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Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Five, “A day early.”

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On June 17, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

July 4

So, I rounded Cascade Head a day early yesterday. “A day early” only means anything because my mom planned to pick me up here tomorrow for the first of three Mom-sponsored Airbnb stays this month – a bed, a shower, laundry, meals I don’t cook that I didn’t dehydrate a month ago… I suppose a purist wouldn’t approve, but I’ll take it! We got the timing wrong several months ago when Mom decided where and when to get the Airbnbs, so they’re a week behind me. Which means since I’m here a day early, Mom’s checking in and turning right around to drive 100 miles south to scoop me up. Best mom ever!!

On the ride home, Mom asked what about this has been what I expected, and what has been different. It’s a hard question because I’m not quite sure what I expected. One of the things I told her is that I’ve been surprised how often I’ve been around people. I expected a lot more isolated beaches until Southern California.

One of the side effects of that is that I’m getting to witness a slice of coastal Americana. Mostly folks on vacation, but also people who live along the coast. I’ve met Native folk and white folk who live on the reservations in northern Washington. I’ve met folk backpacking along the pacific crest trail in Olympic National Park, and people tenting and in RV parks right on the beach. I’ve met folk running campgrounds, marinas, gift shops, marina gas stations…  I’ve met people who walk the various beaches every day, often with their dogs. A black lab named Willow whose the dog of a lifetime for Jean who must be in her 80s, a dog that’s ecstatic every evening when his human in Willapa Bay hits golf balls along the beach for him to chase, Tink who helps her human manage a gift shop and despite being a small dog thinks she’s a mighty adventurer when she gets to go to the beach, a big goofy dog who’s scared of the campfire but loves relaxing next to it with his humans and even more loves jumping in the hammock with both of them. I love the creative, massive construction projects the beach inspires – driftwood forts, a not-quite-water hole 4 feet by 10 feet and 3 feet deep deliberately dug just to the water level and no deeper, sandcastles and the requisite sandcastle-smashing. People walking along the beach, clamming, horseback riding, surfing, hang gliding, drinking beer, watching the beach… Folk checking out and documenting the constant erosion of the beach and folk valiantly trying to stop the erosion. People who’ve been visiting the same beach since they were children, retired folk who’ve been visiting the area since they were children but just discovered their new favorite beach and are utterly delighted with it, and folk from across the country taking their family on an epic road trip to see the Pacific. A firefighter originally from Norway who lives off the grid. A woman whose Swedish relatives outside of Portland stopped speaking German in World War Two after their Japanese neighbors were taken to internment camps, and whose church paid the taxes on their neighbors’ farms while they were in the camps so they became some of the very few who were able to come home.

I didn’t expect to encounter this cross-section of coastal life. I’ve been fascinated by it. The fascination has slowly – except rather quickly as I’m only 3 weeks in – begun to change to this funny sense of feeling so lucky to meet so many people and learn a piece of their lives and histories and stories. I feel like there’s a certain reverence these stories require.

All this was unexpected. A few people told me that the best and most memorable part of the trip would be the people I met along the way – and to stay open to that. I believed them. But I also didn’t understand how this happens. So I planned the paddling part. The expedition part. And was much more focused on what I might see than who I might meet.

I consider myself lucky to get to see the headlands and sea stacks and whales and birds and beaches and coastline that I’m paddling. To paddle these waters. And I’m so lucky to get to meet all these people along the way.

I’m lucky to get to see a slice of this country in unexpected ways.

So I’m glad I rounded Cascade Head a day “early.” And that Mom came to pick me up a day early.  And that I got to spend 4th of July with family, soaking in a small town parade (and the young folk who watched from kayaks) and watching fireworks from the balcony. It’s the epitome of Americana.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

July 4 became sort of a touchstone for me. The people I met along the way became such a big part of this expedition. I’d been told to stay open to that, to make room for it. My mom’s question, during small town July 4 celebrations, helped me to see how it was happening.

It was really special.

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Four, “Be where you are.”

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On June 15, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

June 24 – 26

“On Being Where You Are – Crossing the Columbia”

This was gruelling paddling. I was spending an hour paddling in 5-minute intervals. Literally – I’d paddle, think I was at 5 minutes, look at my watch, and it had been 2 minutes. Another 3 sounded impossible. Finish the 5 minutes, and do it again 10 more times. I think of intervals as being a training technique to build endurance. These intervals were about breaking it down in order to make this possible.

