[TR] Paddling in Poland

LUCINDA MANOUCH'S DAILY WILDLIFE

BLOG CAN BE FOUND AT http://mysnowdoniagarden.blogspot.com/

The Ultimate Flat Water Adventure

Discovering places untouched by British Tourism is always an adventure. Time consuming journeys and battling language barriers is enough to put anyone off but in my search for family friendly paddling I think I’ve come up with the ultimate expedition adventure.
I flew into Berlin on Friday afternoon and there was a taxi waiting for me to take me the two hour drive over the border to Poland. I was heading for the town of Skwierzyna in the Lubuskie district of western Poland. The area boasts over a hundred lakes and several large rivers yet doesn’t even get a mention in any Lonely Planet guides.
So I arrived at this lovely little campsite just after 8pm to find a tent already put up for me and inside was a stove, a couple of bottles of water and to my surprise two cans of local beer, this was my kind of outfitter! There was also a 1:80,000 map of the area and a brief guide the River Obra, the main reason I had come here.
The River Obra is over 165km long and travels through the heart of western Poland. The river starts near Babimost where it flows through several lakes then winds its way up to Policko, where my story begins.
It was 10am on Saturday morning; I’d packed the tent away, sorted my kit out into dry bags and waited for Simon the Outfitter. Bang on time he arrived with what looked like a brand new boat on his roof-bars. I was so excited and very glad I hadn’t eaten breakfast as we drove, very quickly down dusty and extremely bumpy tracks to get to the river. As all my friends know, I have the silly spraydeck/ kayak fear thing going on and had been adamant on the phone to Simon before I left that I needed an open boat to do the trip. However, Simon kept saying, everyone who’d paddled this river before had always done it in a kayak and I really should consider it. But I new best (well I thought I did) and he’d succumb and bought me a brand new Warthe Canoe. It was a lovely looking boat with moulded skegs front and back, all shiny and new.
I loaded all my gear in, tent, food and water etc, had my map and GPS in front of me and said goodbye to Simon.
We’d agreed a pick up point some 70km down river, where the River Obra joins the River Warta, and were to keep in regular contact by mobile phone throughout the trip.
The paddle I was given I discovered quite quickly, was far too long for me but by modifying my stroke, to a pull and slice and never actually taking the blade out of the water, I managed ok. The temperature was high in the 80’s and the reeds on the edge of the river did little to shade me, so out came the tilly style hat (I was in the middle of nowhere, no one could see me) and a long sleeved shirt. The first few km of paddling where effortless. I was so chilled out. The river was like a forgotten millpond with incredible reflections on the water. There was a pair of young kingfishers darting to and fro in front of the boat and frogs leaping off lily pads as I floated by. By late afternoon I’d only paddled about 10km, mainly due to the lack of current, which I wasn’t expecting. By 5pm I had started looking for somewhere to camp for the night. Simon had said there were lots of places to pitch a tent but so far I hadn’t seen a get-out for a pee spot let alone somewhere to camp. I carried on further down the river and came to some sort of civilization. It was a huge building set in beautiful grounds and even had a picnic table next to the river. I should have jumped at the chance of camping here but the big building was actually an old asylum. This was the place where thousands of mentally ill and disabled people were euthanized under Hitler’s rule during the war. It is still used as an asylum to this day but obviously the regime has changed considerably by now. Although it looked like a perfect spot to camp I couldn’t help feeling uneasy and took the chance on finding another spot further along. It actually took another 4km to find one but it was worth it. It was a bit of a squeeze to pitch the tent on the tiny bank but I felt a lot safer and relaxed there. I took out my stove and made my favourite expedition meal, veg sausages and beans with instant mash potato. It tasted fantastic and it wasn’t long before I was tucked up in my bag and fell asleep. I did get woken up twice during the night by something rather large rustling around in the rubbish bag I’d left outside. I tried to see what it was but it ran off both times before I could undo the zip of the tent.
The following morning I was up and on the river by 8.30am. Again it was an easy paddle reaching the town of Miedzyrzecz by late morning. There were lots of fishermen along the banks and they were all so friendly. My pigeon polish seemed to get me by as they wished me good morning and asked where I was from. Once through the town the river became slightly more challenging with fallen branches scattered about, which the skegs of my boat got stuck on every time. I didn’t mind until a couple of German day trippers on a plastic sit on top glided over the branches and overtook me. It was a little frustrating but I wouldn’t have got all my gear on a sit on top and they were only paddling a few km from one campsite to another. Apparently this stretch of river is very popular with Polish and German holidaymakers who hire the canoes from AdventurePoland.com or by the hour from the two campsites situated next to the river. As I left civilisation behind again the feel of the river completely changed. At first I couldn’t believe how stunningly beautiful this stretch of water was. It was like paddling through an enchanted forest with the sun glimmering through the trees and