This is my first time putting together a blog so please bear with me.
The trip was Burnham Overy Staithe (BOS) to Blakeney point and back. Time on the water paddling was planned for six hours.
We left BOS three hours before low water and followed the river through sand dune islands and out into to the sea. At the entrance to this inlet was a suggestion of what doing this could be like on a rough day as the out going tide caused eddies and breaking surf, small on this occasion over the sand banks, but with the ability I felt to catch the unaware out on another day. This was evident all along the ever growing sand banks as we past towards Wells next the sea. Peter also recounted the last time he past this way last year in force six conditions, and it sounded testing.
However for us we simple sped along assisted by the current and a light South Westerly, we arrived at Wells in good time and with little effort, and again the force of the emptying river could be seen on the channel markers as we flew past. There was not a cloud in the sky a light swell. I found myself drifting into a trance just the sound of paddle on water and a warm sun on your face, I found myself having to break out of it, having a little chat with Pete then back into it. One of those rare occasions when you are thinking about nothing, Car needing mot, gone, kitchen needs painting, gone, only had three hours sleep the night before as my little boy is growing teeth, well two out of three's not bad. there was a section when Blakeney did not get any closer for a while. Then with a little bit of unexpected surfing and being surrounded by the seals trying to put me off we where there.
We did try to keep a respectful distance by the seals wanted to come for a look, we then pulled up for lunch, more trance like state where I could have just sat on that sand bank until the tide came in. Peter though got a grip of me, and we headed back, much the same on the way back.
We got to the mouth of BOS, as we neared Skull Island, yes that is its name, and shiver me timbers thems land lubbers 'ave takens all the water. So not for the first time out came the tow line and we dragged our boats the last KM through shallow water and tidal lagoons amongst the sand dunes. I have to be honest I did enjoy this bit, it cooled me down, and I identified what a great place to bring my son back to. We pretty much came in on time, I had had one of the simplest and best trips of my sea kayaking life.
We finished with and ice cream and a not to bad drive home.
I will be back to the area and with my tent next time, as this would be a top place to overnight. Pete said in passing as we headed towards Blakeney would'nt it be nice just to keep going, I will hold that though. All the pictures for this can be found in the Gallery in Norfolk 2008.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Harwich to Pin Mill 12/04/09
HW Pin Mill 15.30
I started at Harwich Beach (public slip) at 13.00 approx. After 30 mins I had paddled across the deep water channel to Shotley Gate / Marina. On the way over a RHIB slowed so as not to catch me in it's wake. Very courteous I thought, but, at a second look I thought I recognised the local RNLI engineer. I pretended not to notice so as to avoid comments later in the day at my local. In the event it turned out to be someone else. I stopped at the beach adjunct to Shotley Marina to take off my cag, sup a quick coffee and call in an ETA. The thing about Shotley Beach is the view of the container ships. They are massive. I have a great desire not to be near them when they are under way or turning. Of course on this piece of water it is eyes everywhere for the various ferries that leave Parkeston Quay, a couple of miles into the Stour estuary, the ferry, the Alert (Survey), the fishing boats, the yachties and of course the ubiquitous gin palaces, who only seem to slow to the speed limit, 6knots, on the approach of sailing (or paddled) vessels.
Departing Shotley I had estimated 1 1/2 hours for the 8k paddle. The tide was running full and the onshore wind (Easterly) gave me good assistance. I kept inshore of the port channel marks all the way up the river easily keeping pace with the yachts resisting the use of their engines until all hope was lost to them.
About 3k into the river the mooring buoys started their long line up to Ipswich. A Thames barge had cruised past whilst I was on the beach at Shotley and with the pace I was making I felt sure I would see her again. Alas, she had gone. There is a race for these craft at least once a year in the Summer and they often lie at Pin Mill, but not today.
My route from Shotley was basically a dog leg and despite steep sand and stone beaches the Orwell has it's fair share of mud and sand banks, as is common with the Essex and Suffolk coast. I used the withies and older deepwater marks as my pointers and forgot the bearings I had taken as the weather improved and the sun shone. Vis. was a little hazy but it seems to have been like that for a few weeks now. I take a look over Pennyhole Bay usually twice a day and even the tower at Walton on the Naze has been obscurred more often than not , both morning and evening.
