On Your Marks! - Crossing the Wash

Day 31 – Holme next the Sea to Mablethorpe - 20^th June – 25.6 nm

We had worked things nicely to be in a good position to cross the Wash, I really didn't want to get stuck here waiting for another day or two. But I was a little concerned about the weather; the forecasts gave a confliciting variety of wind strengths and directions for the coming days, while Magicseaweed forecast an increasing swell from the north. I was getting tired, and that meant a good faff was never far away. Neither of us could face another dose of early morning indecision, while I tried to work out the correct answer to the go-nogo crossing question. Sleep was fitful in the van for the night.

But the morning arrives with a steady SW breeze, with the swell on the ebb this could be splashy, but when we get to the water there is no swell at all. It is flat calm, I'll have a gentle side wind, but even this is forecast to go southerly later – I love it when a plan comes together!

Except it doesn't of course. Somehow I have made a balls-up with the planning; when I check the figures it is very obvious that we are two hours late. What the heck happened there? Bum, I don't want to lose the day.

But all is not lost; it is not an ideal start to the day, but then the distance will be limited by the Donna Nook Range anyway. A quick re-plan shows that it is all still possible. Just need to paddle a little harder fatboy.

I'm off the beach with a 'race-you' bet ringing in my ears. Who can be the fastest to the other side? Pride, and the washing-up, depend on this one.

For me, the the planning fart-up means I'm straight out into a 2 kt tide from the side, meaning a rather chunky ferry glide. But even so I'm making 5 kt progress, not sure how, but I'm happy not to try to work that one out.

As I paddle further out the breeze does indeed back a little, and the ebbing flow tends to take a more northerly direction. Other than the grey skies, and the lack of world-peace, there isn't much wrong with the day.

I've no real desire to see Skeggy or Ingoldmells again and so dial in a heading to Chapel Saint Leonards. As I close on Ingoldmells the radio springs to life; so just where is the Team Manager then? Skeggy – Ha! It's not the old fatboy who'll be wearing the Marigolds tonight then!

As I close on the dubious delights of Mablethorpe, the tide changes and the breeze strengthens. But the last minute re-plan works nicely, as I push against the tide for only the last 40 mins or so. All said and done I can't complain too much about that. I am rather happy to tick another one off.

We struggle to find a campsite; once again the 'friendly club' isn't, we are turned away numerous times. But eventually we stumble across a small site, where our nervous inquiry receives a friendly welcome. The site has been the owner's long-term project since he dug his first pond and planted his first tree in the '80s. It is a fantastic place.

It is late, we eat our boil-in-the-bags in the dark and reflect just how differently each day works out.

I sleep better tonight.

Into Position

Day 30 – Weyborne to Holme next the Sea - 19^th June – 23.7 nm

It's a lunchtime start once again, as we aim to get into a good position to cross the Wash.

I've been using the Reed's Almanac as one of my planning tools and it has dawned that the tide figures are an hour or more out in some places – this stretch being one of them. So the plan now takes that into account and things should now run on tidal time I hope.

The swell is not too bad, but the launch still has potential for a tricky little comedy moment. It takes me a while to find a suitable gap (and the courage), and I must admit I am rather nervous of screwing it all up. But I get the timing right (for once) and it's a comedy-free launch, I paddle away relieved. The wind and swell are coming from the north east, it's a bit slow and splashy with them both against the tide, but there are no real problems.

Most of the day will be an easy, sandy coastline, but it comes as a bit of a surprise that even so we will still have to take an 'option' early on at Cley. We are running on the ebb of course, and after Cley the sand is a mile or more wide, backed by a similar distance of marsh before any chance of access to the world of the land-lubber. Not a dangerous stretch as such, but it could be rather inconvenient if I have to land early. I could carry the tent and stay on the beach if I have to, that wouldn't be too unpleasant at all actually, but then it means I also have to carry cooking kit, dry kit for tomorrow, food and water for two days and so on – that is, more if I can't paddle again tomorrow. All too much faff to be honest - so I take the easy option instead, the running shoes and off-the-water clothes go in.  A long trolley out may be a preferable practicality.