white tailed eagles calling to each other high in the sky. But the feeling soon changed from awe inspiring to quite scary. The frogs suddenly disappeared and snakes appeared in their place and were swimming in the water all around my boat. There were strange noises coming from the river bank as wild boar rustled their way through the long grass. I’d been told that Lynx and Wolves still roamed Poland so every noise filled my senses and I was constantly looking over my shoulder. To make things even more interesting I was now paddling through an old untouched forest with fallen tree’s everywhere. The banks of the river where 15 metres high either side of me, so portaging just wasn’t an option. So with one eye on the snakes and another looking for things about to pounce from the trees above me I slowly dragged, pushed and prised my boat through the maze which lay before me. If only I had had a sit on top right now this would have been so easy. I think I’d have quite enjoyed chucking a virtually indestructible boat about in these conditions. But as it was I was terrified of ramming a hole straight through the fragile fibreglass shell of my canoe. I was finding this stretch of river quite tough just because I was on my own and the boat was quite heavy. However, I ploughed on and a few hours later, left the forest behind and was out in the blazing sunshine again. There was the odd tree down here too but I managed to guide my boat under most of them as I climbed over the top. By now it was getting quite late and I needed to reach the lake in time to pitch my tent before nightfall. I paddled hard and fast and almost missed seeing the beaver swimming just feet away from my boat. The canoe now came into its own and in no time at all the river merged into the beautiful lake of Bledzewskie. This is what the boat was designed for and according to my GPS I was travelling a good 11km an hour unlike the 2.4km I’d averaged through the forest. There were lots of happy voices and music coming from the woods around the lake but I didn’t see anyone. I found a nice spot in a pine forest to pitch my tent and watched a beautiful sunset go down over the water. Simon phoned to check I was ok and to see if I needed any food, water or even vodka dropping off. I’ve never met an outfitter who’d come and find you each evening and bring you beer, How cool is that? This would definitely entice a lot of my friends to come on expedition with me next time.
The following morning I was up early again but spent some time exploring the woods. To my surprise I came across a triangular wooden shack which on further inspection turned out to be a proper toilet, not a flush one obviously but after 2 days of wild camping a hole in some wood and a pit was luxury. By 8am the lake was filling up with tiny fishing boats and the odd tandem kayak. I paddled out and met a lovely Dutch couple who were paddling on the lake and they kindly offered to take some photos of me for my article. Apart from Simon these were the only English speaking people I had met throughout the entire journey. Even the lady who owned the campsite I stayed in on the first night said (I think) she had never had an English person stay their before.
So here I was on day three getting ready for the final stage of my trip. So far it had been an amazing trip even with the odd fallen tree to overcome. The scenery had been breathtaking and the wildlife incredible. I would happily take my family or even someone new to the sport on this stretch of the river but I would take Simons advice and take a kayak next time. As what they call kayaks aren’t what we call kayaks. Something has been lost in translation and their kayaks were poly-compound flat bottomed boats which have high sides but are not enclosed. Absolutely perfect for these conditions and I could have got all my gear in one!
Ok so back to day three. This didn’t go quite according to plan. It’s a long story but Simon turned out to be the brother in law of the guy who dealt with the canoe side of the company, and had never been in a canoe in his life. Marcin (the canoe guy) who happened to be away on exped in eastern Poland had left instructions for Simon which somehow got mixed up. It turned out I should have been dropped off 60km further up the river and where I was now was where I should have finished. But I didn’t find this out until much later. So unaware what lay ahead I merrily paddled the last bit of the lake towards a large dam which I had to portage (with help from a lovely old German guy who took pity on me). I put in on the other side and I ended up having to paddle through some stinking water with dead fish floating about, it really wasn’t pleasant. But soon I was back on the river and the water was moving faster, not quite grade one but it was moving. I was getting quite excited thinking I could do the final 25km in no time at all. There were a few trees but soon I had open fields either side of me. Each field had a very tall wooden tower which I presumed where bird-watching hides. However, I later learnt these where for hunters to use in shooting deer and wild boar. I saw some black woodpeckers which I’d never seen before and even heard some corncrakes. Again it was another beautiful day without a cloud in the sky and I was quite sad that this would be my last day on the water as I was enjoying it more than any other trip I’d ever done.
I’d paddled another couple of km when I came across what looked like a broken down old bridge. It took me ages to get my boat to the other side. I had to jump on the front of the canoe to push it down far enough to get under struts then climb back over the bridge, jump on the other end to get that end under. It was actually quite dangerous as the bridge felt like it would snap into pieces beneath me as I climbed back over.
