You know when you can’t think of anything else, can’t do anything else, can’t be anywhere else? Well, that’s what living so close to the water is like when the weather is fine. It’s bad enough having withdrawal symptoms from being down at the Boat Show for the duration and working either side with only one launch in all that time...without looking out of the window at work and seeing it’s blue sky, bright sunshine and still. They wonder at work why I usually have the blind drawn – I don’t wish to know it’s nice outside when I’m not there! Well, Friday was a struggle. Three weeks straight without a break is bad enough but having a streaming cold as well is no fun. There was nothing else for it – by 9am I had decided to crack on, clear my desk, do some extra stuff and then – with Andrew away – do a runner at 12:30 and have a half day’s holiday.
I filled in a holiday form and dumped it on Andrew’s desk. I left instructions in the office that they could call me on my mobile and then I was away. Half an hour later and I was at the edge of the Broad – I needed to do a recce before the meet in a fortnight. I carried the yak down to the pontoon – I’d borrowed a Scrambler 11 as it seems a nice boat and I like to get some time in on different models (I’d had a half-hour impromptu session on a Frenzy a couple of days before on the river following a delivery on my way home). There was fry everywhere – and I do mean everywhere. I’ve never seen anything like it – imagine inch long fish for literally hundreds of yards – that is the Broad at the moment. Encouraging for the future but worrying for the present as, to me, it points to a lack of predation which bears out my suspicions since the storm surge last winter that dumped a lot of seawater into the system.
Well, I paddled around (without my camera) for a few hours and failed miserably at getting so much as one single run. At one point Richard from the warehouse called with a technical query – after a minute he goes quiet and asks me, incredulously “are you paddling?” ;D Why else would I be skiving off work, I ask you? After a while I decided to do some exploring. Andrew often mentions a side channel that leads off and around that is now overgrown and difficult to spot - so I decided to try and get through. It was great – inches deep in places and with fry and larger fish dotted around here and there it was a very pleasant diversion. I came back out after a while and trolled back down the Broad to load up and meet my wife and children on the playground when they came on the way back from school.
Of course that just set the seed for the weekend and although Saturday was going to be impossible it did leave Sunday…so I went off in the morning and bought myself some rag, some maggots, some squid and some boned kippers. The kippers were eaten when I returned and the bait put in the fridge and freezer for the morning.
Sunday.
05:30. Dark. Silly.
05:32. Still dark. Bugger it – I’ve only got until 09:30. Bunged up and following a bad night’s sleep I headed downstairs, dressed and drank a coffee before dragging the yak and gear out into the alleyway. I’d got prepared the night before and was en-route to the beach in short order. Still dark it was foggy as well.
Still, both would pass. I got down to the beach and took note of the calm water and the beginnings of the dawn. I snapped a quick photograph and was impressed at how effective the newly-added SOLAS tape to kayak and rod tips was:
I paddled out. My original plan was to head out to the Stanford Buoy, my usual codding ground, but as time was in short supply I decided to head for the closest mark I’d input from the chart. I wasn’t convinced when I got there so headed north – into the current (around 2 knots) and paddled uphill for half a mile to another likely spot. I dropped anchor and cast in my first rod – a 3-hook hokkai rig with rag – then baited the second with whole squid on a 3/0 pennel with running leger. This followed and I did the same with a second. I then brought in the first rod and
Whiting. Straight away pretty much. Trouble was I was drifting – the anchor wasn’t gripping or wasn’t holding me against the current – 50 feet of warp on a 1.5kg anchor in 25ft of water should have been sufficient but only just…but not today. Ah well, what does it matter when it’s one of these mornings?
The local fishing boats started to come out soon after, having enjoyed a lie in!
I lifted my anchor, checked all was okay and dropped it back down again then settled back for a while. The odd rattle coming here and there.
I brought the anchor up one more time and decided to head in towards the CEFAS building – the overfall on the sandbanks out from the end of the Claremont Pier looking rather mild for once. I crossed it and got into deeper water – surprisingly still around 25ft deep which is very good for this part of the coast. I anchored and settled back. The squid rods were getting regular rattles from whiting nibbling on them but I couldn’t connect – until I got sneaky and put some ‘teasers’ on the bottom hook – little strips of squid that hopefully they’d get to first and try to pinch. It worked a treat and I brought some more in.
