Sea Kayaking in South West England
Well, I’m still alive and well, but currently pinned ashore by strong winds at Machrinhanish. The good news is that (by playing join-the-dots with a series of headlands) I’ve actually made it out past the Mull of Kintyre to the true west coast of Scotland. It’s everything I hoped it would be, and more.
I will keep posting updates HERE.
The giant fish/lobster thing above is located beside the Mayflower Steps, on the city of Plymouth’s waterfront. It probably represents/means/signifies something, but I’m currently too tired to recall or research. I was in Plymouth for the past few days with a load of my Sixth Formers, giving them an introduction to ’student life’ at the University. I took the photo as we set sail for an evening cruise (007 themed) around splendid Plymouth Sound and the River Tamar. Given my recent work on the book, I was able to regale anyone who would listen (eventually, no one) with lots of trivia about the places we passed. I was most annoyed to see that the ugly great silo on the waterfront, mentioned in my book, has been demolished this year; so South West Sea Kayaking is out of date already.
The living room floor is covered by bags, boxes, random items … I’m packing for my big summer trip, departing shortly. This will probably be my last blog post for a while (unless the wild west coast of Scotland proves to be crammed with cybercafes), but Heather may do some ‘guest posting’ if she finds time inbetween walking the Coast to Coast trail, and sea kayaking in both St Kilda (organised boat trip) and Brittany (girlie trip) this summer. Being teachers isn’t so bad, we do rather enjoy our long summer hols.
Anyway, wish me luck with Scotland; the weather is improving slightly, so I’m marginally less scared by the whole thing. It’ll be interesting to see how much of the Scottish coast I can cover. For no particular reason, here’s a pic of me doing a Sean Connery impression on Plymouth Sound last night …
Our good friend Alex dropped by this weekend, on a flying visit from Manchester (and his friend coming all the way from Glasgow). Alex is a paddler, but actually came to sample the local limestone. Purbeck and Portland are (apparently) famed for their ‘deep water solo’ free climbs.
Today, we all headed to the Isle of Portland. We paddled, whilst our guests did unpleasant nasty hairy scary things.
As a small boy, I heard Paul* and Linda wailing to the accompaniment of bagpipes and the Mull of Kintyre was permanently etched into my consciousness. I knew that the Mull was a real place somewhere up in Scotland, but in my imagination it was as remote and inaccessible as the dark side of the moon. I’d never been there and in the intervening three decades, still never have done.
The weekend after next, I launch from west Cumbria. It’s then a long crossing across the Solway Firth to Scotland, and then the next few days will see a series of shorter crossings heading west to the Mull of Galloway. I then have to cross the Firth of Clyde to the Mull of Kintyre itself; either in a series of hops via the isle of Ailsa Craig, or in one long hop right across. The Mull of Kintyre is the beginning of Scotland’s west coast, effectively my start line for the paddle to Cape Wrath; Britain’s most northwesterly point and my eventual target this summer.
I’ve been mentally rehearsing this plan for several years now. It requires perfect weather and will take me about a week in such conditions. But it blatantly isn’t going to happen, or certainly not as I’ve hoped. The wind has now blown hard for a month straight, and the odds of me getting the settled conditions I need are very unlikely indeed. Right now, the Mull of Kintyre seems as remote as the dark side of the moon.
*This was post-Beatles but pre-Ebony and Ivory, Frog Chorus and Heather Mills showdown, when Macca still had a scrap of dignity left.
South West Sea Kayaking has had a plug in The Guardian newspaper. Many thanks to Jim Krakiecki who included the wonderful Isles of Scilly in his ‘Top Ten’ list of sea kayaking destinations.
Presumably the Isles will soon be over-run with sandal-wearing, muesli-eating, Labour-voting, ethnic-clothes-clad paddlers …
Incidentally, the photo above (or one pretty similar, I forget which) is being used as the cover of a new book about gardens in the south west. Splendid.
I was just reading John Gilmour’s blog - right this moment while I’m sitting on the couch with my feet up (watching Britain’s latest tennis nearly-but-not-quite), the crew of Swanage’s Inshore Lifeboat have launched. I wish them a safe and successful evening, but I don’t envy them.
That reminded me that I haven’t shown you this yet (picture above). The money was raised by those of you who attended my talk on the weekend of the book launch. Thanks to you all, and thanks again to Palm Equipment, Ocean Paddler Magazine and Seacornwall.com who donated some rather lovely prizes for the raffle.
Another weekend spent at home in Purbeck with the wind ripping along. Indeed, it has barely stopped blowing since last weekend, and looks set to continue.
A few of us went for a paddle around Brownsea Island in Poole Harbour today, but it was a bit of a grind and I’m fairly sure that we made more progress backwards than forwards.
The endless wind has kept me ashore on quite a few occasions lately, making me rather worried that I’m not going to be very fit for Scotland when I set off for my Very Big Trip in three weeks’ time. On the bright side though, I’ve spent most of the weekend (and previous weeks) MTBing, so at least I might be halfway fit for Something Big that I’m trying next weekend.
Clovelly is a unique village in north Devon, its cobbled high street so steep that donkey-harnessed sleds were used to transport goods from the small harbour. Keep careful hold of your icecream.
