Club Trips

Sea Kayak Incident Management, Cornwall 15 & 16 Sept 07

nickJ — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 12:36:00 GMT

Incident Management course 15 & 16 Sept 07

Sea Kayaking Cornwall (SKC):

Incident management course 15/16 Sept 2007 (account by Nick J)

Mattias, Yolanda, Tony, Olaf, Malcolm, Liz, Nick.

This training was with Sea Kayaking Cornwall (SKC), a young venture run by two of the UK’s top paddlers, Simon Osbourne (youngest solo circumnavigation of UK by sea kayak) and Jeff Allen (many expeditions including circumnavigation of Japan).

This was a really great course and a week later we’re all still buzzing with the ideas and techniques we learnt. I found it excellent value; good gear, authoritative teaching and a fabulous venue, but it’s a long way to go for a weekend. When I go back I’ll try to arrange a five day course.

FRIDAY 14

On the beach during Saturday’s pre-paddle briefing Jeff said that many sea kayaking incidents can be traced right back to things that happened or didn’t happen long before the group even got on the water. Luckily the only incident, created by Malcolm forgetting his wallet on Friday morning, was a rash of offers of temporary financial support, then a drive back from Dalston to Stratford to get the wallet anyway. In an effort to travel light we had opted to use as much of SKC’s gear as possible, but we still had a heap of camping gear, paddle clothes, ball gowns, food, one kayak, two surfboards and a folding bicycle. Yolanda and Mattias drove down separately.

Although it was mid-morning when we left East London it was dark when we arrived in Falmouth, where because of my out of date map finding our way through town to Tregedna Farm became a team effort involving Google maps, Malcolm’s (watch) compass and Tony’s (Blackberry) GPS.

Anyway, we arrived and as we pitched camp the temperature dropped sharply and a heavy dew soaked our shoes. The sky was cloudless and black, except for the Milky way and countless stars. Tawny owls hooted in the surrounding woods. We were all looking forward to the training, expecting a lot and wondering exactly what we’d signed up for. Then in true play boater fashion we went to the pub for supper.

SATURDAY 15

We met Jeff, our instructor, at 9:30 on Maenporth Beach, (half a mile from the campsite) a sheltered, sandy bay facing east-north-east and with easy access, a car park along the top of the beach, a café and public toilets. This part of Cornwall is softer, more wooded and better sheltered than the battered north coast. As per the forecast it was sunny with no wind.

SKC will supply just about all you need, but it’s important to let them know beforehand what you want. We all used their boats (Romany, low volume Romany, Explorer, Greenlander Pro) and most of us borrowed paddles, spray decks, helmets or other bits of kit.

When gear and boats were ready we stood round for a formal introduction and briefing, itself an essential part of incident management, i.e. planning. Know each other – abilities, experience and expectations. Any old or current injuries or medical conditions? Agree the rules, signals and the day’s plan. Who is the leader and who is their number two? What equipment does the group have and who is carrying it? What is the tide doing and what is the latest weather forecast?

Jeff, Harry and Garry.

Jeff is tall; he introduced, his number two and main victim for the course. Harry is short. He has an irreverent humour, irrepressible vigour and holds the current record for fastest sea kayak trip round the UK. Garry is neither tall nor short; he is an additional helper and victim for the first day.

This is where Jeff said that incidents can often be traced back to earlier acts or omissions: a hangover, a forgotten fact or piece of equipment, something broken or unfamiliar (make your own list!), the incident starts not with the first capsize but far earlier and is compounded by later events.

For the two days it was not easy to retain the flood of information that washed over us; all the time there were strategic issues as well as details to consider, both of planning and equipment. (I hope this is where our planning pays off and that by going as a group we will have captured more information and be able to transmit it to the club better than we could have as individuals).

Why was Jeff doing this on the beach and not on the water? (another strategic point)… because on the water we wouldn’t be paying full attention and it would be harder to communicate. Easy!

He introduced us to our responsibility for safety; first our own, then that of the group and lastly the victim’s, and then to situation appreciation, a way of thinking about an incident that lets you plan a strategy quickly under pressure.

This seemed to be the most important element of the weekend’s training but isn’t something I could really learn in two days. It’s tempting to try to describe situation appreciation here in detail but then once you’ve read my account you might think you know it, and I’m bound to get something wrong; so here’s an outline:

first check your own safety, (are you in danger, could you perform the planned action/rescue safely, could you exit safely - there’s no point becoming a second victim)
then check the safety of your group – in the pre-paddle briefing they’ve already been told that if there’s an incident they should automatically face into what ever element is having the greatest effect (wind, waves, tide)

Then you consider:

AIM: decide your AIM (can have short term and long term aims e.g. 1: get injured paddler and boat out of gully, 2: get injured paddler in their own boat and tow them back to safe landing/nearest road access/hospital etc.)
FACTORS: e.g. consider state of victim, sea, weather, tide, sunset, strength and resources of group – what will change and how quickly?), use of coastguard – time, distance etc.
AVAILABLE OPTIONS: e.g. different tows, use a swimmer, rescue from the land then paddle home, nearest landing for hospital, prepare for lifeboat or helicopter pick-up etc.
PLAN: with the aim, factors and options considered one hopes a preferred plan will be fairly obvious, less favoured options become back-up plans.

The whole point is not to let yourself or anyone else go charging in under the influence of adrenalin (not easy!) but to go in calmly, with everyone’s safety taken care of and a plan in place. We took turns trying to do this on Sunday…

On Saturday we didn’t paddle very far, that wasn’t the point; within minutes of launching we were in and out of the water practicing various methods of towing, rescue and self rescue. One way and another this continued through both days, the important themes being that we need to feel comfortable out of our boats (and on occasions might be better off in the sea), if towing is needed it must be quick and effective and that incidents need a clear logical plan before action.

We did many sorts of tow, both swimming and from the kayak but the single piece of equipment that few of us had really tried and fewer owned was extremely short (about 700mm) with a karabiner and a quick release shackle, specially designed for a secure contact tow; easy to make, versatile and invaluable. You keep it clipped in a loop across the deck just in front of the cockpit. We used waist towlines – first, shortened by daisy-chaining and a quick-release knot (within reach), then with it full length; we touched on the use of throwlines (also for extending a towline). It was drummed in to us that towing is a foundation skill – there’s no point helping someone back into their boat if you both get blown onto the rocks while you’re doing it. We did T-rescues with someone towing the rescuer away from the danger and we did the Hand of God (righting a capsized unconscious or trapped paddler) and the Scoop (for putting an injured or unconscious paddler back in their boat.