The next km of river was lovely until the trees started to get thicker and I found myself paddling under a thick canopy of branches. It was quite dark under there and the temperature dropped considerably. I’d only gone a few hundreds yards when I saw my first beaver downed tree. These weren’t normal trees, like the other ones had been, these where giants. Some of them were well over a metre wide and they easily spanned the entire river. I dragged my boat over the first one and as I stood on a semi submerged trunk I looked ahead and all I could see was tree after tree blocking my route. My heart sank, it had been hard enough just getting over this one but I could see at least another 20 in front of me. So I took a few deep breaths and struggled on. Each tree was taking a good ten minutes to get over and by lunch time I was shattered. I was starting to feel like I’d never get out of there; in my mind it had became a psychological endurance test between me and the river. Everywhere I looked I was surrounded by fallen trees. There was no going back and there was no getting out so I had to carry on. I was so tired I’d started being clumsy and banged my head quite badly on broken branches I hadn’t seen. Some of the trees I managed to squeeze through. I’d have to lie flat on my back in the boat and drag myself under using my arms. I stupidly tried to do this under two trees at the same time and got stuck half way. It was terrifying. I couldn’t get up, my body was pressed between the boat and the underside of the two fallen trees and the boat was jammed against another branch. I could feel the rough bark digging into my chest. I could move my arms but the claustrophobic panic was starting to kick in. I couldn’t even reach my mobile phone to call for help. How I got out of that I don’t know. But someone must have been looking down on me from somewhere as I eventually managed to wiggle my way free. My face and chest were cut and scratched and my hands and knees where bleeding but I was ok. I was quite shook up though and sat for what seemed like hours on top of the next fallen tree trying to work out what to do next. I thought about calling Simon for help, even with the 15 meter high banks he could have found me with his GPS and he is really into his 4x4 off-roading and even runs expeditions by landrover so I’m sure he could have reached me some way or other. But that would be giving up and I didn’t want to do that, so I determinedly carried on. Every now and again I’d stop, have a mouth full of red jelly babies and wait for the sugar rush to give me the energy to get over the next tree. My next problem arose when the river split into two. It didn’t on my map but in front of me I had to make the decision. The water was running evenly into both channels and they both had fallen trees blocking the way as far as the eye could see. I didn’t have a clue which way to go. I chose to go right and prayed I wouldn’t find it to be a dead end a few km further down the river. One of the yuckiest moments was when I crouched down to get under another tree which didn’t look too bad and half way through I noticed this huge slimy fungus growing underneath which spread yellow foul smelling goo all in my hair and down my back. Not a nice sensation.
By 5pm I had had enough of all this hard work and truly wanted to cry. I’d been dragging my boat over and under trees for the best part of 8 hours solid. My hands were sore and my whole body was aching. My map was telling me I should have reached my get out point 2km back and I was starting to worry I’d missed it. By 6pm I started to hear traffic and soon I was manoeuvring my way under a big yellow and blue bridge which wasn’t on my map. I phoned Simon to see if I was anywhere near where I should be but he didn’t have a clue which bridge this could be. He offered to find me using the GPS but I said I’d carry on a little further as I still had an hour or so of daylight left. The river didn’t let up and I endured another 7km of fallen trees before I finally reached my pick up point. As soon as I saw the get out spot my body instantly gave up. I could hardly move my arms and didn’t have the strength to stand. I dragged myself onto the bank and just lay there totally and utterly exhausted. It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of Simon’s 4x4 driving down to the river. It was only then that it hit me that I’d done it. I had successfully done what we think is the first ever British Solo decent of the River Obra by canoe.
The boat was a mess. Three days earlier it had been brand new and shiny, now it was scratched all over, chunks missing out of the side, gauge marks on the top and absolutely filthy. If I’d known what the river was like I would have never taken that boat down there. In fact if I’d listened to Simon and took what they call a kayak down it would have been a completely different trip. Also thinking about it, it had been a hot summer and the water levels where lower than usual so that could have made things a little harder than usual too.
So to summarise, the river it spilt into three sections. The first from Trzciel to Meidzyrzec is easy and relaxing, even your Gran could manage this bit. The second section between Meidzyrzec and Bledzew is definitely trickier but ideal for a real family adventure. I found this bit to be the most enchanting stretch of river I have ever paddled. Even the photographs which are stunning still don’t quite capture the absolute magnificence and splendour of this unique stretch of river. The final part of the river from Bledzew to where it meets the Warta in Skwierzyna is definitely not for the faint hearted. It only takes a day but it’s a hell of a day!