Waiting with the guys at Willapa Bay

I’d been pretty proud of myself. I’d holed up in Willapa Bay for several days waiting for the right day to cross the Columbia River – the right tides, low swell, low wind. The forecast had held for several days, and this was the day to paddle to where I’d be one day out. I got up early in order to catch high water. Crossing the mouth of the bay are a lot of sanders that create big breakers when the water is low. I hit the tide just right and crossed with very little wave action, which meant I didn’t have to go way out and around. I was feeling good about my timing, my judgment, my prediction of what would work…

As I approached Lead enter Point, my progress seemed slow. Was I getting pushed out by the ebbing tide?

Sunset at Willapa Bay

Another hour in, I was only making 3 knots average travelling speed. My usual is 4, and I’d been averaging 3 and a half on this trip. Then the paddling started to get hard. By 11:00, it was really hard. I was paddling full force and barely making 3 knots.

I realized I was paddling 20 miles towards the Columbia, and the tide was ebbing. This is a big river. When it ebbs, it doesn’t just push out into the ocean, it pushes out to the sides up and down the coast. I was fighting the full force of the Columbia River.

Landing at the south jetty (can you spot me?!)

At 11:00, with high water at about 7:00 am, it should be letting up a little. Except the river ebbs a lot more than it floods, so the max ebb might well be in another hour. At noon, I paddled my hardest, took a break to look at my watch, and it had been 5 minutes. And my hour of 5-minute intervals began.

So this is how it was going to be. The day before, waiting on the right tides for crossing the river, I had realized I needed to get OK with being where I am. Not where I want to be instead, but where I am. It was easier the day before. Right now it was about one stroke after the next.

The day before was a bit more Zen. I was waiting on neaps (good tides, with the least amount of water going in and out), good swell (smaller waves, with less time between them), good wind (as little as possible). I was prepping for my early launch the next day, and I was antsy. I hadn’t wanted to wait the several days I did. I was anxious and impatient and not enjoying the beach or the view that a bunch of people had come to over the weekend for their vacation.  Here I was in the middle of it, not enjoying it. And I thought – “be where you are.” I was here, and I could fuss about waiting or about prepping for where I wasn’t yet, or I could stop. I could enjoy the beach, the sunset (it was the best sunset of the trip so far), my dinner, the evening. I met Ed and Gayle, who had a home close by and were checking out the changes in the beach (this beach is eroding fast – over 40 homes have washed away in the last decade). They were a lovely couple, very pleasant to talk to.

Be where you are. It was all good.

Today, “Be where you are” meant “I would really like to be done.” I under-estimated the distance, me, the difficulty. My mom picked me up off the beach – she got a motel room for my last night in Washington to have a good place to land today and to launch to cross the Columbia. She picked me up about 5 miles north of where we planned, and we scouted out a place to launch the next day a few miles south of where we planned.

Columbia River buoy

— I do not regret not paddling that 6-8 miles of coastland! —

Be where you are. Waiting in Willapa Bay, fighting the ebb, a 4 am wake-up the next day. All of this got me on the Columbia River at the end of the flood with no wind and low swell. It was glassy calm, stunning, incredible. “Be where you are.” Because this is gorgeous. This is unique. This is worth paying attention to. 

This is worth being in those other places, waiting and pushing and wondering why in the world I was doing this.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

“Be where you are.” Few of us are where we want to be right now. And we are decidedly where we are. 

It’s a bit too “easy”, too trite, to say “be where you are”. Be OK with it. Because this is hard. It’s not a place anyone should feel fully good about being.

Still – I expect that on our better “Corona Days”, there’s something to be learned. Or re-learned.  Because we can’t make this go away. We can’t not be here.

If it’s one of your “not better” Corona Days, I hope the stories or photos of my Columbia River exploits help a little bit. 

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Three, “Life doesn’t get much better than this.”

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On June 1, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

June 18

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

I’m sitting in the sun above a secluded cove eating brunch, watching seals and the tide come in, finishing a lazy brunch of eggs, refried beans, and a mug of tea. You can’t drive to this cafe.  You can’t even hike. I paddled 39 miles yesterday to get here.

