P&H Custom Sea Kayaks Blog

Sea Kayaking Articles from P&H Staff, Team Paddlers, and Friends

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Five, “A day early.”

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On June 17, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

July 4

So, I rounded Cascade Head a day early yesterday. “A day early” only means anything because my mom planned to pick me up here tomorrow for the first of three Mom-sponsored Airbnb stays this month – a bed, a shower, laundry, meals I don’t cook that I didn’t dehydrate a month ago… I suppose a purist wouldn’t approve, but I’ll take it! We got the timing wrong several months ago when Mom decided where and when to get the Airbnbs, so they’re a week behind me. Which means since I’m here a day early, Mom’s checking in and turning right around to drive 100 miles south to scoop me up. Best mom ever!!

On the ride home, Mom asked what about this has been what I expected, and what has been different. It’s a hard question because I’m not quite sure what I expected. One of the things I told her is that I’ve been surprised how often I’ve been around people. I expected a lot more isolated beaches until Southern California.

One of the side effects of that is that I’m getting to witness a slice of coastal Americana. Mostly folks on vacation, but also people who live along the coast. I’ve met Native folk and white folk who live on the reservations in northern Washington. I’ve met folk backpacking along the pacific crest trail in Olympic National Park, and people tenting and in RV parks right on the beach. I’ve met folk running campgrounds, marinas, gift shops, marina gas stations…  I’ve met people who walk the various beaches every day, often with their dogs. A black lab named Willow whose the dog of a lifetime for Jean who must be in her 80s, a dog that’s ecstatic every evening when his human in Willapa Bay hits golf balls along the beach for him to chase, Tink who helps her human manage a gift shop and despite being a small dog thinks she’s a mighty adventurer when she gets to go to the beach, a big goofy dog who’s scared of the campfire but loves relaxing next to it with his humans and even more loves jumping in the hammock with both of them. I love the creative, massive construction projects the beach inspires – driftwood forts, a not-quite-water hole 4 feet by 10 feet and 3 feet deep deliberately dug just to the water level and no deeper, sandcastles and the requisite sandcastle-smashing. People walking along the beach, clamming, horseback riding, surfing, hang gliding, drinking beer, watching the beach… Folk checking out and documenting the constant erosion of the beach and folk valiantly trying to stop the erosion. People who’ve been visiting the same beach since they were children, retired folk who’ve been visiting the area since they were children but just discovered their new favorite beach and are utterly delighted with it, and folk from across the country taking their family on an epic road trip to see the Pacific. A firefighter originally from Norway who lives off the grid. A woman whose Swedish relatives outside of Portland stopped speaking German in World War Two after their Japanese neighbors were taken to internment camps, and whose church paid the taxes on their neighbors’ farms while they were in the camps so they became some of the very few who were able to come home.

I didn’t expect to encounter this cross-section of coastal life. I’ve been fascinated by it. The fascination has slowly – except rather quickly as I’m only 3 weeks in – begun to change to this funny sense of feeling so lucky to meet so many people and learn a piece of their lives and histories and stories. I feel like there’s a certain reverence these stories require.

All this was unexpected. A few people told me that the best and most memorable part of the trip would be the people I met along the way – and to stay open to that. I believed them. But I also didn’t understand how this happens. So I planned the paddling part. The expedition part. And was much more focused on what I might see than who I might meet.

I consider myself lucky to get to see the headlands and sea stacks and whales and birds and beaches and coastline that I’m paddling. To paddle these waters. And I’m so lucky to get to meet all these people along the way.

I’m lucky to get to see a slice of this country in unexpected ways.

So I’m glad I rounded Cascade Head a day “early.” And that Mom came to pick me up a day early.  And that I got to spend 4th of July with family, soaking in a small town parade (and the young folk who watched from kayaks) and watching fireworks from the balcony. It’s the epitome of Americana.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

July 4 became sort of a touchstone for me. The people I met along the way became such a big part of this expedition. I’d been told to stay open to that, to make room for it. My mom’s question, during small town July 4 celebrations, helped me to see how it was happening.

