemed slow, but Kate kept saying not to worry, and she was absolutely right.
Between Kate, Miche and Becky they drummed up over 60 raffle prizes and two Saints FC items for auction - a chair embroidered with the club crest, and a signed football - which raised £70 between them. Raffle sorted, attendees sorted, all that was left was to hope for a good evening.
Personally, it surpassed my high expectations, it was an excellent evening. We sold almost £400 of raffle tickets on the night and, with ticket sales (£5 pp including a free bet and a raffle ticket), the auction and our share of the takings from the Race Night itself, we raised an extraordinary £910.20!!!!
Thank you to everyone who came along and supported us.
This now brings our official total (see our embedded Just Giving total on the right of this page for the lastest) up to £3,586.20 which is 71% of our £5k total, but with pledges from our employers and others, plus the fact that none of us has asked for sponsorship from our families yet, we are certain to hit our target.
So job done in terms of the fundraising, although we will keep going to as high a total as possible, now we've just got to get ourselves back into training for the Channel crossing.
Starting today, with 20+ miles.....
So we booked the same pub, The Forest Inn in Ashurst (lovely pub at the other quieter end of Ashurst than the two big, more commercial pubs - and they serve Doombar!!! Extra gold stars!), and we booked the Race Night chap, Colin, to come and run the evening.
Ticket sales seemed slow, but Kate kept saying not to worry, and she was absolutely right.
Between Kate, Miche and Becky they drummed up over 60 raffle prizes and two Saints FC items for auction - a chair embroidered with the club crest, and a signed football - which raised £70 between them. Raffle sorted, attendees sorted, all that was left was to hope for a good evening.
Personally, it surpassed my high expectations, it was an excellent evening. We sold almost £400 of raffle tickets on the night and, with ticket sales (£5 pp including a free bet and a raffle ticket), the auction and our share of the takings from the Race Night itself, we raised an extraordinary £910.20!!!!
Thank you to everyone who came along and supported us.
This now brings our official total (see our embedded Just Giving total on the right of this page for the lastest) up to £3,586.20 which is 71% of our £5k total, but with pledges from our employers and others, plus the fact that none of us has asked for sponsorship from our families yet, we are certain to hit our target.
So job done in terms of the fundraising, although we will keep going to as high a total as possible, now we've just got to get ourselves back into training for the Channel crossing.
Starting today, with 20+ miles.....
Monday, July 23, 2012
ASAP UK help advertise our blog
Courtesty of local signmakers asap we now have our blog name on the side of our kayaks!
The blog has a link to our Just Giving page which means visitors can easily sponsor us too. Thanks asap!
The blog has a link to our Just Giving page which means visitors can easily sponsor us too. Thanks asap!
Friday, July 20, 2012
Authority issues
After dealing with my underwater issues, I needed to catch up with Stu and Jon, who had done a couple of long paddles in the sea kayaks whilst I was learning to sink properly.
So once again we mucked up the tide tables and found ourselves at Marchwood with the water going in the wrong direction, but in reality it never goes very fast until you get into The Solent.
As we got the kayaks ready to leave, the limited room in the car park in Magazine Lane was made even more cramped by the mysterious arrival of a Police car, with a familiar looking copper in it. Jon and I did a double-take and realised it was our mate who told us off for paddling under a pier he was parked on one Sunday afternoon - see Sun Drenched and Copper Tainted. Jon gave him a mild amount of abuse that day, and we wondered whether the chap was going to exact some sort of revenge today.
He pulled right up to Jon's VW Transporter, and got out. He looked at our kayaks. It occurred to me that last time we saw him we were on our sit-ons, but he surely would recognise Jon's distinctive distain towards authority, even if he couldn't remember what he looked like.
He asked us where we were headed and when how long it would take us, and we dutifully detailed our plans for the day. Then he made light and awkward conversation with us before getting back into the panda and reversing out of the car park, and heading off. We thought nothing much more of it after that, other than a few funny moments when Jon was guilty of impersonating a police officer with some mild p**s taking. It wasn't to be our last brush with authority of the dasy.
We paddled out of Magazine Lane and headed to the other bank, and past Town Quay until we got to the corner where The Test meets The Itchen. We rounded the corner, which is a spot where we have twice before experienced washing-machine-like conditions. But it was pretty calm, and we were starting to realise just how stable the sea kayaks are, although they don't steer easily.
As we rounded the corner, and paddled back up The Itchen on our course up to Woodmill, we spotted a large cargo ship which seemed to be floating just off the dock. No ropes, but no bow wave, which told us quite reasonably that it was just bobbing about. Which is unusual for a massive tanker.
We paddled towards it head on, and I started to wonder whether something felt a little bit wrong about this. A big tanker floating untied in The Itchen? Are you sure it isn't moving, I asked Stu. He looked at the bow again, and there was definitely no wave at the front. In fact the boat looked absoletely still. I nervously steered dockside of it, still 30 yards away. "It's definately not moving", said Stu.
These were very nearly famous last words. I took this as permission to paddle across the path of the ship, to join Jon and Stu on the river side.
But the ship was definitely moving. I could tell because it was getting closer much more quickly than I was paddling. And Jon, being further out into the river, had now spotted the tug pushing it from behind.
Stu was by now alongside and very close - he was no more than 10-15 yards away - and I was paddling around the front of it, trying to get on the same line as Stu. A face appeared above the bow, looking out of a gap on the deck, and seemed to be laughing, or perhaps it was bemusement, fear, a sense of impending doom....who knows.
The light waves hit the ship and bounced back, creating a mildly unstable situtation as we passed underneath the side-deck of the boat, we were that close. Jon seemed to be laughing along with the sailors on the deck, who seemed to be enjoying our discomfort.
