Paddlers: Sue and Martin Spurling
Certainly did what it said on the tin. Don’t think the
wind dropped below force 6 all weekend.
We had (thankfully!) booked a B&B, though as this
overlooked Trearddur Bay, even on Friday evening we had an
inkling of what we were in for with lots of waves smashing
over the rocks and clouds hurrying overhead.
I will describe my experiences and Sue hers and maybe
others may provide their points of view too, so you the
reader may better decide whether to give this event a miss
or not next time.
I’d signed up for tide races and overfalls on the
Saturday but it did not require a level 2 coaching award to
realise that these would be suicidal in the present
conditions, so it was changed to rough water handling in
Trearddur Bay instead.
The wind was blowing diagonally into the bay so allowing
a sheltered entry onto the water on the south side, getting
rapidly more exciting as one ventured further out. Initially
we practiced turning into and down wind and on waves. I’d
been thoroughly enjoying this and was feeling suitably
overconfident. When it was suggested that we take a look at
the problems associated with a particularly knarly load of
rocks nearby, off I went. I thought that I’d observed that
the problems really only happened at the down wind edge of
the reef. Actually they just got a damn site worse there. To
compound my own problems; in response to a comment that
seemed to compare my trusty Lendal Nordkapp blades with a
stone axe, I’d borrowed our instructor’s Gucci Werners with
a 30 degree rather than about 85 feather. While I am sure
Werners are superb, it is not sensible to try them for the
first time in a howling gale and breaking waves. Bad, just
got worse as the wind pushed me out into ever grottier
water, culminating in a failed attempt to paddle up an
overhang, a short back surf, a broach and a swim.
When I surfaced it was fairly clear that; a) nobody was
going to be able to get in here to sort me out in the near
future and b) if I didn’t get clear of this lot soon then
both the boat and I were liable to meet land in component
form. Luckily the combination of the wind and some fairly
energetic swimming got us both round the end, only to be
confronted by another lot of rocks the other side. At this
point my boat panicked and broke free of my grasp making off
towards the rocks and certain destruction, while I continued
round the edge. I bade her a sad farewell and cursed the
fact that I’d just given away the spare kit that I’d cut
when I built a third kayak and that had been sitting around
in my garage for years. About this time Justine of ‘This is
the Sea’ fame turned up and invited me to climb on her back
deck where I clung like Winnie the Pooh to his honey jar ,
till to my amazement my boat appeared unmarked and we were
reunited. It had been washed clean over the reef and there
was not a scratch on her (that had not been there before!).
Lessons learned: a) you can’t teach an old dog new tricks
so stick to stone axes and b) let some other stupid idiot go
first next time.
Next day I went surfing. It was still blowing a hoolie
but the surf was really quite good and in the afternoon I
was having some great rides using the skeg to help keep me
running straight. All was well till a big one that had not
read the book, broke far out before I’d got any forward
movement and front -endering me. I considered rolling but
realised a tomato in a blender stood a better chance and
bailed out. A kite surfer stopped to ask how I was. I said
ok thanks, but he clearly was unconvinced as he returned
about 5 minutes later and offered me a tow. The novelty of
having 2 tons of sea water dumped on my head every 10
seconds was wearing thin and I accepted, somewhat dubiously,
as for the life of me I could not see how he could control
that lot at all - let alone with me draped round his left
leg. My doubts seemed to be confirmed as he promptly
disappeared but he rapidly returned. After about 3 seconds
experimenting, I grabbed his board, he grabbed the other end
of my paddle (my boat had long since abandoned me) and we
set off for the beach at a dignified enough rate for me to
wonder to myself how the hell he held onto his board while
doing the Mary Poppins impersonation so beloved of kite
surfers.
Lessons learned: a) kite boarders have vastly more
control of their gear than I do and b) In big seas and wind
it may be impossible to hold onto one’s boat, so keeping
fireworks and radio on the front deck means they may well
not be to hand when needed most. I have since found that
there is not enough length in the throw bag compartment of
my buoyancy aid to accommodate a rocket or smoke flare but
will carry my radio on me in future along with my strobe and
mini flares.
On the Monday, having listened to Andrew Wallace extolling
it’s virtues, I went rolling. Helen Wilson is I’m told a
rolling champion. Certainly she seemed to be able to roll up
just by waggling her eyebrows. Time will tell but she may
have worked some improvement on my roll - albeit from a
pretty low base. She is a good teacher- just can’t make silk
purses from sows ears. Time will tell but I did win her
video in the raffle and have a nose clip in my buoyancy aid!
My Wild Weekend – a tale of 3 very different days.
I had booked myself in for Incident Management on the
first day of the Storm Gathering. I felt that while I am not
a leader, it would do no harm to have session thinking about
the causes, prevention and management of incidents. Apart
from anything else, Martin and I often paddle just as a
twosome. Our group eventually got on the water after delays
due to poor communication of a change of venue to park/get
on the water. I paddled out through the small break OK but
as I had a minor wobble on top of two intriguingly close
waves, a strong gust blew me over. Capsizing was OK but
swimming proved interesting as I had been lent a pair of dry
salopettes to wear under my dry cag but had failed to expel
the air from them. My |