Info:
Flights from £25 with easyjet or Jet2.com (flight takes less than 2 hours)
Taxi: 220 zlotes which is roughly £45 (cheap considering its well over a 100km drive) but you could get a train or bus for a fraction of that price.
Or you could take your own car and drive the entire way; it’s only an 11 hour drive from Calais.

Outfitters: ADVENTURE POLAND: http://www.adventurepoland.com/
Tel: +48 95 755 7055

Boat Hire: Kayaks & 2 seater Canadian Canoes 30 Euro a day (approx £20)
Sit on top 25 Euro a day (approx £17)
(all boat hire includes buoyancy aids, paddles and shuttle at no extra cost)
Tent hire (3 person) 5 Euro a day (approx £3.40)
Cooking equipment (gas stove, kettle & pan) 5 Euro a day (approx £3.40)
Basic fishing kit 5 Euro a day (approx £3.40)

Adventure Poland have an English speaking guide. They can arrange drop off’s and pick ups at the start and end of every day if you prefer to stay in a guest house or hotel. They can also arrange to drop off fresh food and water and even Polish vodka for you at your campsite in the evening. They also run 4x4 expeditions and do cycle hire.
A big thanks to Simon for everything. To Roman who let me sample the local delicacy of Pierogi, to Pyranha for giving me an ace River dry bag for the journey, to Max who spent 3 hours over the phone teaching me how to use my GPS and finally to my mum and my hubby for not going too ballistic with me when they realised on day two I was doing a solo decent.