It was really special.

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Four, “Be where you are.”

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On June 15, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

June 24 – 26

“On Being Where You Are – Crossing the Columbia”

This was gruelling paddling. I was spending an hour paddling in 5-minute intervals. Literally – I’d paddle, think I was at 5 minutes, look at my watch, and it had been 2 minutes. Another 3 sounded impossible. Finish the 5 minutes, and do it again 10 more times. I think of intervals as being a training technique to build endurance. These intervals were about breaking it down in order to make this possible.

Waiting with the guys at Willapa Bay

I’d been pretty proud of myself. I’d holed up in Willapa Bay for several days waiting for the right day to cross the Columbia River – the right tides, low swell, low wind. The forecast had held for several days, and this was the day to paddle to where I’d be one day out. I got up early in order to catch high water. Crossing the mouth of the bay are a lot of sanders that create big breakers when the water is low. I hit the tide just right and crossed with very little wave action, which meant I didn’t have to go way out and around. I was feeling good about my timing, my judgment, my prediction of what would work…

As I approached Lead enter Point, my progress seemed slow. Was I getting pushed out by the ebbing tide?

Sunset at Willapa Bay

Another hour in, I was only making 3 knots average travelling speed. My usual is 4, and I’d been averaging 3 and a half on this trip. Then the paddling started to get hard. By 11:00, it was really hard. I was paddling full force and barely making 3 knots.

I realized I was paddling 20 miles towards the Columbia, and the tide was ebbing. This is a big river. When it ebbs, it doesn’t just push out into the ocean, it pushes out to the sides up and down the coast. I was fighting the full force of the Columbia River.

Landing at the south jetty (can you spot me?!)

At 11:00, with high water at about 7:00 am, it should be letting up a little. Except the river ebbs a lot more than it floods, so the max ebb might well be in another hour. At noon, I paddled my hardest, took a break to look at my watch, and it had been 5 minutes. And my hour of 5-minute intervals began.

So this is how it was going to be. The day before, waiting on the right tides for crossing the river, I had realized I needed to get OK with being where I am. Not where I want to be instead, but where I am. It was easier the day before. Right now it was about one stroke after the next.

The day before was a bit more Zen. I was waiting on neaps (good tides, with the least amount of water going in and out), good swell (smaller waves, with less time between them), good wind (as little as possible). I was prepping for my early launch the next day, and I was antsy. I hadn’t wanted to wait the several days I did. I was anxious and impatient and not enjoying the beach or the view that a bunch of people had come to over the weekend for their vacation.  Here I was in the middle of it, not enjoying it. And I thought – “be where you are.” I was here, and I could fuss about waiting or about prepping for where I wasn’t yet, or I could stop. I could enjoy the beach, the sunset (it was the best sunset of the trip so far), my dinner, the evening. I met Ed and Gayle, who had a home close by and were checking out the changes in the beach (this beach is eroding fast – over 40 homes have washed away in the last decade). They were a lovely couple, very pleasant to talk to.

Be where you are. It was all good.

Today, “Be where you are” meant “I would really like to be done.” I under-estimated the distance, me, the difficulty. My mom picked me up off the beach – she got a motel room for my last night in Washington to have a good place to land today and to launch to cross the Columbia. She picked me up about 5 miles north of where we planned, and we scouted out a place to launch the next day a few miles south of where we planned.

Columbia River buoy

— I do not regret not paddling that 6-8 miles of coastland! —

Be where you are. Waiting in Willapa Bay, fighting the ebb, a 4 am wake-up the next day. All of this got me on the Columbia River at the end of the flood with no wind and low swell. It was glassy calm, stunning, incredible. “Be where you are.” Because this is gorgeous. This is unique. This is worth paying attention to. 

This is worth being in those other places, waiting and pushing and wondering why in the world I was doing this.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

“Be where you are.” Few of us are where we want to be right now. And we are decidedly where we are. 