But I'm happy with the conditions at Cley and after a quick call to the Team Manager I carry on. It's a pretty stretch of coastline, but on springs and the ebb there is a huge expanse of sand. The optimistically titled Wells-Next-The-Sea isn't at all. As I pass, I watch a yacht anchoring in the shallows to await enough water, the channel is completely dry. The channel buoys sit stranded on the sand like sulky Weebles; Wells is now an extra mile from the water's edge.

A little further along I watch a light aircraft going hairy bears along the beach, low enough to part your hair. One sneeze and it would have taken them a week to fill the hole.

As I close on Scolt Head Island the wind drops away to nothing, I stop for a bite to eat in the perfect conditions – a forewarning of a change on its way perhaps?

I wonder if I'll see Frank Harradence having a go at his Scolt Head Time Trial. I enjoyed a magical paddle through the mist behind the island in 2012, but there is no chance to repeat that this time, again the channel is completely dry. Frank would have to walk today.

So I get to see the north side of the island this time. As I pass, I notice that the tide has called it a day on me, and of course the conditions do change with it. Crossing shallow Brancaster Bay towards low-water into a stiffening wind, becomes a rather choppy, splashy and tedious affair. I slog through the shallows, aiming towards a never-nearing group of trees by Gore Point.

But as I reach the corner I now get a little help from the flow heading into the Wash, and the wind is now on the beam. It is a welcome easy landing, on a sandy beach fairly close to, the once again not-quite-telling-the full-story named, Holme next the Sea.

It has been a lonely day, other than a brief wave from the anchoring yacht at Wells, I have not seen another human being all day. But it's Mission Accomplished all the same, we have reached a perfect launch point to cross The Wash – weather allowing.

We finish the day at a £20 per night campsite, it has new facilities that consist of nothing more than a cold water tap and a toilet. But this is tempered as we chat pleasantly, to a gentleman who is on a week long mission to walk between all the pubs in the area. He's surprisingly sober, and as we listen to his tales, we sit and watch an owl hunting in the meadow behind.

Life could be worse.

Lunchtime Starts

Day 29 – Happisburgh to Weyborne - 18^th June – 17.8 nm

The wind has shifted in the night and is now roaring across the cliff-top campsite. The boats are rattling and creaking disturbingly on the van roof. This means an early rise, as I reluctantly emerge from the warmth of my maggot, to turn the van back into wind - before the boats head down the coast on their own. Yeah whatever...

But I figure that this means I won't need to be putting on damp paddling kit for a few more hours, a quick glimpse of endless-white over the cliff edge confirms things; it's blessedly back to my maggot for now.

The tide runs from lunchtime, but the forecast only gives a drop in the wind mid-afternoon, with a little swell due in later. We are determined to salvage some miles from the day and so head down to the beach. It's another hurry-up-and-wait day, as we sit in the car park, ready for any changes in the wind.

The lunchtime starts are surprisingly unpopular within Team Fatboy – the late start makes it difficult for Team Manager to get a run/walk/cycle/'swim' out of the day, when combined with the daily drive and admin.

While I don't miss the early starts, the late finishes make post paddle admin, feeding and planning rushed, while kit drying is also difficult late in the day. But that's the way it is, I'm no King Canute.

While we wander around, watching the water, it becomes clear just how significant the erosion problem is here. The soft cliffs are swifty moving inland, witnessed by the amputated roads and skeletal pipes protruding from the muddy cliff faces. The beach is littered with disturbingly recent remnants of unfortunate houses, claimed by the coffee coloured waters below. It is a sad sight.

In-vain sea defences are strung along the beaches, making access difficult. From a paddling point of view, these defences make the sandy coastline surprisingly exposed and limited for many miles. At high-water there can be no get-out options for unexpectedly long distances. Damaged, and paradoxically eroded defences can make the game of landing-roulette a little too frequent.

But life goes on; the wind does drop and soon I'm on the water.

Nothing dramatic happens - I paddle, the boat goes forward, that's it.

The late start means an inevitably early disagreement with the tide. Cromer sulkily slips by as the wind falls completely away and conditions go oily. I know what this means, the tide is going to change; and I suspect, that in turn, means that the wind is going to strengthen once again.