The forecast was 4-foot swell, with the period steadily dropping from 12 seconds several days ago. On yesterday’s paddle, though, it seemed higher and longer. I suspected a longer period swell was coming in – there were larger sets coming through all day, breaking further out than the rest and looking scarier than the predicted 4 feet at a diminishing period.

Fog rolled in around 6 to 7 miles from the beach I was looking for, one of the few protected beaches in 30 miles either direction. It got REALLY foggy about 3 miles from my goal.  I could just make out those same big sets, that seemed bigger (I don’t know if they were or if it was the fog…), breaking into cliffs.  I couldn’t see where I was going – just the shore I needed to stay away from.

Lost people go in circles. Trusting my compass to keep me padding along the shore instead of heading in made me feel like I was going in circles. I had to keep turning out from the shore to go out past the steepening swell. I had to trust my compass and my chart. Looking at the chart, I estimated I was about 45 minutes away from the bay where shore would get further away and I would need to go in behind rocks to find my protected beach. I was already terrified, and now more terrified.  How would I navigate the rocks? There was big swell coming around them and breaking, and I wasn’t sure if there was a safe line through. I opted to go out and around. Which got me through the rocks, and turned around in the fog. I couldn’t see my shore, but I could see the rocks, and the chart showed me the direction of the line of rocks and my direction from shore. I was in behind the rocks and needed to head north to my beach.

I was terrified.

I was looking at what seemed unbroken cliffs with the big swell breaking onto them. But I saw an arch that was clearly Grenville Arch. There was a safe way in a bit closer to where my protected beach SHOULD be. And then I realized I was sitting in protected water, and the surf on this beach was much smaller. It was safely landable.

The beach disappears at high tide, so I had to make a level shelf on a ledge above the beach, with a little shelf to hold it so I wouldn’t slide, and a little “patio” so I wouldn’t slide off the cliff when I got up to pee at night. I was exhausted and still a little scared and I had massive blisters – this was all hard work.

The water came really close to my tent that night. I was up 40 minutes both sides of high tide. I got splashed 4 times and had my stuff in bags in case I needed to climb the cliff…

I was feeling a ton of stress, exhaustion and pain just 5 paddling days into my 4-month-long journey.

But before the fog settled in, there was a whale. Right beside me. It surfaced 3 times, all slow like a whale does, making its ‘pffffsssshhhh’ sound, barnacles on its back. And here I am, finishing brunch in the sun, watching the sea. And I’m so lucky I get to be here, to do this, to see this beach.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

This day was one of firsts that became commonplace. My first 30+ mile day. My first whale. My first thick fog with rocks. My first time being scared. My first hard-to-locate landing. What stands out most about it several months later isn’t the fear of the swell against rocks in fog, or the dis-orientation of having to follow my compass when it felt subjectively like I had paddled in a full circle instead of a straight line along the coast, or the wonder of a whale close at hand. What stands out months later is the beach. It remains one of my favorite beaches of the whole expedition. The day ends up lodged in my memory as a good one. Which is kind of cool.

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part Two, “I’m so lucky.”

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On May 29, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

June 13

I’m on Day 3 of this adventure and on my 2nd weather day! It’s amazing the difference 2 days make. (Day 1 was a weather day, and I still had my head in 2 worlds). I was super stressed the last couple days before the trip started.

Then also on the first paddling day, I had a REALLY slow start (I had to carry the boat about a quarter-mile, then all the gear), a really heavy boat, I didn’t know if it may be loaded too heavy and bow heavy, there was water coming over the bow… I was still stressed. Was it a bad idea to round Cape Flattery like this? The forecast was 5-foot swell at 12 seconds – I expected some energy out there.

The kinks ironed out, the boat performed admirably, I remember I could paddle – and I got to the Cape and the stacks off the Cape. It was gorgeous. While I still had regular thoughts that I muttered aloud, “wtf am I doing?” – they became increasingly peppered with “I’m so lucky.”

I had to take another day off today. The forecast said 7 foot swell at 7 seconds, then 6 feet at 9 seconds, then I couldn’t get the right forecast and the marine forecast on my Garmin didn’t differentiate between wind waves and swell and seemed to show wind speeds on land, not water… the beach looked big. All the forecasts agreed it would diminish. A friend sent me ten proper forecast, and indeed, it’s supposed to be smaller. The beach is already looking smaller.

So today I made the best of a ridiculously high percentage of weather days and walked to the Cape Flattery trail to see what I paddled yesterday. Gorgeous. And all I can say is – I’m so lucky.