Note to selves - no bow wave does not necesserily indicate a lack of movement. All the old rules have gone out of the window!
Woodmill
We thought that things couldn't get much more interesting. A strange copper and a killer cargo ship. But then we got pulled over by The Harbour Master, who even had a siren to make sure we knew he wanted us to "stop". He asked us what we thought we were doing back there, and Jon volunteered an explanation. The chap was unable to issue the "mild bollocking" he had planned (his words), probably on the basis that he realised we were genuinely unaware it had been moving, and probably a bit simple.
We headed on up the river, passing under the Itchen bridge, around some not-particularly-picturesque river-side features, such as a big pile of rubbish and some shipwrecks. Then we got to Riverside Park near Midenbury, and saw the Olympic plane taking off from Southampton Airport having dropped the flame back from it's morning in the Channel Islands.
Finally we arrived at Woodmill, rested for a few minutes before heading back against the incoming tide towards Southampton Water.
The journey back was relatively uneventful although the final bit from the corner of the two rivers back to Marchwood was a real slog. But it was a 15 mile kayak and another step towards our goal.
And now we have experience of dodging ships too. All useful experience.
So once again we mucked up the tide tables and found ourselves at Marchwood with the water going in the wrong direction, but in reality it never goes very fast until you get into The Solent.
As we got the kayaks ready to leave, the limited room in the car park in Magazine Lane was made even more cramped by the mysterious arrival of a Police car, with a familiar looking copper in it. Jon and I did a double-take and realised it was our mate who told us off for paddling under a pier he was parked on one Sunday afternoon - see Sun Drenched and Copper Tainted. Jon gave him a mild amount of abuse that day, and we wondered whether the chap was going to exact some sort of revenge today.
He pulled right up to Jon's VW Transporter, and got out. He looked at our kayaks. It occurred to me that last time we saw him we were on our sit-ons, but he surely would recognise Jon's distinctive distain towards authority, even if he couldn't remember what he looked like.
He asked us where we were headed and when how long it would take us, and we dutifully detailed our plans for the day. Then he made light and awkward conversation with us before getting back into the panda and reversing out of the car park, and heading off. We thought nothing much more of it after that, other than a few funny moments when Jon was guilty of impersonating a police officer with some mild p**s taking. It wasn't to be our last brush with authority of the dasy.
We paddled out of Magazine Lane and headed to the other bank, and past Town Quay until we got to the corner where The Test meets The Itchen. We rounded the corner, which is a spot where we have twice before experienced washing-machine-like conditions. But it was pretty calm, and we were starting to realise just how stable the sea kayaks are, although they don't steer easily.
As we rounded the corner, and paddled back up The Itchen on our course up to Woodmill, we spotted a large cargo ship which seemed to be floating just off the dock. No ropes, but no bow wave, which told us quite reasonably that it was just bobbing about. Which is unusual for a massive tanker.
We paddled towards it head on, and I started to wonder whether something felt a little bit wrong about this. A big tanker floating untied in The Itchen? Are you sure it isn't moving, I asked Stu. He looked at the bow again, and there was definitely no wave at the front. In fact the boat looked absoletely still. I nervously steered dockside of it, still 30 yards away. "It's definately not moving", said Stu.
These were very nearly famous last words. I took this as permission to paddle across the path of the ship, to join Jon and Stu on the river side.
But the ship was definitely moving. I could tell because it was getting closer much more quickly than I was paddling. And Jon, being further out into the river, had now spotted the tug pushing it from behind.
Stu was by now alongside and very close - he was no more than 10-15 yards away - and I was paddling around the front of it, trying to get on the same line as Stu. A face appeared above the bow, looking out of a gap on the deck, and seemed to be laughing, or perhaps it was bemusement, fear, a sense of impending doom....who knows.
The light waves hit the ship and bounced back, creating a mildly unstable situtation as we passed underneath the side-deck of the boat, we were that close. Jon seemed to be laughing along with the sailors on the deck, who seemed to be enjoying our discomfort.
Note to selves - no bow wave does not necesserily indicate a lack of movement. All the old rules have gone out of the window!
Arabian Breeze, which we played chicken with (accidentally)
But we laughed about it afterwards, and I felt a sense of relief that Stu's infamous "It's definitely not moving" quote could now overtake my "I'm scared of falling in" effort. I don't think we'll come that close to a cargo ship in The English Channel but, if we do, I think it'll be the last thing we do, and they'll definitely have a bow wave as they will probably be travelling at 40 knots.Woodmill
We thought that things couldn't get much more interesting. A strange copper and a killer cargo ship. But then we got pulled over by The Harbour Master, who even had a siren to make sure we knew he wanted us to "stop". He asked us what we thought we were doing back there, and Jon volunteered an explanation. The chap was unable to issue the "mild bollocking" he had planned (his words), probably on the basis that he realised we were genuinely unaware it had been moving, and probably a bit simple.
We headed on up the river, passing under the Itchen bridge, around some not-particularly-picturesque river-side features, such as a big pile of rubbish and some shipwrecks. Then we got to Riverside Park near Midenbury, and saw the Olympic plane taking off from Southampton Airport having dropped the flame back from it's morning in the Channel Islands.
Finally we arrived at Woodmill, rested for a few minutes before heading back against the incoming tide towards Southampton Water.
The journey back was relatively uneventful although the final bit from the corner of the two rivers back to Marchwood was a real slog. But it was a 15 mile kayak and another step towards our goal.
And now we have experience of dodging ships too. All useful experience.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Underwater in an upturned kayak in the sea
A cross-channel kayak is probably a challenge at the best of times, but I've been facing up to something which makes it even more so....I'm not at all happy being underwater in an upturned kayak in the sea.
This can be a bit of an inpediment to kayaking, especially when you are planning to cross The English Channel, because you are inevitably in constant danger of......being underwater in an upturned kayak in the sea.
