I love the outdoors and particularly love sea kayaking, as you will no doubt see from my blog. I hold the Sea Kayak Leader qualification.
Having lived near Nottingham for most of my working life, I’ve recently retired (Retirement No. 2!) and moved to Scotland, not far from the lovely town of Helensburgh.
There were some benefits to living in the middle of England — even for a sea kayaker — as it meant I could get to pretty much any coast to paddle fairly easily. The sea was about three hours away in almost any direction: the South Coast, the East Coast (Flamborough and further north), or even the South and South West Coast. This is also why Nottingham is home to two top sea kayak manufacturers, Valley and P&H.
Although, much of my sea kayaking has taken place in North Wales, particularly on Anglesey, which is a fabulous sea kayaking location.
Whilst living in Nottingham, I did a lot of playboating at the National Water Sports Centre, England’s national centre for water sports.
One of the downsides to paddling the "Concrete Ditch" is that it is an offshoot of the River Trent and, consequently, the water quality is not always the best. "Trent Belly" is not uncommon amongst newbies paddling the Trent.
Unfortunately, I picked up Leptospirosis (Weil’s disease) in 2014 from paddling the white-water course, and then developed sepsis in November 2018. Following medical advice, I gave up playboating on the Trent for health reasons.
I started kayaking when I was about nine years old at the Riverside Centre in Oxford, which was not far from where I grew up. At 15, I went to Scotland with my family for a holiday and had a rather memorable swim at Grandtully while kayaking on the River Tay.
It was a bit of a "green room" experience, being sucked under by a stopper, only to bob back up and then get sucked down again. Apart from a brief stint kayaking at college, I didn’t kayak regularly again until I was in my early forties.
The reason I started kayaking again was due to a scuba diving accident in the Caribbean. I unfortunately ruptured the round window of my middle ear during a dive on a sunken cruise ship, the Bianca C. The result of this little incident was that I was completely deaf in my left ear.
On returning to the UK, ten days after the accident, I was rushed into surgery to repair the round window. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the hearing in my left ear. The consultant told me that if they had been able to operate within five days of the rupture, there would have been an 80% chance of me regaining my hearing. After five to fourteen days, the odds dropped to 20%. After fourteen days, the chances were pretty much nil.
However, about three months after the surgery, I did start to regain some hearing in my left ear. To this day, though, it is mostly bass!
You would think I would have stopped scuba diving after this, but no — I loved scuba diving. It was only when my one good right ear "popped" on me one night, in much the same way my left ear had done in the Caribbean, that I momentarily thought I was totally deaf.
It wasn’t until I calmed down and heard the reassuring bubbles escaping from my regulator that I realised I could still hear!
A few days later, after dwelling on this little incident, I decided I couldn’t take the risk of losing both ears and quit scuba diving for good.
Not being able to dive and be in the water anymore, I needed to find another "wet" water sport. Kayaking was the answer. Besides, I had the perfect facilities on my doorstep: the white-water course in Nottingham.
Around this time, I also did a bit of long-distance cycling. Having been a fan of the Tour de France, I was always curious as to how far I could ride a bike.
In 2002, I gained the Audax (Long Distance Cycling Association) Super Randonneur award. To become a Super Randonneur, you must complete rides of 200 km, 300 km, 400 km and 600 km in the same season, at Randonneur pace.
Not only did I complete multiple rides of these distances in 2002, but I was also regularly among the first six riders home. Mind you, I was cycling to work 20 miles a day and running four miles most lunchtimes, which did tend to help a bit!
I now have paddled many white-water rivers here in the UK and abroad, in both playboats and creek boats.
It was the Wet West Paddle Fest’s River Moriston that got me into sea kayaking in 2011.
Every year, we would head up to Scotland for the festival, which generally finished with a kayak down a hard river — the River Moriston — on the last day. The River Moriston is not an easy river to paddle. When you were paddling well, it was fantastic, and you’d come away grinning from ear to ear. When you weren’t paddling quite so well, and perhaps making very small mistakes here and there, the Moriston would punish you well and truly.
In 2011, having dented a new boat, dislocated a finger and lost a paddle on previous trips to the Moriston, I started to feel a little trepidation — or, let’s say, impending doom — long before driving up to the river. In fact, the fear of impending doom had started in early 2011! Way, way too early!
So much so that, the night before we were due to paddle the River Moriston, I bottled out and booked a day’s sea kayaking instead with Sea Freedom Kayaking in Oban.
By the end of the day’s sea kayaking, it didn’t matter how much stick I got from my mates for not paddling the river; I was well and truly hooked on sea kayaking.
What a great day I had, too! Within five minutes of setting off, I’d seen two otters — a first for me. We were then followed around by a large male seal, who was obviously very interested in what we were doing. On the return downwind leg, with the swell behind us, we surfed our way back.
In 2004, I competed in the Peak UK Challenge Series and managed to finish 18th overall.
In 2014, I won the Oban Sea Kayak Race in the Senior Touring class with a time of 2:32:12. Considering the conditions on the day, it wasn’t too bad! There was much carnage at the bottom end of Kerrera that day. My white-water paddling experience definitely came into play, as I watched what felt like everyone passing me on the sheltered side of Kerrera, only for me to soon be passing people on the somewhat choppy side of the island.
In 2018, I circumnavigated Anglesey in a day on neap tides, albeit with a kip overnight on Llanddwyn Island. My actual paddling time was 15:43, which wasn’t too bad for a first attempt, especially on neap tides.
In 2022, I circumnavigated the Isle of Wight in 9 hours and 22 minutes. I also managed a sub-two-hour circumnavigation of Kerrera in the Oban Sea Kayak Race, with a time of 1:58.
Well, that’s a bit about me
As mentioned above, I’m now based in Scotland, with fantastic coastlines to explore.
If you’re around this way and fancy meeting up for a paddle, please let me know.
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