Padstow Bay Perfection

IMG_1885
The River Camel at Rock

What is going on? Yet another sunny day on the North Cornwall coast with no incoming swell. Not good if you are a surfer, but absolutely brilliant if you are a sea kayaker who has a penchant for cetaceans and likes to venture as far offshore as possible.

The sandy Camel estuary between Rock and Padstow was looking stunning in the sunshine of the late April morning. And the water was as clear as I have ever seen, no doubt due to the virtual absence of rain over the last month, and helped by the fact that the sea life hasn’t ‘got going’ yet. The plankton bloom is yet to kick off, resulting in increased cloudiness known as ‘ May Water’ (or so I have been told).

Having said that, the plankton IS already evident on the south Cornwall coast and a couple of Basking Sharks have  been sighted in the Falmouth area hoovering it all up.

The two mile paddle to the mouth of the Camel estuary was a treat. It is over a shallow sandy bottom so the sea look positively Caribbean. The shoreline was dotted with early morning dog-walkers and their rampaging pets. Migrating shorebirds such as Whimbrels have a tough time finding a secluded beach on which to gather themselves for their onward journey, as every available patch of sand seems to come with a marauding dog.

IMG_2691
Whimbrel

This is the Whimbrel time of year. Whimbrels have the tremendous (if a bit unimaginative) old name of ‘Seven Whistler.’ Its characteristic piping call consisting of seven identical notes is one of the sounds of Spring on the open coast. There is a doomladen old saying which relates to the call of Whimbrel migrating overhead in the dark. It describes the ‘six birds of fate’ which fly about at night seeking their lost companion. When all seven are united, according to the story, the world will end.

Why can’t the ending describe them all being thrilled to get together again and going off for an all-night party?

Daymer Bay was absolute glass which made gliding over the turquoise water even more of a thrill.

IMG_1779_01
Daymer Bay

It was marginally less smooth after I had crossed the Doom Bar and passed into the open sea around Stepper Point. I couldn’t resist a photo of the moon behind the chimney at the point. I made directly for Gulland rock a couple of miles offshore towards Trevose Head.

IMG_1783
Stepper point

My intention was to slingshot around the island of Gulland Rock and then paddle north around the back of Newlands Rock and then on around ‘the Mouls’, before returning back past Rumps point and Pentire Head to Polzeath Bay.

I have never done this circuit involving all the three islands of Padstow Bay. Its the usual problem of wind and swell on theNorth Cornish coast not making for favourable paddling conditions on the day I would like to go.

IMG_1833
Newlands, Trevose Head and Gulland Rock

But not so today! It was perfect.

The stench of guano from Gulland Rock assailed my nostrils half-a-mile before I got close, and I started to pass little groups of Razorbills and Guillemots as I rounded the southern tip of the rock.

I was  a bit surprised at the very large rafts of auks floating about off the western side of Gulland Rock however; there must have been many hundred, with dozens more cackling from their nest sites on the cliffs. I drifted close enough for some decent photos and then paddled away before I caused a disturbance.

IMG_1794
Raft of Auks
IMG_1799
Guillemot
Razorbills
Razorbills

The three mile transit to Newlands was uneventful until I stopped for a coffee break on an exceptionally smooth patch of sea. I heard the piff of a porpoise but had difficulty in observing it  because it was a lot further away than I had thought. It moved past to the south followed by a chum shortly after.

IMG_2761
Porpoise

A few Manx Shearwaters zipped past and a few Gannets cruised overhead. Around the final island, The Mouls, I looked hard for the Puffins which are supposed to nest here, but didn’t see any. Just a very orange-looking seal basking on a rock. Last year’s pup?

Grey Seal
Grey Seal

I slid across the tidal current to get up close and personal with the dramatic, cliffy and highly convoluted coast at Rumps point. The flat conditions allowed me to paddle within inches of every nook and cranny. A Peregrine whinnied from its rocky promontory high above.

IMG_2808
Peregrine

Round the corner into the relatively busy Polzeath Bay I brushed past a few paddleboarders that were spilling out from the beach where a few surfers bobbed in the disappointing (for them) swell.

I was paddling against the tide coming out of the Camel estuary but with a bit of cunning coast-hugging I managed to avoid most of the current. If there is no swell running so that you can get right in against the shore, I have found that when paddling against a current there are almost as many eddies working in your favour as there are flows of water against you. Another very specific advantage of a kayak!

Rock was absolutely buzzing with humanity when I got back. The queue for the ferry to Padstow was long (no doubt heading for fish ‘n chips at Rick Stein’s) and the car park full.