After towing our boats to rocks that at first appeared far too steep (and hauling them metres up to perch on ledges we got back in the water and bobbed around in emergency bivi-bags and a group shelter; sort of wet camping.

Saturday was about techniques, behaviour and awareness. As soon as you see a boat go over you shout (loudly!) ‘CAPSIZE!’ and then if the paddler appears out of their boat ‘SWIMMER!’ If you are a swimmer and you can’t rescue yourself then you swim to the front of your boat (if it’s safe to do so), wrap your legs over the deck and hug the bow, with you head beside it. This shows that you need help, know what to do and are not panicking, you are an asset, not a liability.

SUNDAY 16

The day started grey and mild but with a breeze and slight swell that promised more interesting conditions for practicing what we’d learnt. After our briefing we launched at Kennack Sands and paddled west, aiming for the Lizard and some tide races that work on the ebb. We never got that far; from the start Jeff and Harry were engineering incidents then nominating one of us to act as manager. Harry would paddle down a gulley and capsize; if the rescuer went in with an incomplete situation appreciation then Harry the victim would tip them over = two victims! Of course when things start to happen and you are nominated leader your brain turns to jelly but if things were going too smoothly Jeff might quietly indicate to someone else that they should also capsize or they should paddle gung-ho into the middle of the rescue and capsize (I was that adrenalin fuelled idiot). All of this meant that we never quite knew what was coming next…there was a capsized boat in a cave but was there a paddler in it? Should we be making a Pan pan emergency call or a Mayday? It was pointed out that delegation could be an invaluable tool, the manager or leader can’t do everything, doesn’t automatically do the rescue and can call for several things to be happening concurrently to make the rescue safer and quicker.

Over and over we realised how difficult it was to operate smoothly, to work as a team and to stay out of the way unless told otherwise. Equipment got tangled or didn’t seem to do what we wanted it to; leading was an art to be learnt and there seemed to be too many things to think about all at the same time; reminds me of learning to drive a car.

Before lunch we had another very clear lesson. We landed at a cobbled beach, carried the boats clear of the water and then stood by the bow of our boat.

‘Close your eyes’ said Jeff.

With closed eyes we had to put our hands straight on the karabiner of our towline and clip it on to our boat.

Still with closed eyes we had to walk away until we got to the end of our daisy chained (short tow) lines, release the knot and continue to walk away until we reached the end of the extended line. Then he showed us (eyes open) how to recover the line quickly and neatly. This was a great lesson in needing to know your equipment intimately and the equipment needing to be fit for purpose. We looked at that simple but crucial item, the karabiner. Few were designed to suit our needs. Some were too small, some had weak hinges, some had snags that would foul a deck line. Looking at the lines they were all different; where should the shock-absorbing section be? Where should the float be? Was either feature necessary?

By the time we stopped for lunch at the charming village of Cadgwith the sun had been out for a couple of hours, it was hot and we were ready for lunch.

There’s not much more to tell. I think the course was a great beginning in incident management and it left all of us feeling the need for reviewing our equipment, getting loads of practice (come and join in!) in increasingly rougher conditions and doing more training when we think we’ve improved.

Sea Kayaking Cornwall: www.seakayakingcornwall.com

CAMPING: Tregedna Farm: F.M.Harris 01326 250 529

£5.50 per person/night (inc car). Mention your connection with club & SKC.

BEACH: Maenporth Beach: café, parking, toilets. Sandy beach.

PARKING: Maenporth Beach £2.00/day.

2006 Nov - Scotland white water - Classic

wendys — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 17:51:00 GMT

By Wendy Shurrock - don't miss the photo album from this trip.

Day 1 - Etive

Due to lack of water it was in at the deep end -

Matt, myself, Erik, Derek, Helen, Jonas and Nick set off with Mark and Dennis as coaches. The Etive is a truly beautiful place and there is nothing better than starting on a bit of grade 4 to get the adrenaline going! We learnt a lot! Risk, safety and what line would we like to take. The first bit was called triple falls, i was so keen not to take a roll on any part of it - and i did but i got up and down the rest of the falls in one piece so that was good. Erik paddled the second fall backwards - of course by design.

The ski jump was the last of the falls - about 12 feet- great fun. Next up was Crack of Dawn - we had a look, set up safety, Dennis showed us how to do it right - and then Mark took the lead. He was obviously concentrating on other things apart from paddling - and took a swim. Matt thoroughly enjoyed this - see the photos. We did a live bait rescue of Helens boat and all was good. The boys all ran it fine; I chickened out of the first part but had fun on the drop at the end.

It sounds like a short run - it is, but we spend lots of time evaluating, considering and learning. After 4 hours enough was enough and we were off to the Claickhaig pub for a pint and a chat.

Great first day!

Day 2 - Allt Mheuran

Yet again - no rain - would you believe it - it always rains in Scotland - just not at the moment.

So Dennis thought we would head for the easy stuff - not. I have to say at the beginning of the first run I was truly terrified. The boys of course we super cool - well - I think they were a bit scared too....

We walked with our boats for about an hour up the hill, through the mud, to the falls. This basically consisted of a reasonable drop at the top followed by a long s bend slide and then one huge drop - 20 foot. Again we had a good look. We started with the s bend slide - to get a feel of how to paddle in more rocks than water. Interesting. Then we started with the top drop. Dennis put us in right on it, to start off with - basically lean forward - go through the gap at the bottom and eddy out. The idea was to keep your paddles away from your face. Which Derek did not quite manage and hence he continued the tradition of bloody Monday (Matt cut his eyebrow open exactly a year ago in Scotland). Derek was straight back into it ... and no more injuries.

So having successfully negotiated the drop the easy way we started it again - a little higher up with a small drop and a very important right stroke so as not to go down the falls backwards. All good and lots of fun. Mark nearly lost his legs to Mattias's tank of a boat heading straight out of the water up the rock towards him.

So then it was the falls at the bottom. Dennis looked at me, whilst we were waiting in the middle section and said - lets just run it blind.... the fact of the matter is that the water moves so fast - or at least your boat does that my brain was still trying to catch up when I hit the water at the bottom. This part of the run involved a really narrow chute and straight into the falls. Wicked - the best adrenaline rush.

We were back up to the top to run the whole thing in one go and crickey does your speed get up in those circumstances.