Post-Expedition Thoughts

I don’t particularly remember that my head was still in two places the first couple days of the expedition. It’s an interesting reminder to read that several months later.

What I DO remember was competing thoughts of “wtf?!” and “I’m so lucky.” I didn’t know at the beginning of the expedition – and probably wouldn’t have guessed – that those two thoughts would be my constant companions through the next 3 months. I think that every single day, I said both of those things out loud. I still think both of those things every time I see photos from the trip – and I see them every day because they’re my screen saver now… I see the photos, and I think how unbelievably lucky I am to have had the chance to do this and to get to see all the indescribable beauty I was immersed in for 3 months. And I also have that moment of “wtf?.” As I was planning, as I was paddling, and after the whole thing was over, I’ve had this constant feeling of something surreal. I mean – really? I lived out of my kayak for 3 months? On the beaches of this country – a heavily populated, heavily industrialized, heavily regulated country?

I’m grateful for one more thing now – I feel so lucky I took this trip last summer. My initial plan was to do it summer 2020. I don’t know what prompted me to move it up by a year – but wow am I lucky I did!

Dre’s West Coast Adventure: Part One, “I only meant to go to the bridge.”

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On March 25, 2020

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

This time last year, Andrea ‘Dre’ Knepper was on an epic mission to paddle solo along all 3000 miles of the West Coast of the USA from Canada to Mexico.

Unfortunately, we were in the midst of writing a new P&H website at the time, and hadn’t yet finished up its blog page; Dre’s posts, therefore, sadly got buried in our ever-overflowing inbox.

As they say, however, every cloud has a silver lining, and reminded by Dre’s current run of interviews and podcasts, we’re finally getting her posts uploaded. We’re sure, like us, you’ll enjoy the opportunity to get lost in her words and pictures, and absorbed in the story of her incredible journey. Enjoy…

I only meant to go to the bridge.

If you haven’t met me, my name is Andrea. I’ve planned a long paddle for this summer. I plan to paddle the West Coast of the Lower 48. I’ve wanted to do this for at least 15 years. 

The first leg of the journey, after months of planning and dehydrating food and looking at charts, was almost over. But I stopped 40 miles away from the end of my 2100 mile drive from Chicago, where I live, to Portland where my mom lives and where a boat was waiting nearby for me. I stopped at Multnomah Falls. 

I’ve been going to the Columbia River Gorge and the falls area for 45 years. This evening, I decided to make a quick stop at the end of a beautiful days’ drive. 

I was just going to take a quick walk up to the bridge over the lower falls. 

But then I wanted to go around the corner for the views of the Columbia. And then I wanted to go around the next hairpin for views with less obstructions. Pretty soon, I was on my way to the top of the upper falls. And I realized, hiking along in flip flops with a small cup of mocha from the snack bar and no water, that this was why I’m taking this trip this summer. Because there’s always something so beautiful to see around the next bend, the next point, at the next rest area. This world is stunning, and I like when I get to see it. Really see it.

I like long journeys. I want to know what’s next. So I stopped at  Multnomah Falls to take a quick walk to the bridge, and hiked to the top. And I’ve been eye-ing the West Coast for a long paddling expedition for 15 years.

I hope I’m more prepared for this than for my flip-flop-attired hike up to the top of Multnomah Falls! The right gear is critical for this endeavor. I put a fair amount of thought into what boat I’d like to use. The boat I’ve paddled for 15 years is playful and fun, but doesn’t particularly like to go straight. I wanted something a bit more happy to go straight, while still responsive. I needed a boat that would fit me – most boats are too big for me. And I wanted a boat made by a company with a good solid record of consistently good quality boats. 

I find it terrifying to ask other people to get behind my own endeavors. I run a non-profit – and hate fundraising. And the idea of asking companies in the paddling industry if they would sponsor this trip was almost enough to make me decide to use my boat that would double the mileage of this trip with all the zig-zagging it would do. But I screwed up my courage, made a brochure about what I was doing, and asked P&H if they would consider sponsoring the trip. They said yes! So I’m paddling a brand new Scorpio LV from Canada to Mexico. 