So I aimed at the point keeping No2 and Collimer on the starboard side. Rounding the headland the Orwell Bridge hove into view after about 15 minutes and I made out the moorings and houseboats in the hazy distance, surrounding Pin Mill. I tagged a blue cruiser making broad tacks across the water and passed her bow on her third tack. She had screaming teenagers in the tender being towed.
The prospect of a pint and lunch at the Butt and Oyster spurred me on. It seemed like every yacht moored here had someone on it; making repairs, reading or just taking in the sun. At the Mill there are houseboats, presumably permantly inhabited, but there are also some crumbling into the water. A concrete hard runs out into the river about 250 metres and all manner of craft lie on the mud flat. Next to the hard there is a channel, fed by the mill stream, just big enough for a kayak or dinghy. Today there were two launch cradles lying in the mud and children were using them for swings watched by a fellow in a tender who gave way as I approached the pub. My rendevous was waiting purse in hand to order lunch and drinks while I collared the dog and put my kit up on the green. The tide was over the hard and washing the road.
I felt quite pleased with myself; Shotley Gate to Pin Mill in an hour.
After lunch I got ready to paddle back. The weather had turned a little and I felt a little bloated from my meal so I decided to finish at Shotley Gate. There is ample parking at the marina and I couldn't have faced a capsize and/or rescue in the combined outgoing streams of the Stour and Orwell in front of the Harwich lifeboat crew and the 'grockles' enjoying yet another remeniss of the 'good ol' pirate radio days'. Every now and again they draw one of the lightships up to the Halfpenny Pier at Harwich and blare out tunes from the sixties. Plus I thought that engineer Dave might still be lurking about in the RHIB.
A finish at Shotley turned out to be a good choice. The tide, near to top Spring was whisking me along and I completed my journey back in a little over 1 hr 10. The wind was against me and the sea had taken on that greyish unattractive hue.
As I carried my boat through the marina an ex serviceman stopped , 'What kind of kayak is it?', he asked.
' A copy of an East Greenland boat,' I replied.
'It looks just like an 'angmagssalik' to me'. Excellent, someone who recognised the style of boat and had paddled the stitch and glue kit boat of the sixties and seventies as I had done. We spent ten minutes discussing the boat, and I told him about the current sea kayaking scene, as far as I could. A rewarding end to a rewarding paddle.
Tim
Edited; 19/4/09
I started at Harwich Beach (public slip) at 13.00 approx. After 30 mins I had paddled across the deep water channel to Shotley Gate / Marina. On the way over a RHIB slowed so as not to catch me in it's wake. Very courteous I thought, but, at a second look I thought I recognised the local RNLI engineer. I pretended not to notice so as to avoid comments later in the day at my local. In the event it turned out to be someone else. I stopped at the beach adjunct to Shotley Marina to take off my cag, sup a quick coffee and call in an ETA. The thing about Shotley Beach is the view of the container ships. They are massive. I have a great desire not to be near them when they are under way or turning. Of course on this piece of water it is eyes everywhere for the various ferries that leave Parkeston Quay, a couple of miles into the Stour estuary, the ferry, the Alert (Survey), the fishing boats, the yachties and of course the ubiquitous gin palaces, who only seem to slow to the speed limit, 6knots, on the approach of sailing (or paddled) vessels.
Departing Shotley I had estimated 1 1/2 hours for the 8k paddle. The tide was running full and the onshore wind (Easterly) gave me good assistance. I kept inshore of the port channel marks all the way up the river easily keeping pace with the yachts resisting the use of their engines until all hope was lost to them.
About 3k into the river the mooring buoys started their long line up to Ipswich. A Thames barge had cruised past whilst I was on the beach at Shotley and with the pace I was making I felt sure I would see her again. Alas, she had gone. There is a race for these craft at least once a year in the Summer and they often lie at Pin Mill, but not today.
