Filey Brigg

This is one of those trips that I have put off on numerous occasions, more often than not finding it difficult to resist the cliffs and caves of Flamborough Head and Bempton just a few miles south...

...but being keen to explore this section of coast, Chris and I finally found ourselves rounding Filey Brigg on one of the few days of blue skies so far this year.

A swell of just under 1m was running from the north west, creating lively conditions along the reef and beneath North Cliff. I paddled close in here where the water is deep - until the freezing temperatures in the shade drove me back off shore and into the sun.

Somewhere close to White Nab we found a small lagoon protected from the swell, prompting a fast lunch break...

...with views to Scarborough and the castle above. This was about as close to Scarborough as I wanted to get, even at this time of year...

...and we launched quickly before fingers froze, to punch out through the shallow reef breaks and turn south, with the flood tide towards Filey.

Rounding Filey Brigg as the sun set, we paused awhile, enjoying the last of the day's light until the cold prompted a last sprint across the bay, Cobble Bay providing a sheltered landing.

Easing into Eskdale

Rising on the rugged slopes of Esk Pike, from source to sea the Esk is arguably one of the most beautiful of lakeland rivers. In its clear waters I have bathed sore feet in icy pools after tramping across the high fells; I have dived into its deep green depths lower down the valley, gasping beneath the sudden force of thundering waterfalls; as a child I jumped from high stone bridges further downstream still and today, Chris and I paddled from its confluence with the Mite and Irt, reaching far upstream with the flooding tide.

On the sands that front Ravenglass, the quickly rising tide laps the bows of our kayaks, blue skies belying the day's icy cold.

Here at the estuary's mouth, oyster catchers and turnstornes blanket the shingle. Listening to their cries and the curlew's call I am reminded of spring; after the recent gales and incessant rain, it feels a little closer now, the sun finally warming cold muscles as we push out through the tide for a glimpse of the open sea.

A quick landing to change camera lenses and then we turn with the tide, heading inland.

The low fells of south west Cumbria are unmistakable and it is an area with which I feel a great affinity.

Warm now, we relax, pausing as often as paddling, easing into Eskdale, the high fells beyond still wearing winter's shades of brown...

...and the woodland's oaks still bare but somehow full of life.

The flood carries us rapidly on, overlooked by Stainton Tower, reputedly built as a sighting point for boats entering the estuary...

...and are soon swept under the bridge where the character of the river begins to change.

Reed lined banks crowd the narrow channel and soon there is little left of the tide. We carry on anyway, passing the Iron Bridge and up through shallow rapids whose swift clear waters are barely passable. The upstream journey ended at a deep pool, a favourite haunt of the salmon and sea trout for which this river was once renowned, made famous by the writer and broadcaster Hugh Falkus, a man who understood and cared for this river like few others.
As the sun sank the temperature plummeted and we turned with the flow, sighting a little egret for the first time. (These birds were hunted close to extinction in the C.19th and it was their decline which was in part responsible for the establishment of the RSPB.)

Passing beneath the railway, we entered the tidal lagoon as the sun finally sank beyond the dunes, a wonderful close to a beautiful day.

Point Lynas

Arriving on Holy Island, Anglesey, late in the day, Chris and I walked the cliffs overlooking Rhoscolyn Beacon.

It is a familiar view for us although I was surprised by the relatively calm sea given the fresh winds that day. It was of no consequence either way as the plan was to paddle around Point Lynas which forms the north-east corner of Anglesey and like many of the headlands hereabouts, has something of a reputation. Yet this north-eastern corner of the island can also give the calmest of conditions on offer, the coastline being well sheltered from prevailing south westerlies: in fact the only time we felt the forecast F4/5 was off the point itself.

Launching from the steep gravel beach at Moelfre...

...thick mist and drizzle slowly cleared, rising above gently rolling hills...

...that end abruptly with the low limestone cliffs.
This band of limestone continues along the coast of Anglesey, stretching past the Ormes headlands and on into Clywd.

The cliffs here are not so dramatic as those of the Great or Little Orme, but provide interesting paddling before the crossing to Ynys Dulas.

The locals watched our passage with interest before following closely as the ebb pushed us quickly on. There is little reference to the race which forms off Ynys Dulas, but a big tide with a little wind will produce interesting water here; we had neither and simply enjoyed a helpful push towards Point Lynas...

...passing by small waterfalls...

...and then beneath the distinctive lighthouse.

Off the point, the race was gentle...

...but provided a little sport before we turned south and on into the shelter of Porth Eilian.

Hugging the coast, the tide was slack as we began the return trip...

...while the sky began to clear for the first time that day.

Too late however to enjoy any sunshine, the thinning clouds did at least allow for a dramatic sunset as we passed inside Ynys Dulas and on across the wide bay to reach Ynys Moelfre just as the flood began to pick up steam.

Tim, looking invigorated after a few rolls to finish his demo of the Tiny Taran...

...beneath a beautiful sunset: a fitting end to our first paddle of 2012.

Tim and his Tiny Taran

As keen as I was for Tim to try the Tiny Taran, which as the name suggests is the smaller sibling of the Rockpool Taran, I was far from sure it was in my interests for him to do so.
Tim likes to paddle fast. Which is great...

...if you can keep up. I can't quite remember how I got ahead to get this image, rather than another dot disappearing on the horizon; he was probably under orders to stay put for a few minutes.

Passing Ynys Dulas, the seals, like me, soon found themselves lagging behind.
But, like the seals, the Tiny Taran proved a playful companion. On the sheltered side of the island, enjoying what seemed the first calm day in many weeks, we didn't find much in the way of bigger water in which to throw the boat around...

...but the race of Point Lynas provided a few nice waves to surf: the Tiny Taran taking it all in her stride.