Time to get home.

IMG_1863
Rumps Point
IMG_1901_01
The Beach at Rock

 

 

 

 

 

Incredible Peregrine Attack

After my amazing hour spent watching the Bottlenose Dolphins I thought that the wildlife excitement was over for the day. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The sea was so unusually smooth, with virtually no swell coming in from the Atlantic.  I kept well offshore in the hope of seeing some Common Dolphins. One and-a-half miles from the coast. It was absolutely silent apart from the sporadic cackle of scattered groups of auks, and the ‘piff’ of a pod of four porpoises. It was so still that although the sound of their blows was quite loud they were so far away I could only just see their fins breaking the surface.

IMG_2593
Guillemots and Tater Du lighthouse

Half way between Mousehole and Lamorna Cove there was a loud ripping sound coming from somewhere overhead, as though the sky was being torn. A small dark shape hurtled down towards the sea and suddenly twisted and turned. At the same time I heard a faint whistle which sounded like a sandpiper, although it was the sandpiper equivalent of a desperate shriek.

IMG_2597
Peregrine dropping to surface

I saw a brief splash as something hit the water, and the pursuing peregrine circled around for a second attempt to catch its victim. I rapidly dug out my camera and started snapping. The peregrine dropped to sea level and to my astonishment dipped its feet into the water to try to retrieve the sandpiper which had at this stage disappeared from the surface. It must have dived to avoid the peregrine.

IMG_2598
peregrine dipping its feet underwater
IMG_2599
Unsuccessful

The peregrine circled around again and again hovered briefly over the spot where the sandpiper floundered. No success so it circled around another couple of times. I could see the sandpiper’s head  poking above the surface, which is just visible in one of the photos with the peregrine marauding above.

IMG_2612
Peregrine circling. Sandpiper’s head just visible below peregrine’s left wing.

After four or five circuits the peregrine, which looked like a tiercel, gave up and made for the coast. I immediately paddled over to rescue the sandpiper which I thought must be in some kind of trouble. Even if it wasn’t , sandpipers are not designed to go swimming in the open sea (although funnily enough I saw a Grey phalarope swimming in almost exactly this place last September) so it probably needed some kind of help.

IMG_2639
Floundering, but relieved, Sandpiper

As I approached it understandably started swimming away, but I wasn’t expecting it to take flight when I was about six foot away. It seemed absolutely fine, alternating flapping with a brief glide on bowed wings in classic Common Sandpiper fashion. And was gone.

I was still trying to process what I had just witnessed. It’s always like that after a peregrine attack. The action is so unexpected and so fast and so exciting it’s a bit tricky for a doughbrain to process.

I still can’t quite believe that two of the most spectacular wildlife sightings I have had in over 17,000 miles paddled in my kayak occurred within an hour of each other.

IMG_2625
Still Hungry

Magical Mevagissey

IMG_0537
The Gwinges

The ten mile stretch of open coast between Porthpean, St. Austell and Dodman Point is undoubtedly one of the best paddles in Cornwall.

It’s got everything. Sandy beaches, coves only accessible by kayak, cliffs, headlands, rocky areas to dodge in and out, and two super quaint coastal villages.

Even better for the paddler that relishes knifing across calm water (like me), it is east facing so immune to much of the wind and swell from the west. So it is often one of the only stretches of paddleable sea during the winter.

Paul and I picked a beautiful early April day for a fifteen mile jaunt from Porthpean to Gorran Haven and back.

IMG_0486
Mevagissey Bay

Mevagissey bay looked very calm and inviting when we rounded Black Head so we cut directly across to the offshore rocks on the other side called The Gwinges (excellent name). There are nearly always seals hanging about here but today there were none.

A mile further south we had a leg stretch and a bite at Gorran Haven which is about as perfect a sheltered Cornish harbour as you could ever hope to find, and it was looking particularly appealing in the Spring sunshine. Families sat around, dogs yipped, children shrieked with excitement, frisbees flew.

IMG_0528
Gorran Haven

With the deliberate aim to make it as much of a circular paddle as possible, we ‘coast-hugged’ on the way back, after staying offshore on the outward leg.

Of course we couldn’t resist investigating Mevagissey with its outer and inner harbour. It was heaving with visitors sauntering along at a holiday pace.

Mevagissey is almost too quaint to be real. I have visited by kayak on dozens of occasions but only once by car when I collided with a wall. I intend to visit again by kayak and never to go near the place again in a vehicle.