My route from Shotley was basically a dog leg and despite steep sand and stone beaches the Orwell has it's fair share of mud and sand banks, as is common with the Essex and Suffolk coast. I used the withies and older deepwater marks as my pointers and forgot the bearings I had taken as the weather improved and the sun shone. Vis. was a little hazy but it seems to have been like that for a few weeks now. I take a look over Pennyhole Bay usually twice a day and even the tower at Walton on the Naze has been obscurred more often than not , both morning and evening.
So I aimed at the point keeping No2 and Collimer on the starboard side. Rounding the headland the Orwell Bridge hove into view after about 15 minutes and I made out the moorings and houseboats in the hazy distance, surrounding Pin Mill. I tagged a blue cruiser making broad tacks across the water and passed her bow on her third tack. She had screaming teenagers in the tender being towed.
The prospect of a pint and lunch at the Butt and Oyster spurred me on. It seemed like every yacht moored here had someone on it; making repairs, reading or just taking in the sun. At the Mill there are houseboats, presumably permantly inhabited, but there are also some crumbling into the water. A concrete hard runs out into the river about 250 metres and all manner of craft lie on the mud flat. Next to the hard there is a channel, fed by the mill stream, just big enough for a kayak or dinghy. Today there were two launch cradles lying in the mud and children were using them for swings watched by a fellow in a tender who gave way as I approached the pub. My rendevous was waiting purse in hand to order lunch and drinks while I collared the dog and put my kit up on the green. The tide was over the hard and washing the road.
I felt quite pleased with myself; Shotley Gate to Pin Mill in an hour.
After lunch I got ready to paddle back. The weather had turned a little and I felt a little bloated from my meal so I decided to finish at Shotley Gate. There is ample parking at the marina and I couldn't have faced a capsize and/or rescue in the combined outgoing streams of the Stour and Orwell in front of the Harwich lifeboat crew and the 'grockles' enjoying yet another remeniss of the 'good ol' pirate radio days'. Every now and again they draw one of the lightships up to the Halfpenny Pier at Harwich and blare out tunes from the sixties. Plus I thought that engineer Dave might still be lurking about in the RHIB.
A finish at Shotley turned out to be a good choice. The tide, near to top Spring was whisking me along and I completed my journey back in a little over 1 hr 10. The wind was against me and the sea had taken on that greyish unattractive hue.
As I carried my boat through the marina an ex serviceman stopped , 'What kind of kayak is it?', he asked.
' A copy of an East Greenland boat,' I replied.
'It looks just like an 'angmagssalik' to me'. Excellent, someone who recognised the style of boat and had paddled the stitch and glue kit boat of the sixties and seventies as I had done. We spent ten minutes discussing the boat, and I told him about the current sea kayaking scene, as far as I could. A rewarding end to a rewarding paddle.
Tim
Edited; 19/4/09
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Port to pier
The idea of this journey was to traverse the length of the two distinct sections of Essex coast from Dovercourt beach, which is adjacent to Harwich dock, to Southend-on-Sea. The weather forecast gave a low four from the north west dropping to a three or less, from the west, building again to a four from the west on Monday afternoon. Low tide on the Saturday was at 1:30pm and further south 3:30pm on the Monday. The trip in this direction requires a flooding tide. The tides were really a little late in the day but it was a bank holiday weekend and it can’t always be perfect.
GPS Track
The original plan was to stay out of the tidal flow while crossing Pennyhole bay, but with a low force four tail wind it was not necessary and we positively shot across the bay against the still ebbing tide. Turning the corner at the Naze cliff the wind now on our beam had dropped to a force three. The Naze cliff is recorded as eroding at a rate of 1.5–2.5 mtr each year. The erosion and geology here makes this a favourite spot for fossil hunters
The Naze cliff
At some point just before Clacton pier Tim’s reconstructed hip was giving him pain and unfortunately he had to pull out of the remaining trip. I have to give Tim credit, he’s had a few knock backs lately but still keeps coming back, for more punishment. Aside from this, the tide now with us, a straight forward paddle followed to the lunch stop at Clacton. Following lunch the wind turned to the south west putting it very much on our bows. Only a force three but still making the paddling harder work. About four miles on from Clacton we met Angie and Lorraine who, as arranged, were waiting for us on the beach. Both wanted to join in on the trip but did not fancy the full distance. There was some debate about whether we should carry on in the head wind or stay put, it was forecast to drop. In the end we decided to paddle the extra mile or two around Colne point before making a decision. Travelling over the shallows at the point gave some deeper waves for a few minutes which was quite fun. Having rounded the corner, the wind showed no sign of abating and Lorraine was already ashore, so that’s where we stopped for the night.