Kayaks can be a bit.....tippy.
I have occasionally lost sleep over this fear during the last 18 months, especially since Jon and I got dragged about The Solent by a ferocious tide on the way to the Isle Of Wight (see Abortive Solent Attempt), but I never anticipated it would be much of a problem on a sit-on kayak, because you'd just tumble off, no problem.
But the difference with sea kayaks is that you are inside the body of the boat and you the water is kept out by a tightly elasticated spray-deck. When we took delivery of these a couple of weeks ago and had our first paddle at Calshot, I realised that I wasn't at all comfortable. Jon and Stu were merrily capsizing away and I was just trying to stay upright.
So I thought this through and decided that, given I was signed up to this and desperately wanted to do it, and that it is less than two months away, it was something that needed addressing.
I managed to get myself out onto two short trips last week, both from Marchwood to Eling and back. These were great and I began to feel more confident in the kayak. But still very worried about tipping, so this wasn't really enough.
In the end I contacted Rich Pearsall at New Forest Activities (Liquid Logistics) who agreed to help, and I also booked onto a BCU Level 1 course, because as part of that you've got to be able to capsize and get to the shore. This meant that I was forcing myself to get this issue out of my system.
So tonight I met Rich at Buckler's Hard, and we went for a paddle (this was the coaching session which Rich very kindly agreed to provide gratis, and which Jon/Stu had back in April when I had to pull out at the last minute), during which he gave me various coaching and tips. Before we started I'd fronted up about my mental block, but said that I wanted it sorted before I got out of the water at the end of the session.
We paddled down the Beaulieu River for a bit, I learned how to turn the boat and how to improve my paddling technique. He was very encouraging about our challenge and said that, as long as we had the right weather, then it wouldn't be a massive problem. It might even be as calm as the river we were on tonight, in fact. He also said, reassuringly, that the change of tipping up on The Channel was very limited and probably wouldn't happen at all.
But then the moment came. We arrived back at Buckler's Hard and Rich said it was time for a dip! He talked me through what to do under water and the moment of truth arrived.
Now this all sounds a bit over-dramatic because, in reality, most people should be able to do what is, effectively, not much different to jumping in the water and bobbing to the surface. For some reason I found this far from simple.
I took a deep breath. Then exhaled again. Caught Rich's eye....he was waiting patiently, encouraging without being pushy. I took another deep breath. And then I went. I tipped the thing up and then scrambled for the surface in a barely controlled panic. What I discovered was that getting out of the kayak was no more difficult than my rational mind had expected, and far easier and less death-inducing than my irrational fear had predicted.
I did it another couple of times and, although it's not perfect and needs practice to develop a calmer and more measured approach, it's definitely progress.
Either way, at least this particular monkey is off my back. Being being underwater in an upturned kayak in the sea is less of a problem than it once was.
This can be a bit of an inpediment to kayaking, especially when you are planning to cross The English Channel, because you are inevitably in constant danger of......being underwater in an upturned kayak in the sea.
Kayaks can be a bit.....tippy.
I have occasionally lost sleep over this fear during the last 18 months, especially since Jon and I got dragged about The Solent by a ferocious tide on the way to the Isle Of Wight (see Abortive Solent Attempt), but I never anticipated it would be much of a problem on a sit-on kayak, because you'd just tumble off, no problem.
But the difference with sea kayaks is that you are inside the body of the boat and you the water is kept out by a tightly elasticated spray-deck. When we took delivery of these a couple of weeks ago and had our first paddle at Calshot, I realised that I wasn't at all comfortable. Jon and Stu were merrily capsizing away and I was just trying to stay upright.
So I thought this through and decided that, given I was signed up to this and desperately wanted to do it, and that it is less than two months away, it was something that needed addressing.
I managed to get myself out onto two short trips last week, both from Marchwood to Eling and back. These were great and I began to feel more confident in the kayak. But still very worried about tipping, so this wasn't really enough.
In the end I contacted Rich Pearsall at New Forest Activities (Liquid Logistics) who agreed to help, and I also booked onto a BCU Level 1 course, because as part of that you've got to be able to capsize and get to the shore. This meant that I was forcing myself to get this issue out of my system.
So tonight I met Rich at Buckler's Hard, and we went for a paddle (this was the coaching session which Rich very kindly agreed to provide gratis, and which Jon/Stu had back in April when I had to pull out at the last minute), during which he gave me various coaching and tips. Before we started I'd fronted up about my mental block, but said that I wanted it sorted before I got out of the water at the end of the session.
We paddled down the Beaulieu River for a bit, I learned how to turn the boat and how to improve my paddling technique. He was very encouraging about our challenge and said that, as long as we had the right weather, then it wouldn't be a massive problem. It might even be as calm as the river we were on tonight, in fact. He also said, reassuringly, that the change of tipping up on The Channel was very limited and probably wouldn't happen at all.
But then the moment came. We arrived back at Buckler's Hard and Rich said it was time for a dip! He talked me through what to do under water and the moment of truth arrived.
Now this all sounds a bit over-dramatic because, in reality, most people should be able to do what is, effectively, not much different to jumping in the water and bobbing to the surface. For some reason I found this far from simple.
I took a deep breath. Then exhaled again. Caught Rich's eye....he was waiting patiently, encouraging without being pushy. I took another deep breath. And then I went. I tipped the thing up and then scrambled for the surface in a barely controlled panic. What I discovered was that getting out of the kayak was no more difficult than my rational mind had expected, and far easier and less death-inducing than my irrational fear had predicted.
I did it another couple of times and, although it's not perfect and needs practice to develop a calmer and more measured approach, it's definitely progress.
Either way, at least this particular monkey is off my back. Being being underwater in an upturned kayak in the sea is less of a problem than it once was.
