A Week in the “Promised Land”
Two New York Kayakers visited Holyhead, AngleseySeptember 16th to 23rd, 2006
General Observations.
The place is dramatic and heartbreakingly beautiful. Holyhead, a port on the far West coast of Angelesey, sits on the edge of the Irish Sea 50 miles across from Dublin. The longest breakwater in Europe (one and a quarter miles) with its flashing green marker perched atop the end, protects the harbor and creates a sharp line beyond which are visible the low-slung Skerries and their white lighthouse. The coastline stretches to the North and South – a wall of cliffs shear to the water carved with an intricate world of slots, caves and bays and lined with famous stacks and shoalings – venues for the legendary rock-hopping and tidal race play. It has an Edge of the World quality, and for kayakers like us it is paradise.
Weather. Anglesey peninsula enjoys a microclimate not unlike the San Juans. We were there in balmy weather with, mostly, bright sunshine and it rained only one day. The water was really warm (at least high 60s) and reportedly water temperature does not dip too far below 50 even in Winter.
Weather forecasts are obtained mainly by internet because (at least in Holyhead) radio forecasts available via VHF radio are rare, short and hard to time – I got different answers from people as to exactly when these forecasts are broadcast (every hour; every 2 hours; every 2 hours on the quarter, etc.). The entire time I was there I caught the tail end of only one forecast (Standard Horizon VHF worked very well to that extent only).
But wind direction is visible every day in the form of beautiful little wood boats moored in the West end of Holyhead harbor (directly across from Nigel and Tara’s house) – a colorful fleet of weather vanes gracefully pointing their bows upwind. Beaufort Scale cues tied to tree behavior are not useful because there are few trees.
Noteworthy – barometric pressure. Most everyone in Holyhead (in our circle) kept a constant eye on barometric pressure via massive computer-wristwatches that register (in real time) every millibar up or down and show multi-hour graphs. All I know about “bp” is that falling means foul weather ahead. With the system we had during our week, everyone was constantly very interested in what the watches had to say.
Tides. If you don’t have the local tide tables, there’s a BBC online link where one can get (free) 6 days HW/LW predictions for Holyhead (and all the other points on the peninsula).
Tidal streams are powerful and intricate in the area. The predominant streams run roughly parallel to the coast (Flood NW, Ebb SE), but it is critical to consult the tidal stream atlas because so much micro tidal action occurs at the intersection of the many (many) horizontal and vertical obstructions that create the dramatic rocky landscape visible to the eye. Cruising Anglesey & Adjoining Waters (7th Ed.), the Imray Pilot for the area, has an excellent hour-by-hour tidal atlas for both Angelsey and the Menai Straits which depict in great detail all the tidal races, eddies and overfalls (and current speeds) that form at various points around the peninsula at each hour in the 12-hour cycle – it changes constantly in ways extremely significant for us! (Note that the Imray Pilot current atlas is pegged to HW Dover -- Anglesey HW is 45 minutes earlier than Dover). In addition to the tidal atlas, one pays special attention to the Tidal Diamonds that appear on the local nautical charts – these give hour-by-hour (for the entire 12-hour cycle) speed and set of currents at locations where especially significant tidal actions occurs.
As we learned, some features occur only on the Flood (e.g., North Stack and Penrhyn Mawr races), and others only on the Ebb (e.g., South Stack and Harry Furlong’s Rocks). We were there – in terms of daylight and NDK working hours -- on an “ebb” week, so no P. Mawr but then again, no shortage of race-play (see below)!
Sea state. Large swell can form over the long fetch from South, West and North. The collision of large swells and their reflection off rocky and uneven shores of the peninsula make for extremely fun (or fearsome) kayaking in confused high seas.
The wind during our week. We had very big winds all week – averaging Force 6-7, though it was blowing Force 8-9 on one day. All the daily routes were planned accordingly, with (mostly) downwind headings and, of course, to take advantage of features active during the ebb tide (see above). We had the pleasure of very large swell especially on the last two days – like a giant hammock. It was either Nigel or Phil, I think, who noted that they have rarely seen sustained winds at this level in that neck of the woods.
Charts we used. Non-waterproof: Admiralty Charts 1970 (Caernafron Bay; 1:75,000), and 1413 (Approaches to Holyhead, 1:25,000). Waterproof: Imray C52 (Cardigan Bay to Liverpool – 1:138,600 -- very small scale but great overview of the whole area).
Coffee. If you drink it, bring your own.
September 16, 2006 – Wales at Last.