It was one stunning day; I certainly never expected to paddle anything like it.

And of course the scenery was magnificent, the weather was great and we all were hyper at the end.

Day 3 - The (unexpected) rest day

Shopping, hanging out and a bit of a car crash!

Nobody got injured and the car was towed back to London for a thorough checkup.

Day 4 Etive - Big Man Falls & Allt a' Chaorainn

We changed coaches today - Carl joined us and Mark went with the beginners.

Still no rain! We went to have a look at the Patack but it was too low so it was back to the Etive. Getting to the Etive means a drive through Glen Coe - what a hardship. Glen Coe is probably one of the most beautiful spots in Scotland.

Anyway - Big Man Falls is a 24 foot drop ! There is a little dog leg into it which all of us avoided apart from Dennis and Carl our coaches. We had a warm up on some smaller rapids above and then spent some time doing risk, safety, line. Then - well then we ran it - how scared...
... there was a certain amount of swimming - myself, Erik and Mattias. Mattias managed to end up river left - no the best place - he made it around the back of the curtain of the falls - no mean feat and out the other side - all good. Until he rolled over against the wall and that was that - he swam - much to his disgust. We pottered down some more rapids all suitably happy. Jonas was somewhat chuffed at this stage that his big brother had swam and he had not - so he took his eye off the ball and took a swim on a smaller rapid !

So that was that - but not quite the end of the day. We had a quick bite to eat and trekked up the hill to the Allt a' Chaorainn. This involved a variety of drops, slides and fun. The Chute was the start - just as it is named a very fast, tight drop with a tap of the paddle at the end to keep right - enjoyed by all and no swimming. Next up was Ecstasy - well that was its name - not quite my experience of it. I guess by this stage I was tired and full of adrenaline - suffice to say I took a swim that was no fun at all ... after a bit of time to breath i was back in my boat and safely down to the end . Derek took a technical swim in the pool below me and everyone else made it down ok.

Another stunning day with some serious rapids and falls paddled. Despite the lack of rain we were all pushed to our limits and learnt heaps. And to end the day off - it has started raining.

Day 5 - The Orchy

We tramped up to a tributary of the Orchy to start the day. I was a little nervous after my swim the day before and managed the first drop backwards. We then hit a few more rapids, all safe and fine and down to the Orchy proper. This part of the river was flat with some grade 3 and a stonking grade 4+. We started with Big Rock Rapid - Jonas led us down this rapid - all easy stuff and fun.

Next up was Chicken Shoot - which I chickened out of - the Boys, of course ran it - it would be fair to say that no one made their line - no one swam but there were a few rolls. Erik managed to pull his shoulder but all was fine. After that it was down to Sheep trolley gorge and lots of playing. Helen took a good bash to her thumb. The injuries were increasing. Matt was happy not to leave any of his head behind (unlike last year).

Day 6 - Allt Glenn A Chaolais

It was raining when we left home today - yippee! Our numbers were dwindling with Erik and Helen at home injured. Off we went for steeper creeking. The hike up was no mean feat - the views at the top were stunning. We started with a short drop and then were ready for the big one. This waterfall is apparently known as *** slap falls - if you don’t get you face tucked down and to the side the water can achieve its name! Oh what fun - this waterfall was big enough to give us time to think on the way down. Huge grins all around at the bottom and lots of adrenalin. This was the biggest fall we ran all week - I am not sure how high it was. The next part was a chunky s bend - Derek and I managed to go over near the end, but we both got up and finished fine. Derek had bashed his elbow fairly substantially and that was paddling done for him. The next section was a decent drop with a couple of boofs along the way. Nick, Matt and Jonas - who all had a fairly interesting time on the way down. This section was proper grade 5 and they were all pumping adrenaline by the time they got to the bottom.

The water was picking up all the time and the rest of what had been a nice grade 4 had turned into a seriously difficult grade 5. Carl showed us how to run a great drop of course made his line and was well happy. That left the last bit which Carl and Dennis ran - both of them had interesting moments and were grinning from ear to ear at the bottom.

So it was back to the Clachagaig Inn for another pint and venison burgers.

And that was that! Scotland - yet again I have had a wonderful week up here. I paddle water I never expected to, dropped off huge falls and lived to tell the tale. I have learnt heaps and am always reminded of how much there is to learn.

My thanks to my coaches for their constant patience, support, safety and positive approach to paddling. I highly recommend Kayakojacko.

My thanks to Helen, Derek, Mattias, Erik, Jonas and Nick for a great week - lots of laughs, lots of hugs, loads of piss take.... Roll on next year.

Collioure and the Great British Seal Hunt

TonyR — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 06:58:00 GMT

Sea Kayaking in the COLLIOURE area (French Catalunya) June 22-25, 2006

This invitation from Liz's French club in Lyon (the people who visited us in London last year) came up only at the last minute. There were only a couple of spaces/boats available, so apologies to others who would like to have attended. Here anyway, is a postcard from Collioure:

Stepping off the plane at Perpignan was like opening the oven door to see how the flapjack is coming along. We were greeted by that warm blast, so beloved of those that have olive oil flowing in their veins.

This triggers a panic re-assessment of kayak clothing. How do you dress when the water temperature is 20C and the air 30C. Bear in mind it still gets windy. Had we bought the right kit ? Would I look silly in my Reed drysuit ? Sillier than usual, I mean ?

We were here at the invitation at Liz's club, which is based in Lyon. This was evidently not Lyon. This was COLLIOURE, "St Tropez" of the Pyrénées Orientales, and northen limit of what is effectively the "French Costa Brava".

This is a lovely stretch of coastline, arrestingly beautiful - but frustratingly short. As you head south from the candyfloss beaches of Perpignan, Collioure is where the Pyrenean hills start to rise. The sand gives way to a series of rocky headlands, coves and sea caves, all washed in clear blue water. There are just 4 small towns before the border with SPAIN - towns which as a part-time 'Planet Thanet' person, I have mentally twinned with their Kent equivalents: COLLIOURE = Broadstairs, PORT VENDRES = Ramsgate, BANYULS = Margate, and CERBÈRE ... ? Well, Thanet only has 3 towns.

This trip was being organised by the "touring" section of the Lyon club, a group of amiable and fun-loving people who seem comfortable driving long distances in their club MINI-BUS/TRAILER combination. They had recently returned from CROATIA. That is a mere 17 hours drive each way - and a reminder of the big advantage of living in mainland Europe: the countries are all joined up ! You just get into the mini-bus and keep going. At 5 hours drive from Lyon, Collioure was a stroll in the woods.

