Lizards and Pigs

Day 6 Lamorna to Porthoustock – 26th May – 24.6 nm

An early start from Lamorna, with an aim to get across to the Lizard before the tide picked up too much, anything for an easy life. This meant working across Mount’s Bay against the tide, but I didn't expect too much going on there anyway. The sky was blue and conditions in the bay looked smooth, perhaps I would finally get a little sunshine at last. Two bikini clad girls made an early morning foray into the water as I left, their shrieks accompanying me out of the bay - a prettier send off than the one on Day 1 I thought. I was tempted to head back and make sure I hadn't forgotten anything on the sand.


The forecast wind was WNW, but it was a steady offshore N wind instead, no dramas, just a little chop in the sunshine. The swell started to reach into the bay as I neared the Lizard, but as the flow picked up nearer the point this smoothed things out a little.


I could see a mad woman standing amongst the crowds on the cliffs, waving furiously out to sea. I pulled down my hat, paddled a wider line and pretended I didn’t know her. The rocks were dodged easily and the Lizard slid by, I was grateful to have the offshore wind and a gap in the swell.


The wind strengthened as I headed towards Black Head, and as I turned north I wasn't so grateful for the off shore wind any more. It was a splashy slog, inshore of the Manacles, towards Porthoustock. It was a bit of a ‘Geography Day’ in that useful get outs were now limited and further into-wind miles today didn't translate into useful distance for tomorrow. To be frank, I was knackered too, so Porthoustock looked good to me.



We drove into the Cornish hinterlands to find a camping spot. The afternoon was spent on a slightly eccentric site; I dried my kit in the windy sunshine and dozed off  to the sound of piggies snoring...



Later I sorted my kit, did the plan and got everything ready for another early start, pulling the boil-in-the bag out of the box it looked like it was Bacon and Beans for breakfast, strange...





Land's End

Day 5 St.Ives to Lamorna – 25th May – 23.1 nm

I was nervous about Land’s End.

Some spots have a reputation, but with a little thought and some good planning these reputations are often something of an anti-climax.  Unfortunately today’s planning was not so good, I had messed up and we were late. The in-van team vibe was suffering accordingly, the stress levels started to rise.


Wheeling the boat along the back streets of St. Ives, dodging the oblivious holiday throng was testing enough. Then I got lost. The steam was coming out of my ears when I finally reached the beach.

But as I put my deck on and slid off the sand, calm descended. Back in the office now – time to get on with the job.

Pendeen Head came and went with my first fruity, don’t take it for granted, tide-race.


Cape Cornwall brought a smile as I continued south. I remember it being my first landmark heading north once again on the 2012 trip. Then rain and drizzle approached where Sennen should have and Longships Lighthouse loomed out of the gloom. Land’s End slid by, nicely.


But then the tide-race at Gwennap Head made itself known. Flows met and the water was confused, chaotic - the swell didn't help. Time to get sneaky; I headed out, chasing shoulders and looking for gaps. It was challenging for a while as I surfed back through the smoother bits and headed in wuss-mode into the eddy. Sod the flow, I was happy to slog it out to a later finish for a little peace and quiet – geography dictated that it shouldn't be a long day anyway.


The peaceful haven of Lamorna was a pleasant end to the day; it would give me a good jump off point to cross Mount’s Bay the next day.


First corner done.

More Milk Bottle


Day 3 Crackington Haven to Mawgan Porth -- 23rd May – 24.8 nm  / Day 4 Mawgan Porth to St.Ives – 23.6 nm

The Devon coastline had slid by in the mist; it seemed like Cornwall could go that way too. I was disappointed.  3 days in and I’d seen little more than the base of a cliff now and then, I felt a little cheated, I probably wouldn't paddle this stretch again and all I’d got to see was the inside of the milk bottle. Bum. 

Though a Bank Holiday weekend, fog-locked, surf landing at Mawgan Porth brought a lively end to the day. Flags? What flags? Oh those, I’m colour blind you see...



Day 4 

Heading south along Cornwall Land, I saw a small fishing boat loom out of the mist. The driver was out of Padstow and a touch non-plussed to find me off-shore in the mist. I got a brief lecture on the foolhardiness of my exploits before he told me that he’d now have to go to the trouble of radioing everybody this side of Moscow, just  so I wouldn't get run over in the gloom. And then I probably would anyway. Yeah, and a good morning to you too...

