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Friday 29 October 2010

Force Four Fishing...29/10/2010

I had a days holiday yesterday so headed for Southwold (as planned), launching from Lowestoft (10+ miles) to meet up with a local or two.

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By the time I got to Kessingland, 3 miles south, i'd had enough of battling a strong wind in my face that was coming over the swell and creating a rather snotty sea - the fishing would likely be the same at Southwold anyway. Dropped anchor in 26ft and didn't like it at all so up-anchored and headed north again to Pakefield, against the tide. I had the sail up and paddled as well, made about 2mph I'd say.

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Fun going through a large area off the rifle range which varied between 6 and 10ft...dropped anchor in 24ft, still snotty, and proceeded to pull in 18 whiting before sailing back again once the tide had turned.

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With hindsight I should have done Hopton and taken advantage of the shelter it offers in a southwesterly...ah well, enjoyed myself all the same.

Sunday 24 October 2010

Broken Waters…24/10/10

There’s always a bit of excitement towards the weekend when we know we can get together for a paddle but the forecast for this weekend looked even better than usual…not for the fishing side but for the playing! A very big swell in the region of 13ft+ and an estimated 8ft breaking wave estimate with a strong northerly swell and north westerly wind was going to make Lowestoft South Beach the place to be on Sunday morning…of course we knew it wouldn’t be as big as advertised and we knew that forecasts were crap right now but still we awaited it and got stuff ready for Big Sunday ;D

By stuff ready I mean the Yakboards and the cameras…I had to do some Heath Robinson work on my new ATC9K action cam to attach it to the yak facing into the cockpit while still keeping the old ATC2K pointing sideways to capture the shape of the waves, the speed and my companions. Some foam, tape and one of the Velcro straps it ships with did the trick for this trip with a cut-down leash providing extra security. I had my new Olympus Tough 6020 as well which would be used variously from the water and from the groynes to capture photographs and footage of the others…I wanted to give them a thorough testing.

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I got up before 6. This was not really necessary but I wanted to get mentally prepared – ie I wanted coffee to wake myself up and I wanted to get down to the beach in good time. Tim was on his way over from the northern wastelands, Tony was coming up from southern shores, I was representing the east which left Steve…the lazy bastard was having a lie in again. I couldn’t wait and headed for the beach.

It was flat. Great.

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I was too keyed up to fish, I wanted surf! Then, sure enough, the first one rolled in…about 18 inches high! Underwhelmed I reckoned the shape was doable and I could ride it in at least. I launched, paddled out and waited for the next one…paddling hard for it when it came…
It was a fast wave! They were small but they packed a good bit of power into them and I had a few enjoyable rides in before spotting Tony with his Prowler 13 by the roadside. I wandered up to say hi and was amazed to see his good lady with him too…but she had more sense than to get wet in October and instead opted to walk the dog. Me? I had to get back in the water!

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Tony and I had a few runs and then Tim turned up. The waves were slightly better by this time but not by a great deal and so we headed south towards the pier, noticing some surfers who’d arrived now that the sun was up. The waves, hitting the shallows here, were rearing up a bit better but I don’t find it fair to encroach on other’s spots so, while they were out of the way we had a quick play then paddled to the other side of the pier to play there.

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We found a few reasonable waves and had some short, fun rides and then noticed that it was building again back in our original spot…so we tried to head back there, only we were catching a few waves here and there which delayed us! Steve had by now woken up and joined us, clad in a wetsuit and falling in while chatting the moment I came back out from the shore.

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It seemed to be bigger just north of our usual taking-off point so we headed for that initially. It was dumping here and those of us that rode it invariably got chewed up; I managed it rather dramatically as did Tony. I knew I was going to get munched on a couple of occasions and once was lucky enough not to get onto a wave I tried as there was a good chance of hitting the groyne or a metal post if I’d done so. We had to move and so headed back to the original spot.