View from the camp
A nicer spot it would be hard to find, soft level sand above the tide line with some Lyme grass to break the wind and a half mile of saltings between us and solid ground. Everyone having ate, drift wood was collected and a fire set below the spring high water line, out came the beer and wine and a good evening was had by all.
Collecting Kindling
In the morning Steve was hurting and made the decision to pull out and paddle home. Angie and Lorraine made the return trip to Clacton. There were now five of us remaining for the second leg of the journey. No one really fancied the idea of hanging around waiting for the tide to drop and as forecast, the head wind to build, which left a couple of options. Paddle the six miles across the estuary mouth, beach and wait for a while or take a more direct route to the mouth of the Crouch and make a judgement there whether to carry on to Southend or divert onto the Crouch.
As we left the beach the tide ebbing from the Colne and Blackwater estuaries carried us south. Although as we cleared the rivers influence we would loose this and the tide would be against us, it tipped the balance and we headed straight toward the Crouch. Effectivly a fifteen mile open crossing heading into an ebbing but slaking tide and a force three head wind. To make sensible headway quite a strong pace was set. It felt good to blow away some of the cobwebs and crack on. After two hours on the water we rafted up for a floating lunch break, see the kink in the GPS track. Matt wanted to stretch his legs, but declined the offer of going for a swim. As we approached Buxey sands we could see quite a few seals resting on the exposed bank. In the distance hovercraft, probably MOD, were making good progress, the ideal craft for this terrain. Buxey protrudes nearly nine miles out into the sea, going around was not an option. The chart shows a narrow and slightly deeper area, known as the Ray Sand Channel, only two miles out and that’s where we headed. The chart shows a drying height of 0.7, 0.8 Mtr and the almanac showed the lowest tide today at 1.2Mtr, 500mm of water, plenty for a sea kayak. Such are the vagaries of tides and mud banks we ran out of water. No choice other than to man haul the loaded boats, at the end of tow lines the four or five hundred Mtrs across the soft wet mud. Very reminiscent of Sir Ranulph Fiennes polar expeditions. I know that I have lost a lot of fitness over the last six months and had already easily won the competition for heaviest boat. I would not have wanted to haul much further.
Lots of mud
Without a long wait for the tide (and wind) to rise, we were not going to get over Maplin sands, and so headed for Essex marina some eight mile distant on the river Crouch. The Crouch is renowned as a centre for sailing and the home of gin palaces. Sure enough a flotilla of five boats passed at a rate of knots creating some interesting wake to rise over the shallows. At last the tide had turned in our favour as paddled past the repetitive shear sea walls that are the outer reaches of the Crouch estuary. With his lift waiting Graham pulled away from the rest of us. Reaching the marina we found the slip covered in deep soft mud and so pulled into one of the pontoons. Rog, Dave, Matt and myself literately crawled out of the boats taking a few moments to recover before standing.
Entering the Crouch
With the head wind we did not make our target. I will get around the Dengie peninsula to Southend one day. Still a very good weekend, at nineteen miles each day, mostly head wind, we had some pleasant paddling and an enjoyable camp on Sunday, and a good solid pump on Monday. Thanks to all those who made it so. Particular thanks to Rog for giving me a lift back to my car left at the end point in Southend.