It’s a long journey – and I love long journeys. I also like un-mediated immersion in nature. I was struck by this at Multnomah Falls. After a fire a couple years ago that burned a lot of trees and destabilized the soil, there are locking fences where there didn’t used to be. After a large slab of rock fell from the falls 15 years ago, the stone walls along the path by the pool have had posts and chain added so it’s quite difficult to hike around the pool or behind the falls. I was a bit sad – I have this amazing childhood memory of standing behind the falls filling up my canteen. That water tasted really good! It was in the days before we filtered our water, when there were signs warning us to stay on the path. Signs that were next to well-trod unofficial paths around and behind the falls, belying the fact that the powers that be didn’t enforce the rules. 

On this journey, there are no warning signs. There are no fences. There’s no one else to tell me when and where to decide not to go. There’s no one to mediate my experience or my safety. 

I don’t think it’s a bad thing that so many of our experiences of nature are mediated, controlled, regulated. The imposition of safety regulations allows folks who don’t have knowledge or experience to see incredible places. It increases access for so many people who don’t get the chance to be in nature. 

I’m often the person mediating the experience for others. I impose rules that people don’t like and sometimes don’t understand. I direct Chicago Adventure Therapy – a non-profit working with under-served youth in Chicago, using outdoor sports to build skills. Creating access for them means taking responsibility for safety decisions they aren’t equipped to make.

It also means helping them learn to make those decisions for themselves. Because here’s the thing.  It’s great to hike to the bridge at Multnomah Falls.  It’s super-crowded with tourists from all over the world. It’s got a smooth asphalt trail to it. It’s got railings and fences and locks that don’t let you get into a place you shouldn’t be. And it’s absolutely beautiful. It takes your breath away.

It’s also incredible to have the opportunity to take long journeys in nature. Where you have every opportunity to get in trouble – and every opportunity to see what’s around the next point or to hike behind the waterfall and fill your canteen. 

I’ve been dehydrating food, paddling in conditions nothing like the Pacific, figuring out what gear to use to keep myself safe. I’ve been wrapping things up at Chicago Adventure Therapy – paddling with our community at our spring retreat and at the first Midwest symposium of the season, moving our office out of my home, transferring responsibilities to my staff. I’ve picked up the boat (with help from a couple cats) and did a test pack to see if  I can take a month’s worth of food at a time. The preparations are done and it’s time to start the journey. I’m hoping to fill up my canteen this summer. Because there’s no better water than the water I get to be on for four months.

Destination Guide – Inside Passage, BC, Canada

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On October 16, 2019

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

This Summer, my partner Amy and I headed over to British Columbia to paddle a section of the Inside Passage. If you’ve not heard of the ‘bucket-list’ worthy Inside Passage, it’s a coastal route that stretches 1700km from Washington, USA, through Western British Columbia, up to Skagway, Alaska. Its major drawcards being the teeming wildlife, a multitude of islands to weave, and the perfect balance of solitude versus opportunities to re-stock in remote First Nations communities.

We had a month to play with, so opted for a 780km section of this marine passage, from Comox on Vancouver Island up to Prince Rupert, in the north-west of British Columbia. We had a brilliant time encountering wildlife, meeting locals, and living the simple life, submersed in stunning scenery. This guide is intended to help you plan your Inside Passage adventure and hopefully provide a few nuggets of inspiration and lessons learnt.

When to go

The climate is quite similar to Scotland, so expect rain and also stunning blue skies. We went mid-August to mid-September and paddled in t-shirts for 90% of the time. The great thing about Aug/Sept is the salmon are starting to run, so lots of Orca, Humpbacks, and the bears should be well fed (fingers crossed).

Where to go

Quick hit – The most compact enjoyment was certainly around Telegraph Cove. There are lots of guided trip options, amazing scenery, and loads of Orca and Humpback to get excited about.

For wildlife – The Broughton Islands certainly offered us the most varied scenery, tides, and wildlife. We saw about 60 Orca on separate occasions, Humpbacks galore, Sea Lions, Sea Otters, Bald Eagles, but no Bears…

Wilderness – The further north we travelled, the fewer people we encountered. Although most of the coast has been logged at some point, north of Vancouver Island thick forest lines the high tide mark with only the occasional small village breaking the vista.

How to get there

Fly to Vancouver and catch either a bus and ferry over to Vancouver Island, or get a floatplane to your starting point from £50 upwards.

