Sea for Cumbria 2008! (DAY 5) (and credits)

It was Monday morning and, for me at any rate, better than most Monday mornings as I didn't have to go to work. Instead, we had the prospect of our final day's paddle of the challenge. We'd already faced up to the fact that, having lost a day, we wouldn't make our original target of Bowness on Solway and had instead decided to head for Maryport and do the final leg later in the summer over a weekend or in one long day. As we peered our of our tents, still weary from the exertions of the previous day, even Maryport seemed a long way off though. Also, the swell was bigger than it had been yesterday though we did have the advantage of an almost-tail wind.

We de-camped and hit the water with something approaching slickness and head out to sea yet again. The water felt stange and tarry, with odd currents mixed in among the swell and we all, to greater or lesser degrees, found it hard to hit our stride. As I rode a big swell around a headland, I found myself with an almost eagle-eye view of a capsizing Ian in the trough below me. As we got him rescued he told us that he'd just known from the moment he set off that he was going to be having a swim today. We all knew what he meant - some days are just like that. Despite the strange waters we made pretty good time to Workington harbour and had the treat of being intercepted by a huge shoal of fish, who turned the water into thousands of excited little peaks as they passed under our boats. Lunch was taken at the foot of a wind farm and, having completely run out of food, I had to borrow some from Jasper's plentiful stocks.

After lunch, Ian paddled out only to paddle in again as he'd forgotten to put one of his hatch covers on! Poor chap had obviously gone senile in the night - we would have to shoot him like a dog. Before long however, we were back in our stride and had our sights fixed firmly on Maryport - which loomed like a fabled paradise on the horizon. The wind was fully behind us now and it was sometimes possible to paddle fast enough to catch a bit of surf. Maryport loomed (well, it got a bit closer) and the realisation that this was the end of our 5 months of fun, amateurish and slightly disorganised preparations started to dawn on us. This is always a bittersweet time in an adventure any the only cure for the slight melancholy it brings is to start thinking of the next jape (clue: it involves sea kayaks, Ukrainian beer and the Black Sea)!

We bunched up a bit to form a group as we paddled triumphantly into the muddy morass of Maryport harbour at low tide. The water was completely still and our boats glided between the high harbour walls like crocodiles in the Zambesi. Our landing was made at the super-steep and mega-slippery lifeboat ramp and, frankly, I'm amazed that nobody broke anything trying to get out and pull their boats up it. Stuart arrived to collect us exactly on cue and, after the obligatory team photo, we were packed and ready to go home. Bosh - just like that - all finished. Well, not quite - we still had to call the coastguard and tell them that our trip was done. This job was, as ever left for Tom, our Coastguard-liaison Officer and the side of the conversation I could hear went like this:

"Liverpool Coastguard, this is kayak group call-sign 'Team Flapjack'. We are off the water, over." <> "Thank you Liverpool Coastguard. And let me tell you, you haven't heard the last of Team Flapjack. Out"

I do hope he's right :-)

Credits:

Team Flapjack and the Sea for Cumbria Challenge have been fortunate to recieve the following support:

• Trevor and Mark at UniSolutions kindly laid on our transport and Stuart very kindly drove it.
• Your Momentum provided drybags to keep our gear dry and our morale up.
• JABE Consulting provided distress flares in case we ever got, erm, distressed.
• ERP People provided pumps to keep our bottoms and legs dry.
• WaveTwo Consulting provided tow lines for the purposes of towing.
• The skilled and lovely people who make Soreen loaf heard of our endeavours and provided loaves and brightly coloured t-shirts to give us energy and lift our spirits.
• Most of all, our families provided time and space for us to practise and become less rubbish at paddling.

So, there you have it. If you were mildly entertained by any of this then come back next year. Better still, why not drop us a line (leave a comment on this post) and get involved. :-)

Sea for Cumbria 2008! (DAY 4)

The next day (Sunday, almost certainly) was much more like it and, after the groundhog-like morning of boat packing, we bade farewell to our new friends at Eskmeals and paddled out like our lives depended on it. They didn't of course, but we'd had one slow day and one zero-miles day and, in a five day trip, that's quite a bit. The sun shone and the sea remained pretty tranquil as we powered up towards Sellafield which, as landmark features go, is pretty hard to miss. Being the hardy creatures we are, we stopped on the lovely beach that separates the reprocessing plant and the remains of Windscale power station from the sea and had some lunch. The beach was empty and it was strangely peaceful, though I do wonder how quiet it would have been if we'd had a Geiger counter with us!