Monday, June 25, 2012
First pics of the new kayaks in action
Photos taken at Calshot on Sunday 24 June 2012
We headed to Calshot to try out the new kayaks in the pool behind the spit. It is reasonably shallow but, importantly, not particularly impacted by the strong wind yesterday afternoon. Our wives and kids came to for moral support and, more importantly, to provide tea and cakes at the appropriate time! And of course gentle encouragement from the sidelines!
Jon practices tipping over but was, so far, unable to roll back. Then he tried a 90 degree turn and flipped over for real, giving him and Stu the opportunity to try a recovery move.
We bumped into Rachel, a member of the New Forest Kayak and Canoe Club, who was practicing some rolls and recovery exercises nearby, and she encouraged us to join the NFKCC. She looked at us like we might be little bit crazy, when we told her what we were planning to do in ten weeks time! Anyway she was very helpful and we may well take her up on the suggestion to go along to an NFKCC session.
The new kayaks were much more stable than I expected, but I couldn't help feeling the slight sense of claustrophobia which led me to take the sit-on option in the first place. I'm sure I'll get over it...!
Charlie
Jon
Charlie watches Jon attempt a roll
Stu with matching boat and paddle - this season's look
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Sports Mix -v- Jelly Babies...the verdict
I know, it's the match of the century, an unstoppable force versus an immovable object. But following a challenge from a colleague at work, who I was telling all about our use of Sports Mix as both a sugar injection and a motivating tool on our long paddles, I have agreed to road test Jelly Babies too.
So today we did exactly that. I turned up at Marchwood Co-op at 6.20am in my wet suit and cag, and paid £4 (£4!!!) for two bags of sweets. In a controlled experiment, Jon, Stu and I only ate Jelly Babies on the way out, and then consumed Sports Mix (our usual sweet of choice) on our return.
Although apparently runners are advised to use Jelly Babies for a quick sugar rush, I'm afraid to have to report that we weren't taken with them. They don't last more than 10 seconds (Sports Mix last what seems like a lifetime, and you are gouging small rogue bits from various molars for what feels like hours after the main part of the sweet has long since disappeared and been swallowed).
Sports Mix is the more satisfying and distinguished sweet, lending itself to fewer re-visits to the bag as a result of its longevity, and are far more flavoured and 100 times chewier.
The only downside of Sports Mix, which is something which does not burden a Jelly Baby, is that because it lasts so long it can become a choking hazard. I don't particularly fancy performing the Heimlich Manouvre on a rough day in Southampton Water, let alone in The English Channel.
But all-in-all we feel that, as far as Jelly Babies are concerned, Sports Mix is the daddy.
17 miles before lunch
In complete contrast to Sunday's poor showing, we all took the day off work so that we could make up the lost training time. And we definitely picked the right day. At 6.30am we arrived at Marchwood Yacht Club slipway just as Oriana was performing a three-point turn in the pool next to Magazine Lane.
It was a really nice sunny morning with just a whisper of wind, and we launched into water that was like a millpond. We planned to set off towards Calshot knowing that it would be our longest paddle yet. We were on our sit-ons, because the spray decks from Venture Kayaks haven't yet arrived. It was low tide which meant we couldn't get in at Eling....if we had been able to, the day's kayak would have been more than 20 miles, but the slipway at Eling isn't easily usable at low tide.
Shades, sunhats and sun lotion on, cags and extra layers stowed away, we set off in the cool but very promising early morning weather with an extra bit of power in our paddles. This was proper kayaking weather, when you are kayaking for pleasure rather than for training. Today was going to be a bit of both, because we didn't plan to rush it but expected the distance to start tiring us out during the last quarter. We also had our eye on a toasted sandwich at Spinnakers Cafe in Calshot Activity Centre, where we expected to arrive at about 9.30.
We paddled along this now very familiar stretch of Southampton Water towards Hythe, passing the Marchwood incinerator (very definitaly a cover for some sort of James Bond villain's lair) and Cracknore Hard, where they seemed to be irrigating the water using the sort of system you see in fields during high summer.
We stopped at Hythe Pier for a Jelly Baby (what no Sports Mix? That's another story...) or two, and then cracked on to Calshot. The stretch between Hythe Pier and the gas ship pier at Fawley is a really long haul. It wasn't particularly hard going, it just takes forever. This is because it's a relatively straight bit of water and so you can see the target from a long way off. A glance at Google Maps shows it to be 3.4 miles, but it never feels like it is getting any closer.
When you finally arrive at the gas pier, the ships there are massive, and getting too close it a little unnerving. Plus any wash from the ferries or boats going up and down the water washes back off the gas ships causing a washing-machine-style effect.
The lifeboat station and lookout tower at the end of Calshot Spit came into view, and we were on the final straight. We paddles around the corner, the tide now causing us a little more hard work, and beached in front of the activity centre only to see that Spinnakers Cafe was closed. A little sunshine disappeared from our day despite the bright and warm conditions.
After a short break we began paddling back at bang-on 10.00, and got back to Marchwood just after 12, having passed a massive container ship, plus a tallship on it's way out into The Solent.
The return journey was odd. We knew we were travelling back on the fastest incoming tide of the day, but that it was only around 1 knot. As our speed is usually around 3-4 knots, this meant we were travelling faster than the tide and therefore still having to work quite hard to cut through the water. Even so, we got back around 30 minutes quicker than the outward journey, despite it not feeling any easier.
And so we got up early and beat our personal best distance, another step towards success in our Channel crossing objective.
We just need to get into the sea kayaks now.