It’s a bit too “easy”, too trite, to say “be where you are”. Be OK with it. Because this is hard. It’s not a place anyone should feel fully good about being.

Still – I expect that on our better “Corona Days”, there’s something to be learned. Or re-learned.  Because we can’t make this go away. We can’t not be here.

If it’s one of your “not better” Corona Days, I hope the stories or photos of my Columbia River exploits help a little bit. 

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Three, “Life doesn’t get much better than this.”

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On June 1, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

June 18

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

I’m sitting in the sun above a secluded cove eating brunch, watching seals and the tide come in, finishing a lazy brunch of eggs, refried beans, and a mug of tea. You can’t drive to this cafe.  You can’t even hike. I paddled 39 miles yesterday to get here.

The forecast was 4-foot swell, with the period steadily dropping from 12 seconds several days ago. On yesterday’s paddle, though, it seemed higher and longer. I suspected a longer period swell was coming in – there were larger sets coming through all day, breaking further out than the rest and looking scarier than the predicted 4 feet at a diminishing period.

Fog rolled in around 6 to 7 miles from the beach I was looking for, one of the few protected beaches in 30 miles either direction. It got REALLY foggy about 3 miles from my goal.  I could just make out those same big sets, that seemed bigger (I don’t know if they were or if it was the fog…), breaking into cliffs.  I couldn’t see where I was going – just the shore I needed to stay away from.

Lost people go in circles. Trusting my compass to keep me padding along the shore instead of heading in made me feel like I was going in circles. I had to keep turning out from the shore to go out past the steepening swell. I had to trust my compass and my chart. Looking at the chart, I estimated I was about 45 minutes away from the bay where shore would get further away and I would need to go in behind rocks to find my protected beach. I was already terrified, and now more terrified.  How would I navigate the rocks? There was big swell coming around them and breaking, and I wasn’t sure if there was a safe line through. I opted to go out and around. Which got me through the rocks, and turned around in the fog. I couldn’t see my shore, but I could see the rocks, and the chart showed me the direction of the line of rocks and my direction from shore. I was in behind the rocks and needed to head north to my beach.

I was terrified.

I was looking at what seemed unbroken cliffs with the big swell breaking onto them. But I saw an arch that was clearly Grenville Arch. There was a safe way in a bit closer to where my protected beach SHOULD be. And then I realized I was sitting in protected water, and the surf on this beach was much smaller. It was safely landable.

The beach disappears at high tide, so I had to make a level shelf on a ledge above the beach, with a little shelf to hold it so I wouldn’t slide, and a little “patio” so I wouldn’t slide off the cliff when I got up to pee at night. I was exhausted and still a little scared and I had massive blisters – this was all hard work.

The water came really close to my tent that night. I was up 40 minutes both sides of high tide. I got splashed 4 times and had my stuff in bags in case I needed to climb the cliff…

I was feeling a ton of stress, exhaustion and pain just 5 paddling days into my 4-month-long journey.

But before the fog settled in, there was a whale. Right beside me. It surfaced 3 times, all slow like a whale does, making its ‘pffffsssshhhh’ sound, barnacles on its back. And here I am, finishing brunch in the sun, watching the sea. And I’m so lucky I get to be here, to do this, to see this beach.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

This day was one of firsts that became commonplace. My first 30+ mile day. My first whale. My first thick fog with rocks. My first time being scared. My first hard-to-locate landing. What stands out most about it several months later isn’t the fear of the swell against rocks in fog, or the dis-orientation of having to follow my compass when it felt subjectively like I had paddled in a full circle instead of a straight line along the coast, or the wonder of a whale close at hand. What stands out months later is the beach. It remains one of my favorite beaches of the whole expedition. The day ends up lodged in my memory as a good one. Which is kind of cool.

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Two, “I’m so lucky.”

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On May 29, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

June 13

I’m on Day 3 of this adventure and on my 2nd weather day! It’s amazing the difference 2 days make. (Day 1 was a weather day, and I still had my head in 2 worlds). I was super stressed the last couple days before the trip started.