Boat hire

We found it surprisingly difficult to hire boats. MEC hire Scorpios from Vancouver City, but then you need to get them to your starting point. Most of the companies in the north of Vancouver Island only do guided trips. The best option we found was from a company called Comox Valley Kayaks. They hire out boats for any duration and provide a drop-off and pick-up service. We met other paddlers on shorter trips who used private boat shuttles to fine-tune their drop-off and pick-up points.

Maps

There are lots of marine charts and topographic maps available of the BC west coast. Depending on the length of your trip I’d recommend marine charts from 1:40,000 scale and smaller. As our trip was quite long and space was at a premium, we opted to use a road atlas for large scale planning and the Viewranger and Navionics apps for our day to day navigation. To charge our devices we had a 17 Watt, waterproof, Voltaic Systems solar panel and battery. This system worked amazingly well, enabling us to charge cameras, phones, VHF and head-torches.

Useful info

There is a ton of useful resources out there to help you plan your paddle. The Inside Passage Facebook Group is a great treasure trove of knowledge. We downloaded the book ‘Kayaking the Inside Passage’ by R.H. Miller onto our phones which offered information on history, tides, wildlife, routes, campsites, and much more. There are various online maps from previous paddling trips, featuring notated information such as campsites, water, and resupply points.

General conditions

We found the paddling relatively straight forward. The majority of the route is sheltered by islands with only a few exposed headlands. The wind offered some challenges but was never a show stopper for us. However, we have heard from other paddlers that it gets much stronger & prohibiting. As a general rule of thumb, you could set your watch by winds picking up at 3 pm in the afternoon. Tides do get pretty strong in areas with overfalls and whirlpools so a good knowledge of tidal planning is vital. Lots of the tidal cruxes need to be paddled at slack water and it was often possible to paddle up tide by hugging the coastline. Landings are found quite regularly and we found many more campsites than recorded online or in Miller’s book. We carried up to 13l of water each and managed to fill up from taps with the back up of water purification means with us if necessary. Bears… We saw one from the water and heard another near camp whilst in our tent. Cook away from your tent spot where possible. Store all smellies in your hatches, seal them and flip your boat overnight. Get studious and read up on bear-safe camping. Again, not a show stopper, but we have heard of trips earlier in the year with a greater number of sightings & encounters.

This area really is a sea kayaker’s paradise, with something for everyone. If you are thinking about a trip out there, do it! Give me a shout if you would like to chat more about it, and happy paddling.

Sea Kayak Training Camp 2019

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On April 27, 2019

In Trip Reports

With the success of the SKTC of last year it became clear that there certainly would be another chapter in this story. We were asked again to coach this training camp a second time. Of course, we joined in, to share our passion and knowledge with other sea kayak enthusiasts. The advantage of this SKTC is that everyone can join and that we can start with basic things in a calm and beautiful environment with low risks. That way it’s possible to give a very personal approach what was very much appreciated by the participants. Safety and making fun are key in the program, if there is no smile on your face, then there must be something wrong. The camp takes places over five days with both theoretic lessons and a lot of practice on the water. We start with basic things and then move over to combined exercises and even worst-case scenarios where the participants must solve the problem. Working as a team is equally important, the first day we immediately said that we don’t want a group, but a team! I want to thank the team members for their positive spirit during the camp, my assistant Winoc to be at my side during coaching and Boris & Ivka from http://spiritofkorkyra.com/ for again a perfect organisation. Let us not forget NSK team member Sylvie! Without her it would not been possible to make this video, she spends hours on the beach to take a lot of footage…. Maybe we will see you next year? Paddle safe and take care of each other!

Destination Guide – Lofoten

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On September 10, 2018

In Expeditions, Trip Reports

Lofoten really is a sea kayakers paradise.  It combines Scotland’s intricate west coast with the mountain scapes of Patagonia and the wildlife of an Attenborough episode to create a truly magical place.  This summer Amy Dunis and I spent a month exploring this archipelago and have put together a destination guide to inspire and help you head out to enjoy these islands as much as we did.

Different places to paddle

Henningsvær – Is called the “Little Venice” of Lofoten.  You can explore and fish around the surrounding islands, then paddle into the spectacular harbor that cuts right through the picturesque town.

Moskenesøya – Is an amazing island in the south of the Archipelago that is the definition of wilderness.  Towering cliffs, soaring sea eagles, endless beaches. This is the place to go to get away from it all.

