There's a place I always wanted to go, somewhere where everyone says "hello"
, no cars, vans or stress and now I am home I want to go back. This is my story.
I woke one morning and said "today is the day I go to Lundy".
Lundy lies off the coast of North Devon, where the Atlantic ocean meets the Bristol Channel with nothing between it and America, a granite outcrop, three and a half miles long and half a mile wide. In the hubbub of the modern world it is a place apart, peaceful and unspoilt.
So I took my sea kayak, Ecobezhig, on my C15 Romahome to Hartland Quay on the N Devon coast. After a delay in the gypsy cafe for breakfast and a longer drive than expected I arrived at The Hartland Quay Hotel car park. I paid my £2 for 24hrs parking and drove down the steep hill to park up.
I looked out to sea and I could see Lundy in the distance 13 miles away but it was 3:30pm and I couldn't have started paddling before 4pm cos of all the luggage that has to go in the kayak such as food, cooker, tent, bedding, air matress and all the usual stuff one takes camping. So I decided that it would have taken about 3 1/2 hrs to paddle across the current and I would have arrived at about 7:30 ish in the dark. I didn't want to have to find a parking spot for my kayak and set up tent and everything else in the dark. I decided to stay overnight in the Hotel carpark, many others do it with the managers permission.
I walked from the Romahome to the beach and marked my position on the
GPS and called it Hart Q. This would be for my return trip if I had no visibilty on the way back and to steer a straighter course as possible across a strong current.
I spent the evening in the http://www.hartlandquayhotel.co.uk/ where I chatted with disbelieving and sceptical people that some may have thought I was made doing an open sea crossing across a strong current on my own.
That night, Wed 13th oct, I retired to the camper and set up my bed with the window overlooking the sea from the cliff edge of the car park.
Thursday 14th 7:45am
Awoke to waves crashing and an incoming tide, sea birds and other noises of a natural kind. I took a look out the window and I could see nothing apart from fog. I had intended to start paddling at 9am but with visibility down to 1/2 mile I couldn't chance it becuase I never had the laitude and longitude
numbers for the landing beach at Lundy. I could have calculated the drift and windage and the heading I needed but when at point A if I was sat 12 dgress out I could miss Lundy by a couple miles. Instead I got on the internet and found the GPS figures I needed, thanks to the hotels wi-fi.
I started paddling at 13:00 and 1/2 hour later I could see nothing. I called Swansea CC and gave my trip details and ETA.
1 1/2 hours into the trip I could see Lundy and a huge ship from my port side. We came very close and some of the crew watched me from the stern deck as I crossed over its wake. At that point a jet fighter flew very low and the noise made me put my hands over my ears just as I was being washed around by the ship.
I continued paddling and increased my stroke rate but heart beat up and back muscles screaming for rest.
I could see Lundy rising from the fog ridden horizon. It took another 1 1/2 hours and a bit to get close to the cliffs there before rounding the headland to the safety of the beach. I could see people gathering on the shore looking out to me. I never really gave them another a thought as my mind was focused on getting ashore.
A small narrow gap in the low cliff summoned me closer for a short cut. I took a risk with the large swell following and paddled through the narrow gap just a few feet wide. Halfway in I saw a huge seal on the rocks ahead looking back to me. I slowed my pace hoping it wouldn't jump in the water and ram me but then it jumped in from several feet high. As I tried to stop the next wave picked up my 18ft kayak and me and pushed us over the top of the seal, we never hit though. I prepared for a capsize and an eskimo roll by pushing my thighs into the braces in my cockpit. I passed safely and came out of the narrow confines of the short cut I'd taken. It seamed like a good idea at the time!
Once out the other side I could see my landing beach and the small pier the MS Oldenburg uses to arrive and depart with its passengers. I paddled very fatigued the last 200 yards to the beach and landed on shore.
To be contiued

I woke one morning and said "today is the day I go to Lundy".

Lundy lies off the coast of North Devon, where the Atlantic ocean meets the Bristol Channel with nothing between it and America, a granite outcrop, three and a half miles long and half a mile wide. In the hubbub of the modern world it is a place apart, peaceful and unspoilt.
So I took my sea kayak, Ecobezhig, on my C15 Romahome to Hartland Quay on the N Devon coast. After a delay in the gypsy cafe for breakfast and a longer drive than expected I arrived at The Hartland Quay Hotel car park. I paid my £2 for 24hrs parking and drove down the steep hill to park up.
I looked out to sea and I could see Lundy in the distance 13 miles away but it was 3:30pm and I couldn't have started paddling before 4pm cos of all the luggage that has to go in the kayak such as food, cooker, tent, bedding, air matress and all the usual stuff one takes camping. So I decided that it would have taken about 3 1/2 hrs to paddle across the current and I would have arrived at about 7:30 ish in the dark. I didn't want to have to find a parking spot for my kayak and set up tent and everything else in the dark. I decided to stay overnight in the Hotel carpark, many others do it with the managers permission.
I walked from the Romahome to the beach and marked my position on the
GPS and called it Hart Q. This would be for my return trip if I had no visibilty on the way back and to steer a straighter course as possible across a strong current.
I spent the evening in the http://www.hartlandquayhotel.co.uk/ where I chatted with disbelieving and sceptical people that some may have thought I was made doing an open sea crossing across a strong current on my own.
That night, Wed 13th oct, I retired to the camper and set up my bed with the window overlooking the sea from the cliff edge of the car park.
Thursday 14th 7:45am
Awoke to waves crashing and an incoming tide, sea birds and other noises of a natural kind. I took a look out the window and I could see nothing apart from fog. I had intended to start paddling at 9am but with visibility down to 1/2 mile I couldn't chance it becuase I never had the laitude and longitude
numbers for the landing beach at Lundy. I could have calculated the drift and windage and the heading I needed but when at point A if I was sat 12 dgress out I could miss Lundy by a couple miles. Instead I got on the internet and found the GPS figures I needed, thanks to the hotels wi-fi.
I started paddling at 13:00 and 1/2 hour later I could see nothing. I called Swansea CC and gave my trip details and ETA.
1 1/2 hours into the trip I could see Lundy and a huge ship from my port side. We came very close and some of the crew watched me from the stern deck as I crossed over its wake. At that point a jet fighter flew very low and the noise made me put my hands over my ears just as I was being washed around by the ship.
I continued paddling and increased my stroke rate but heart beat up and back muscles screaming for rest.
I could see Lundy rising from the fog ridden horizon. It took another 1 1/2 hours and a bit to get close to the cliffs there before rounding the headland to the safety of the beach. I could see people gathering on the shore looking out to me. I never really gave them another a thought as my mind was focused on getting ashore.
A small narrow gap in the low cliff summoned me closer for a short cut. I took a risk with the large swell following and paddled through the narrow gap just a few feet wide. Halfway in I saw a huge seal on the rocks ahead looking back to me. I slowed my pace hoping it wouldn't jump in the water and ram me but then it jumped in from several feet high. As I tried to stop the next wave picked up my 18ft kayak and me and pushed us over the top of the seal, we never hit though. I prepared for a capsize and an eskimo roll by pushing my thighs into the braces in my cockpit. I passed safely and came out of the narrow confines of the short cut I'd taken. It seamed like a good idea at the time!
Once out the other side I could see my landing beach and the small pier the MS Oldenburg uses to arrive and depart with its passengers. I paddled very fatigued the last 200 yards to the beach and landed on shore.

To be contiued
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