Well sometimes the weather is no good for fishing…but it’s often great for practice or playing when that’s the case and this weekend was no exception.
Essexbuoy and his family had been invited up for the weekend a while back and with the weather looking rubbish the original intention of a session of fishing and a family paddle to the pub complete with picnic was abandoned. However, I took advantage of Andrew once again and slung a couple of demonstration Yak Boards into the back of the van on Friday night in the hope that they may come in useful.
Saturday afternoon saw strong winds and a snotty sea here and after kitting up the children in wetsuits we wandered down to the beach. Steve was fully protected in his drysuit and deciding at the last minute that the discomfort wasn’t worth it I went down in T-shirt and wetsuit trousers, my wife in wetsuit too. Steve and I had a Yak Board each and my two paddles – my fancy Enchantment Carbon and my basic Day Tripper. In this instance the day tripper would be the superior paddle as the stiffness and the shorter length was closer to what was needed although neither were right for the job – a large power face and short shaft are apparently the way to go for this kind of paddling.
It was hard graft walking against the wind but we headed up to the end of the stretch between the groynes and Steve and I launched into the waves. It wasn’t surf as such, just a broken, messy dump and frankly it was all over the place – like a washing machine really. Still, it’s a giggle anyway and the worst that can happen is a bash on the head with a Yak!
Well, we both managed to get in and get out a little way before being dumped out of the seat. I re-entered and had a reasonable – but short – ride back in but Steve had to stop as with no back rest and previous back problems it wasn’t advisable to try and continue. However, I persuaded my wife to have a go and although she expected to make a fool of her self she was keen to have a go:
“I don’t have enough skill but it looks fun and I’ll try”…game on!
Out we went…
She fell off after a bit and then got back on before riding it in.
I came in too to remind her of her PFD – we’d both mentioned it and both subsequently forgotten it. Then we went out again
There seemed a certain point past which we couldn’t get without being dumped so we both played a bit closer in where the water was really churned up.
It was just great fun and we both had a couple of decent runs in to the shore and a few more poor ones.
The great thing was that you would see a wave coming and could instantly turn 180 degrees and go or correct your bearing with a stroke to take a wave face-on. The buoyancy and width allows you to leap over the top of waves and with the thigh straps you can pull it about with your body – with practice you can really push this and at one pint I was well-over balanced and expecting to flip but stayed in and settled back down again. VERY responsive.
Of course the children wanted to play and who were we to refuse?
Here’s Harry, Steve’s youngest:
Eloise and I:
Eloise going edge on (without tipping)
and Eloise just before she was flipped out
and finally the yaks before we left.
Now, I’ve never been allowed a Yak Board of my own. The Kea for the children was being thought about for the future and my Prowler 15 and Trident 15 are tolerated but no longer welcome in the garden (I put them on the van one day and came home to find trees planted where they’d been). However, not only has a Yak Board been ‘agreed’ to, a second has been demanded!! Amazingly I’m being encouraged to spend money on kayaks :D That’s right – I paid for my first one myself and paid half of the second one I bought which was for her to use plus anyone else who fancied a go (that’s the one I sold to Norm a few months later when I got the Trident). This time I think the joint account is paying for them – she was even disappointed when I said I had to bring these ones back on Monday.
All week I’d been champing at the bit…my gear was sorted out, my kit was packed, my tackle ready – even all my batteries had been charged in advance. All that was left come the weekend was a wedding to photograph before I could be off.
And off I was. Soon after 5pm on Saturday I headed south for the long drive to Mudeford Quay where Richi and Co were preparing for the annual Conger Meet. I spoke to Richi on the way and arranged to give him a call when I got close so he could help me unload the van and bring stuff over as I was carrying my own Trident 15 and both the Trident 11 and 13 for people to play with.
Some time after 11pm I rolled up on the quayside and decided to just grab the 11, paddle across the Run and wander into the Black House, the location of the week’s meet. Cag and pants, boots and PFD on I paddled over and walked straight in. There was Lozz’s son by the door, and there inside were Lozz and Richi. Following a quick ‘Alright mate….how are yer?’ a beer was placed in my paw and I was admonished for not calling over for a hand with my gear. No worries, we’d do it after. Some of the lads were out on the Ledge already and as much as I wanted to launch I figured it was unwise.
