It was a lovely paddle avoiding tourist boats and flocks of birds on the sea when we encountered the big daddy seals who come up first to check us out and disappear below with a flick of their seals causing a surprise wave with a quick brace to keep me upright.
We let the tourist boats go in (they are bigger than us and it is their income) and then it was landing on the rocks – we are not allowed to land on the beach due to a single bird who is nesting there! We spied him and took respect that something that small could stop 5 burly kayakers (ok 4 plus Ros)
I didn’t bother going around the island as I had been there before but it might have been useful to see what I was facing next. Ros, Ollie and I sat in the sun watching a puffin wash itself followed by some terns who thought that was a grand idea. We also saw some white headed birds in the midst of black headed ones and the friendly warden told us they were chicks who don’t normally return to the Farnes. He also said that they had 400 visitors that day – which given the 12 pound boat trip and 6 pound entrance (for non NT folk) is a good attraction and may I say well worth doing.
A lengthy queue watched as I managed to fail to get into my kayak several times bowled over in the surf – but finally got in and paddled around and off into the distance testing my rudder which was still unwell. Ollie motioned to me to head round the north end of the island and I soon found myself in pretty wild water – with large waves crashing onto the cliffs full of birds and guano and coming back – so waves on the left and waves on the right – the water ahead looked like a cake with peaked icing. It took all my effort to keep upright and to stop my right heading kayak from going into the cliffs – I got clear to find huge waves but only on one side now and with Ollie shouting behind – where are you going? Must have been good telly for the Inner Farne visitors looking from the top of the cliff.
The others had sensibly headed out and were now half a mile away from me – so Ollie and I dug paddles in and headed into some large waves to rejoin them for the trip back to Seahouses. The sea was now moderate to rough – no photos as the sea was too rough to actually photograph. It took a lot of effort and it was tiring but I kept going thanks to Ollie shouting encouraging noises and to the fact that the alternative was a lifeboat rescue! The seahouses coastline was so far way for so long but eventually it hove into view and the tide was helping us.
Now all was left was the grand entrance into the beach with all the spectators watching for my inevitable capsize in the surf (on all of the other Ollie trips) – but this time I was ready with my bongo slide and straight in not hitting anyone this time. Now of course that was not all that was left – we still had to drag the bloody kayaks up the beach and boardwalk – my trolley gave up on the sand totally clogged but Andy kindly gave me a hand to lift it over and we all assembled climbing over our respective vehicles to put salty kayaks on.
Ros did turn round and say, as she unzipped my dry suit, Mike I said it was going to be boring but it certainly wasn’t.
Fish and chips in Wooler and a pint of Horny Tup in the Black Bull sustained me back home and I woke the next morning too late for swimming with sore bits everywhere. At least the joy of Germany beating England made up for the pain – the England team were hugely inept, the German goals were superb and the commentators were typically biased and cringy.
Kayaking in the East coast rather than the West Coat – it’s as much fun!