Then also on the first paddling day, I had a REALLY slow start (I had to carry the boat about a quarter-mile, then all the gear), a really heavy boat, I didn’t know if it may be loaded too heavy and bow heavy, there was water coming over the bow… I was still stressed. Was it a bad idea to round Cape Flattery like this? The forecast was 5-foot swell at 12 seconds – I expected some energy out there.

The kinks ironed out, the boat performed admirably, I remember I could paddle – and I got to the Cape and the stacks off the Cape. It was gorgeous. While I still had regular thoughts that I muttered aloud, “wtf am I doing?” – they became increasingly peppered with “I’m so lucky.”

I had to take another day off today. The forecast said 7 foot swell at 7 seconds, then 6 feet at 9 seconds, then I couldn’t get the right forecast and the marine forecast on my Garmin didn’t differentiate between wind waves and swell and seemed to show wind speeds on land, not water… the beach looked big. All the forecasts agreed it would diminish. A friend sent me ten proper forecast, and indeed, it’s supposed to be smaller. The beach is already looking smaller.

So today I made the best of a ridiculously high percentage of weather days and walked to the Cape Flattery trail to see what I paddled yesterday. Gorgeous. And all I can say is – I’m so lucky.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

I don’t particularly remember that my head was still in two places the first couple days of the expedition. It’s an interesting reminder to read that several months later.

What I DO remember was competing thoughts of “wtf?!” and “I’m so lucky.” I didn’t know at the beginning of the expedition – and probably wouldn’t have guessed – that those two thoughts would be my constant companions through the next 3 months. I think that every single day, I said both of those things out loud. I still think both of those things every time I see photos from the trip – and I see them every day because they’re my screen saver now… I see the photos, and I think how unbelievably lucky I am to have had the chance to do this and to get to see all the indescribable beauty I was immersed in for 3 months. And I also have that moment of “wtf?.” As I was planning, as I was paddling, and after the whole thing was over, I’ve had this constant feeling of something surreal. I mean – really? I lived out of my kayak for 3 months? On the beaches of this country – a heavily populated, heavily industrialized, heavily regulated country?

I’m grateful for one more thing now – I feel so lucky I took this trip last summer. My initial plan was to do it summer 2020. I don’t know what prompted me to move it up by a year – but wow am I lucky I did!

The P&H Volan; A Tale of Two Boats

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On May 18, 2020

In News

The developmental road of the Volan has been a long one, and we thank the members of our global network of specialist dealers and P&H Pro Paddlers who packed generous amounts of energy and enthusiasm, and joined us for the journey…

We originally announced the concept, a complementary pairing of polyethylene and composite, lightweight sea kayaks focused on day and weekend trips, at PADDLEexpo in 2018. Whilst many have found their perfect, two-boat fleet in a combination of an Aries or Delphin, and a Cetus or Scorpio, we also recognised that not all had the necessary funds or storage space for two boats and that this new range also had the potential to fulfil the needs of those paddlers.

We soon reached a fork in the developmental road, though; one path led to a shorter design with a relatively straight keel, whilst the other’s destination was a 16’ sea kayak with pronounced rocker. We decided to explore both, with the former becoming the polyethylene Virgo (you can read more about the Virgo in its own blog post), and the latter becoming the composite Volan.

The Volan is 16’ in length with a pronounced rocker profile and subtle chines, which in combination, allow the boat to swing around nimbly in the surf, and keep the weight low, reducing the effort required to move the boat around both on and off the water.

Our 50+ years of cross-discipline design experience shine through once again, including the incorporation of the innovative wave deflectors seen in recent Pyranha models, deflecting spray outwards, away from the paddler when powering through chop, and creating dynamic bow lift without excessive volume or rocker.

The Volan’s combination of a planing, mid-section hull and finely tailored chines is enhanced by decades of experience with the performance characteristics of this type of hull in the Pyranha range of whitewater kayaks, ensuring the edges are tuned to engage when desired without hindering the paddler otherwise. The hull shape and dimensions promote planing performance and manoeuvrability at high speed on a wave yet retain tracking and efficiency at the lower speeds associated with normal paddling.