[TR] Gulf of Gokova, Turkey

Lazy days paddling the Gulf of Gokova

Leaving the tents, camp stoves and thermals behind, I set of for a week of pure relaxation. I headed out to Bodrum in Turkey and onto a 100ft wooden yacht which would sail around the Gulf of Gokova in the Aegean Sea as I sunbathed on deck and drank the endless free drinks and ate delightful Turkish cuisine. It doesn’t sound like one of my usual paddling trips but this was a padding holiday, just with a bit of a twist.
The cruise was a bargain at £205 all inclusive and with two kayaks on board it just had to be done. The flight times where horrendous, hence the cheap price, so it was very early in the morning when we arrived on the deck of the Blue Cruise Gulet in Bodrum harbour. Although I was shattered I was eager to see the kayaks they’d advertised and made my way to the front of the boat. As ever with trips abroad it’s always a lottery as to the type of boat you’ll be paddling and this was no exception. The word kayak was slightly over optimistic but in all fairness these fibreglass sit on tops where ever so comfy. They had a solid high back and although they looked dreadful, they paddled easily and where incredibly stable on the water.
After a good breakfast of scrambled eggs and salad and meeting the other folks we’d be spending the week with, the captain came up on deck with his charts. The plan was to sail for a couple of hours each morning then stop for lunch and get some paddling, snorkelling and swimming in before we set off again around 4pm to arrive at one of the remote bays and moor up for the evening, giving me another few hours of paddling before the sunset. There would be no portaging or packing up kit. The deckhands were there to do everything for you, from launching the boats to stowing them away at the end of each trip. All I had to do was get on and paddle, it sounded perfect.
We left Bodrum at 11am and sailed 30 miles to the enchanted waters of Yedi Adalar also known as the ‘seven islands’. It was an incredibly beautiful setting as we made our way from the sea into the mouth of the bay. There were little islands dotted here and there; one could easily spend a week just exploring this tiny bit of coastline alone. I made my way to the front of the boat only to find Jean and Annette (both in their late 60’s) already with paddles in their hands. It hadn’t crossed my mind that maybe someone else would want to use the boats which in hindsight was a bit silly. Luckily though they were only on the water for 15 minutes and no one else seemed eager for a paddle so hubby and I grabbed the boats and headed off. This area is surrounded by lovely little coves and pebble beaches. The water was crystal clear and I could easily see the fish and sea urchins beneath me. We bumped into some other kayakers from another yacht all the way from Canada. This was their 3rd trip to the Aegean and they were already planning their next trip. We spent a good few hours paddling round a couple of the islands and enjoying the gorgeous sunshine. Then I totally managed to ruin my paddling reputation and my modesty in one easy step. I first botched up my exit from the kayak and ended up splashing about like a fool in the sea with an upside down boat and then to top it off (literally) I walked up the steps onto the deck totally drenched, when someone kindly pointed out that my bikini top had slipped up and I was showing a lot more than I had intended. I suppose I have to be remembered for something! By 4pm it was time to set sail again but only a mile or so into a smaller bay where we moored for the evening. We paddled ashore and took a rocky path up through a pine forest. This forest is famous for its Storax (liquidambar) a rare, endangered tree from which myrrh is extracted. I’m not sure how far this trail goes but we walked for about an hour to reach the highest point and to get the most spectacular sunset view of the little islands we’d paddled around earlier. Back on the beach there was a ‘don’t stroke the seal’ sign’, which was strange as we’d not seen any seals at all. Later that evening the captain explained that a solitary seal was living in that area and had become extremely tame and friendly. I thought this sounded wonderful and imagined how amazing it would be to swim with it. However, the seal was now causing problems for the sailors as it kept climbing into their dingies and refusing to move. I still kind of hoped he would turn up so I could jump in and have a sneaky swim, but disappointingly he didn’t show. That evening we sampled some traditional Turkish Fare. We were all given a grilled fish, complete with head and teeth, which as a veggie wasn’t very tempting so I ended up having broad beans and bread for dinner. As this was an all inclusive cruise it wasn’t long before the beer and brandy started flowing. All 12 passengers soon got to know each other very well, especially Bob who ended up sleep walking naked around the lower deck looking for the toilet at 3am, followed by Liz, his wife in her shower towel desperately trying to usher him back into their cabin.