Trolltindan mountains – Towering peaks, hanging glaciers, smooth granite faces and lush green fields dotted with grass roofed huts.  A circumnavigation of this area gives you a real taste for all that is good about Lofoten.

Must sees

1. Sea eagles are by far the coolest looking bird out in Norway.  With a wingspan of up to 240cm they keep watch from cliffy headlands and saw overhead with such grace.  On our best day we spotted 11 birds with each sighting as exciting as the last.

2. Trollfjord is the crème de la crème of fjords.  1100m peaks drop straight into the 100m wide Fjord with snow capped mountains surrounding you.  Our top tip would be to get there early before all of the noisy tour ribs arrive.

3. Rulten in the Trolltindan mountain range claims the title of “Lofotens most beautiful mountain”. Paddling in crystal blue waters beneath the peak with a pristine grass roofed hut in the foreground sums up the Lofoten landscape perfectly.

4. Renei Fjord is a stunning 3 pronged fjord that cuts deep into the Moskenesøya mountains.  It is the perfect place to paddle when the open seas are wild and a great place to explore if you are new to sea kayaking.

5. Moskenesøya beaches are by far the best in Lofoten. They are plentiful and their white sands stretch for miles.  Camped up, with a fire roaring and the sun setting is pretty hard to beat.

When to go

The climate is similar to Scotland but on average 4°C colder so the best time to go is June to August.  This also allows you to experience the amazing 24h daylight.  Prepare to experience rain and wind but you will have the best chance to experience that classic Lofoten sun.

How to get there

This depends on your trip duration, budget and how many podcasts you have.  We chose to drive as we wanted to take our boats, lots of food and not have to hire a car.  It was a 47h drive so not for the fainthearted or those with limited time.  Another option is to fly to Tromso and then transfer to Lofoten by either bus, express boat, plane or onboard the Hurtigruten (ferry).  A hire car would make life a lot easier but isn’t essential.

 

Boat hire

Reine Adventure in the south and Lofoten Aktiv AS in the North hire boats and gear but you must have evidence of being at least BC 3*.  Both companies will be able to give you some great advice on where to go with the forecasted weather.

Where to stay

Wild camping opportunities in Norway are amazing.  You can camp for up to two nights anywhere on uncultivated land as long as you are over 150m from an inhabited building.  This is a great way to save money and also wake up in truly amazing places. There are plenty of campsites with good facilities and hotels if you are feeling fancy.

Guidebook

Yann Engstad and Olly Saunders have produced a brilliant guide to the Lofoten islands with loads of brilliant day trips to do and a detailed explanation of the outer coast for those seeking to circumnavigate some or all of these magical islands.

Thanks to P&H for the use of the brilliant Scorpios 🙂

If you would like any more information about paddling or climbing in these magical islands please get in touch – Highland Kayak School.

The North Sea Crossing 2018

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On September 4, 2018

In News, Trip Reports

After my previous record back in 2015, I had no idea that I would go for a second attempt, but the past year the sea began to call again.

I waited together with a Spanish team last year (2017) on perfect weather, with no success.  It was only this summer, after waiting a few months, that I saw an opportunity.

I had also contact with Eddie and Jens, a German team that had the ambition to attempt to cross the North Sea. We shared information and knowledge.  We agreed to stay in contact and start together if possible.  They would make the same trajectory as I did in 2015.

So, we got together during the night in Nieuwpoort harbour on Wednesday 1st of August 2018. Both the German team and I had made practically the same navigational planning and we wished each other success.  I must say that it was an honour to depart together with them.  I said goodbye to my wife and children.  My wife Sylvie is my support team and keeps keep contact with Oostende Radio on the Belgian side, and Dover Coast Guard on the UK side.  Both services were informed properly about our intentions.

At 01 o’clock (local time), I started from the slipway at Nieuwpoort harbour, Belgium. I had some light from the full moon.  I started at a pace I could keep up for hours without stopping or resting.  When I left the safety of the harbour, all stress was away, I felt alive!  Although it was too dark to see a thing, I knew my way around.  This first part was a home run in my backyard so to speak.  I chose to leave at this hour because of the tidal stream.  I wanted the stream against me during the first six hours.  I rather have it along the Belgian coast where it less powerful (but not to be mistaken) than on the UK side, where it is almost double the speed.  I passed the Trapegeer buoy when the stream was still building up against me.  Between here and the next buoy, the DY1, is a real battle.  A battle against the tide, a battle against a shortage of sleep, and I must be alert for other ships who couldn’t see me.  During the night I had only a force 2 headwind.  I was relentlessly pushed back by the tidal stream and the wind during the very short breaks.  One of the things I enjoyed most was sunrise.  I took a very short break at that moment, so I could see the sun coming up.