Oriana passes the drained creek at Magazine Lane, 6.40 this morning
It was a really nice sunny morning with just a whisper of wind, and we launched into water that was like a millpond. We planned to set off towards Calshot knowing that it would be our longest paddle yet. We were on our sit-ons, because the spray decks from Venture Kayaks haven't yet arrived. It was low tide which meant we couldn't get in at Eling....if we had been able to, the day's kayak would have been more than 20 miles, but the slipway at Eling isn't easily usable at low tide.
Southampton Water was like a millpond this morning
Shades, sunhats and sun lotion on, cags and extra layers stowed away, we set off in the cool but very promising early morning weather with an extra bit of power in our paddles. This was proper kayaking weather, when you are kayaking for pleasure rather than for training. Today was going to be a bit of both, because we didn't plan to rush it but expected the distance to start tiring us out during the last quarter. We also had our eye on a toasted sandwich at Spinnakers Cafe in Calshot Activity Centre, where we expected to arrive at about 9.30.
We paddled along this now very familiar stretch of Southampton Water towards Hythe, passing the Marchwood incinerator (very definitaly a cover for some sort of James Bond villain's lair) and Cracknore Hard, where they seemed to be irrigating the water using the sort of system you see in fields during high summer.
We stopped at Hythe Pier for a Jelly Baby (what no Sports Mix? That's another story...) or two, and then cracked on to Calshot. The stretch between Hythe Pier and the gas ship pier at Fawley is a really long haul. It wasn't particularly hard going, it just takes forever. This is because it's a relatively straight bit of water and so you can see the target from a long way off. A glance at Google Maps shows it to be 3.4 miles, but it never feels like it is getting any closer.
When you finally arrive at the gas pier, the ships there are massive, and getting too close it a little unnerving. Plus any wash from the ferries or boats going up and down the water washes back off the gas ships causing a washing-machine-style effect.
The gas ships along the pier at Fawley are massive
The lifeboat station and lookout tower at the end of Calshot Spit came into view, and we were on the final straight. We paddles around the corner, the tide now causing us a little more hard work, and beached in front of the activity centre only to see that Spinnakers Cafe was closed. A little sunshine disappeared from our day despite the bright and warm conditions.
After a short break we began paddling back at bang-on 10.00, and got back to Marchwood just after 12, having passed a massive container ship, plus a tallship on it's way out into The Solent.
The tallship that passed us. Picture affected by wet lense!
The return journey was odd. We knew we were travelling back on the fastest incoming tide of the day, but that it was only around 1 knot. As our speed is usually around 3-4 knots, this meant we were travelling faster than the tide and therefore still having to work quite hard to cut through the water. Even so, we got back around 30 minutes quicker than the outward journey, despite it not feeling any easier.
And so we got up early and beat our personal best distance, another step towards success in our Channel crossing objective.
We just need to get into the sea kayaks now.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
A fathers' day fail!
I did a fair amount of homework for today's early-morning trip to Milford-On-Sea, from where we intended to kayak the 7+ miles around to the headland just south-west of Mudeford. I looked at the tides....no problem; I looked at the weather....sunny and a light wind, so no problem. Except that it didn't turn out that way!
We pulled up at Keyhaven and hauled the kayaks up and over the spit and almost fell back down again in the wind that was coming up off the Channel from the southwest. It had seemed so calm in the shade of the high spit down on the road. Yes, it sounded a bit windy but we thought it would be fine.
It was 7am and we were sat on the beach looking at the waves, The English Channel and The Needles in the distance. The 6ft plus waves were coming onto a steep beach and it looked a bit hairy. Offshore it was very choppy. We noticed that every so often there was a massive wave preceeded by a fast sucking-out of the water off the beach, which was reminicent of what they say happens when there is about to be a tsunami!
The light wind was a force 3-4 at least. Stu decided to go for it, and so Jon and I volunteered to watch in case someone needed to call the emergency services at short notice. Stu waited for a huge wave to come in, break over the top of him and then paddled like fury out and clearer the next one, which was a little smaller, and off out to sea. He disappeared and then re-appeared as the waves rolled him about and it looked like a stuggle to stay upright. After 10 minutes or so, Jon and I were still sat on the beach wondering whether to go for it, and Stu was loitering offshore knowing that getting back onto the beach was going to be a challenge.
Suddely Stu decided enough was enough, and came back in. Usually you basically paddle as fast as possible to ensure you land as far up the beach as possible when you come in. This is exactly what Stu did, but a wave rolled up and under him as he approached the shore and then was dumped nose first with the back of his kayak 45 degrees higher than the front. Stu rolled off the front of his kayak and landed on the beach, his boat landing almost on top of him in the process and his sunglasses disappearing without trace.
Jon and I looked on as he picked himself up, recovered his kayak and wandered towards us. We decided to try it from the other side of some rocks, thinking it might be a little less violent. Stu was very game today and clearly the Sports Mix he had before we started had given him more than a sugar rush. He succesfully launched at the second attempt and Jon did too. I failed miserably and after four failed attempts decided to stop on the beach and watch the other two. Our 15m kayak was not going to happen today.
They came back in quickly and we decided to have one more go. Jon and Stu got off the beach quickly this time, finding a good gap in the waves to get offshore. I confidently waded in, sat on my kayak and let a small wave break over me and then paddled quickly out. Suddenly I found myself back on the stones. It was one of those horrible pre-tsunami moments and the water beneath me had suddenly retreated out to sea. The 6ft wave yawned and grew in front of me. I felt totally calm in expectation of impending doom, as I wondered what would happen next. The wave rumbled up underneath me and lifted the front of my kayak up, rolled me off and I took in a big mouthful of manky seawater. I held back my kayak which rolled towards me heavily, and the weight of it stopped me getting up. I waited for the next wave to come over me, but instead managed to get up and onto the beach, dragging my kayak behind me. I wanted a swig of water but my bottle was gone!
I looked out to sea and Stu/Jon were paddling about, rising and falling in the swell. I think I got away with it without being spotted!