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It had grown now. We good 4ft sets coming through every now and again and all had good rides out of them. ..who’d have thought it eh? Proper surf waves at Lowestoft? ;) We had to wait though, it was a long time between sets (a good few minutes) and flat in between.

Some promising waves got absorbed, others broke early but when the good ones came they were GOOD! The surfers soon pitched up in our area but were respectful and didn’t crowd us, we in turn tried to keep out of their spot; on one hand it’s politeness but on the other hand a yak to the head bloody hurts and nobody needs that aggro.

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Eventually Tony had to depart and with Steve hurting his finger he too had to go. This seemed like the time for Tim and I to call it quits and so I grabbed my last wave of the day, a good one, and took it all the way into the beach stopping about a metre from the concrete at the base of the sea wall. I looked for Tim who’d not got off on it and waited…

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…it was another long gap…and then his wave came in at last and it was a beauty! It finished the filming beautifully!

So, how did the cameras do? Judge for yourself! Incidentally, there is a GPS module in the ATC9K and my top recorded speed was 15.53mph…

…Breakfast called. Home cold-smoked salmon with poached egg…I swear Tim isn’t really into the kayaking but just comes over for breakfast ;D

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Steve was off getting changed elsewhere as we carried the yaks to mine, got out of our drysuits and put the kettle on. With coffee ready, salmon sliced and toast made there was a knock at the door…Steve was there just in time to fill up! I opened the door…

“Sorry mate, can’t come in, got to run, Jo’s waters have broken…”

There was water breaking everywhere that day.


Forget Brando, we’re The Wet Ones!

TaffSteve:

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Brotherwarren:

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Snapper:

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Westie:

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Monday 18 October 2010

Eastern Meet 4, 15-18 October 2010

As usual the meet began early with the kettle being boiled and food crammed into the oven after which I wandered outside to see who had arrived. Amazingly, there were only three vehicles present down the end of my road! Having woken them up I returned to the kitchen...presently other hungry souls arrived and we settled down to chat, drink and eat a sausage butty.

With the inadequate amount of sausages consumed it was time to hand out bait and head off in convoy for the coast...at least three of us did with the others disappearing down another road and heading straight for Hopton! Ah well, I launched at Dogger alone as Richi and Fatflyfisher began getting ready.

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I covered the three and a bit miles down to Hopton through a bit of wind-blown swell in around forty minutes...as Hopton hove into sight so did a good amount of yaks already on the water.

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I counted a dozen already anchored with more on the beach preparing to launch and I settled down with a 2/0 wishbone and a 4/0 pennel baited with frozen black lug and a squid head. It didn’t take long before I swung the first whiting aboard.

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...and then the second and third

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...oh, and a whelk!

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The smallest was duly rigged as livebait on a third rod in the hope of a decent cod and I settled down to knocking out a steady string of whiting and my first pouting of the year before the tide went slack and everything stopped.

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It takes ages to start running again at Hopton but eventually the fish came on the feed again. With only two small codling caught by others and the tide now starting to rip through I decided to up-anchor and head back to the launch site with FFF after taking a few photos of people.

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We paddled back at a reasonable rate and were making up to 7.4mph! Drifting alone we managed 3mph...

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We covered the distance in twenty minutes and both landed gracefully...although Simon took a tumble having not undone his paddle leash and getting caught in it ;D Job done!

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Then it was down to the Holiday village where the rest of the afternoon passed chatting and drinking (while awaiting the return of PNGwin whose keys had locked themselves in his van and Pugwash whose steering column decided to explode) before we all headed off to the clubhouse for food and drink – it’s handy having everything right there by the chalets! After a couple of soft drinks and feeling tired I eventually parted company and went home, ready for the morning.

Saturday dawned with a strong north easterly and I could hear the waves pounding on the beach. Curly was kipping outside and Pete turned up from Felixstowe soon followed by Fishy from Hunstanton and we got ourselves kitted up, grabbed my Yakboard and Scupper and Curly’s Chatham 16 and headed down to the beach to play. There were a good few surfers out but the wavelength was short and dumpy being wind-blown and low tide. Still, we chose our area and set to work having fun!