This bus/trailer combo is something of a trump card. It is apparently held as a capital asset by the club and is effectively available "for rent" by club members doing trips. They pay fuel costs, plus some 30 centimes per km "amortissement". The simplicity of this arrangement undoubtedly gives them a head start when planning trips. The bus even has air-con.

A short train ride delivered us from the airport to Colliore station, where we were met. The Lyon contingent were 5 in number (Philippe, Didier, Josiane, Jean Christophe, and Muriel). They had arrived ahead of us and were already set up in the campsite, ready for an early evening swim/paddle. Then would come the serious business of the evening meal. This is France, remember, so food matters. But more of that later...

The Lyon folk seem to do all their trips CAMPING-BASED: once you have a club minibus and trailer, it's a small step to add a folding table, a set of chairs, a gas stove, 2 eskies, 2 large food storage chests - and so on. This means they can go just about anywhere and be self-sufficient. By 8pm on the night of arrival, we were spread around the dining table - and quite at leisure, as evening sunshine filtered through the trees.

It's a cliché to say that French people like their food. The approach to it here, though, was not fussy, prententious or flamboyant. It shows what can be done to make 'kayak refuelling' a pleasure - especially if you commit to doing it "en collectivité", as they do.

How they go about it is also interesting. A moment's thought tells you that if you're catering for up to 9 people with just a 2 burner Camping Gaz stove, you haven't got the surface area to fry or grill anything. You have to cook vertically ! Their main tool is a tall, industrial scale pressure cooker, which they use both as a giant kettle for tea & coffee (dispensing water into cups with a soup ladle) and also for preparing huge mixed salads. These salads are based on "boilable" ingredients - potatoes, rice, tabouleh, pasta, lentils, eggs... Since they come from Lyon, saucisson also plays a big part. It's a protein source that stores well in hot weather - and tastes great, provided you're not vegetarian ! Lastly, of course, even the simplest salad needs a dressing, in this case a lovely, mustard-rich vinaigrette. I cannot have been concentrating when we did vinaigrette in Domestic Science, because mine never tasted like this. The salad is of course just one dish. Insert this into the usual French running order - french bread, wine, Pastis, fromage, fresh fruit, yoghourt - and you emerge ready to take on the world. And the curious thing is: everything that was cooked was boiled !

Paddling in warm water and eating like this inevitably invites comparisons with British sea kayaking. Sorry, but I just can't help it. My experience of British sea kayaking is one of hardship and adversity: you launch under glowering skies into a freezing sea, paddle till you drop, then flop on to some dismal beach for a sandwich and a diet coke. British sea kayaking is a SEAL HUNT. We just haven't caught any seals lately.

So what was the paddling like ?

First surprise for me was that Lyon folk use PLASTIC boats with RUDDERS ! For British sea kayakers, the rudder is a forbidden indulgence. I forget why this is for the moment, but I know it has something to do with seal hunting. Once you've hunted your seal, you need to drape the carcass over the rear deck - and the rudder must get in the way ! For good measure, the rudder also impedes rescues, and makes rolling the boat harder. "Ah, but the rudder is great for surfing", Philippe points out.

And why PLASTIC ? This is partly an economy measure - but that's not the only reason. The Lyon folk use these boats for "crossover" activities, such as the recent descent of the ALLIER. This is a regular "Xbox" river, with real rapids and drops - yet they did it in sea kayaks ! Would you risk your gelcoat in a river descent ?

The Lyon folk do seem to come up with interesting trip ideas. Another recent example was the "Raid Littoral", a crossing of the Rhone Delta, with some big waves, winds and currents (and hoardes of aggressive Flamingoes ? After all, this basically the Carmargue).

So what was the paddling like ?

Well - on FRIDAY, we drove the bus/trailer South to BANYULS and paddled from there to SPAIN and back. We knew we were in Spain, because navigator Philippe identified a particularly Spanish-looking rock. We ventured a "hola!" at a passing boat, and got a "bonjour" in return. Inconclusive, you may think, but my paddling log records that this was an "international crossing".

On SATURDAY we did the Northern half of the coast from COLLIOURE to BANYULS and back, starting and finishing at the campsite beach. In the evening - and for the very first time - we ate out in a waterfront restaurant in Collioure. This felt strange after the self-catering.

And that, dear reader, is that. For 2 whole days, we paddled just for the pleasure of it. We paddled reasonable distances. We paddled through water that was clear and warm. We paddled through every rock pool and into every sea cave. We landed for lunch on some fine beaches, and spent several hours swimming, eating and relaxing.

And after 2 days of this, dear reader, I began to worry. With sufficient exposure to these corrupting influences, might one be seduced into abandonning the Great British Seal Hunt forever ?

A final acknowledgement to the Lyon folk, whom we thank warmly for their invitation. This is how they made the vinaigrette:

   Blend 1 part Vinegar with 1 part Dijon mustard in a large Croatian jamjar.
   Add 4 parts olive oil.
   Shake vigourously

2 day sea kayak trip in Dorset

nickJ — Mon, 03 Jul 2006 11:57:00 GMT

WEYMOUTH TO WAREHAM 16 & 17 JUNE 2006

Nick Jacobs (Romany), Tony Roberts (Viking), Sean Foo (Romany), Matt Wall (Explorer), Julien Grouteau (Aquanaut)

This was Tony’s and my third attempt to paddle this magnificent stretch of Dorset’s (Jurassic) coast (previously with David & Mike); gale force winds postponed the first in May 2005, in September circumstances beyond our control stopped the second, half way through. This one, with a huge dollop of jam, fell in to place.

Trip timing depended mainly on tidal flow; we wanted it from west to east for the best chance of having tide and wind behind us. Paddling east also allowed us to pass three tide races and twelve km of cliffs (with no landing) at the start of the day when we were fresh, instead of at the end.

Also crucial was the absence of live firing on the Lulworth artillery range!

As ever the details of trip planning took a huge amount of time…even though we’d planned this one twice before.

In brief our plan was:

Thursday Drive to Weymouth, reconnoitre, camp the night.

Friday Leave cars at campsite, paddle from Weymouth to Chapman’s Pool & camp.

Saturday Paddle from Chapman’s Pool to Wareham & camp.

Sunday Drivers take train to Weymouth & return with cars to collect others.