But suddenly as I bimbled pass Padstow the sun came out, a little visual stimulation was very welcome as I took in the pleasant scenery around Trevose Head. It was nice to once again see where I was going to, as well as wenting from.


Moving down the coast, Newquay came and went, as it does.

And then the Music Festival kicked off, I was 3 miles off shore and I could feel the boat vibrate – impressive. The music followed me down the coast; I could still hear it 7 miles later – still impressive.

Finally Day 4 slid to a gentle stop on the pleasant beach at St. Ives, though the Bank Holiday car parking arrangements in the crowded little town were a little less relaxed.


Land’s End looms.


On a Hiding to Nothing


Somehow people always expect records to be broken; in 2012, some it seemed assumed I would crack the UK in a long weekend, before returning home smiling, for tea and medals. But it doesn't work that way.

As Mick O’Meara says, for a record you need a Good Man, a Good Boat and Good Weather - but it’s the weather that decides.  I have a good boat, I can't do much about the weather.  The more we discussed the strategy, I realised that going again clockwise was not that appealing to me. The chances of beating the time set by Joe Leach in 2012 are low. To be honest the fire isn't really there anymore, I can't be arsed with flogging my guts out for 2 months to likely come back with little more to show for it all than a view of the same scenery and more stressful memories.  After all, I've done that before. Nah, sod that.

The more we discussed things the more going anti-clockwise appealed to me. The Boss (from now on known as The Team Manager – the one to be obeyed) wasn't convinced.  But I felt that it would be a real challenge. Ok, on paper it sounds like the same route, but on the water I expect things to be significantly different, the tide and weather will have different effects this time. It will also give me a chance to compare and contrast, to answer the questions that I have. I quite fancy the idea of seeing everything in reverse too, will I land in new places or will it be the same old, but from the other side? 

Can a fast time be set this way? Well on paper this direction is a little slower, but with good conditions pretty much anything is possible. Of course I will go for it given a chance; I’d be a fool not to. But in reality I figure 80 days is a good goal, what a good goal should be – realistic, achievable, but still quite a stretch. 80 days will be a good tool to get me out of bed on those less than appealing days. But whatever I do, whatever I say, I know in some eyes I can't win. Just do it for yourself, as the TM says.

 So that's the plan, 80 days anti-clockwise – crack on Fatboy...

The Experiment

In 1986, when paddling things got serious, I started keeping a daily training diary, I've kept it ever since. In later years though, I've seen it slowly transform into more of a long term paddling experiment, watching how the body and mind deal with those years of activity. I've been intrigued (sometimes slightly bemused) to view the trade of speed for experience, and fitness for wisdom, as I paddled from my teens towards my fifties. I like to learn from my paddling, I like to answer questions.

After the 2012 trip there was a hole, an emptiness. There was unfinished business I guess.  I also realised that the first trip didn't answer all the questions, there were still things to be learnt.  Going again, this time anti-clockwise, would be a great opportunity to answer some more.

Will it be faster or slower in the opposite direction? Will it be harder or easier? How will it differ technically? How will the effect of the tides, weather and geography compare?


This time is to be a supported trip. This gives the chance to compare the pros and cons of supported versus un-supported on a long term expedition. It also gives the luxury of taking and comparing different paddling kit, and especially the chance to compare the use of a heavy versus light boat on such a demanding trip. I want an answer to that one.


There are questions relating to different approaches and strategies for the trip as a whole and how the decision making process differs working as a team rather than solo. 

From a personal point of view, it will be interesting to see how I cope - three years older, softer...and fatter.


Granted the two trips aren't going to be a controlled trial, the answers won't be definitive. The sample size will be too small for that; Life isn't long enough – but this will be the best chance so far for answering some of those damn questions...

Back to the Mainland

Day 2 – Lundy to Crackington Haven -- 22nd May – 27.6 nm

What a glorious day! Blue skies and an oily calm down in the bay. 

I paddled out accompanied by a pod of Dolphins, I was mesmerised as they frolicked beneath the boat and leapt clear of the water ahead of me. I set a satisfying pace as I crossed towards the mainland. Soon I saw a shoal/ pod/fleet of Basking Sharks – what amazing beasts!  Later I had to pinch myself when I stumbled across a Leatherback Turtle – what... a... day...