In that vein, the Volan eschews the school of thought which says a sea kayak must be unstable when motionless to perform in motion, and is exceptionally stable when flat, yet comes alive at the influence of your paddle strokes or the engagement of an edge.

The properties of the Volan’s hull are amplified by our advanced construction offerings; Lightweight Kevlar/Carbon Infusion offers incredible, industry-leading weight saving, hull stiffness, and durability, for higher performance, lower exertion, and increased longevity. Learn more on our constructions page.

In summary, the Volan’s features include:

  • The renowned comfort of our Connect outfitting
  • All the predictably smooth characteristics of the Cetus in a lighter, more compact format for shorter journeys and easier portaging, transport, and storage.
  • Influences from the Aries, such as a wave-piercing bow, to enhance the play potential of the responsive, compact design with lower swing weight.
  • A planing, mid-section hull with subtle chines, which can carve on a wave face and manoeuvred using traditional techniques during normal paddling.
  • A rocker profile tailored to partner with the intent of the hull design, whilst working with the bow wave deflectors to produce a dry ride in a wide variety of water conditions.
  • Exceptional stability, making a great platform for all abilities to take in the sights, whether that’s with your eyes or a camera.
  • Balanced sheerline and deck profile, allowing simple trimming with the skeg to neutralise the effect of wind and waves.
  • Low-profile back deck and cockpit rim for easier rolling and re-entry.
  • Bow, Stern, and Day Hatches as standard, with optional Pod Hatch, allowing paddlers to choose between the weight saving or additional storage.
  • The most comprehensive range of construction and custom options available. Create your own, bespoke P&H Sea Kayak on our customiser.

We’re proud to offer a performance, composite sea kayak which combines the essence of both the Aries and Cetus in a single, compact, lightweight design, making it equally competent from simple excursions over a long-weekend to a few hours of fun in the surf, and all the varied trips in between; the Volan.

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part One, “I only meant to go to the bridge.”

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On March 25, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

This time last year, Andrea ‘Dre’ Knepper was on an epic mission to paddle solo along all 3000 miles of the West Coast of the USA from Canada to Mexico.

Unfortunately, we were in the midst of writing a new P&H website at the time, and hadn’t yet finished up its blog page; Dre’s posts, therefore, sadly got buried in our ever-overflowing inbox.

As they say, however, every cloud has a silver lining, and reminded by Dre’s current run of interviews and podcasts, we’re finally getting her posts uploaded. We’re sure, like us, you’ll enjoy the opportunity to get lost in her words and pictures, and absorbed in the story of her incredible journey. Enjoy…

I only meant to go to the bridge.

If you haven’t met me, my name is Andrea. I’ve planned a long paddle for this summer. I plan to paddle the West Coast of the Lower 48. I’ve wanted to do this for at least 15 years. 

The first leg of the journey, after months of planning and dehydrating food and looking at charts, was almost over. But I stopped 40 miles away from the end of my 2100 mile drive from Chicago, where I live, to Portland where my mom lives and where a boat was waiting nearby for me. I stopped at Multnomah Falls. 

I’ve been going to the Columbia River Gorge and the falls area for 45 years. This evening, I decided to make a quick stop at the end of a beautiful days’ drive. 

I was just going to take a quick walk up to the bridge over the lower falls. 

But then I wanted to go around the corner for the views of the Columbia. And then I wanted to go around the next hairpin for views with less obstructions. Pretty soon, I was on my way to the top of the upper falls. And I realized, hiking along in flip flops with a small cup of mocha from the snack bar and no water, that this was why I’m taking this trip this summer. Because there’s always something so beautiful to see around the next bend, the next point, at the next rest area. This world is stunning, and I like when I get to see it. Really see it.

I like long journeys. I want to know what’s next. So I stopped at  Multnomah Falls to take a quick walk to the bridge, and hiked to the top. And I’ve been eye-ing the West Coast for a long paddling expedition for 15 years.