We arrive in Holyhead (Holy Island) around lunch-time, with summer weather, blue sky and bright sunshine after an overnight flight into Dublin and a ride across the Irish Sea on the high-speed Stena ferry (aka the floating mall) into Holyhead.
Nigel and Tara’s home – the top two floors of which comprise our B&B (with kitchen) -- is a lovely stone house on the edge of picturesque Holyhead harbor. The garden out front (edged by 2-foot hand-built stone wall) offers a breathtaking view of the famous Holyhead breakwater, which embraces (on this West end) a harbor full of wood sail boats in all colours. To the North lie the Skerries with the looming white Skerries lighthouse and a dramatic, cliffy coast climbing North to Carmel Head. On the grass, lie Nigel and Tara’s boats, including the white Explorer that went with Nigel around South Georgia last year.
Rest of the day devoted to R&R and some roaming around town. A chat with the lady who runs the marina reveals that the weather will be turning quite foul in the coming week. That evening, a first visit to King’s Arms – the place with Guinness and football (not “soccer”) playing on the TV.
September 17th – Accidental Night Nav.
First morning waking up in Wales – clear skies and sun; no wind. Coffee in the garden looking out at the sailboat weathervanes all pointing upwind (I forget which direction). The Skerries beckon, as the nice weather is predicted to go south in the coming week, which may bar any crossings. Joanne at NDK tells us we are free to take two boats out of the “cage,” which houses Explorers, Romanys and Greenlanders in every color – some familiar, e.g. the one Hadas paddled in So. Georgia and another that Marcus recognizes as a Justine boat. Marcus pulls out an Explorer and I get a Romany (none of the boats have deck-mounted compasses – note to file, good idea to bring a strap-on next time). We figure that even though it’s a few hours before LW, the contrary ebb current will be weak on the outgoing leg and we’ll have the flood on the way back.
And we’re off, planning to paddle up the coast to Carmel Head and then cross West to the Skerries – approximately 8 miles. (Later in the week local experts explained the two preferred routes for Skerries trips.) Certain that the time is 12:30 pm we set off, pointing across the harbor at the first headland North. It is intoxicating to be in the Anglesey waters at last, in NDK boats, no less. The water is warm and crystal clear. The coastline is a succession of rock gardens and mysterious crevices, slots, rocky bays and caves that appear suddenly as one approaches. Impossible to pass any of these up. Then a lovely white-pebble beach appears – a perfect “lunch” spot. We’ve been on the water maybe one hour. A few steps up from the beach there appears a huge gap between a tall rocky island (“stack”) and the high stone cliffs behind and suddenly bright orange light floods through the gap and over the dark stone. Vision. We return to the water, but the sun – a flaming orb – is about 2 inches above the horizon line. It is obviously dusk – and for sure it wasn’t 12:30 pm when we left Holyhead. A quick bearing to the Skerries lighthouse gives an LOP telling us we’re at Trwyn y Crewyn (about a mile below Carmel Head). Decision to head back is made then and there. Darkness is falling quickly, and the principal hazard is high-speed ferries coming in from the right once we reach Holyhead Harbor and boat channel, but Marcus ably steers the course home. I will never forget beacon Fl(3)G10s at the tip of the Holyhead breakwater marking starboard (IALA A) and the fact that North Stack – whose majestic silhouette was visible even in the dark -- does not have a lighthouse (if you see a light there it’s . . . probably a ferry). The aluminum pier was lit up like a Christmas tree to port.
On checking the tidal stream atlas later a curious fact surfaces -- the trip was exquisitely synched with the currents – we left (probably 6:30-ish) at a healthy ebb and returned with a flood. Likely more of academic interest, as tides on our particular course were not a critical factor (neaps and semi-sheltered area).
September 18, 2006
HW (Holyhead) 08:06, LW (Holyhead) 14:00. Wind -- S Force 5-6 building to 7 during the day.