The following morning we headed off to Ballisu, 13 miles from Yedi Adalar. We were there by 11am so we had plenty of time paddling and swimming. This time I persuaded Bruce to come out in one of the boats. Even with a really bad back he paddled effortlessly around the bay, thanks to the high back design of the kayaks. We paddled along the coast and came across some cows with bells around their necks on a shingle beach, one of whom looked rather moody and started to stamp his hind leg at me as we got closer, so we decided not to land. The others were enjoying a swim and a bit of a snorkel back at the yacht. I can’t say the fish were terribly exciting to watch here but there were sea cucumbers and a fascinating car tyre with things growing off it down in the depths. Excitingly though Bruce and I came across something I’d never seen before and which made the others leap from their sunbeds to see. It was a mobile ice cream boat; the only thing missing was the music. A cornetto and calypso later and we were heading back to the yacht.
That evening we moored up in one of the coves in the English Harbour, so called after the area was used as a shelter by British warships during the Second World War. This was a great place to paddle with little surprises around each headland. We paddled straight across the bay past a small statue of a mermaid and into a small port. We were on a chocolate mission and had heard there was a shop in the vicinity. It was only just over a miles paddle to reach it, but it certainly felt a lot further and challenging than if I’d been in my sea kayak. Getting in and out of the boats here was quite nerve racking too as the water around the port was filled with unusual looking blue and white jelly fish. We got our chocolate much to the delight of Liz, our token chocoholic who seemed to be able to turn any conversation back onto cakes and chocolate within seconds. We even found a restaurant and bar at this port but the sun was about to set and we had to get back to the yacht before dark.
The following morning I was up at 6am. I had my early morning swim and even managed a solo paddle before the others woke up, which was so relaxing until the clouds came over and thunder filled the sky. When the lightening started I got a little concerned and hurriedly paddled back to the yacht. We set sail next to Cleopatra Island 6 miles away. This island is said to have gold dust in its sand, which was shipped there by Anthony for his new bride Cleopatra for their honeymoon. You have to pay £4.50 to land and there are strict rules to abide to. Strictly no towels allowed on the beach, no smoking, everyone must shower if they’d been swimming in the water and shoes and pockets must be shook out before you leave. The Island is also home to an ancient Roman amphitheatre and is well worth a visit.
Jean had a swim here and said the water felt unusually smooth and silky and when she got out her Arthritis pain in her hands and back had virtually disappeared and she could use her fingers properly again. It must be something to do with the minerals in the water but she wanted to return the next day so I’m guessing the effects didn’t last too long. The thunder storm we had that morning didn’t really clear and the Captain decided we should moor up at the port of Sogut with lots of other vessels to shelter from the storm. Wow what a storm it was. We were treated an incredible lightening show right into the night. Kaye, Dave, hubby and I took this opportunity to go to shore and discover the nightlife of Sogut. This consisted of one bar, with lots of flashing lights, a huge dance floor with disco ball, loud music and an elderly man sat in the furthest corner watching telly. We’d already had quite a few drinks on the boat so didn’t care and made full use of that dance floor. I can even remember us inventing a new dance called the ‘meercat’, probably doesn’t need much of a description and looking back I’m glad no one else was there to see. Ozer the chef off the yacht showed up for a while, he was an incredible dancer, a bit like Michael Jackson on speed, but with plenty of style.