We set of for on the next leg (to St Bees and the promise of ice cream) and while larking about in completely flat water about 20 yards from the Sellafield shore, I managed to capsize for no good reason at all (maybe my body had a strange craving for some rare radio-isotope not found in sea water elsewhere in the world!). Anyway, with the help of some nicely honed rescue techniques on the part of the others, I was out of the water almost before I hit it - feeling a complete prat, natch.

The journey up to St Bees was great - everyone was happy to be making progress and our boats formed small, constantly changing groups as we chatted and generally got into the groove. We had even a go at swapping our paddles around and, as a result of this, discussing the various merits and demerits of smaller vs larger blades, varying degrees of feather (and how they best fit with high- and low-angle paddling styles) and the pros and cons of carbon over nylon construction. Yup, it was a veritable geek-fest! Before long we got to St Bees bay and, like so many Viking marauders, unleashed ourselves on an unsuspecting holidaying public. Well, that's not really true - actually we got to the beach and flopped down on the sand completely knackered. This time, it was Tom's turn to prostrate himself motionless on the ground, the poor chap lacking even the energy to join Pete and Mark in their quest for a cornetto (that's a cornetto each, by the way - they weren't sharing one!).

After a bit of refreshment we headed out once again, this time with a little excitement and even trepidation as it was time to navigate around the (huge) cliffs of St Bees head. Gosh, it was marvellous, I tell you - huge sandstone walls and more sea-birds of more varieties that you'd probably find in a relatively modest book about sea-birds. Everyone agreed that it was the visual highlight of the trip - even better than Sellafield. As we rounded the Northern section of the head we were all starting to flag a bit and our thoughts turned to looking for a decent place to stop and camp. As cliffs aren't widely renowned for their tent-friendly topology this was harder than expected and, before long, we were pretty close to Whitehaven and in varying stages of fatigue and/or exhaustion. After some nearly-tense discussions as we bobbed around the mouth of Whitehaven harbour, we elected (by only a slim majority) to dig deep and head just a couple more kilometres up the coast to Parton - a smaller settlement with a better chance of us finding a quiet place to camp. By the time we made landfall Tom was nearly delirious with fatigue, as evidenced by him stripping down to just his wetsuit and cavorting in the shallows like an over-excited puppy with a new ball.

The camp was a bit rudimentary - at the end of a track in a spot which looked like a favoured place d'amour for the local yoof but nobody bothered us and we settled down to a great campfire, some tall tales and some strange blackcurrant vodka of Ian's that tasted just like that mouthwash you used to get at the dentist when you were a kid (assuming you were a kid in the 70's or 80's).

We slept like the dead.

Sea for Cumbria 2008! (DAY 3)

After a night lying in our tents listening to the wild wind (and, wilder still, Ian's snoring) we got up and breakfasted with a tad less enthusiasm than one might expect from a pack of adventure-hungry paddlers. Our new friend Colin turned up as promised in his van and transported us back to our boats and kit. As soon as we got out of the van and regarded the sea it was clear to each of us that we wouldn't be paddling but, being blokes, it still took a good 30 minutes before someone finally cracked and was the first to actually say it! Once we'd decided not to paddle for the day, I took the opportunity to come down with a 24 hour flu and lay pathetically on the grass hoping for a swift end while the others put their gear away again.

Colin, who had a bit of a maritime background of his own, had waited patiently all this time and yet again spirited us away in his van and back to the campsite. By this time I was feeling truly horrible and my comrades very kindly put my tent up for me and I crawled off to bed with drugs from Ian's large stash (what exactly is Rohipnol, I wonder?) and my emergency Soreen loaf. The rest of the day must have passed (as days tend to) and I awoke feeling a bit better late in the afteroon. Everyone else was catnapping in their tents to I went to the pub for a remedial pint of lager and a chunky kit kat. One of these must have reacted with the tablets as I don't remember much else about the day except that we played cards again and Tom won.

Sea for Cumbria 2008! (DAY 2)

After a night in the luxurious tented village that we'd created in the corner of our field, we awoke refreshed and ready for a first and then, for good measure, a second breakfast before contemplating the sea on the other side of the wall (it wasn't right on the other side of the wall of course, 'cos then the wall would have been a dam, but you get the picture). Anyway, the sea looked a bit on the choppy side and, worse still, there was a stiff headwind - force 4 gusting 5-6 that wasn't going to help progress.

We spent some of the morning fashioning a new footrest for Pete's boat from an old fridge handle and a jubilee clip - he'd lost both rests during his landing spill the previous night and beachcomber-Jasper had only managed to find one of them among the shingles. We then repeated our heavy-lifting act to get the boats down to the sea and hit the waves.