I hope I’m more prepared for this than for my flip-flop-attired hike up to the top of Multnomah Falls! The right gear is critical for this endeavor. I put a fair amount of thought into what boat I’d like to use. The boat I’ve paddled for 15 years is playful and fun, but doesn’t particularly like to go straight. I wanted something a bit more happy to go straight, while still responsive. I needed a boat that would fit me – most boats are too big for me. And I wanted a boat made by a company with a good solid record of consistently good quality boats. 

I find it terrifying to ask other people to get behind my own endeavors. I run a non-profit – and hate fundraising. And the idea of asking companies in the paddling industry if they would sponsor this trip was almost enough to make me decide to use my boat that would double the mileage of this trip with all the zig-zagging it would do. But I screwed up my courage, made a brochure about what I was doing, and asked P&H if they would consider sponsoring the trip. They said yes! So I’m paddling a brand new Scorpio LV from Canada to Mexico. 

It’s a long journey – and I love long journeys. I also like un-mediated immersion in nature. I was struck by this at Multnomah Falls. After a fire a couple years ago that burned a lot of trees and destabilized the soil, there are locking fences where there didn’t used to be. After a large slab of rock fell from the falls 15 years ago, the stone walls along the path by the pool have had posts and chain added so it’s quite difficult to hike around the pool or behind the falls. I was a bit sad – I have this amazing childhood memory of standing behind the falls filling up my canteen. That water tasted really good! It was in the days before we filtered our water, when there were signs warning us to stay on the path. Signs that were next to well-trod unofficial paths around and behind the falls, belying the fact that the powers that be didn’t enforce the rules. 

On this journey, there are no warning signs. There are no fences. There’s no one else to tell me when and where to decide not to go. There’s no one to mediate my experience or my safety. 

I don’t think it’s a bad thing that so many of our experiences of nature are mediated, controlled, regulated. The imposition of safety regulations allows folks who don’t have knowledge or experience to see incredible places. It increases access for so many people who don’t get the chance to be in nature. 

I’m often the person mediating the experience for others. I impose rules that people don’t like and sometimes don’t understand. I direct Chicago Adventure Therapy – a non-profit working with under-served youth in Chicago, using outdoor sports to build skills. Creating access for them means taking responsibility for safety decisions they aren’t equipped to make.

It also means helping them learn to make those decisions for themselves. Because here’s the thing.  It’s great to hike to the bridge at Multnomah Falls.  It’s super-crowded with tourists from all over the world. It’s got a smooth asphalt trail to it. It’s got railings and fences and locks that don’t let you get into a place you shouldn’t be. And it’s absolutely beautiful. It takes your breath away.

It’s also incredible to have the opportunity to take long journeys in nature. Where you have every opportunity to get in trouble – and every opportunity to see what’s around the next point or to hike behind the waterfall and fill your canteen. 

I’ve been dehydrating food, paddling in conditions nothing like the Pacific, figuring out what gear to use to keep myself safe. I’ve been wrapping things up at Chicago Adventure Therapy – paddling with our community at our spring retreat and at the first Midwest symposium of the season, moving our office out of my home, transferring responsibilities to my staff. I’ve picked up the boat (with help from a couple cats) and did a test pack to see if  I can take a month’s worth of food at a time. The preparations are done and it’s time to start the journey. I’m hoping to fill up my canteen this summer. Because there’s no better water than the water I get to be on for four months.

The Sun is Setting on Pre-2004 P&H Capella Product Support

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On February 26, 2020

In News

From the 1st of September 2020, we will cease production and supply of the moulded rubber Thigh Grips and Square Hatch Covers featured on several generations of P&H Capella manufactured up until 2004.

A Pre-2004 P&H Capella

Our reasons for taking this decision are as follows:

The stated maximum UV resistance lifespan of the high-density polyethylene used in our current production process is around 12 years; this is inclusive of many incremental developments we have made in conjunction with our suppliers over our 35+ years of rotomoulding experience to produce the optimal plastic alloy for canoe & kayak production and assumes average use as well as consistent and proper maintenance. This figure is also in relation to areas of low-UV concentration such as the UK and changes dramatically in areas of high-UV concentration such as Australia.