Back once again with all my kit and the other yaks we hung around on the beach. The clear water was teeming with small fish which looked to me like Mullet and I cursed myself for not bringing my Goby gear down. Too slow with my hands, Lozz passed me a shrimp net found lying around and I made a few lunges…the moth-eaten old thing had less net than your average fishing rod and everything went straight through. Taking it back where it’d come from I spied, however, a couple more and soon had this little fella in my hand (vindicated after the piss-taking that had already gone on.)
He spent the night in a water jug, waiting to be shown proudly to Darnsarf – except that I changed the water in the morning (to keep the oxygen fresh) and it somehow escaped. No matter, I went on the hunt and caught another one along with a Goby
And what I think is a Flounder
After a while the intrepid paddlers returned and acquaintances renewed…followed by beer, banter and a small but noisy package deposited in the bottom bunk that kept me devoid of sleep for many hours.
Sunday morning came and after sorting out my parking and trying to get Bass on floatfished live Smelt (had four that all escaped before the tide slackened and they went off the boil) it was time to get kitted up for the launch. Conditions were beautiful and the plan was for the group to head down to Avon Beach and try for Gurnard. Meanwhile, amidst all this running around Lozz was teaching his son how to fish – he’d bought a Prowler 13 a few days before…
…while Egbert was ferrying his gear across from the quay (we’d met finally when I went over to get my parking ticket sorted out). Darnsarf had also turned up and was having a play in the Run on the Trident 11…
…and there was a hive of activity below…
…before finally we headed out onto the water…
I anchored up near Darnsarf and dropped down a couple of feather/shrimp/hokkai rigs baited with Ragworm.
After half an hour or so I decided that boredom was starting to creep in and curiosity too as Tratty was a good way out to sea and as he’s my mate I’d head out there. Anchor retrieved I headed out and within a few hundred yards heard the news that one of the guys I’d just left had a Gurnard on…bugger!
Ah well, when you make a decision at sea it’s always best to stick by it unless danger rears its head and so I carried on out. Tratty was drifting with a float rig and so I left the anchor in the tankwell, dropped down my rods and sat back…
Pow! Within minutes the rod was banging away and I brought up my first Corkwing Wrasse from the yak, first in England (had some baby Wrasse in Spain years ago) and my Personal Best!
What a lovely account it gave of itself and what a beautiful looking fish – I was very pleased with species number 28 of the year! Tratty was not overly amused I’m sure – no bite yet and within minutes I was on the fish…he carried on with his drift…
Pow! Again!
A Ballan Wrasse this timebut totally different markings. And what a fantastic coloured mouth too:
Home it went and I sat back. Until the rod went again of course…I called out to Tratty that there were ‘Loads’ and brought it up. He soon turned up behind me having paddled flat out, asking where it was? Embarrassingly he thought I’d yelled ‘Tope’ and had come to assist…
Now this was fun! I don’t normally take photo’s of any fish after the first of the species on a day now (even when bigger) except with pike but as these are all so different I had to record them. Besides, I was being ha-wrassed!
One more rattle saw this little chap come aboard
Then I turned to see that I was about to hit the overfall at Beerpan Rocks and it was looking pretty snotty. We paddled out of it and headed inshore to skirt between the groyne and the chop in rather lively water which we had to negotiate for quite a while before coming out into the calmer conditions the other side.
I was running low on bait now and thankfully Richi turned up with some squid that I was able to scrounge…amazingly, it caught me one of these…
...followed by half a dozen pouting, one of which went straight back down as a flapper on the Conger rod…
Now, one of my other interests is historic aviation and I always get a buzz out of what I know as warbirds – the aircraft of World War Two. But I wasn’t alone today as we all enjoyed having the Avro Lancaster of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight pass right over us as it turned in for another pass to the crowd at the airshow…
I don’t know, maybe it was the noise of the engines that did it, but this Bream jumped onto my bait and gave it a hell of a rattle…
I had another soon after that really banged away on the rod and went around a pound and a half – a superb fish and a PB again. Me, I was having a whale of a time and kept running out of bait…Richi had been out for Mackerel for the evenings session and having scrounged three off him for bait here I was able to carry on for a while – until he got bored and gathered some of the troops for another Mackerel bash out on the deeper mark a mile out. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention until he called over:
“You’re alright Snaps, stay there and we’ll go catch you some more bait mate…”
Bless him, perhaps he thought I was being lazy but I was up for the paddle so hauling up my anchor I followed as Richi, Egbertnobacon and Paintfly paddled out, Richi navigating.