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A few rides followed for me, always ending with a dump right at the end, and while swapping kayaks over we noticed Curly drifting along outside his yak and trying to get back in. I went to assist and he paddled back into shore with a flooded cockpit. He was soon emptied out and heading seaward again as were Pete and I, fishy doing some grand work filming our exploits ;D Pete had Velcro stuck to his arse and a good high brace and thus avoided being dumped most of the time.

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I still struggled to hit the beach in one piece even on the Yakboard while Curly ended up being rolled and catapulted out of the boat minus a shoe ;D All comparisons to childhood hero Joey Deacon were politely ignored!

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Then there was a big wave. Curly and I caught it from out back and I rode it in all the way on the Yakboard, short as it is. Curly had it going beautifully off to m right until the water shallowed and his nose dug into the sand...cue one vertical SINK and one disoriented paddler spun out sideways! At least when I dug the nose of the Scupper in and went vertical I fell off in a straight line...although the whack on my shoulder as the boat followed me down reminded me to be more responsible, family man that I am...PN Gwin missed my ‘endo’ sadly but caught Curly’s beautifully!

Treedoc also turned up, clad from head to toe in black neoprene. I wondered where the Milk Tray were but I guess Davy Jones had them. Another toy to play with.

Three hours passed by which time we were all knackered. Back to mine to change and some of us drank coffee before heading back to the Broad. Windy, I took the sail out and paddled down to the dead end trolling a couple of lures unsuccessfully before flicking the sail up and positively flying back in company with Fishy, resplendent with his home made goldfish shower curtain sail ;D I continued to wander around the broad but still failed to catch anything...it was time to get warm with a brew.

But Lo! Curly’s Chatham was unoccupied! I grabbed it and went for a quick paddle. Then I grabbed Ken’s Nordkapp...I liked it and demanded he teach me to roll there and then. He did an excellent job of instructing and with someone a bit more adept it might have borne fruit. I got the hip flick, I got the concept, I got the movement and I got the stroke. The trouble was, upside down in the cold broad none of them came together for me and I had to bail. A few times. It provided amusement to the onlookers and comments varied from Ken’s son Anthony: “You’re very brave” to Starvin’s “Pathetic.” Me? I just thought the inside of my ears were cold and wet and I’d have to wash my hair before bed.

Hot chocolate, cider, chat and crap TV followed until, knackered, I went home to see the girls and put them to bed before getting an early night ready for Sunday’s promised calm sea and light wind.

Hmm. It wasn’t that light and it was none to calm either. Doling out the rest of the worm at the holiday village I led a group off to Dogger for a launch (Richi had already paddled off towards the waves breaking on the sandbank a mile out). Others were already at Hopton or heading there and so we proceeded to get kitted up and wait for Amos to realise what dimension he was in ;) The sea was dumping nicely and it looked a bit choppy out past the groynes so I went out first to test the water. Straight through, I sat out there and got the camera ready. Westie launched and went over after a couple of bigger waves came in. Then Brotherwarren did the same. They repeated this, along with AndyD and so, laughing so hard at the carnage I feared taking a swim I landed amongst the carnage to see what was going wrong and take some film from a better angle.

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Finally though they made it through, followed by Tarponben (the human windmill) and Amos who was the most graceful of the lot. Then, with Simon launched I jumped in too soon and without watching the waves and got battered about a bit at the shoreline before struggling through and we headed off to Hopton.

Oh it was a lovely sea! Even giving the rebounds from the sea defences a wide berth it was rough. Short swell, big chop, wind in our faces and a running sea all made for an invigorating paddle and who knows what the guys in the Arvor thought when we went past them in a group, bobbing alarmingly at anchor as they were. Fortunately by the time we arrived at Hopton it had settled down somewhat and we joined those already anchored.

