Dover 17 May 2008
Ailien, Nick, David, Pete,
Martin, Steve.
This time we managed to
paddle the same distance in 5 minutes as Ailien, Chris and I had paddled in 80
minutes on our reconnaissance a month before. On the reconnaissance we’d judged the south westerly to be a
high force 4 (south westerly) and had launched at the bottom of the stepped
shingle beach into a lively sea and the teeth of the wind. In forty minutes we had almost reached
the end of the beach where the cliff starts. The last bit took us another twenty minutes (one hour so
far) and then for a further twenty we just held station by the end of the cliff
(well we’d come to paddle so we were paddling) before admitting we were not
going anywhere. All this time the
wind had been getting stronger and there were more dumping waves so we chose
our landing carefully and waited until a bigger than usual set had crashed
in. That was it. We phoned the harbour master to check
the actual wind speed. He said
that at 1200 (when we launched) it had been 31 knots (F7) and at 1600 it was 41
knots (F9); it was impossible to reconcile these figures with our experience so
I guess the truth lay somewhere in between. Our tide planning had been based on my reading of Reed’s
Almanac, which gave the beginning of the ebb as High Water Dover –1.5hr. Subsequent checks revealed two
different sources that gave it as HW Dover –2.5 hrs, which explained why we
came to a complete halt…the tide had changed an hour before we’d expected it
to.
Despite the short trip and
the long carry back along the beach we rated the reconnaissance a great
success; apart from the spectacularly fine day (sun, blue sky and ridiculous
wind and sea) and beautiful scenery (white cliffs, green sea) we’d found a
great place to launch, paddled safely in challenging conditions, uncovered a
major flaw in our tidal information and had gone on later to find a gem of a
campsite.
So, our latest trip: The plan had been modest; to paddle
west from Dover to Mill Point (a mile beyond Folkestone) with the tide and then
to paddle back two miles east (against tide, hopefully with the wind) to a
place where we’d have left a car, only about 10NM in all.
The forecast was for strong
north easterly winds (F5-6, rising to F7 later) but again it seemed more gentle
than that, almost disappointingly so.
The sky was grey. We
launched at quarter to three, ahead of plan, and made six knots at first,
subsequently slowing to a little over 3 knots as people rock hopped, explored
the coast and mucked about. As you
do. We hadn’t been prepared for
the extensive rock gardens that separated and protected the shingle beaches at
the foot of the cliffs. We’d
brought helmets but finally most of us had left them in the car, not thinking the
conditions warranted them.
At Samphire Hoe (promontory built with spoil from the channel tunnel) we
encountered a sea confused by reflections from the vertical steel sea wall, for
some this was the pits, for others more fun.
A mile from Folkestone
harbour breakwater we came to Copt Point whose low rocky outcrop continues out
to sea causing breaking waves…surf!
Before you could shout ‘Aled Williams’ half the group had paddled out
and were catching steep waves.
Definitely a venue we should get to know better and certainly one where
helmets would make sense. Pete
gave us all a thrill when he went vertical, cart wheel? Capsize? Nah. Just a
pop-out thingy. We continued
towards the breakwater and in the current and stronger wind decided to try
paddling back the other way before committing ourselves to passing it and
possibly being unable to return against tide and wind (sound familiar?). It was already fairly tough but the
wind looked like strengthening and the tide was still not at peak flow. That was it, we were done; we made our
way back to our planned landing.
Two hundred metres from our finish I’d paddled to the beach to speak to
a couple of policemen/coastguard(?) whose lurid Range Rover was parked very
visibly as they gazed out to sea…I thought some nervous sea watcher might have
reported canoeists in difficulties.
‘Are you here on account of us?’ I asked, ‘Not unless you’re the Royal
Navy bomb disposal team’. Relieved
I left them to their unexploded device and we paddled back to our prearranged
landing spot at the Warren for a last pint in the Shadwell Arms (tea in group
shelter). The wind at the end
seemed to be about F6.
Greater familiarity with the
area and better planning would have enabled a longer trip despite the
conditions, but for a first trip this wasn’t bad.
This bit of coast has lots
to offer and is only 70 miles from London, but as much of the coast is rocky
with cliffs and limited beach, landing could be hazardous and very serious
under certain conditions.
Watch this space!
Will add photos if anyone sends me some!