Tyneham village is a short walk inland from Worbarrow Bay in Dorset. In 1943, it was decided to use it for D-Day training exercises. The Army requisitioned the village and surrounding valley from the Bond family who owned the estate. Residents were given one month in which to gather their belongings (which, as they were tenants, usually amounted to little) before eviction. The Bonds were promised that the land would be returned to them after the war.
The Army simply reneged on their promise, and the land is still owned by the military today. The village was poorly maintained by the soldiers, and fell into ruin. Only the church and schoolhouse remained roofed. The Elizabethan manor house was completely destroyed, with stone features being carted off to decorate the houses of certain senior staff. A display inside the church insists that the village needed to be kept as a vital training ground for the Cold War, but others have suggested that Tyneham’s main appeal to the Army was as a unofficial private pheasant and deer shooting estate for officers.
Under pressure from high profile protests, in the 1970s the Army allowed public access to Tyneham and began the task of preserving what was left.
We visited whilst paddling past this weekend. We noted that a huge amount of preservative work has been done in the past few years, both in terms of opening up more of the village and in terms of explaining about life in the village through information panels. Particularly poignant are the photos of the ‘children’ of Tyneham, visiting as pensioners. Those few still alive retain the forlorn hope that one day their homes might be returned to them.
More info in this splendid book.
“This weekend’s weather is very unusual for this time of year”, noted the guy infront of the weather map on telly. He wasn’t kidding, with torrential rain and gale force winds expected across England.
We* were rather annoyed, as we’d planned to head to west Cornwall and paddle around the Land’s End peninsula. As the forecasts worsened through the week, we scaled back our plans to a trip around the Isle of Wight, then to sheltered local trips.
It wasn’t such a bad weekend at all. On Saturday we launched under slate grey skies and drizzling rain to paddle from Kimmeridge to Lulworth Cove and back. With mild winds and swell this proved to be splendid rockhopping fun. We got home just before the heavy rain and strong winds came, and enjoyed a rather hefty lobster that we’d obtained from the Lulworth Cove fishmonger.
Today, the sun was blazing but the washing was being blown off the line. Softies that we are, we went walking.
After our stroll, we lunched at the splendid Square and Compass pub. The pub overlooks the sea and is in the village of Worth Matravers, where the bodies of the crew of the SS Treveal** are buried.
All good.
*I was stuck paddling with girls … again. Where are all the blokes in this sport?
**Buy my book.
There are no natural harbours along the north coast of Devon and Cornwall for about 25 miles either side of Hartland Point. Before the advent of the railway in the mid nineteenth century, the only economic way to shift heavy loads around was by sea. There were a number of man-made harbour quays to offer sheltered mooring (e.g. Bude, Hartland Quay, Clovelly). However, in most places, goods were delivered or loaded through ‘beach work’. Ships would simply run aground on the rocky shore during the ebb tide, and then float off at the next high water. Hopefully. Coal and lime were delivered this way; practically every single point at which the sea can be accessed along the north shore features old lime kilns.
A perfect weekend! Hartland Point is the centrepoint of about 20 miles of truly astonishing coast, straddling the North Devon/Cornwall border. The rock strata along the cliffs are contorted into vertically inclined zigzag patterns, with a jagged reef extending into the sea. Sandy beaches are few and far between, and landing is rarely easy or comfortable; thankfully I had a borrowed boat! Improbably, a small harbour was constructed in the midst of these forbidding shores; Hartland Quay. However, storms washed the stone quay away in the late nineteenth century.
We joined our friends Chris and Julia for the weekend. Julia isn’t a natural camper(!) but was reassured by the marvellous Stoke Barton Farm campsite. They will purchase The Times for you (the mark of a truly civilised place) and they serve hearty breakfasts of local produce in a huge dining room inside the farmhouse. If Carlsberg did campsites …
When I moved to the south-west in 1993, I thought I knew it all - the only attractive parts of Britain were West Scotland, the Lakes, North Wales, and maybe the Pennines if you were desperate.
Swyre Head is 664 feet above sea level, the highest point of Dorset’s Purbeck Hills. It overlooks the finest of the Purbeck Coast, with wonderful views further to Poole Harbour, the Isle of Portland and the Isle of Wight.
Swyre Head has the further distinction of being in my back garden. Well not quite, but to get there I just head up my street to where the road turns into bridleway, and keep pedaling (uphill). Tonight I was airing my new bike, bought after the old one died embarrassingly last week, literally falling apart Keystone Kops-style.
Looking west, you see the curve of Weymouth Bay around to the wedge-like profile of the Isle of Portland.
Yes, I know this is a terrible photo. But the white object is St Catherine’s Point lighthouse, 35 miles away to the east on the southernmost tip of the Isle of Wight. Incidentally, some paddlers from over that way have been good enough this week to write a review of ‘South West Sea Kayaking’.
West, the Black Tower of Kimmeridge Bay is now nearly rebuilt.
To the south-east, the big tide race of St Albans Head is overlooked by the Coastwatch lookout and the ancient chapel.
These days, I’m not quite so sure that I know it all.
Something terrible has happened in South Cornwall. At least twenty-six apparently healthy dolphins have stranded and died. The dolphins appear to have panicked and swum ashore into shallow tidal creeks between Carrick Roads and the Helford River, stranding along about 16 kilometres of coast.
A tragedy of this scale is almost unprecedented in our waters. It’s too early to ascertain the cause, but much is being made of the fact that a Naval Exercise was taking place in the area at the time.
Not good.
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