GPS Track
The original plan was to stay out of the tidal flow while crossing Pennyhole bay, but with a low force four tail wind it was not necessary and we positively shot across the bay against the still ebbing tide. Turning the corner at the Naze cliff the wind now on our beam had dropped to a force three. The Naze cliff is recorded as eroding at a rate of 1.5–2.5 mtr each year. The erosion and geology here makes this a favourite spot for fossil hunters
The Naze cliff
At some point just before Clacton pier Tim’s reconstructed hip was giving him pain and unfortunately he had to pull out of the remaining trip. I have to give Tim credit, he’s had a few knock backs lately but still keeps coming back, for more punishment. Aside from this, the tide now with us, a straight forward paddle followed to the lunch stop at Clacton. Following lunch the wind turned to the south west putting it very much on our bows. Only a force three but still making the paddling harder work. About four miles on from Clacton we met Angie and Lorraine who, as arranged, were waiting for us on the beach. Both wanted to join in on the trip but did not fancy the full distance. There was some debate about whether we should carry on in the head wind or stay put, it was forecast to drop. In the end we decided to paddle the extra mile or two around Colne point before making a decision. Travelling over the shallows at the point gave some deeper waves for a few minutes which was quite fun. Having rounded the corner, the wind showed no sign of abating and Lorraine was already ashore, so that’s where we stopped for the night.
View from the camp
A nicer spot it would be hard to find, soft level sand above the tide line with some Lyme grass to break the wind and a half mile of saltings between us and solid ground. Everyone having ate, drift wood was collected and a fire set below the spring high water line, out came the beer and wine and a good evening was had by all.
Collecting Kindling
In the morning Steve was hurting and made the decision to pull out and paddle home. Angie and Lorraine made the return trip to Clacton. There were now five of us remaining for the second leg of the journey. No one really fancied the idea of hanging around waiting for the tide to drop and as forecast, the head wind to build, which left a couple of options. Paddle the six miles across the estuary mouth, beach and wait for a while or take a more direct route to the mouth of the Crouch and make a judgement there whether to carry on to Southend or divert onto the Crouch.
As we left the beach the tide ebbing from the Colne and Blackwater estuaries carried us south. Although as we cleared the rivers influence we would loose this and the tide would be against us, it tipped the balance and we headed straight toward the Crouch. Effectivly a fifteen mile open crossing heading into an ebbing but slaking tide and a force three head wind. To make sensible headway quite a strong pace was set. It felt good to blow away some of the cobwebs and crack on. After two hours on the water we rafted up for a floating lunch break, see the kink in the GPS track. Matt wanted to stretch his legs, but declined the offer of going for a swim. As we approached Buxey sands we could see quite a few seals resting on the exposed bank. In the distance hovercraft, probably MOD, were making good progress, the ideal craft for this terrain. Buxey protrudes nearly nine miles out into the sea, going around was not an option. The chart shows a narrow and slightly deeper area, known as the Ray Sand Channel, only two miles out and that’s where we headed. The chart shows a drying height of 0.7, 0.8 Mtr and the almanac showed the lowest tide today at 1.2Mtr, 500mm of water, plenty for a sea kayak. Such are the vagaries of tides and mud banks we ran out of water. No choice other than to man haul the loaded boats, at the end of tow lines the four or five hundred Mtrs across the soft wet mud. Very reminiscent of Sir Ranulph Fiennes polar expeditions. I know that I have lost a lot of fitness over the last six months and had already easily won the competition for heaviest boat. I would not have wanted to haul much further.
Lots of mud
Without a long wait for the tide (and wind) to rise, we were not going to get over Maplin sands, and so headed for Essex marina some eight mile distant on the river Crouch. The Crouch is renowned as a centre for sailing and the home of gin palaces. Sure enough a flotilla of five boats passed at a rate of knots creating some interesting wake to rise over the shallows. At last the tide had turned in our favour as paddled past the repetitive shear sea walls that are the outer reaches of the Crouch estuary. With his lift waiting Graham pulled away from the rest of us. Reaching the marina we found the slip covered in deep soft mud and so pulled into one of the pontoons. Rog, Dave, Matt and myself literately crawled out of the boats taking a few moments to recover before standing.
Entering the Crouch
With the head wind we did not make our target. I will get around the Dengie peninsula to Southend one day. Still a very good weekend, at nineteen miles each day, mostly head wind, we had some pleasant paddling and an enjoyable camp on Sunday, and a good solid pump on Monday. Thanks to all those who made it so. Particular thanks to Rog for giving me a lift back to my car left at the end point in Southend.
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