“Anywhere around here Snaps” came the shout and so I dropped down some feathers as the others did the same. It was a con – they were all under Richi’s yak and he started hauling them up! Then Egbert had some…and finally, as I saw the shoal on my finder I got the depth and hauled into them…
Three on the first lift…
Well there was no stopping me now and I was banging them out left, right and centre…mackerel all over the place, the line getting fish on within seconds of dropping it down and after thirty-odd fish it was decided that it was time to head back inshore to where Tratty and Phooey were still tied off to the buoys.
As we pitched up I picked up another shoal – and with a shout of ‘There’s fish here’ I dropped my feathers down and brought a couple more Mackerel up!
“He’s only just f***ing got here and he‘s into fish” I heard come over from Tratty’s Elite.
The headed in. The weather was starting to deteriorate and we were intending to head out again that evening but Paintfly wanted his Garfish and I was (quote) like a kid in a sweetshop…Well, he tied off to a buoy and at first I drifted a bit. He was determined to get his Gar and so I followed his lead and scrounged a hook to stick on some thin mono and a sandeel from his packet. “I really want a Gar” he said as I drifted off to tie my hook. I drifted off, then paddled back…
Wriggly buggers, Garfish…
The weather was deteriorating by now but Paintfly was a happy man…
Sorry, did I say deteriorating?
It was actually very, very beautiful. The lighting conditions were superb and it looked creamy, almost like snow as he put it.
By now I had tied off to Paintfly and I was getting Mackerel and constant bites on bream – I had two of similar size to my bigger one from the morning on at once until they shook off when they dragged the line over my Conger rod and hooked it. Bugger. A few more fish – in fact almost as soon as I dropped down each time – and a few more missed or dropped Bream but finally, with the lightning and thunder, we decided it was time to head in…
It was a pleasant paddle back and for once I had a reasonable amount of fish to land with – we had conger bait and we had dinner. Back at base I got out my grandmother’s fish smoker and after cleaning and gutting some Mackerel (and Phooey did his Gar) I got the smoker on and prepared some for later. It was a hit - really going down well. Paintfly and I had eaten some mackerel strips raw off a fish I’d brought up and cut seconds before while out on the buoy and now Tratty tried a piece – a really nice thing to try next time you bring some Mackerel in. Knock one on the head, slice a piece off, rinse it in the sea and eat it. It’s good. Very good.
Of course we’d had a long day and it was taking its toll. I’d had 4 Ballan Wrasse, 2 Corkwing Wrasse, 6 Pouting, 2 Bream, 34 Mackerel and loads of missed and dropped fish (it’s bloody easy down south) and paddled loads of miles on my Trident 15 and as we tucked into beer and food some began to feel the effects…
Yep, Phooey just can’t let go – he even dreams about fish…
Well, after a break, some food, a beer and the usual milling around aimlessly while waiting for everyone to be ready it was time to launch into the run and head for the Conger mark. There’s something about launching at night and this is the second time I’ve launched down the run for an evenings Conger hunting – the first being the Crazywater demo weekend – to jump straight into a torrent of water and be pulled straight out to meet the incoming waves is pretty special and certainly gets the blood up…then, in the dark, battling through the surf as you go around the point, you come to the larger swell…about three feet at this point I’d guess. We were against the tide and this made the paddle out somewhat slower than the last time and as Tratty and I headed out we hooked up with another – from memory I thought it was Paintfly but it turned out to be Egbertnobacon…it’s easy to forget who is where when only the navlight is there to give a clue.
We paddled on for a while, going up and over the swell with the odd bit of water coming over my bow and into the cockpit – occasionally a face full of spray too – and then came the chop around Beerpan Rocks…
Between four and five feet I’d guess, if not it felt like it in the general disorientation and as we all battled through it I started to think to myself that this was all perhaps just a little bit silly….
Finally through we headed to where we knew the buoys would be. I cursed myself for not hitting the ‘Mark’ button on my finder that afternoon so that I could paddle straight in on the screen but then we came across Phooey in his Dorado. The conversation was along these lines:
“Who’s that?”
“Snapper”
“I’m heading back. I don’t think this is fishable. Do you want to come?”