Thursday 15 June

We’d found a handy campsite (http://www.pebblebank.co.uk) close to Weymouth and the Fleet, the long and narrow strip of brackish water behind Chesil Beach.

Tony and I arrived early Thursday evening to check a possible launch site and the connection between the Fleet and Portland Harbour. The proposed launch site had steep, narrow access and no beach but one field away we found Pirate’s Cove, a sandy bay at the end of a rough farm track; perfect.

Chesil Beach was strewn with fishermen’s huts, their moored boats making us confident of the connection to the harbour. At ten o’clock we snuggled in to sleeping bags and slept, until Julien and his crew arrived just before midnight.

Friday 16 June

Weymouth to Chapman’s Pool 32.5 km (20.3 M)

Up at 05:00hrs. Breakfast. Everything wet with dew. The general forecast was excellent but the shipping forecast predicted winds force 3-4 (further out than we’d be?). We did a final sort, of gear to take and gear to leave, then drove to the beach and packed the boats. The cars then parked back at the campsite and Tony and Julien returned to the beach via a footpath shortcut. The day was already hot. By 08:15 we were away, rippling the Fleet’s flawless mirror, pausing only to remove gravel from a jammed skeg.

As anticipated and against a gently flooding tide we paddled 1.5 km then straight into Portland Harbour. It’s more than 3.5 km across and not long ago housed nuclear submarines. At its northerly exit we set a compass bearing for an open crossing of 10km to Bat’s Head, which because of the haze we couldn’t identify clearly. Bat’s Head is a spectacular blade-like buttress of chalk, over 30m high with a hole 3m wide at its base through which you can paddle. So when we got there we did.

The beach beyond was empty, the sea absolutely clear and the rich seaweed gardens full of spider crabs. After two hours paddling it was a natural place to take a break and have a dip.

As you travel this coast it continues to charm; there are sea birds and marine life, caves and arches, a sequence of different rocks and some stupendous geological formations. Although the sea conditions offered no excitement we were content just to gawp at the scenery while we could. As you go you can tick off the distinctive landmarks: Durdle Door, Lulworth Cove and the steeply tilted plane of Worbarrow where we watched a peregrine falcon hunting along the cliffs. Just before Lulworth Cove is a narrow channel and several twisty caves leading to the hidden pool of Stair Hole. A feature of this first day’s paddle is that all day you can see Portland Bill where you’ve come from, and St Aldhelm’s Head where you’re going. We paddled for another two hours then lunched at Kimmeridge with most of the day’s journey done.. Kimmeridge has a wide public slipway, water, toilets, car parking and a small marine centre with displays of local sea-life. If only there were somewhere to camp…

After a long lunch under a battering sun we continued, arriving at Chapman’s Pool mid-afternoon. There were three yachts moored in the bay, a handful of people round the beach and coast walkers skirting the cliff tops. Tony’s recently purchased carrying straps let four of us carry each loaded boat up the beach without strain, and later to carry the unloaded boats over rocks and slippery shale to put them safely above the tide line. We resisted moving boats or making camp until early evening, wanting to attract as little attention as possible on private land, although we spread soggy items to dry. I felt queasy and had a nasty headache, but whether from dehydration, too much sun or lunch I didn’t know. Water, Anadin and two hours sleep in the shade sorted me out. When I woke we moved the boats and pitched the three tents on a rare level terrace 6m above the sea and away from the cliffs, which are prone to crumble and slump. I boiled a big pan of water for drinks, then boiled some more and we all sat around, content just to sit without paddling.

Supper was easy: 500ml of home made tomato sauce, 3 tins of tuna and 1kg of pasta. The second batch of pasta was much improved by cooking in 1/3 sea water and Julien produced a bottle of wine from the Aquanaut’s secret cellar. We lit a fire in a well used ring of stones and in the embers Julien cooked a dessert of chocolate banana splits wrapped in foil. In September the stars had been brilliant in an impressively black sky, but now, near mid summer all was pale. We crawled in to our tents and slept.

Saturday 17 June

Chapman’s Pool to Wareham 35 Km (22 M)

Up at 06:00hrs by which time it was clearly going to be another stunning day. We rounded St Aldhelm’s Head with no sign of the tide race and paddled for an hour against the last of the ebb. Visibility was initially less than 2 km with the heavy haze. Again there was fabulous scenery; high cliffs of honey and grey rock, fissured into rectangular blocks, with gently shelving wave-cut platforms. Landing would have been easy in such calm conditions and we couldn’t resist poking into every cave, where the air was cool and the sea rose and fell, a beast asleep. This stone was quarried extensively and the many man made caves were cut square. We spotted some perched 20m above the sea, just below the cliff top, like a row of vacant double-fronted shops with grassy terraces in front and each roof supported by a spindly column of blocks. Elsewhere narrow ledges were crowded with dapper brown and white guillimots that mumbled and cooed comically as though discussing us as we passed. It was only 9:30 but a lad swam out of a sea cave holding a spider crab to add to a couple he already had on the rocks and here and there were people trailing ropes along the base of the cliffs. The now slanting ropes of a row of fishermen’s buoys showed us the tidal stream had turned easterly but it wasn’t until Durlston Head, where the surface rolled and boiled that we felt it kick in. We paddled out from shore to stay in the flow avoiding a big eddy and in ten minutes were 2.3 km further east at Peveril Point. This marks the western end of Swanage Bay, projecting into the sea as two parallel ledges that create a race and overfall. Time for a tea break. We paddled down through a series of mild waves before turning back to land in a sheltered channel between a low concrete groin (sewage outfall?) and a line of rocks close beneath the Coastwatch station. We anticipated more fun when the race had increased with the flooding tide. Forty minutes later we set out again. The sea was flat (charts show the race active on the ebb – maybe they’re right!).

Swanage? Ice cream and jet-skis. We stayed out to sea, heading for the white spikes of Old Harry, a clutch of sea stacks at the end of 100m high chalk cliffs with dramatic buttresses, caves and arches and beaches of big white boulders. The boat traffic increased; pleasure cruisers, speed boats, yachts and ribs. The increasing traffic hadn’t prepared us for what lay round the corner. Mayhem. I apologise to any sailors I may have overlooked but there were boats being ‘driven’ everywhere; buy a boat, fill it with fuel, drive it fast. At least the intersecting wakes livened up the sea of Studland Bay’s 4 km and its otherwise rather bland sandy beach and dunes. Sandbanks chain ferry pulled away as we approached, allowing us unobstructed entry to the enclosed but extensive waters of Poole Harbour. Mike O’Reilly recommends it as relatively safe but big enough to get interestingly lumpy. It’s pretty too, with numerous islands, the glitzy sprawl of Poole to the north and the wild heath and woodland of Arne nature reserve to the south. Perversely in the relatively sheltered harbour we had our only surfing. Though very gentle it was a refreshing diversion that nearly led me under the bows of a big yacht.