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More whiting came in along with a good-sized pout before it went quiet as the tide slackened off. The north-easterly wind was cutting through us and I for one was feeling a bit cold. With the 3 mile paddle each way, warm water and a reasonable air temperature I’d elected to only put one underfleece on but the windchill was where the problem lay. I was pleased of the hood on my drysuit though, especially once my back was to the wind. Well, combining cold with boredom I slipped anchor and went for a paddle about to warm up and say hi to everyone as well as seeing how they were getting on. Alas no codling had turned up today. I re-anchored as the tide started to turn and waited...and waited...the flow was almost imperceptible and although I’d drifted over a patch of rough ground now things were still not happening. Simon had gone off already, Westie and Amos were then packing up to sail home but I figured another half an hour would do the trick. As the latter two flicked their sails up my rod tip started to buck and I pulled up a couple of good whiting – the best of the day – only for one to drop off...things were picking up at last I thought...but I was wrong. The half hour passed with nothing doing so I hauled in my anchor line and set off to Dogger with Brotherwarren. A tricky landing in the shore dump followed but Saturday’s play had me in tune with things and I handled it nicely. Tony was turned side on and got out but then had his yak flipped by the following wave taking out a rod and stealing his catch, only some of which we retrieved. Bugger :(

Andy1i from easternanglers.net was on the shore and introduced himself to me...I said we’d already met and confessed that the 6lb codling I’d shown him when Pugwash and I had sailed down in the force 5 for the sea angler article hadn’t been caught that day but the one preceding it which had been flat calm ;) We had a good chat and got ourselves sorted out while awaiting Tarponben and AndyD to return – we wanted to see them crash!!! The buggers didn’t oblige though so with Tony heading home Tim and I went to mine for a beef sandwich from a freshly roasted joint before heading back to an almost deserted holiday village for a brew, raiding Chalet 53 and disturbing Tarpondebs to get the kettle boiled. We should have stayed at Dogger...Ben and Andy witnessed the last one in, Richi, come a superb cropper ;D Another broken rod claimed by the shore dump! That was his second drenching of the day too but at least he didn’t stink of seal sh!t now after heading north to Scroby Sands.

Richi came back, Todaymueller returned from the Broad, Ben and Debs, Andy, Tim and I were there and Amos pitched up later but with Richi and Tim going and me needing to get home to the girls I left a somewhat depleted Yakforce to hit the whisky, returning in the morning (with an off-school-through-dubious-illness daughter in tow) just to help tidy up the remaining bacon and eggs before emptying the chalets. Another Eastern Meet was over...just another year until the next one, hopefully with the cod about in numbers!

So, to end: thank you once again to all who came and to all who intended to but were struck down with illness (theirs or others) and couldn’t make it in the end or who had to curtail their visit...you were missed but we’ll all catch up again sooner or later. Remember: The meets (are) not over ‘till the fat lady sings (into Amos’ karaoke machine) ;)

Tuesday 12 October 2010

Cutting Up Rough...12/10/2010

Sometimes something you fancy gets put on the back burner for a while. Sunday’s journey was one of them, having been first thought of around a year ago. It was just that there was always something else to do, some fishing for example, some Yakboarding, perhaps even some yak sailing...why would I bother going for a paddle just for the sake of it? Okay, sometimes I do just have a bit of a jaunt, Saturday, for example, being one of these times. I’d got up early and headed less than a couple of miles south with the flood and a couple of miles back against it (three times as long). It took me over an hour and a quarter, almost an hour of that being the way back ;D. Anyway, it blew the cobwebs away having been largely absent from the water for the last month or so. Usually though having a general paddle is something I do with my mate Liam who isn’t really enthused by fishing...and it just so happened we got bored at a party and decided to chat about paddling at the weekend.