The following morning we were moving again by 7am to make the 21mile journey to Gukertme. We paddled ashore to find a quaint Turkish village complete with little old ladies spinning and weaving rugs near the beach. There wasn’t much more to see and we were soon on our way to Kargili, a cove I’ll never forget.
It was just before lunch when I noticed what looked like 3 shark fins circling next to the boat, I got ever so excited. Dave, who does a lot of fishing, said they were sword fish, so excitedly I ran and got my goggles and underwater camera and waited for the captain to give the ok to dive in the water. Then it all turned into a nightmare for me. I was about to dive in when I saw the chef and deckhand whiz off in the dingy armed with a huge harpoon gun. They were in hot pursuit of the swordfish and where going to kill them in front of us all. I was distraught and apparently a few expletives left my mouth as I ran below deck almost in tears. I was sat there on my bed imagining lots of awful things that could accidentally happen with the harpoon and the deckhands bum when Hubby came down with some fantatic news. The cord had snapped on the harpoon and the deckhand had missed, so the fish got away safely and his harpoon was now lost at the bottom of the sea. That was such a perfect ending. It wasn’t long before I was back on my kayak again, which proved to be quite a strain as the wind and current had picked up considerable so I restricted myself to paddling in the bay. Later that evening two ladies from a neighbouring yacht had to be rescued by dingy as the wind and tide caught them out and they didn’t have the strength to get back to their yacht. For us it was another evening of eating and drinking and talking about good ole British grub especially puddings. We were all craving custard, cheesecake, apple pie, you name it we wanted it. The evening ended by us holding a raffle for the last 3 pieces of chocolate left on board the boat.
The following day we were in Kise Buku, a snorklers paradise. The fish here were so tame, instead of swimming after them, they swam around you. I haven’t a clue what all the fish were, except some had black spots on, others had bright blue stripes and down on the bottom where huge green and orange ones. This was the first proper snorkelling I’d done and I loved it. I was soon back on the kayak though and this time I had Kaye a retired school teacher with me, who’d never paddled before, ever. She was a natural and stayed out on the water exploring the sandy coves for longer than I did that day. I don’t think it’ll be long before Dave will be buying her a sit-on-top when they get home.
Our next stop was Adabogazi, a craggy bay and again fantastic for snorkelling. From the kayak I saw my first even garfish. They look like bright blue stretched out seahorses at first I thought they where eels until I saw their long pointed noses. I paddled for hours around here, meeting other kayakers from other boats along the way and swapping anecdotes from our week on the yachts. That night we had some music and limbo dancing and hubby, Bruce and Gina gave us a beautiful rendition of the Titanic theme tune sung exquisitely into wine bottle microphones. I wish we had stayed here until the end of the trip but a few people wanted to go to shore to get some shopping done so the following morning we left and ended up on Camel Beach. It sounded lovely, long golden sands with a hundred camels roaming around freely on the shore. In reality it was quite horrid. The water was full of ropes and floats so you couldn’t paddle to shore. There were jet skies thrashing about everywhere and the lovely wild camels I’d imagined, where haggard old things dressed up for the tourists to have a ride on. This stop did give me my first opportunity to try Turkish coffee though. Runny hot compost is the only way I could describe it, certainly an acquired taste. I have to admit I was quite glad to leave this beach but sadly we were now heading back to Bodrum and the end of our cruise.
This holiday was definitely like no other paddling trip I’ve ever done. The purist’s will slate it but for me it was the perfect combination of sunbathing, eating, drinking, relaxing, swimming and of course loads of paddling. All my favourite things wrapped up in a single trip.