2.5 Km in to the harbour we stopped for lunch on Brownsea Island. The water was estuarine and the beaches littered with cockle shells and bladder wrack. When we continued Tony and I referred to the notes of bearings and distances we’d made for the 10 km of the harbour, partly for practice but also because large areas of shallow water can be alarmingly featureless and the map offered few landmarks. In the event we could simply have followed the constant stream of boats going to and from Wareham. The tide was still rising, so without fear of stranding we cut across muddy shallows while mono-skis ripped up the navigation channel. The land gradually closed in, the final stage of transition from open sea to harbour to creek to river. We entered the river Frome and for the last 3km our world was a corridor seven metres wide between high reed walls. Boats still passed each way, appearing round bends without warning.

The dense reed beds were full of invisible, chattering warblers. I felt a strange sense of anticlimax when the concrete slipway of Redcliffe Farm finally appeared. The owner was expecting us and we were clearly something of a novelty. He directed us through the settlement of boat-owning canvas bungalows and immobile homes to the camping field. We took a look. It was uphill, 250m from the water. It was on a slope. We went back, explained the problem and asked whether we might camp on a small level patch that was closer.

“I thought you were all fit young men?” he jibed.

“We were this morning…” I admitted.

He then agreed to us occupying a flatter, closer pitch and lent us his battered pick-up to shift the small hill of kit that our five sea kayaks disgorged.

So we’d done the trip. Two extraordinary days of sunny, flat calm offering a rare opportunity to view some of the country’s best coastline at our leisure. It was not the adventure we’d expected, but I guess adventures are not about the expected. Tide races and rough water still lie somewhere ahead.

Photos by TonyR

2005 December - Paddling the River Dart

Mattias Altin — Mon, 12 Dec 2005 12:44:00 GMT

By Sam Brown, December 2005

Paddlers: Mattias, Yolanda, Eric, Sam and John.

I had to eat my words as we ‘comfortably’ loaded Matt and Yolanda’s hatchback with 3 boats, 5 paddles, 5 people and all our assorted winter paddling kit.. A mere 7 hours later Matt found some people drunk enough to give us the Dart country park gate access code, then woke up the unlucky duty instructor so we didn’t all have to sleep in the car.

The next day dawned cold but bright so after a suitably hearty (and greasy) breakfast we met up with our instructor James. After the usual faffing about with gear etc we were on the water with strict instructions not to fall in because it was too bloody cold!

John was the first one to ignore these instructions, tipping over within the first hour, luckily he avoided a swim but by the end of the day myself, Eric and John (for a second time) were all more intimate with the bottom of the river.

We started at the bottom of the Dart Loop and paddled the Lower Dart to Ashburton. The water level was low so there were some fairly rocky sections, but it was a very forgiving river for a bunch of white water novices (with the exception of Matt who was ‘blooded’ in Scotland). James (our instructor) spent a lot of time going through the basics — breaking in and out, edging and ferry gliding. After paddling for about 4 hours we headed back to get warm and assess the day over a few beers. After dinner we were treated to a video evening of paddling expeditions to various points on the globe including Pakistan, Canada and France. Some of the trips went to truly impressive lengths to paddle a section of river.

The following morning, following another helping of grease we got ready for our role as guinea pigs for a Level 3 coaching exam. We were paddling the same section of river as the day before, only even more carefully! Unfortunately for the second candidate the ‘rock hugging in rapids’ exercise didn’t go so well and the assessors had to step in as John was ‘mooning’ one rock, while Eric’s brief brush with another had him valiantly attempting to roll further down stream (he got there eventually). We continued down the river in a slightly more orderly fashion so as not to completely ruin the candidates’ chances. All was going well till a section towards the end when some lazy edging ended with John swimming again and Matt and Eric both getting wet. Yolanda earned bragging rights for the weekend being the only one not to get unintentionally wet and john is now looking to invest in a Cag that doesn’t so closely resemble a tea bag.

It was a really enjoyable weekend and provided a good foundation for tackling more challenging rivers.

You can view the rest of the pictures from the trip here.

2005 July - Calshot and the Isle of Wight

Mattias Altin — Fri, 29 Jul 2005 17:17:00 GMT

By Dudley on July 29, 2005.

Near Southampton, on the Solent overlooking the Isle of Wight, is the Calshot Activities Centre. Mike O’ had the excellent idea of arranging for a group of club members to do a “Sea Kayaking Skills” weekend there, so on Friday 15th July we were arriving (at various times throughout the day) at Calshot Spit.

For anyone who doesn’t know this location, it is really quite impressive, with the Reception area being in an old aircraft hanger, (also housing an indoor climbing wall and cycling velodrome), which has loads of history as an early home of seaplanes/flying boats.

The sleeping accommodation for the Centre includes old coastguards’ cottages, right next to the beach, so you go to sleep listening to the waves lapping on the shore.

Before getting to this point, however, some of us there earlier in the evening were lucky enough to be able to share an impromptu barbecue on the beach, very quickly and efficiently arranged by Louise and Sean.

The next day, after a full cooked breakfast in the communal dining room, we gathered at 9.00 am on Saturday morning for a briefing from Simon, our instructor from the Centre. We were a good-sized group, consisting of Alison, John, Lars, Louise, Luke, Mishi, Sean and myself. In addition to the main group, Mike and Tony (as experienced sea kayakers) were there paddling “independently”.

When we go out on the River Thames on a Tuesday evening using sea kayaks, usually most people’s hatches are empty. Not this time, on the Solent! For a day trip on the sea we needed more equipment, including a change of clothes, spare “split” paddles, tow lines, pump, first aid kit, boat repair kit, a combined day/night flare, a helmet (strapped to the deck, to be put on in case of having to land in surf) and of course, lunch.

Before setting off, we also got a chart of the area and a compass, both being fixed under the deck lines on the kayak for use while paddling. During the weekend, Simon showed us how to use the chart and compass to plan and make trips by kayak on the sea, including, for example, how to allow for the tide when deciding what course to steer on a compass bearing.