I decided enough was enough. I lay on the beach in the early morning sun (it was still not even 8am)and had a snooze.
Jon/Stu came back after 10-15 mins and we called it a day, but when we got back towards the car we decided to paddle about in Keyhaven Reserve. We headed for Hurst Castle where we beached and had a look around. It was so calm in the reserve that it was hard to believe that, just the other side of the spit, the water was in chaos. We strolled around to the seaward side of the castle to take a look at the water between the Isle of Wight and Hurst Point, which looked very choppy to say the least. This narrow channel acts like a funnel between The English Channel and The Solent.
We headed back home and, given it was Fathers' Day and we were finishing much earlier than planned, we headed into Milford and had a very nice full English breakfast at a very nice cafe.
With the sea kayaks turning up last week (but not the spray decks) we will have to get out on some seriously long paddles to get used to the new boats and get some miles under our belt. The hard work starts now, but we'll certainly pay more attention to the wind speed forecast from now on.
The really good news? I checked back on the seaward side of the spit, and found my water bottle. A small victory for the day!
We pulled up at Keyhaven and hauled the kayaks up and over the spit and almost fell back down again in the wind that was coming up off the Channel from the southwest. It had seemed so calm in the shade of the high spit down on the road. Yes, it sounded a bit windy but we thought it would be fine.
It was 7am and we were sat on the beach looking at the waves, The English Channel and The Needles in the distance. The 6ft plus waves were coming onto a steep beach and it looked a bit hairy. Offshore it was very choppy. We noticed that every so often there was a massive wave preceeded by a fast sucking-out of the water off the beach, which was reminicent of what they say happens when there is about to be a tsunami!
The light wind was a force 3-4 at least. Stu decided to go for it, and so Jon and I volunteered to watch in case someone needed to call the emergency services at short notice. Stu waited for a huge wave to come in, break over the top of him and then paddled like fury out and clearer the next one, which was a little smaller, and off out to sea. He disappeared and then re-appeared as the waves rolled him about and it looked like a stuggle to stay upright. After 10 minutes or so, Jon and I were still sat on the beach wondering whether to go for it, and Stu was loitering offshore knowing that getting back onto the beach was going to be a challenge.
Suddely Stu decided enough was enough, and came back in. Usually you basically paddle as fast as possible to ensure you land as far up the beach as possible when you come in. This is exactly what Stu did, but a wave rolled up and under him as he approached the shore and then was dumped nose first with the back of his kayak 45 degrees higher than the front. Stu rolled off the front of his kayak and landed on the beach, his boat landing almost on top of him in the process and his sunglasses disappearing without trace.
Jon and I looked on as he picked himself up, recovered his kayak and wandered towards us. We decided to try it from the other side of some rocks, thinking it might be a little less violent. Stu was very game today and clearly the Sports Mix he had before we started had given him more than a sugar rush. He succesfully launched at the second attempt and Jon did too. I failed miserably and after four failed attempts decided to stop on the beach and watch the other two. Our 15m kayak was not going to happen today.
They came back in quickly and we decided to have one more go. Jon and Stu got off the beach quickly this time, finding a good gap in the waves to get offshore. I confidently waded in, sat on my kayak and let a small wave break over me and then paddled quickly out. Suddenly I found myself back on the stones. It was one of those horrible pre-tsunami moments and the water beneath me had suddenly retreated out to sea. The 6ft wave yawned and grew in front of me. I felt totally calm in expectation of impending doom, as I wondered what would happen next. The wave rumbled up underneath me and lifted the front of my kayak up, rolled me off and I took in a big mouthful of manky seawater. I held back my kayak which rolled towards me heavily, and the weight of it stopped me getting up. I waited for the next wave to come over me, but instead managed to get up and onto the beach, dragging my kayak behind me. I wanted a swig of water but my bottle was gone!
I looked out to sea and Stu/Jon were paddling about, rising and falling in the swell. I think I got away with it without being spotted!
I decided enough was enough. I lay on the beach in the early morning sun (it was still not even 8am)and had a snooze.
Jon/Stu came back after 10-15 mins and we called it a day, but when we got back towards the car we decided to paddle about in Keyhaven Reserve. We headed for Hurst Castle where we beached and had a look around. It was so calm in the reserve that it was hard to believe that, just the other side of the spit, the water was in chaos. We strolled around to the seaward side of the castle to take a look at the water between the Isle of Wight and Hurst Point, which looked very choppy to say the least. This narrow channel acts like a funnel between The English Channel and The Solent.
We headed back home and, given it was Fathers' Day and we were finishing much earlier than planned, we headed into Milford and had a very nice full English breakfast at a very nice cafe.
With the sea kayaks turning up last week (but not the spray decks) we will have to get out on some seriously long paddles to get used to the new boats and get some miles under our belt. The hard work starts now, but we'll certainly pay more attention to the wind speed forecast from now on.
The really good news? I checked back on the seaward side of the spit, and found my water bottle. A small victory for the day!
Our kayaks arrive...and some thank-yous
P&H is also giving us some spray decks for the crossing. Expedition Kayaks in Lymington sold us a new paddle each at a significant discount, whilst Liquid Logistics in Bucklers Hard gave us a free coaching session each.
All of these companies have added real value to our efforts to raise money for a charity that means a great deal to us.
Huge thanks to you all!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
If Carlsberg did kayaking...
Thursday 24 May 2012
It is fair to say that tonight's paddle is what I consider to be exactly what I want from kayaking. We know that putting in the miles against the tide and wind is good for our fitness, technique and resilliance, but this evening we paddled out of Lymington from the RNLI slipway and I'm not sure I saw a single wave the whole way. What's more, it was a fantastic evening, it felt like the start of summer.