Info: This would be a fantastic sea kayaking trip, with plenty of places to wild camp and explore. The locals are friendly and there are plenty of tiny villages on route to top up on food and water.

Blue Cruise: I booked with Thomas Cook. Normal cruise price with nice flight times £450 for a week in October.

Thanks to Onur, Ozer, Hasan and Naki for looking after us all so well. And to Kaye, Dave, Carys, Bruce, Jean, Annette, Gina, Kevin, Bob and last but not least chocoholic Liz for making each and every day so enjoyable.

[TR] Sea Kayaking in Mallorca

A Weekend to remember

What a Weekend !
It all started on Friday afternoon, feeling stressed with work and needing an escape I found myself surfing the net for flights. A friend of mine had been chatting about a fantastic outfitters based in Mallorca, so with a quick phone call, it was all booked . I flew out that evening with Easyjet (£70.00 return) and was met at Palma airport by an English guy called Pete who ran Tramuntana Pursuits on the Island of Mallorca.
By 8.30am Saturday morning I was on the beach in Pollensa admiring the kit and boat I’d hired from Pete. I’m used to having to paddle boats which resemble plastic bath tubs abroad, so imagine my delight when I was given a brand new Dagger sea kayak and even a proper adjustable paddle.
Pollensa beach is large and covered in deckchairs and sun canopies. I imagine by the afternoon this now deserted beach is chockablock with people. However the resort has lots of good quality,quite up market hotels and guesthouses so was a perfect place to start my journey.
We set off at 9am and headed towards the little lighthouse on Cap del Pinar. There are a few beaches along the way but most are cordoned off as there owned by the military so you’re pretty much committed for at least an hours paddle. As we rounded the headland Pete warned me about the confused water ahead of us. Confused water!! I think that was a nice way of saying ‘very choppy, adrenalin racing,hard to paddle water. It didn’t last long though and we’d soon been paddling 2 ½ hours and approaching Cala Coll Baix our first stop. Imagine the scene from Jurrasic park as they approach the island, well this is what Cala Coll Baix looks like. A totally deserted beach with steep sides, making it difficult to reach by land. I couldn’t resist diving into the turquoise water and having a swim. After a lunch of brie and grape sandwiches which Pete had brought along, we set off on a 16.4km open water paddle, straight across to the 1000ft cliffs of Cap Ferruch. It was 23 degrees and the paddling conditions were absolute perfection. I did have a slight problem with my trim but I moved a few bottles of my red wine about and it was all fine again.
It was almost 6pm when we reached Calla Torta. A popular beach which had a small cabin selling beer and snacks. This was pure bliss after 37km of paddling.
As we sat with our beers a lovely lady called Maria came over. It was only then that I realised that most of the people on the beach were completely naked. How I hadn’t noticed everyone was starkus is beyond me, but they didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t so it was fine. Maria used to be a K1 boater and had been watching us paddle towards the beach. She looked really keen to get back in a boat again so Pete kindly offered her his kayak. The funny bit was he insisted she wore a buoyancy aide. There she was in her birthday suit having difficulty doing the zip up on his buoyancy aid and Pete in a conundrum of not knowing whether to offer to help or not. That would have made a great photo to show his wife. Anyway, off they went for a short paddle and I organised the camping gear for the night. At around 7pm the beach became deserted. Maria had gone and it was just me and Pete. Out to sea I noticed a small island and we decided to have a gentle evening paddle towards it. It took about half an hour to get there and we couldn’t land so came straight back.
Pete was chef for the night and made a lovely Spanish Risotto which complimented my red wine wonderfully. I had expected a few problems with Mosquitoes and had come prepared but there was a slight breeze and I didn’t hear or see any. We made a big camp fire in the sand and by 9pm the sun had started to go down and we were treated to a fantastic fiery sunset. We spent that night drinking wine and by 2am we decided we had to go for a swim. It was breathtaking in more ways than one. The water was a little chilly but I soon got used to it. The phosflorecent in the water was like nothing I have ever seen before. When I moved my hands, magical green sparks flew from my fingers tips. I swam on my back and watched the trail of green light follow me.
The following morning we were up early and on our way by 6.30am. There was a beautiful sunrise as we headed for the headlands of Cabo del Freu and Cabo de pere with its 200 foot cliffs.
The third headland of Punta de Amer took 4 hours to reach. The temperature was 27 degrees and Pete was telling me that during August it can reach the high 30’s. I’d be spending all my time capsizing to cool down if I was out in that. Apparently May,June, September and October are the best for the weather. Although even in December the weather would be sublime compared to the cold wet weather we’d be having in the UK.
Our next stop was Cala Petitia. A beautiful small bay with rugged cliffs and the town of Porta Crista only half hour walk away. It would be a fantastic place to camp but it was only half way along our planned days paddling so we didn’t stay long. There was a good easterly breeze that kicked in just after lunch which we definitely made the most of. Along this final stretch there are loads of beaches and bays. Cala Anguila has a beach bar and Cala Magarik has mega climbing if you fancied a break from paddling for a few hours.
We chose to carry on paddling and soon came across some amazing caves which we just had to explore. From there we paddled to Cala Mandrago, a total of 50km in one day. I was exhausted. Waiting for us on the beach was Pete’s wife and two very cold and inviting pints of lager. She’d come to do the shuttle and to give me a lift back to the airport to catch the 23:55 flight back to Manchester. The whole trip seems like a dream already but best of all, I spent less than if I’d stayed at home. Now all I have to do is decide what to do next weekend.
Handy notes: Mallorca doesn’t have a coastguard, so if you get into trouble you’re reliant on local fishermen and sailors for help.
It is also difficult to get decent weather reports so be prepared for anything.

Lucinda wins the SCA 'Word and Image' Trophy

'Tranquility'

In November 2008 I was awarded the SCA 'Word and Image' trophy for my photograph entitled 'Tranquility'. The trophy is a beautiful silver Quaich which I'll enjoy being the custodian of for the next 12 months.