10pm Saturday night saw us ditching Liam’s car down in Southwold. That’s a sufficient distance away, being ten miles south of home. Last time we’d done Gorleston to Lowestoft on a pretty flat day and we’d previously run up from Kessingland to Lowestoft one evening but with Liam having had a hard week and me feeling twitchy from dehydration we decided to combine both and go for an epic – Gorleston to Southwold. We estimated around twenty miles all-in, dependant on exit point, and with a big spring tide to speed us along we reckoned we could do it in a tide with ample to spare...which is probably why we didn’t leave so early...of course there was another reason why it was just paddling this weekend – the sea. With a strong easterly blowing for a few days there was no way I’d be able to anchor and fish; easterly winds bring chop and short swell. It’s not a kind sea on the east coast. It was going to be bumpy.

A 5:30 alarm call saw me up, coffee’d and out looking at the sea in good time. By 6 I was at Liam’s house and soon after we were on our way to the launch spot. Twenty minutes later we pulled up and parked, unloaded and dragged the kayaks down to the water’s edge. It was starting to get light and the sea didn’t look as bad as expected although the reflected waves in the cauldron by the breakwater were crashing together nicely. It would have been fun to play in but there really wasn’t time this day. No, we had to get on...

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The launch was fun. Straight into a couple of feet of water, closely spaced and breaking and it soon woke us up and got us in the mood. It was a bit more lively than it looked from the beach but all good fun. If it stayed like this it’d be a walk in the park. We paddled out a bit and then turned south towards the wreck of the White Swan, getting there just after the sun had risen above the horizon...

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It looked pretty turbulent over the wreck and the sea had picked up a bit now, a mile south of our launch point. We continued down towards Hopton, enjoying the paddle. It was windy, a good 15mph from the east, and the swell was hitting us beam on.

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Hopton. Haha. I knew what was coming having been through here in a decent swell a couple of times. The shoreline disappears just south of here and becomes a long stretch of sea defences below the cliffs. This wouldn’t be such an issue if they weren’t quite so solid...but they are and so the swell hits them, explodes upwards and then surges back out towards the horizon. Or rather the incoming swell. Or, in this instance, Liam and I. We’d played safe and gone half a mile out to allow it to dissipate slightly but still had waves coming from left and right at the same time. It’s rather disconcerting and demands concentration but is rewarding to paddle through. It’s also a relief to get through it!

We finally got clear at Corton as we paddled past the beach anglers at Tramp’s Alley. I would have loved to have known their thoughts as the swell was now running around 3-4ft and choppy with it. W carried on past and in no time reached Gunton before paddling past Ness Point and the Gulliver turbine at almost 6mph. The flood was starting to aid us more as we came to the headland that is Lowestoft Ness. Again we tried to get out a bit so as to avoid the turbulence experienced just short of the harbour entrance but with the wind now full in our faces from the south east as we turned and the current and our forward paddling combining to push us south at a rate of knots we were going to have to bite the bullet and go through it. Still, that’s what it’s all about after all. We weren’t having a lie-in followed by bacon and eggs...

The sea picked up. It shallows here slightly, there are rocks and pipelines and remnants from wrecked craft that came before us. In short the ground is a mess. This makes the sea, when it’s decent to begin with, a mess too. We were now going from 3-4ft chop and swell into a mixture of 4-5ft chop, swell, rebounds and larger clapotis along with standing waves up to 5-6ft which were really impressive and rather worrying! The word maelstrom is the one which sprang to mind.

We got through. I was buggered if I was getting the camera out though! I needed both hands to paddle, brace and steer my way through. I did, however, have to get my radio out urgently the moment we cleared the worst of it as the last thing I wanted to do was get hit by a boat. I tuned into channel 14 and called up Lowestoft harbour control to say we were two kayaks transiting the harbour mouth 400 yards out and would be through in a couple of minutes time.

“kayak snapper this is Lowestoft; you are clear to proceed there is nothing coming in or out, over”

“Lowestoft this is kayak snapper, thank God for that because we can’t stop, out!”

The sea had settled somewhat now and we got past and clear of the approaches in a few minutes. I called up to let them know:

"Lowestoft we are now clear of the harbour approaches, thank you, Out"

Thirty seconds or so later there followed another transmission:

"Lowestoft this is (insert name of known motor vessel) we're coming in. It's far too choppy for us over"

...and so we settled down for breakfast, feet up, a swig of water and a chocolate bar ;D It was quite pleasant here – the sea was back down to a couple of foot swell at most, the sun was out and we were making over 2mph without paddling. We’d covered over seven miles and our respective families were probably having breakfast as well now.