We meet with Phil (Clegg), Nigel’s full-time coach/guide – a nicer and more engaging fellow you have rarely met – who will take us out for our first full-daylight adventure. The plan is to head South to the North Stack (where the race works on the ebb) and, if the South wind doesn’t block us, to the South Stack and as far as we feel like going after that. We paddle out of Holyhead Harbor close to the breakwater – the clapotis is exploding in soaring geysers on the sea-side, helped by the wind (see above) -- and turn left, heading for the coastline . . . and straight into a considerable “breeze.” The swell is picking up and it’s a huge kick to paddle in dynamic water with cliffs on the left and the Irish Sea on the right. As we reach South Stack Phil points us to the biggest eddy, whence he invites us to enter and play in the race, spunky on that day with wind against tide. Which we do, for about an hour or maybe two, until it dies down and we then proceed towards South Stack. The wind now is howling at or into us, and as we paddle we see the beautiful So. Stack headland and it’s towering white lighthouse “right there,” yet so far away (doesn’t get any closer). After contemplating the scene, Phil makes the call that paddling around So. Stack is not happening. So the opportunity is seized to practice “wind stuff” just where we are – for me this means attempting to paddle as far into a Force 7 as I can without being blown backwards, and then giving up and playing in following wind and refracting swell, and seeing how close I can get to the rocks without wiping out. Marcus makes several valiant attempts to paddle to the outer edge of the headland – and he nearly gets there (I’ve got a bet going with Phil). But even he describes the “wall” he encounters at each attempt. That “wall” (Phil noticed) is actually a “V” of two wind flows: the primary So. Wind crossed by a perpendicular flow formed where the primary wind curved (North) around the headland and funneled (West) into a narrow rock gap on the coastline just our side of So. Stack.
Another beautiful rocky beach for lunch. I still can’t believe I’m here and I’m taking in rock ledges, waters churning around rocks and the vast Irish Sea like a kid who’s never been to the country. And then we paddle back towards Holyhead Harbor, though with the wind so fierce Phil has us take out before the breakwater (only about 1.5 miles from home) which he is sure will be nearly impossible to turn into. End of Day 1 – I haven’t died but I am in heaven.
September 19, 2006 – More Races and Archaeology.
HW 10:00, LW 16:00 – Wind W Force 5 building to 6+.
Phil takes us to the North coast to play in the Harry Furlong’s Rocks race – another transitory phenomenon that develops for about an hour or two (on the ebb) and then dies out. It’s perfect wind v. tide again, and the race has a diagonal seam running from the coast to NE -- very clean in the middle and close to the shoreline. Another morning of sheer, unadulterated delight. After lunch – on another rocky beach with a view of the Irish Sea (!) -- we put-in at Bull Bay (also on the North Coast) and paddle West to Porth Wen (direction Carmel Head) against a Force 6 but along an absolutely gorgeous coastline full of mysteries that reveal themselves as one gets close to the rock faces – narrow slots, big weaving caves, little inlets and, of course, lots of ledges and rock-hopping spots. We arrive at the abandoned Brickworks site – a surreal series of salmon-tinged brick structures, some dome-shaped (drying structures), others soaring chimneys and brick-baking ovens, all overgrown with grasses and sprawling on an elevated plateau above the Porth Wen bay. Very 19th century “ruins” tableau with a bit of a Mad Max feel to it. This is also a picturesque and much used campsite, as told by the remains of campfires and other signs of transitory visitors. And finally back to Bull’s Bay, a rollicking “surf,” with Force 6 at our backs. Tuesday night is music night at King’s Arms – a big group of Holyhead residents become musicians and singers and the back room of the pub is alive with mirth, ballads, and the sounds of guitars, fiddles and some instruments which I did not recognize.
September 20th – Day 1 of 5* Assessment.
HW 09:23 LW 15:17
Wind – At first, S Force 7/8 building to 9 (gale); sea state 6-7 ft. Outlook – sea state 6-7 feet; wind decreasing to S Force 5.
One lovely thing about our stay was the freshness of every day’s plans – there were always pleasant surprises. In the event, today two fellows are in Holyhead for their BCU 5* Assessments with Nigel. One of them has traveled 2 days from the nether reaches of Europe to be here. Nigel invites us to join as “participants” – i.e., the 4* paddlers that the two candidates must safely guide through “interesting” conditions and then bring home in one piece. The answer is, of course, “yes.”
There is some not unreasonable consternation in the eyes of the candidates at the start of the day, when the weather forecast appears on Nigel’s board (see above) and Nigel makes it clear that the on-water assessment is “on.” So trip planning proceeds and the chosen route (which happens to be the “right” answer) is to head East after putting in in front of the shop, then crossing Holyhead harbor hugging the shore (except a “slight” detour around the bow of a massive ferry docked perpendicular to the shoreline) and thereafter paddling up the shore to Church Bay, with the howling wind at our backs.