“Hold on, I’ll see what the others think”
I paddled over to Tratty. He was staying for a while, I think with Overrun. I used this time to mull it over myself and figured that yes, I had the yak and the gear as well as the confidence and ability to stay out (we ALL did) but on the other hand it wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun, it may blow up worse (as predicted) and if I did hook into a Conger I may find things a bit uncomfortable. I went back to Phooey and told him I was coming in too. Egbert was also in agreement and although we all dearly wanted to fish we took the sensible option and turned around.
The paddle past the rocks wasn’t so bad on the way back, the waves were in the right direction and we were through in a fraction of the time and into slightly more sheltered water. We soon met up with Richi, Lozz, Fat Fly Fisher and Paintfly (I think) and discussed things. They thought hard and then carried on out while we, tempted to change our minds, decided that a decision made at sea was a decision to stick with and carried on in.
I stopped. It was dark; I had a couple of experienced yakkers with me and was in deep water. This was the ideal time for me to try night re-entries and re-entries with rods attached – nether of which I’d done before – and I decided to do them in one hit. We were pretty sheltered here so it wasn’t a difficult time to practice but it was the perfect opportunity. Giving my coolbox of bait and navlight to Egbert (no way to secure them) and lashing my rods I slipped off the side of the yak and stayed in for a short time before hauling myself back onboard with my back to the current. Satisfied, I slipped off again and did the same from the other side and facing into the current. Phooey took some photographs while I did this and then decided that he would try it with the Dorado.
In he went and it was my turn with the camera:
Expertly done, he was soon back in the driving seat. However Egbert, when asked, just gave one of those ‘Go away and stop being silly’ looks when asked if he was going to have a go.
We carried on in. We could have fished for Bass where we were of course but we were rigged for Conger and out for Conger and none of us felt like it. Pulling up to the Black House we went in and grabbed some beers. Egbert and I were sat upstairs chatting away with beer in out hands and I’m sure that he also felt disappointed at the outcome even though we both knew we’d made a sensible decision. Still, we were in the perfect situation for me to set about filleting (perfectly I hasten to add with no pretence to modesty whatsoever) my big Black Bream. Fried with some olive oil spray and seasoned with salt and pepper that slipped down a treat…my first time eating Bream.
A while later the others drifted in. Nothing had been caught and at some point when I started to drift off I said my goodbyes and went to bed…a fantastic day had come to an end.
NEARLY!!!!!!!!!!!
Bring back Starvinmarvin – fat Fly Fisher is NOT the ideal companion for sharing a room with and my night was split between brief periods of dozing and long periods of calling him a ****!
Well, bleary-eyed and bushy-minded I awoke to the sound of my alarm and left it to ring a few times more to get my revenge. Getting up, I donned Johnson Outdoors branded clothing and after a quick breakfast put a cag and trousers over it to keep them dry as I had to go off to Southampton to do some work. Tratty followed me over and brought my yak back across to the Spit and off I went. Originally it was intended to be taking Side Imaging out on a Rib but for various reasons this was postponed and so I instead met up with our South Coast representative and did a tour of marinas, chandlers and electronics suppliers. I’m surprised that I stayed awake… :D
On the way back I stopped off at Tesco and bought some provisions – eggs, milk and beer – and then headed back for the quay. The run was streaming through, the wind was blowing and the water was angry. Tratty battled over in his Elite towing a Trident 11 across for me. And I wondered how much power I’d be able to develop on the way back and whether I’d end up out to sea or not! I needn’t have worried as it cut me through the chop fine – although I did get soaked – and I soon ended up ‘home’.
I’d got an hour…then we were off to Tanners Lane for Smoothounds.
I got kitted up, changed and some food and drink down my neck and headed back to the quay. We loaded my Trident and Phooey’s Dorado onto the van and set course for Tanner’s using the GPS. Paintfly was following us as he wasn’t sure where to go. A good while later he flashed us and we pulled over – by now halfway to Southampton he enquired politely ‘Where the **** are you going?” So we followed him instead, with his map. The GPS kept telling us to turn and although we wanted to neither of us dared anger Paintfly again :D
We finally pulled up at Tanners and within minutes the others did as well – synchronised parking. A couple of wind surfers were out on the water and the wind was somewhat fresh…it didn’t look fishable. The sea wasn’t particularly high – 1ft chop perhaps – but the wind was straight onto the shore and apparently gusting to over 40 mph. Phooey and I wandered down and agreed to launch – it didn’t look dangerous, it didn’t look particularly uncomfortable but it looked like a bloody hard paddle out. Back to the van the others were all decided - they weren’t going. The thing that swung it against the launch was Richi pointing out that the weed would be streaming in and so finally we decided to abandon it. Back to the quay and the pub…
I met up at the pub with my old mate Charley who I’d worked with on the boats many years back and who lives in Christchurch and we had a couple of beers and a natter. Then the others decided to get up and make a move as the place was closing. It was lucky we had all been wearing drysuits as apparently the pub bans people in wetsuits from coming in.