There was the slightest of breezes near the shore, but there were plenty of yachts in The Solent with their sails brimming with wind and enjoying an pleasent evening on the water.
We headed out into The Solent, steering west from Lymington. Bizarrely we couldn't see the Isle Of Wight, despite it being a lovely evening, because of a weird haze. The Red Funnel Ferry disappeared into a sort of Bermuda-triangle type fog. We can only assume that it got to Yarmouth in one piece, I certainly didn't hear any reports of a ferry disappearing that evening.
We paddled along at a steady pace, through a bit of a weedy area off what appeared to be a nature reserve, and continued for about 45 minutes before turning back.
Our plan is very much to have short paddles of 4-6 miles on a Thursday evening, more of a loosener for our long Sunday paddles, just to help build up fitness and technique. This will be even more important once our sea kayaks arrive because we will only have a short time to get used to them.
As we headed back into Lymington a procession of yachts overtook us at a gentle pace and we had to stay land-side of the buoys to ensure we didn't get in their way.
We landed back at the RNLI and then, I'm afraid to say, spend a very nice 45 minutes having a pint and a bag of crisps at The Mayflower, sat outside in the garden there. Interestingly the lad collecting glasses was the spitting image of Clark Kent, which was fitting given that it was such a "super" evening (oh for pity's sake!!! My apologies to regular readers, it won't happen again).
It is fair to say that tonight's paddle is what I consider to be exactly what I want from kayaking. We know that putting in the miles against the tide and wind is good for our fitness, technique and resilliance, but this evening we paddled out of Lymington from the RNLI slipway and I'm not sure I saw a single wave the whole way. What's more, it was a fantastic evening, it felt like the start of summer.
There was the slightest of breezes near the shore, but there were plenty of yachts in The Solent with their sails brimming with wind and enjoying an pleasent evening on the water.
We headed out into The Solent, steering west from Lymington. Bizarrely we couldn't see the Isle Of Wight, despite it being a lovely evening, because of a weird haze. The Red Funnel Ferry disappeared into a sort of Bermuda-triangle type fog. We can only assume that it got to Yarmouth in one piece, I certainly didn't hear any reports of a ferry disappearing that evening.
We paddled along at a steady pace, through a bit of a weedy area off what appeared to be a nature reserve, and continued for about 45 minutes before turning back.
Our plan is very much to have short paddles of 4-6 miles on a Thursday evening, more of a loosener for our long Sunday paddles, just to help build up fitness and technique. This will be even more important once our sea kayaks arrive because we will only have a short time to get used to them.
As we headed back into Lymington a procession of yachts overtook us at a gentle pace and we had to stay land-side of the buoys to ensure we didn't get in their way.
We landed back at the RNLI and then, I'm afraid to say, spend a very nice 45 minutes having a pint and a bag of crisps at The Mayflower, sat outside in the garden there. Interestingly the lad collecting glasses was the spitting image of Clark Kent, which was fitting given that it was such a "super" evening (oh for pity's sake!!! My apologies to regular readers, it won't happen again).
Monday, May 21, 2012
Three months later... and the crossing is booked!
It's been a while - almost three months - since our last post, but masses has happened in that time.
The main things were:
- Sunday afternoon tea to discuss how to really get this thing moving, at Charlie's mum's house. Yes we are so disorganised that we are having to get our parents involved!
- An evening training session for Jon & Stu with Liquid Logistics down at Buckler's Hard on the Beaulieu River
- It's booked!! w/c 27 August is the chosen date for our cross channel kayak, and the kind people at Action Duchenne have paid the deposit on the safety craft! So it's definitely happening!
- Lots of kayaking - now twice a week! All of these things will be written about but first it's worth covering our new regime.
We decided that once we were just four months away from our chosen date i.e. 27 April, we had better start getting serious about the training. I have been getting hassle from one mate in particular saying that we won't do it because we won't be fit enough, and as he no doubt suspected this has riled me a little and had the desired effect! So we are now going twice a week, on Thursdays and Sunday.
The distances are creeping up. Or should I say wrenching up, or even throwing up, because last Sunday (13 May) we set off from Calshot Spit (£6 for the day) towards The Hamble River and ended up going all the way to Fairthorne Manor, which is almost 8 miles from Calshot.
We left Calshot knowing we were going up with the tide, and that it was not long since low tide and therefore we would get pushed nicely along upriver. We also knew it would be a hard slog coming back against the tide, and this was deliberate because we need the exercise. We sort of think that if we go against the tide, we can add 50% to the distance (although any distances mentioned here are actual rather than manipulated!).
So we got to The Jolly Sailor pub and I started to pull in, thinking only of the Doom Bar, Jon called me back and suggested we go on to the next pub, which apparently Stu and he had paddled to whilst I was away one weekend a month or so ago. "How far is it?" I asked, the imaginary but very realistic taste of Doom Bar evaporating from my mouth. "Just around the corner a little bit". Stu clearly doubted Jon's estimate, given he'd done it so recently, but played along with only a small mumbled caveat, and off we went.
It was at least an hour before we turned right up a small creek and got beached in the mud as the water ran out. High tide hadn't arrived here yet. We retreated, our goal desperately close, and I decided that I was going to race back to the JS as quickly as possible to see if I could get some perseverance and stamina built up, despite the almost-eight-miles that were behind us (or, as they were now, in front of us again). Plus I was gagging for a pint.
Now going on A to B to A routes is a always very exciting and inspiring during the A to B bit, but coming back via the B to A bit is actually quite demotivating, because you start to see landmarks that you saw on the A to B bit, only now to realise how far they are from A. You constantly are saying to yourself "flippin' heck, we've got miles to go yet!". And so it was on this journey. I kept waiting for the motorway to go over the river. Around every corner I was thinking "the motorway bridge will be just around this corner" but, alas, it was not. Until, finally, it was. But it took ages.