As we paddled along into the wind we thought about our missing Sea for Cumbria comrades and whether anyone would notice that, of the eight people in the original team photo, only five of us were here, along with recently-adopted Pete. Wendy and Mike has decided not to paddle this year, preferring to wait until they were more expert (a sensible ploy, many would argue) and Kevin had been stricken with a lurgy which was causing him extreme fatigue and loss of balance - neither of which would have helped him much! Anyway, it would have been nice to have 9 boats rather than 6 but, on the bright side, my soreen loaves would have been even more short lived had this been the case.

The day wore like an ill-fitting raincoat as we paddled on and on toward the unmistakable silhouettes of the various facilities at Sellafield but the land didn't pass by to our right at any great speed. The wind was so stiff that, combined with the water conditions, we were making less than 1 knot despite normally being able to paddle at 4-5 times that speed. As such, we (slightly dejectedly) made landfall just South of Ravenglass at Eskmeals - just next to the famous and beautiful MOD firing range. This time it was Ian's turn to capsize near the shore following a lengthy and slightly unnerving paddle in through the swell and surf. He was fine though and he didn't even lose any footrests.

The business of finding somewhere to camp tuned out to be especially tricky as all the land was MOD owned and camping there is forbidden. However, as these things go, a nice local lady let us put our boats and gear in her garden and a friend of hers kindly volunteered to take us in his van to the nearest campsite at Waberthwaite, offering to come and pick us up the next day!

After setting up camp, it was time for us to walk up to the village for morale-boosting food and beer, with Jasper having deep fried whale and Mark teaching us various intriguing card games which all, mercifully, involved keeping you clothes on. We played until late, sitting outside in the beer garden with half a mind on the game and the other half on the wind...

Sea for Cumbria 2008! (DAY 1)

Date: 10th July, Place: Walney Island (West shore, about halfway down), Time 3.30 pm. Tom is on his mobile 'phone and the conversation begins like this: "Liverpool Coast Guard, this is kayak group call-sign Team Flapjack...". 5 minutes later we're off - paddling like 6 furies into the crashing waves and 2 minutes after that we've lost 60% of our maps and other assorted deck-mounted equipment to the merciless high seas. We don't care though, the Sea for Cumbria challenge 2008 has begun.

The first day had started about lunchtime with us all gathering at Newton Rigg campus near Penrith to meet a minibus and trailer kindly provided by Unisolutions to take us to the start point. We were driven to Walney by none other than Gretna FC manager Stuart Rome who had to be in Edinburgh that very evening for a vital meeting to secure a league place for the club. Given the significance of the meeting and the distance from Barrow-in-Furness to Edinburgh, we unloaded the van and trailer at warp speed and bade Stuart a swift farewell...

Loading the gear into our boats and carrying them down to the sea, we were reminded just how heavy a fully laden sea kayak can be, with some needing 4 people to lift them. Well, you know, a gent needs his collection of soreen loaves....

The sea really was a pretty rough (no, honest it was!) and once we'd got out through the surf we were all secretly hoping the weather would improve a bit. Anyway, undeterred, we headed North with a strong-ish tail wind and our first challenge - the unpredictable estuarine waters between Roanhead and Haverigg. As it turned out, there were no dramas although things were pretty quiet as we all concentrated on the sizeable swell chasing our tails as we paddled to our first night's camp, a modest 12km away at Silecroft. On the up-side, the heavy loading in our boats made them more stable than usual and Jasper, Tom and me had the added benefit of new super-light carbon paddles that we'd bought as a collective purchase (to the universal dismay of our wives, I daresay) the week before.

As we approached the beach at Silecroft, we had another dose of surf, but now we were paddling with it. Pete Carter, our resident-experienced-paddler and Ian hit the beach first, with Pete's boat succumbing to the surf near the shore leaving him swimming and Ian leaping around in the shallows trying to grab either Pete or his stricken craft. It all turned out okay, though Ian nearly got a fully loaded composite sea kayak in the head and Pete lost his footrests and a few flakes of gelcoat.

Once landed, we began to search for a place to camp. The local campsite was quiet (despite a sign proclaiming that it was full) but there was nobody to be found to book us in. Luckily however Jasper had been chatting to a nice local girl who kindly tracked down the farmer responsible for the nearest field to our boats and secured us permission to camp there. Even more amazingly, the farmer duly turned up to take HIS cows out of HIS field so they wouldn't trash our tents and gear in the night. Lesson 1 - Western Cumbria is seemingly full of really nice and helpful people!

We set up camp, cooked dinner (the first night is always the best as you have a seemingly huge choice of vittles to gorge on) then a couple of us went for a beer in the local hostelry before we hit that hay and fell asleep to the sound of the waves (and the intermittent rain!).