I experience a first in attempting to turn around the bow of said ferry on whose other side the wind is blowing Force 8-9 (and funneling) – boat does not turn upwind – boat simply getting pushed on the beam. Apparently, at certain wind speeds not even NDK boats turn upwind anymore (unassisted). I’m helped around this corner by a tow, and then paddle on my own into a wall of wind and spray – there’s only enough visibility to see Nigel grinning at one of the candidates while mentioning that “It’s South Georgia weather without the cold.” Fortunately the upwind segment is short, though it feels like miles and at that moment I felt a little like Justine at that point in her Tasmania trip when she’d just about had it with the winds and the s*** weather.
The rest is pure fun, surfy downwind coastal kayaking along shore, with chop and swell arriving from multiple directions all at once – it is hard to resist following surfable wave lines that do not correspond to the course set by the candidates. Discussion of continuing to Carmel Head leads to the conclusion that it is a no-go – the fetch from the South is long (far longer and than at our current location), and Force 8-9 has been building the sea state all day. The operative question in the 5* context is: if something went wrong there would the leaders be able to perform safe rescues? It is decided that there is a good possibility that the answer would be “no,” and therefore we do not proceed North. In essence, to paraphrase Nigel, we avoided heading into conditions where the hazard might be such that the only safety anyone could assure was their own.
At the take-out in Church Bay it is a challenge again to turn sideways to the wind (still blowing 8-9), but by now using the backward-paddling trick followed by the short-fast sweep with forward lean and more aggressive edge has me getting in all by myself without a tow. Ta-da – good learning curve!
The debrief back at the NDK office is an incredible learning hour for me. My favorite new fact has to do with using the latitude minutes to measure off nautical miles on a chart (1 minute of Lat = 1 nm). For obvious reasons, the lat minutes on charts change size as you move up or down from the equator – so when using this method, it is advisable to use the lat minutes directly in the area where a course is being measured off. Later the candidates do presentations over coffee in our B&B kitchen – one especially nice presentation on group control at night (since with a gale warning they can’t take us out on the water after dark). Then it’s off to dinner at the pub. Walking back to the house, with a gale and storm warning looming, Nigel looks over the little wooden boats in the harbor in front of his house and predicts a “carnage” if the conditions materialize. Fortunately they do not.
September 21th – Day 2 of 5* Assessment
A.M. wind forecast – East Force 6-7 – “Moderate” (Beaufort) sea state
Today is the 5* candidates’ day to demonstrate rough water rescues, extractions, and skills in safely leading a group through quite sketchy surf-landings. The swell is 6-7 feet today, after so many days of big winds.
Put-in at Trearddur Bay through moderate surf – after road-side scouting forecloses launch at two other bays, and after identifying an exit line around constantly submerging rocks. A sheer-bliss day of kayaking in huge (to me) swell, again bisected and trisected by reflecting waters bouncing off the coast. Two surf landing operations offer the moment of sitting out beyond break line with Nigel, analyzing the rhythms of the sets and eyeing the shoreline to decipher the lay-of-the-land beyond the backs of giant breaking swells which obscure the entire bay. “Stay outside the line for 10 minutes,” or more, observing the timing of the wave sets and the behavior of the water once it funnels into the bay, before deciding whether to attempt a landing. We performed two separate surf landings in different bays, each time coming in at a lull between wave-sets where the “lull” still consisted of giant swell entering very rocky bays. The operative principle, of course, was to stay on the back of these swells (non-surfing) and to keep eyes on obstacles ahead, ready to turn away once in shallower water. The candidates did outstanding jobs of scouting the bays before choosing lines-in and directing us (one by one) on entering.
After lunch, we’re back on the water and Nigel has stopped in front of a low-lying rock formation. One of the candidates paddles up to me and says, shaking his head: “Do you know what he’s doing? He’s picking out a rock for us to land on.” Seal landings and launches are performed thereafter, with kayaker A clipping himself to his own foredeck lines and kayaker B clipping himself to Kayaker A’s stern deck lines. Then Kayaker A jumps into the water near a rock ledge that is being pummeled by swell (everyone is in helmets), swims his boat to the rocks and scrambles up the rocks pulling his boat with him. In theory Kayaker A stays clipped to Kayaker B during this whole process so that if A has trouble B can bring him back out to water. Today, A unclipped from B both times. Then Kayaker B does the same thing and eventually both A and B get back in the water, perform a self-rescue and (today, at least), get my help emptying their boats and putting them back into dry ones. Marcus successfully performed this exercise with one of the candidates. I demurred, preferring to sit out on the water with Nigel and observe. It is all very Ninja.