We prepared for launch and the water was a mess. The wind, chop, tide were all against us crossing and it was dark too. I figured that I’d rather leave my rods and navlight in the van and go light. Soon we launched and Richi, Lozz and Egbert headed across and in. Tratty remembered his rods were still on the quayside so turned back and I grabbed hold of a buoy and waited for him – it’d had taken ages to get to it! Fat Fly Fisher saw him turn back and followed – then disaster struck. He spotted some railings too late and decided to throw his rods out as he went into them. His navlight was snapped against them through sheer force and as he went to retrieve his rods he realised that he hadn’t actually leashed them…the moving around of headlights alerted me and I came in moments before Tratty called me up on the VHF. They found one as I arrived and another ten minutes later when I had to undress myself for a pee! Fat Fly Fisher then decided to stay the night in his van and we went across for beer and food.
We all stayed outside watching the sea battering things and Richi and Lozz mentioned a dory that had floated down and was now wedged into the side in the run. I called up the Coastguard and they came down to sort things out which provided some entertainment. I went over to give a hand and had some excitement but was not actually needed as they managed to get it up the wall on their own eventually.
And so to bed…I was running out of time with one day left…
I’d switched my mobile off so that the alarm wouldn’t go off and wake me up. Clever, those phone boffins – it still went off and woke me up but from another room. It refused to be ignored so I went out of the bedroom and switched it off before boiling the kettle for coffee. I thought better of this though and went back to bed for half an hour.
I got up again, reboiled the kettle and slung a load of sausages and bacon into the oven. Egbert was the best off of all though – he got a coffee in bed. Tratty, ablutions sorted, then altered positions in the oven, temperatures and so on and extended the time before launch considerably – it was bloody gorgeous out there! A bit of surf around the entrance but the sea looked calm, the harbour looked calm and even the Run looked mild. Of course we had to bugger things up by wandering around aimlessly and not getting our arses together and by the time we did launch (at least a couple of hours later) the wind was up and the sea was starting to pump. I’d been across towing the Trident 13 and a bunch of gear back to the van but was still far drier than I’d hoped for the time of day.
With Tratty almost ready I decided enough was enough and I had to get wet – I needed to leave by 16:30 so I launched my Trident with the minimum of gear – I had my finder, an anchor and line, some mackerel and squid for bait, two rods, a few rigs and weights and my flares. It was too light really for a Trident but I paddled out and down the Run and into the breaking surf at the mouth…
…and into some pretty fair swell in the region of 3-4 feet with the odd bigger wave amongst them! And no-one was behind me. Still, they would be along sooner or later and I was kitted up for any eventuality so I turned into the wind and headed for Pout Hole, a couple of miles down the coast.
It was hard graft (looks like a calm summer day on the photo!) and on spying the conditions off the groyne by Beerpan Rocks I figured I’d tie off to a buoy and await the others – hopefully feathering up some Mackerel for us to use as bait in the meantime. I hadn’t been there long when I caught site of Tratty and Egbertnobacon paddling over towards me and as I’d already lost a feather rig to a rope I untied and joined them. Tratty, in his Elite, was ahead as usual – he’s got powerful arms and makes light work of things
A Mackerel charter was coming along behind him and making slightly more headway though. The passengers onboard probably thought we were mental and honestly shouldn’t be out in these conditions – but they soon turned tail and left :D
and then along came Egbert in his Prowler13…
We went through the breaking surf and large swell between the rocks and the groyne – and it was pretty exciting. 5-6 feet whitecaps I’d say, and pretty choppy with it – and the wind was making any attempt at paddling quickly almost impossible. But we eventually got through and tied off to the buoys in some swell that was back to around 4 feet by now predominantly, with the odd 5-6 thrown in. Conditions were such that I actually attached myself to my kayak via my tow line. But words don’t paint the full picture…