Top & Side Views of a Pre-2004 Capella

Pre-2004 generations of Capella were manufactured by a third party, prior to Pyranha Mouldings Ltd.’s acquisition of P&H Sea Kayaks, and therefore we cannot verify the exact alloy of polyethylene compounds or their performance with regards to UV resistance.

We are certain, however, that even using a conservative estimation of UV resistance given the available polymer technology during the time of production, at over 16 years old, these models will have long since seen a drastic reduction in structural integrity due to UV degradation.

As a result, we would strongly recommend that any Pre-2004 Capella not be used in any situation in which the paddler would not be comfortable swimming to shore, and ideally be rendered unpaddleable and either re-purposed or recycled.

Pre-2004 Capella Thigh Grips

The Thigh Grips and Hatch Covers in question are also themselves particularly susceptible to UV degradation, especially in comparison to the KajakSport hatch covers used on all P&H Sea Kayaks since 2005, and we, therefore, don’t feel they are representative of the standards of quality paddlers have come to expect from P&H.

A Pre-2004 Capella at Rubha Coigeach Sea Stack some years ago.

The 222 Mile Challenge

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On November 20, 2019

In May 2020, myself and Paul, both veterans, both suffering from PTSD, and both a little crazy for taking on this nutty challenge, will be leaving Dungeness, across the English Channel on an epic 222-mile challenge!

We will be using 2 P&H Scorpio kayaks, recommended by experienced professionals due to their versatility, design, weight & handling. Built purposely for sea kayaking, we will be putting them through their paces on a 29-mile crossing facing the open sea and dealing with larger waves than usual.

Neither of us have ever kayaked, and are training over the coming months to complete this challenge and raise funds for veterans’ mental health care and support. Landing at Pegasus Bridge for the 75th anniversary year of VE day (Declaration of Peace) and finally ending by taking in the views of Point Du Hoc memorial in Normandy from sea level. Over a total of 14 days of paddling, we will be filming our journey and sharing live footage, blogs, and updates as we progress.

A bridge too far? Haha, we don’t think so. Physical and mental torture, being pushed to the limit, exhaustion, and attacks from wildlife… maybe! But we will do this; the adventure, the achievement, and a £250k target make it all worthwhile.

Giving a little can make a huge difference: https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/221-mile-kayak

Destination Guide – Inside Passage, BC, Canada

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On October 16, 2019

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

This Summer, my partner Amy and I headed over to British Columbia to paddle a section of the Inside Passage. If you’ve not heard of the ‘bucket-list’ worthy Inside Passage, it’s a coastal route that stretches 1700km from Washington, USA, through Western British Columbia, up to Skagway, Alaska. Its major drawcards being the teeming wildlife, a multitude of islands to weave, and the perfect balance of solitude versus opportunities to re-stock in remote First Nations communities.

We had a month to play with, so opted for a 780km section of this marine passage, from Comox on Vancouver Island up to Prince Rupert, in the north-west of British Columbia. We had a brilliant time encountering wildlife, meeting locals, and living the simple life, submersed in stunning scenery. This guide is intended to help you plan your Inside Passage adventure and hopefully provide a few nuggets of inspiration and lessons learnt.

When to go

The climate is quite similar to Scotland, so expect rain and also stunning blue skies. We went mid-August to mid-September and paddled in t-shirts for 90% of the time. The great thing about Aug/Sept is the salmon are starting to run, so lots of Orca, Humpbacks, and the bears should be well fed (fingers crossed).

Where to go

Quick hit – The most compact enjoyment was certainly around Telegraph Cove. There are lots of guided trip options, amazing scenery, and loads of Orca and Humpback to get excited about.