IMG_0554_01
Mevagissey Outer Harbour
IMG_0593
Mevagissey Inner Harbour

The final few miles past the long sandy beach of Pentewan and around Black head were uneventful but enjoyable. A pair of Peregrines sat motionless at the back of their usual cove, and we were stalked by a couple of seals when we were nearly back at Porthpean. One was an absolute whopper and I don’t think I have ever seen a bull seal with a more prominent nose.

IMG_0655
Bull Grey Seal

This is a fantastic bit of coast and justifiably popular with the sit-on-top brigade, especially the very sheltered bay containing Porthpean and Charlestown , and its many inviting beaches.

Tamar Treats

p1060167I don’t paddle the ‘middle’ section of the River Tamar Estuary very often. It’s further for me to drive and doesn’t offer much more than the the upper bit between Calstock and Gunnislake, which is exceptional.

It’s also a bit less scenic than the upper bit, more exposed to the wind with its wider valley, and quite a lot more mud exposed as the tide drops. Mudflats aren’t everyone’s idea of a beautiful paddle.

However it was time for a change of scenery so we set off to do this stretch again, starting at the superb ‘all stage of the tide’ slipway at Weir Quay and paddling six miles upstream to Calstock, with careful tidal planning hopefully working in our favour. The tide really zips past at Weir Quay and I was relieved to see it heading in the right direction to give us a bit of a kick start.

My paddling companion Paul was trying out his recently purchased Prowler 13, I was in my super comfortable Gumotex Safari inflatable kayak, and vulnerable to guffaws from any other person afloat who thinks inflatables are not serious watercraft. I was pretty certain we were not going to meet any other paddlers, being January 7th and not a very pleasant day ,so I was probably safe.

The wide muddy shores made fertile by the billions of leaves and other organic matter that come down with the river are a waterfowl heaven. We were only just getting absorbed into the surroundings , being serenaded by piping Redshank and bubbling Curlew, when we put up a flight of Wigeon from the shore. As they circled back round over our heads a Peregrine knifed across the sky and attacked the little group. It was unsuccessful so then pursued an individual bird as it twisted and turned virtually down to water level, but departed empty-handed (-footed) and cruised back to an exposed bough of a tree high above the wide sweeping bend of the river.

Pity, I havn’t seen a successful Peregrine kill for many years.Plenty of near misses though.

That was our first treat of the day.

p1030010
Cotehele Quay

We had the tidal flow in our favour for the whole six miles to Calstock although it did seem to stop every so often, well before the tide was full. Cotehele Quay draws the eye as it is set in a very scenic bit of valley and seems to be beautifully well-preserved and groomed by the National Trust. Just round the corner is the familiar, but always astonishing (as it is so high), Calstock viaduct. We stopped for lunch on the slipway and had a chat with the Muscovy ducks.

p1030001
Calstock Viaduct

The tide turned and assisted our progress back down. Treat number two came in the elegant form of ten or so Avocets that were doing what they do on the mud on the Devon side of the river. I well remember the excitement of seeing my first Avocet at Arne in Dorset nearly half a century ago (!).

p1060181
Tamar Avocets

‘Peregrine’ corner was completely sheltered from the wind so we just drifted along with the current supping a cup of tea(me)/coffee(Paul). We watched a couple of Cormorants fishing the smooth water. Remarkably, both surfaced with flatfish in their beaks within a minute of each other. And both fish looked too big to swallow. The first was reluctantly ditched by its captor, the second looked as if it was going to be swallowed no matter what. The equivalent of a human downing a laptop whole. I think I got a bit too close in my efforts to take ‘that’ photo…the Cormorant dropped the fish and cleared off.p1060217

p1060226
Gulping Cormorant

Treat number two and-a-half, not quite qualifying for a whole.

A head just popping above the surface a hundred yards away lured us over to investigate…..although I thought it was a seal it just could have been an otter.

Just when I was beginning to think whatever-it-was was not going to surface, a seal appeared directly behind Paul’s kayak and then started to rub its nose, quite vigorously, on the plastic. We were both gob-smacked by its sudden appearance and apparent lack of bashfulness and watched as it swam about close to our kayaks before submerging and disappearing. Treat number three.

p1030021
Fearless Seal

The hugely hugely entertaining trip was soured somewhat when Paul discovered the hull of his e-bay purchased Prowler was sloshing with water. Lucky we hadn’t gone off to the Eddystone. It would have sunk.

The source of the leak was a worn through skid-plate from being dragged around too much by its previous owner.. This is a common problem with Prowlers as their hull tapers to quite a narrow point at the back of the boat, but easy to prevent if you don’t drag it around too much. Use a kayak trolley.

Yet another top trip.