“Technical” Point with No Left Brain Answer. After days of paddling in swelly water the analytical question arises in my mind – “well, the golden rule is to edge into a wave that’s hitting your beam – what if you’re being hit on both beams more or less simultaneously (things that happen in reflecting swell/wave and tidal races).” A funny thing to contemplate after having somehow managed quite well (just 2 capsizes and immediate rollups on Day 1 of the 5*), but left brain never quiets. As I pose the question to one of the candidates and receive a momentary blank stare, I blurt out a possible answer: “You just wing it?” He nods. And we can “wing it” just fine when we surrender to feeling the water and allowing the hips and paddle to do the right thing. And since thinking is much slower than the water’s play against our boats, that’s an excellent thing!
More debriefing back at the NDK offices – again fascinating. A new guest has arrived in anticipation of NDK Dealer’s Meet – it’s Rowland Woollven. His Explorer and Anas are appointed and rigged as smartly and elegantly as any high-end yacht. It is a delight to meet him.
Big home-made pasta dinner in our B&B kitchen joined by one of the candidates and then off to the pub for a drink.
September 22, 2006 – Factory Visit and A Final Surf Before Farewell.
Wind still blowing from the South (I think). No notes re HW/LW.
An early visit to the NDK factory – this is where they all come from! We see a Technicolor forest of finished kayaks standing in racks in one large sector of the hangar; fellows gelcoating boats in another room; and a saw-horse with boats that are being QC’d before being wrapped and shipped. In one room, on saw-horses, lies a model Romany Surf with its distinctive “bumps” on the fore-deck, while the man in charge helps Marcus sort out how to retrofit an Explorer (3-piece) with one of NDK’s new skeg systems. The smell of the fumes in one of the work rooms is quite powerful.
After that, Phil, Marcus, Rowland and I surf in Trearddur Bay -- once again everyone is smiling and hooting. Phil surfing is pure dance, as he tracks sideways and/or diagonally on the edge of the waves before they curl and then carves off them with what looks like an arching stern draw (but could be a modified high brace). When he takes a straight run, his low-brace carveouts are a sight for the eyes. I pull off my first diagonal run with a down-wave brace (up to this point I’ve been reading about this maneuver and wondering how on earth it’s possible to do), have some great runs and capsize at shore when another boat skis over me. At one point I saw Marcus’s yellow Explorer arching in the air (cockpit upside down) like a giant upside down banana parallel to the water line and seemingly close to the shore. But a few seconds later he’s right-side up in his boat in the water!
There follows a paddle in very large swell (you didn’t see the others behind or ahead of you much of the time) heading towards Penrhyn Mawr in hopes of seeing the place (the race is not running because we’re on an ebb). We are approaching and can see it seemingly close, but the size of the swell and the wind (Rowland described the sea state as “moderate” per Beaufort Scale) lead to a decision by Phil and Rowland to turn around just short of the legendary headland and return to Trearddur Bay. We take a quick water/snack break out in the swell because there is nowhere safe to land and it’s amazing how effectively one can raft up and do this in a big sea. Back at the bay, which we left in quite churning waters, the water is now utterly calm. A lovely lunch on a friend of Nigel’s lawn just to the side of the bay and Rowland and I head back to the shop. Marcus and Phil head out for more surfing and reportedly had a great session at Cable Bay (a notorious surf beach) with two separate break lines that each succeeded in catching on one run at least once!
Tempest-in-teapot follows with fear that our ferry will not leave Saturday due to gale warnings so, at the suggestion of all the folks at the NDK shop who have seen visitors get stranded on the island in such circumstances, a decision is made to take the Friday night ferry (with cell phone communications to Phil and Marcus to return from fun) and then reversed as, by the time Marcus and Phil return from afternoon surfing, the barometers have done nothing but rise all day (!) and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. We take our chances and decide to leave as scheduled Saturday.
It turns out that Rowland is a devotee of Greenland paddling and an accomplished GL roller – so, with the gift (for me) of more time in Holyhead, we put on wet clothes and hop into boats in the harbor around 5:00 under an early dusk sky. Rowland has a huge collection of sticks – full-length and storm and norsaq. He’s in his Anas and I’m in a Romany LV. The rolls are happening and everyone is pleased. Later, Rowland joins us for dinner at the pub. All is well with the world.
Saturday, September 23, 2006 – Au Revoir
It is time to go. Day breaks with a bright orange and purple sunrise, which is the last Holyhead sky I will see until the next time. Rowland is up and says goodbye.
Marcus and I hop into a cab to the ferry. We won the ferry bet. And now we’re back.