For wildlife – The Broughton Islands certainly offered us the most varied scenery, tides, and wildlife. We saw about 60 Orca on separate occasions, Humpbacks galore, Sea Lions, Sea Otters, Bald Eagles, but no Bears…

Wilderness – The further north we travelled, the fewer people we encountered. Although most of the coast has been logged at some point, north of Vancouver Island thick forest lines the high tide mark with only the occasional small village breaking the vista.

How to get there

Fly to Vancouver and catch either a bus and ferry over to Vancouver Island, or get a floatplane to your starting point from £50 upwards.

Boat hire

We found it surprisingly difficult to hire boats. MEC hire Scorpios from Vancouver City, but then you need to get them to your starting point. Most of the companies in the north of Vancouver Island only do guided trips. The best option we found was from a company called Comox Valley Kayaks. They hire out boats for any duration and provide a drop-off and pick-up service. We met other paddlers on shorter trips who used private boat shuttles to fine-tune their drop-off and pick-up points.

Maps

There are lots of marine charts and topographic maps available of the BC west coast. Depending on the length of your trip I’d recommend marine charts from 1:40,000 scale and smaller. As our trip was quite long and space was at a premium, we opted to use a road atlas for large scale planning and the Viewranger and Navionics apps for our day to day navigation. To charge our devices we had a 17 Watt, waterproof, Voltaic Systems solar panel and battery. This system worked amazingly well, enabling us to charge cameras, phones, VHF and head-torches.

Useful info

There is a ton of useful resources out there to help you plan your paddle. The Inside Passage Facebook Group is a great treasure trove of knowledge. We downloaded the book ‘Kayaking the Inside Passage’ by R.H. Miller onto our phones which offered information on history, tides, wildlife, routes, campsites, and much more. There are various online maps from previous paddling trips, featuring notated information such as campsites, water, and resupply points.

General conditions

We found the paddling relatively straight forward. The majority of the route is sheltered by islands with only a few exposed headlands. The wind offered some challenges but was never a show stopper for us. However, we have heard from other paddlers that it gets much stronger & prohibiting. As a general rule of thumb, you could set your watch by winds picking up at 3 pm in the afternoon. Tides do get pretty strong in areas with overfalls and whirlpools so a good knowledge of tidal planning is vital. Lots of the tidal cruxes need to be paddled at slack water and it was often possible to paddle up tide by hugging the coastline. Landings are found quite regularly and we found many more campsites than recorded online or in Miller’s book. We carried up to 13l of water each and managed to fill up from taps with the back up of water purification means with us if necessary. Bears… We saw one from the water and heard another near camp whilst in our tent. Cook away from your tent spot where possible. Store all smellies in your hatches, seal them and flip your boat overnight. Get studious and read up on bear-safe camping. Again, not a show stopper, but we have heard of trips earlier in the year with a greater number of sightings & encounters.

This area really is a sea kayaker’s paradise, with something for everyone. If you are thinking about a trip out there, do it! Give me a shout if you would like to chat more about it, and happy paddling.

Worst Case Scenario II

By

On September 13, 2019

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T52e0iWOCy4

So, let’s talk about safety!  It has been a while since our first “Worst Case Scenario” video (where we are recovering an unconscious victim in awaiting of the Coast Guard) and our attention was drawn by a few real-life stories from fellow paddlers that lost their boat during their trips.  Why is it that a board surfer is tethered to his board, and a surf skier is also tethered to his surf ski….?  But I rarely hear sea kayakers tethering themselves to their boat?  Of course, it can be dangerous in specific situations such as during surfing, or during rock hopping.  But when one goes offshore than there are only benefits by attaching yourself to your boat.  We tried a few setups during the past year, going from the use of the long tow line on the belt to a mid-size safety line, to the short tow line just in front of the cockpit.  I chose the last option, where I hook the carabiner of the short tow line (a piece of bungie) to the loop of my spray deck.  That way I can still pull my spray deck in case of emergency, it is also not in the way of a roll.  There is also a minimum risk of entanglement.  This video shows what could happen if you lose your boat, and how you can prepare yourself for the worst-case scenario.  Feel free to comment or share experiences and what works best for you.  Have fun and be safe on the water!

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