We dug in again and carried on south. Past the Claremont Pier, past Pakefield Church and down towards Kessingland. Passing Pakefield rifle range we laughed about the time we’d tried to surf a Malibu 2 there one evening, with predictable results.

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Next came Pakefield Coastwatch who no doubt kept a close eye on us as there was no other bugger about to watch...we were making well over 5mph. Soon we started to hear a bit of noise ahead of us.

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When I say noise I mean kind of a roaring sound that slowly grows the closer we got. A proper roar too, the sort of roar I hear in bed when a strong wind is blowing from the east and a big sea is hitting the shore. The sort of roar that is really good fun when you’ve got a Yak Board and a surf paddle. Not really the sort of roar you want to deal with when you’re in 15 footers and trying to go across it to get somewhere. I switched to chart view and looked at the options. There was one. Because of the various banks in relation to our position we again had to just go through.

This is how I found one of the most impressive local surf spots.

I checked the depth and we’d dropped from 25-30ft to 6ft. There were walls of water and walls of foam everywhere. The sound was fantastic. We had to paddle out from the shore as well as down the coast at the same time. There were waves rearing up, waves folding over and swirls everywhere. At the bottom of one 6 footer I pulled the nose up out of the trough and up another that broke to my port quarter and nearly took me out and over...but I went through and down it’s back still upright and through the next one. Liam was popping back into sight occasionally, also still upright, also getting swamped and also nearly getting dumped but in ten minutes we were through again. It was still pretty rough and still windy but at least we could relax just a little and we soon swept ourselves down past Benacre Sluice from which point we could finally see Southwold lighthouse in the distance across Sole Bay. Six miles or so to Adnams O’ Clock.

It was quite pleasant down here – sand cliffs with sand martin holes, sand and shingle beaches, driftwood on the shore. ..we passed Benacre Broad and Covehithe and started checking the time...with a bit of effort we could just do it, we could make the pier in 4 hours!

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The sea was still pretty wild and the wind still strong in our faces but we were enjoying the effort. We’d passed the point of our longest previous paddles quite a way back. We’d had possibly our two best rough water experiences that weren’t surf-session related and we were ahead of schedule. The only thing was we were starting to tire. Wrists were starting to be felt, arms were swinging slower, hips were rotating less freely and my right leg was starting to stiffen...3 hours of constant hard paddling in one position had preceded this point. Still, we were getting close...another 4 miles and we’d be ashore; another hour.

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As we approached Southwold, we started to see water spouts. High tide was imminent and the sea was up very high. There looked like a distinct lack of beach the other side of the pier and in fact it wasn’t far short of the concrete promenade as it was. We would have to land quarter of a mile short on the only clear bit around. We turned and, with the camera transferred to Liam’s safekeeping, he went in through the decent waves and big shore dump.

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Safely up the beach it was my turn. Turning was tricky, I had to concentrate not to broach. Then I began coming in, slowly. I had to time it right to avoid being walloped big time. I didn’t know the beach or how it would react either. I paddled, then slowed to let one pass under me, paddling hard again to try and get on its back and chase it in...I sort of managed and then it crashed on the shore and I bottomed out, the following wave coming up fast, crashing over me and pushing the kayak, on the gravel, up the beach. I hopped out and pulled her up to the wall. Apart from lost time and distance on the two occasions the GPS had gone down (about a mile and about ten minutes went unrecorded I think) we’d covered a recorded 17 miles in 3 hours 50 minutes at an average paddling speed of 4.4mph. The sea had been big all the way and coming at us from offshore, the wind had been coming at us from ahead and offshore. I reckon we did alright.

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We walked the yaks off the beach, fetched the car, loaded up and went to find a pint of Southwold’s finest, Adnams.

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