Our itinerary for the first day was to paddle along the coast to the Beaulieu River, to paddle up the River to Bucklers Hard, have lunch and then paddle back again to Calshot, taking advantage of favourable tides as much as possible - and that’s what we did.

Buckler’s Hard is interesting for the fact that some of Nelson’s fleet (used at Trafalgar) were built there.

The Solent is well-known for its various underwater obstacles and we were able to take advantage of one on the way towards the River, by grounding our kayaks across a sandbank and getting out to stretch our legs while watching the waves breaking towards us from two different directions at the same time.

The return journey to Calshot in the afternoon was fairly lively, with a Force 4 wind and a following sea giving some good waves, which could be caught and surfed, to save on paddling effort.

Nevertheless, this was a tiring day, as we paddled for about three hours on the way out and the same on the way back (including a few stops to regroup etc).

Over the weekend, between us we saw quite a bit of wildlife, including jellyfish, swans with cygnets, a tern diving for fish, fish leaping put of the water and an unidentified stoat-like creature running across the grass at Buckler’s Hard.

On Sunday we put all the boats on a trailer behind a minibus and drove a short way along the coast to Lepe, where we parked and put-in for a paddle across to Newtown on the Isle of Wight.

We used fixed buoys (marked on the chart) as way-points to aim for, setting a course to steer to them, having allowed for the tide. The distance across is about 5 nautical miles and the paddle took us about an hour and a quarter, so we obviously had some help from the tide, as Simon reckoned on a paddling rate of about 3 knots (if unassisted)!

We were very lucky with the weather, as the sun shone all weekend, but this did contribute to the Solent being very busy, with yachts and other vessels of every shape and size going in all directions. It was therefore quite reassuring that we were accompanied for the crossing by a large powerboat from the Calshot Centre, whose driver had the job of making sure any larger vessels knew we were there, down at water-level.

After lunch and a swim on the beach at Newtown, we took a short paddle up the Newtown River, before the return crossing back to Lepe.

We then practised rolling and various rescues – not so easy in a loaded sea kayak - before getting out and driving back to Calshot.

All of us taking part are at least BCU 3 Star level, so already knew the “general” kayaking aspects, but the instruction and information provided by Simon was still very worthwhile, adding to our knowledge and experience of features relating to sea kayaks and travelling on the sea.

We had a fantastic, very enjoyable weekend – if anyone gets the chance to do anything similar in future, I would highly recommend it.

Thanks very much to Simon, our instructor, for looking after us and to Mike, for organising the trip.

Dudley

2005 July - Canoeing and Camping in the Outer Hebrides

Mattias Altin — Fri, 08 Jul 2005 17:10:00 GMT

By Nick Hodson, Friday 8th July 2005

The original plan `A' was for me to give up canoeing during my summer holidays on Barra, to book a room in a hotel, and then spend a couple of weeks preparing a few more books to put onto my literary website.

Last year I had Liz Sheridan stay here for a week, followed by a week with Charlie Skrine, and we had a fortnight of lovely weather and good canoeing. This year I changed my plan `A' because Liz decided she would like to come and have a week with me. But she had a family funeral on the day I was to leave, plus she had some academic matter to deal with in Newcastle, which is near the Scottish Border, so she could fit it in on her way north.

Thursday 30th June. Anyway, she turned up in Barra the day after I did, and I sounded out with her my plan `C' for our week together. My first new plan, `B', had been to take her canoeing and camping in the maze of small islands to the north-east of Barra, specifically to what we call "The Blue Lagoon", a hidden and very beautiful area between the islands of Hellisay and Gighay.

But during the morning of the day she arrived a new idea hit me. There is now a car ferry running directly from the north end of Barra to the island of Eriskay, the island on which Bonny Prince Charlie landed to start his campaign for the Throne, way back in the eighteenth century. And Eriskay is now joined to South Uist by a long causeway. So it would be feasible to load the car with what we needed, and drive with it via ferry and causeway to Uist, then to find somewhere on Uist to base ourselves, and explore the many small islands off the Uist east coast. As soon as she heard this plan Liz jumped at it.

There had been heavy storms during the winter, with sustained winds of over 130 mph, and the shed in which my canoeing gear is kept had been washed off its pedestal, which is a metre above the normal highest water level. We managed to get into it, and to extract the boats we needed, but their hatch covers had disappeared. We managed to track these down lying inside someone's van, and we stole them from it, having already told his wife that we planned to raid his van. We booked our places on the ferry, which I was shocked to learn would be at a cost of 53 pounds.

Friday 1st July. So early Friday we were all loaded up, and drove up to the north end of Barra, via a pub lunch at the Heathbank, to take our places in the queue for the ferry. It was then a question of finding somewhere suitable to base ourselves. The weather was fine, so we could take our time, we thought. The main road through South Uist is about as boring as any road in Britain, with featureless crofting land on both sides of it. But there were many turn-offs to the left, which led down to the Atlantic coast, and a few to the right.

The first of these right turns led down to nothing very promising. The second was labelled "To Loch Sgioport" and led past a large fresh-water loch that was set aside as a bird reserve. We followed the road and eventually came to a zig-zag unmade road that led down to an old disused jetty. But what a beautiful place it was. Immediately we decided to make it our base, and to put our tents up.

Not long after, we saw a rubber dinghy make its way to the old jetty, from a yacht. The people were in search of a place where their mobile would work. They had just heard the shipping forecast. Gale force 8 and 9 gusting to 10, imminent, and due to last for several days. They wanted to warn their relatives on the mainland that they would be delayed several days. We looked at the sunset sky. What utter nonsense we cried! It's a lovely sky. Liz went for a short paddle, about an hour and a half up to the head of the sea-loch, and back, and thoroughly enjoyed herself, except that on the outward leg she was paddling right into the bright evening sun (sunset about ten-twenty), and had to keep her eyes closed for much of the time.

Saturday 2nd. During the night it all came to happen. There was something that never happens: a deep depression stationary over Rockall, and due eventually to head off north. Torrential rain, as well as the wind. We had found a nice place in which to cook, a natural kitchen formed by the rocks, so we had breakfast, but that was the last meal we made there, as we made a windbreak area between the car and the tents, and always used that, with the disadvantage for my lack of mobility that it was on the ground.