I paddle through slack as I pass West Runton (where in 2012 the Post Office kindly held a re-supply parcel for me - it's those little things in life...) But by Sherringham the tide is against me and soon the wind strengthens, right on the nose.

Before long I'm scratching along at 3 kts or so and decide it's time to call it a day at Weyborne. I pick Norfolk's only shingle beach, a refreshingly grey hue this time though. The wind, flow, swell and a horde of angling types conspire to make for a tricky, pearl-dive of a landing, through a rather nasty dump. Team Manager gets wet feet as she has to grab the bow, to help stop me from sliding back down the slope, into the nasty bit.

While we carry the boat up the sliding shingle, she soggily apologises for the lengthy walk to the team van. After that landing I really don't give a monkies how far it is. I'm just happy to be off.

Boring?

Day 28 – Lowestoft to Happisburgh - 17^th June – 22.7 nm

Team Manager decides to give Great Yarmouth a miss, she has had her fill of British seaside resorts for now I think. Instead she excitedly decides to head up the coast to visit California, I have a feeling that it may not quite live up to expectations.

It's an easy lunchtime start at Lowestoft and I head north once again, but something isn't quite right, the tide is flowing much faster than I expect. Something is amiss with the tidal planning, I make good speed but I have a nagging feeling that it may be a shorter day than hoped for. Bum.

The Norfolk coast is quite pleasant, the tide (other than the timing!) is straightforward and there is a welcome dearth of challenging headlands or tide races. With a bit of easy weather it is all pretty straightforward, a sort of sea kayaking-for-dummies stretch of coastline – that suits this dummy quite nicely.

Great Yarmouth soon slides by, it looks a little more industrial and a little less touristy than I remember. But after that there is nothing much to get too excited about, the low-lying sand and mud cliffs are not unpleasant but not dramatic either. Fine by me, a little drama-free paddling time would not go amiss.

In an uncharacteristically romantic moment I decide to paddle in to spend lunch with the Team Manager on the sandy beach at Winterton. Though of course I pay for this moment of rash decadence, as I have to return to the beach to free the single piece of beach-borne gravel from my jammed rudder.

I do run out of tide, as anticipated, and land early, and slightly disappointedly, at Happisburgh. The cliff-top campsite is a beautiful setting though; while the nearby pub is just one of many that easily blends into a soon-forgotten list of mediocre food and beer.

After spending a sweaty day in The Van, Team Manager decides to go for a 'swim' under grey skies – she gets nothing more than her knees wet and returns - the water is cold (surely not...) and the seals are too close apparently. It took her longer to put her cossie on.

A day that was memorable just for the sheer fact that nothing really memorable happened.

Lowestoft Illuminations

Day 27 – Shingle Street to Lowestoft – 16^th June – 31.9 nm

Yeehaa! A lie-in at last! On the ebb brings a welcome late start, we relish sleeping bag warmth until a luxurious 9 o’clock (a.m. that is) shows on the clock. It is also going to be a pretty straightforward start to the day, for once. The wind has dropped, the sun is out and no real swell is forecast – game on.

 The campsite is very pleasant, the owner takes serious pride in her site, we are reluctant to leave; unfortunately the same can't be said of the nearby pub. Hey ho.

Shingle Street is much more pleasant this morning, though still a touch too much shingle for my liking - I think I have an allergy forming.

Down the steep slope and away, perfect conditions to paddle along Orford Ness – nice. I am intrigued by the Ness and look forward to the next few miles. Yet more shingle though.

The tide works nicely and soon the concrete pagodas of the long-extinct nuclear weapon testing facility loom into view, lending a ghostly touch to the peace and quiet. Next comes the incongruous lighthouse, seemingly too close to the edge to me – one of the (very) few instances where I think a touch more shingle may be useful.

The pretty town of Aldeburgh slips by, followed soon by Thorpe Ness, and then the nuclear theme, continues with the pressurised water reactor at Sizewell.  The Weather Gods are obviously on their lunch-break, the sun shines and there is just a gentle breeze. It seems such a luxury to eat, drink and yes, of course, to have a pee, without any precarious swell-dodging spraydeck-rushing moments.