But then nothing could beat the final encounter as I watched an Orca broach up ahead. It accompanied me for a while and I could sense the empathy between us. Sea Kayaking brings us such amazing experiences.

Of course that’s all bollocks.

The high water launch at Lundy was a right pain, and then I had to sneak timidly through a gap in the rocks to avoid the worst of the swell and tiderace to get away.

The entire day was paddled inside the milk bottle, a few hundred metre horizon in the fog, slogging through a crappy swell.

I caught a brief glimpse of the bottom of the cliffs just before I arrived at Crackington Haven - that was it.


Welcome to Devon.  

Oh yes, it’s all glamour in this game.






Day 1 – First Day Faff

  Day1 - Broad Haven to Lundy -- 21st May -- 29.9 nm

The plan had been for a flexible start point. We wanted a start that gave us the most’ bang for the buck’, somewhere that would help us tick off one of the ‘crux -points’ of the trip. Of course there are many such points, but a long crossing on Day One is a nice thing to tick off. One fewer feature to worry about later. The downside is that it can be a bit of a baptism of fire – long miles before you get your eye in, before exped fitness eases into place.

There had been a number of start points in mind during the planning and the weather would make the final choice.  The wind and swell had chosen Pembrokeshire.



Nerves had kept me awake much of the night, after all it was the start of something reasonably big I ‘spose.  It had been a while since I set out on such a big trip, it usually is.

We found ourselves on the sunny early morning, leaving footprints on the beach at Broad Haven, near Stackpole Head.  Day One was going to entail a 28 nm crossing of the Bristol Channel to the Isle of Lundy, no point messing about I guess.

Rather clumsily we wrestled the boat down the steep, sandy slope onto the pristine beach. Soon the beach was cluttered with assorted dry-bags and paddling kit as I basked in a monster day one faff.  I packed the boat rustily, while a rather hirsute older gentleman wandered down the beach. He smoothly stepped behind a rock and then re-appeared naked, shuffled down to the water where he dangled his dingle in the water and then shuffled back behind the rock. An unusual send off for a paddling trip I thought. Good old Great Britain.


From the cliffs Lundy was hidden in the haze, from the water it was hidden by the horizon.  Time to rely on those great sea kayaking tools: Blind Faith and a Compass.

Out on a bearing, playing the game, going by the book, aiming off for the tide and wind - until the ‘can’t be arsed with this’ gremlins set in and I aimed straight for the rocky lump, paying for my  impatience with the inevitable ferry glide at the end.  After all what could possibly go wrong if I missed it...
I was welcomed to Lundy by eddy line Porpoises and a comedy of Puffins. After leaving my trusty Taran in the ‘boat cave’, I headed up to the Tavern.  A lone kayaker arriving seemed to confuse things a little, but beer and food were soon placed in front of me, though my stomach wasn’t really playing the game after those Day One paddling miles. Admire the view and then a tent for the night, trying not to think too much of all that lay ahead.
Only 79 more (or so) to go...



Looking back

I was unable to post a Blog during my trip, it just didn't happen. So now I am producing it after the event, a little unconventional perhaps, but I think there is a chance that it may still interest, inform or entertain with tales and reflections from the adventure. Some of the posts were written during the time but the majority have been written afterwards, using a daily diary and notes made during the circumnavigation, including: Posh Bingo, Exped Arrogance, The Why's, Wherefore's and What the Heck's, Glexped, The Trolley and One Day Too Late .

Intro


I finished the 2012 UK Circumnavigation on a grey, windswept and soggy day.  We laughed and smiled on the beach, we chatted with friends. The trip was over, the UK had been paddled.
 And then we left that final beach and we were back at home within half an hour. It was a bit of a shock after such an intense experience, so many highs and lows.
It took a long while to settle back in and to reflect, but beneath it all there remained an emptiness, a hole. It’s hard to explain, but somehow the job wasn’t done properly. Somehow I thought I should have done better; not that I should have gone faster, people would expect that, but that is not what I mean. Just for me in my personal performance – it’s hard to explain, but I just felt that I should have just done a better job of the whole thing.  It niggled... There were questions still to be answered too.
I didn’t tell anyone that I would go again, not even myself. But it was just as inevitable as the first time around was. It would happen one day. Slowly the ideas formed and in May 2015 that day arrived.