We were not happy with the quality of the water that we had brought from the standpipe near my canoe shed, as it seemed very murky. The wind didn't seem so strong towards midday so we decided to leave the tents and drive back to the main road, and find a pub, have lunch in it, and refill our water bottles there. This worked well, and we found the Orasay Inn, about ten miles away by road, but only in fact about two miles as the crow flies. We had a nice lunch and a pint of heavy, enlivened by the fact that it was the first day at work for the very beautiful Bulgarian barmaid. She didn't understand such basic words as "beer", "heavy", "pint" and so forth. Nor did she know how to get the beer from the barrel into the glass. Luckily the cook came to the bar and things went easier after that. And then at one stage the Bulgarian sneaked up on me and removed my plate, my lunch half-eaten, my knife and fork not at all in the "finished" position, and my mouth full. I soon put a stop to that, explaining that British people always put their knife and fork side by side when they have finished. "I know," she said, which I thought a bit odd.

On our return we found that things had gone badly at our campsite. My tent, which had double pegging, and on which I had put extra guys made out of the ropes we tie the boats to the car with, had survived perfectly. But Liz's tent was down, as one of her poles had broken, and had made some holes in the fabric. Luckily I had a spare tent she could use, and we pitched it in a better place.

No canoeing that afternoon, as there were some very strong down-draughts from the surrounding hills, which would have made kayaking difficult, with the paddles being knocked out of our hands, or worse.

Things got steadily worse through the evening, and we sat together in the car till one o'clock, just after the shipping forecast, which seemed just as gloomy, if not more so, than it had twenty-four hours previously. Then I decided to go and die in the tent, as I would be more comfortable dying there, than in the car. It certainly was a rough old night.

Sunday 3rd. But by breakfast time things were just a little better. After breakfast Liz went for a long walk in the surrounding hills, despite at times scarcely being able to stand up because of the wind, and the gusts.

We had lunch and then later in the afternoon it appeared that we would be able to take our kayaks out for a nice paddle. As before there were these down-draughts, but we had the wind behind us in our outward direction (not usually a good idea) and then on the return leg there are a few tricks that old dogs like myself can employ to cheat the wind. So we got back, had a can of beer each, and cooked a nice nourishing dinner.

Monday 4th. Next day it was all much better, though a little windy at first. We put our boats in the water, having prepared a little collation for lunch, to take with us. First we visited the yachtsmen we had seen on the Friday evening, and had a ten minute chat to them, and then we headed out towards the mouth of the sea-loch, to where we had noticed from our camp-site, a narrow channel leading to a large lagoon. We paddled all round this lagoon, finding at one place the rocks festooned with large succulent looking mussels, collecting a couple of dozen of the best for dinner that night. We then found a lovely sunny corner out of the wind, where we landed and had our lunch. Afterwards I dozed off, to awake finding that I had slid down off the rock "armchair" I had been sitting on, and that I was lying with all my weight on my tail-bone. I won't say any more about it but it was most painful thereafter, and still is, as I write.

That lovely lagoon led on to another similar one, but a little smaller, and that in turn led back into the main sea-loch, Sgioport, so we made our way back by degrees on the opposite side of the loch.

In the evening some kind people who were fishing from the old jetty for mackerel, gave us a couple for our dinner, and these were well appreciated, and very filling. After that we settled down to cook our mussels, and eat them shell-in-shell, in the time-honoured fashion. It was a lovely evening meal, a beer to start with, those mackerel with some cous-cous, and the cockles. We went to bed very happy and very replete.

This might be the place to mention the bird and mammal life that enlivened our stay. Of course oyster-catchers, several gull species, and terns. We'd see plenty of eider-duck when we were away paddling. There was a thrush nesting near our camp, and when he/she had got a beak full of nice worms they would be taken back to the nest, and you could hear the fledgelings crying out for their share. There were also some very busy wrens right near the shore line. At one stage we saw a golden eagle, and several times a buzzard, on one of which appearances he was being mobbed by gulls. There was a raven with a wonderfully loud croak. There was the occasional seal in the sea-loch just below us, and one evening we watched an otter very busy there, just at sunset. On the way home we were astonished to see an owl perched on the fence by the road. Curiously we never saw curlew, though we did see or at least hear corncrake.

Tuesday 5th. We had hoped to get onto the 10:10 ferry back to Barra, but would have needed to start packing half an hour earlier than we actually did. In other words we missed it by half-an-hour. But that gave us an opportunity to go for a coffee and biscuits to "The Politician", which was named after the ship that sank off Eriskay during the war, loaded with a cargo of whisky and bank notes. In fact she went down more or less where the Eriskay-Uist causeway now is. Compton Mackenzie wrote the famous book "Whisky Galore" based on the event. I forgot to say earlier that the winter storms had done some severe damage to the causeway, which has not yet been repaired, and the carriageway is in several places quite badly broken up. But they have at least got round to coning these places off, even if they will be several months more psyching themselves up to actually repairing them.

When we finally got back to Barra, about 1 p.m. we went for a pint of heavy to "The Heathbank", and thereafter made our way out to a suitable place on the Bruarnish peninsular to launch for a three-hour paddle out to the tiny entrance between Gighay and Hellisay, to the Blue Lagoon. What a beautiful spot! We passed through the lagoon, during which Liz engaged some sheep that were occupying a rocky islet, in conversation. I don't know what they said, but it was possibly a request that she would take them to either of the larger islands that enclose the lagoon

The wind was getting up, for the return journey, but we made it safely, and once again the boats were loaded on the car, and we made our way back to the Isle of Barra Hotel, with its superb position overlooking the Atlantic on the west side of the island. Liz chose the most enormous steak for dinner, and I don't blame her.

Wednesday 6th. Liz had booked on a ferry leaving at 7 a.m., which for me meant jumping out of bed at six, getting her and all her bits and pieces into the car, then away off to the ferry. We were there in plenty of time, the only thing marring it being that it decided to rain just as we were fondly saying good-bye. There was a beautiful rainbow, so we switched from farewells to photography. Little did she know what was to happen the following day. She returned to London by train from the ferry-port at Oban, and presumably turned up for work the following day. She is a doctor working mostly at the London Hospital in Whitechapel. Despite not being a specialist in trauma, I have no doubt that she was working hard in the hospital that Thursday, as so many of the injured were being taken there.

After breakfast I put the boats away, did a few things in the town, then back to celebrate the winning of the 2012 Olympic bid and have lunch, spending the afternoon down at Loch St. Clair, watching the youngsters of the island being trained in windsurfing.

And how I did sleep that night, after all our adventures.

Best wishes to all readers, Nick, Friday 8th July 2005