The low cliffs at Dunwich drift by, while Walberswick doesn't appear to be quite as humorous as its name. More low cliffs follow, until a rare bit of sand at Kessingland and then Lowestoft is next. I have been following the Lowestoft wind turbine for a while now; geography and tide dictate that I will complete the day just to the north of the town.

Of course, the day of a UK Circumnavigator isn’t that easy. The wind quickly strengthens as I close on the town and the rebound from the sea defences and the harbour wall put a slightly stressful mark to the end of the day. The Team Manager is also having a slightly rough time as she tries to meet up with me, in a not-so-shiny part of town. The moment is lifted though by a car load of rather bemused Chinese Tourists and a very pleasant chat with a gentleman walking his dog along the beach - it looks the sort of place that you need a dog in order to go walking along the beach. A big dog preferably. 

Later we reflect on the lack of spontaneity in modern British camping; 2 sites – 'no tourers', 3 sites – 'members only', 1 site – 'no access without a pre-booking'. Eventually we find a very pleasant site where we are allowed to choose our own pitch and are even trusted to drive there un-escorted. Big boy's stuff now.

Later a beer is opened, and while the sun goes down we watch another owl and then the onset of the Campsite Illuminations Competition (Suffolk Area) as the caravans light up in various extremes of multi-coloured glory.  Good ol’ Great Britain.

Anti-Clockwise Lessons

Day 26 – Frinton on Sea to Shingle Street – 15^th June – 14.6 nm

One reason for paddling anti-clockwise this time around, was to compare and contrast the two opposing directions.  One major difference in 2015 was going to be paddling the majority of the route on the ebb, I knew this would change things a bit but I hadn't quite realised how significant this would be – today gave me a hint of what was to come.

It is a hurry-up-and-wait morning, part of another give-me-a-break day. The conditions are marginal with a stiff off-shore wind at Frinton, but I guess that north of the Naze it will be too much. So I faff and Team Manager writes her diary, while trying, not entirely successfully, to stay patient. But I know to trust my instincts, and I don’t feel ready to go. So I faff some more - Team Manager grows less patient. I stall with some zen-like prophecies of dropping winds at lunch time.

At lunch time the tide changes and the wind does too, conditions quickly settle, it feels right to go now. But I am caught out and have to hurriedly get ready - after sitting around all morning I still manage to be late.

After an easy launch, the pier comes and goes nicely, the Naze too and then it starts to get a little choppy with the wind rattling out of the river valleys – the Orwell and Stour. It is no surprise though and if it gets no worse I can handle this until I am across to Felixstowe. Knot-tying time once again.

But it does get worse; suddenly it all goes from choppy, through lumpy, into nasty and beyond. It probably only lasts a mile and a half, but jeez it really is quite unpleasant. Once I get across the Harwich channel things settle a little and I scratch, in a slightly dazed manner, along the coast - trying to avoid the wind and a bit of a swell from the north east.

I struggle against the wind and flow at the mouth of the River Deben, and make a complete cock-up of the line and have to sneak across a surfy, rudder-scrapingly shallow shingle bank to get back out. Eventually I've had enough, you can take your kayak and stick it.

I call it a day, just up the coast, at Shingle Street. It’s a very pretty place, if you have a thing for shingle, but I don’t, not any more.

The Team Manager’s diary sums it up – “John arrived exhausted and upset, he had an awful crossing to Felixstowe.” 

So what happened? Well I'm paddling on the ebb now, so all the rivers, bays, estuaries and harbours are emptying rather than filling. The extra flow coming out builds the conditions, significantly - especially if it is pushing against swell or wind. And of course this happens outside of the bay, harbour, estuary etc. – right where the UK Circumnavigator tends to route. On the flood this effect is not significant as any trouble is inside the feature, usually well away from the route – the paddler cruises across upstream of any trouble.

This effect was obvious on every major river crossing – Humber, Tees, Tyne, Tay and so on. The Tay was a memorable example; it turned gentle 2 ft swell conditions into an extensive spread of 6 ft breaking, with its own wind too – and that was 5 nm out from the mouth of the river. Similar effects were to be found at harbour mouths too, combined with a bit of swell and things could become quite unpleasant.  It was a phenomenon that was to be treated with respect.

   

Oh yes, one of the joys of going the wrong way around.