Not exactly "Just around the corner a little bit", eh Jon??
So we disembarked at the JS and duly had a pint of shandy, because by now we were dehydrated and needing a sugar rush (we added a couple of bags of crisps each for salt), and Jon mentioned that he was feeling a bit nauseous. It had occurred to me that during this marathon and unexpectedly long journey I had not worn a hat or suncream, and it was not a dull day at all - very bright and mild, in fact. I knew that I would be burned by the time we got back and that Jon was probably getting sunstroke or something. But we tried to ignore those minor inconveniences and set off again.
Another landmark eluded us, this time the pink ferry shelter which sits on the north side of the river near to where the Hamble meets Southampton Water. We kept thinking it would be in sight soon, but it kept failing to deliver. And then, all of a sudden, we almost got chopped to pieces by the pink ferry! Imagine the shame of being knocked into The Hamble by a pink ferry....well it almost happened. But we survived and now, almost at the mouth of the river, we felt like we were getting somewhere.
However equally we knew, from previous experience, that doing the crossing back to Calshot against wind and tide (which we were about to do) was a nightmare scenario. It was going to take an hour, we guessed. Fifty minutes later we beached on the slipway at Calshot having hauled ourselves against Southampton Water like paddling through treacle.
We were knackered, but it was all worth it about an hour later when Jon's text came through. 15 miles. More than 50% more than our previous best!!! The only downside....? The channel is 21 miles in a straight line, and more likely 25 once you take the tide into account.
So there's a long way to go yet!
The main things were:
- Sunday afternoon tea to discuss how to really get this thing moving, at Charlie's mum's house. Yes we are so disorganised that we are having to get our parents involved!
- An evening training session for Jon & Stu with Liquid Logistics down at Buckler's Hard on the Beaulieu River
- It's booked!! w/c 27 August is the chosen date for our cross channel kayak, and the kind people at Action Duchenne have paid the deposit on the safety craft! So it's definitely happening!
- Lots of kayaking - now twice a week! All of these things will be written about but first it's worth covering our new regime.
We decided that once we were just four months away from our chosen date i.e. 27 April, we had better start getting serious about the training. I have been getting hassle from one mate in particular saying that we won't do it because we won't be fit enough, and as he no doubt suspected this has riled me a little and had the desired effect! So we are now going twice a week, on Thursdays and Sunday.
The distances are creeping up. Or should I say wrenching up, or even throwing up, because last Sunday (13 May) we set off from Calshot Spit (£6 for the day) towards The Hamble River and ended up going all the way to Fairthorne Manor, which is almost 8 miles from Calshot.
We left Calshot knowing we were going up with the tide, and that it was not long since low tide and therefore we would get pushed nicely along upriver. We also knew it would be a hard slog coming back against the tide, and this was deliberate because we need the exercise. We sort of think that if we go against the tide, we can add 50% to the distance (although any distances mentioned here are actual rather than manipulated!).
So we got to The Jolly Sailor pub and I started to pull in, thinking only of the Doom Bar, Jon called me back and suggested we go on to the next pub, which apparently Stu and he had paddled to whilst I was away one weekend a month or so ago. "How far is it?" I asked, the imaginary but very realistic taste of Doom Bar evaporating from my mouth. "Just around the corner a little bit". Stu clearly doubted Jon's estimate, given he'd done it so recently, but played along with only a small mumbled caveat, and off we went.
It was at least an hour before we turned right up a small creek and got beached in the mud as the water ran out. High tide hadn't arrived here yet. We retreated, our goal desperately close, and I decided that I was going to race back to the JS as quickly as possible to see if I could get some perseverance and stamina built up, despite the almost-eight-miles that were behind us (or, as they were now, in front of us again). Plus I was gagging for a pint.
Now going on A to B to A routes is a always very exciting and inspiring during the A to B bit, but coming back via the B to A bit is actually quite demotivating, because you start to see landmarks that you saw on the A to B bit, only now to realise how far they are from A. You constantly are saying to yourself "flippin' heck, we've got miles to go yet!". And so it was on this journey. I kept waiting for the motorway to go over the river. Around every corner I was thinking "the motorway bridge will be just around this corner" but, alas, it was not. Until, finally, it was. But it took ages.
Not exactly "Just around the corner a little bit", eh Jon??
So we disembarked at the JS and duly had a pint of shandy, because by now we were dehydrated and needing a sugar rush (we added a couple of bags of crisps each for salt), and Jon mentioned that he was feeling a bit nauseous. It had occurred to me that during this marathon and unexpectedly long journey I had not worn a hat or suncream, and it was not a dull day at all - very bright and mild, in fact. I knew that I would be burned by the time we got back and that Jon was probably getting sunstroke or something. But we tried to ignore those minor inconveniences and set off again.
Another landmark eluded us, this time the pink ferry shelter which sits on the north side of the river near to where the Hamble meets Southampton Water. We kept thinking it would be in sight soon, but it kept failing to deliver. And then, all of a sudden, we almost got chopped to pieces by the pink ferry! Imagine the shame of being knocked into The Hamble by a pink ferry....well it almost happened. But we survived and now, almost at the mouth of the river, we felt like we were getting somewhere.
However equally we knew, from previous experience, that doing the crossing back to Calshot against wind and tide (which we were about to do) was a nightmare scenario. It was going to take an hour, we guessed. Fifty minutes later we beached on the slipway at Calshot having hauled ourselves against Southampton Water like paddling through treacle.
We were knackered, but it was all worth it about an hour later when Jon's text came through. 15 miles. More than 50% more than our previous best!!! The only downside....? The channel is 21 miles in a straight line, and more likely 25 once you take the tide into account.
So there's a long way to go yet!
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