When I finally arrived at the DY1 buoy it was almost slack water. Taking it easy now is not an option, since I need this advantage badly to reach the final section in time (also tidal stream related).  From the DY1 buoy, I hopped to the SE Ruytingen buoy and finally the NW Ruytingen buoy, where the international shipping lane starts.  I was there a bit too soon.  I set course to the WSW Sandettie buoy.  I saw that my speed was decreasing very much due to the stream that was still heading SW.  Soon I took the decision to deviate the planned route and head towards the Sandettie lightship.  The downside was that I crossed this part of the shipping lane at a sloping angle instead of as straight as possible.  I had no other choice, because my speed was almost gone too, which makes a straight crossing of the shipping lane in this case even more dangerous.  So, to the lightship it was!  Except for one sailing vessel, I did not pass any professional shipping on this section.  My speed increased and so I could take all the benefit I needed to go on.

When reaching the Sandettie lightship I was excited. I always had an interest in ships, beacons, buoys, and now this one was ticked off on my list.  The second thing I was excited about was that I could now see the white cliffs of Dover in the distance. The next buoy, SW Sandettie, was close and so was the second part of the shipping lane.  I was able to cross it straighter.  During the crossing of the shipping lane, I only saw two merchant ships, that was all.  Leaving the shipping lane behind it set course to the Goodwin lightship.  Also, not on my initial plan, but since I deviated I had to adapt.  There was very little tidal stream during this part, I could reach it without compensating a lot.  It was slack water, but a bit choppy due to the area I’m in, the Goodwin Sands.  I took a last break and I made a call with the VHF to the Dover Coast Guard to state my position and status.  In turn, they informed my wife (aka, the support team).

I knew from the previous time that the last section should be worse now due to the wind. The wind was increasing to force 3-4 from the side (WSW) and the current would soon pick up in the northerly direction.  So, I started heading to the harbour of Ramsgate, which I could not see at this point.  The waves were there all the time from this point on, due to the current pushing over the Goodwin Sands and the wind.  It decreases the much-needed speed to aim for the harbour.  The more I closed in on land, the harder the tidal stream was pushing from the port side.  With a lot of persistence, I reached Ramsgate harbour, finally!!  My wife and two children were there, waving and yelling.  I was relieved, happy, excited, exhausted and had a feeling that I could take on the whole world while being so tired that I could capsize in the blink of an eye, all at the same time.  Just to be correct, after greeting my family, I paddled on to the slipway.  It was only there that I switched off my GPS.  I had paddled 107 kilometres and spent 17hours and 48minutes doing so.  After taking a shower and eating a hot meal, we went back home by ferry.

My first time in 2015 was perfect, the weather was perfect, the sea was flat. This time the weather was good…  only good, not perfect. No kayaker talks about force 3 or 4 unless you’re on a mission like this one.  I could adapt, as I’m usually doing.  But the constant headwind in the first half and the portside wind on the last section took their toll.  I have no regrets, but I made it more difficult by crossing during these conditions.  Make no mistake, the sea is boss, you’re not.  Even with a lot of training and preparation, it’s the sea that will decide whether you’re ready for it, or not.

I wish to thank my family from all my heart for their continuously and unconditional support on all that I do or undertake! Were it not for them, I would not have done this.  Thank you, thank you!

Special thanks to the people from Ostend Radio (MRCC Oostende-Belgian Coast Guard) and Dover Coast Guard (UK) for virtually watching over me during the crossing, again!

The specifications:

Sea kayak: P&H Cetus MV (Expedition Kevlar/Carbon)

Paddles: VE Explorer (medium blades + spare paddle)

Full safety gear including VHF radio, PLB, pyrotechnical flare, ODEO flare, mobile phone, first aid kit, repair kit, paddle-float, pump…

The video report of this crossing:

 

Paddle safe and take care of each other on the water!

Dimitri Vandepoele

The Recap #2

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On March 4, 2018

In News, Trip Reports

In the Recap series we share our best cut scenes, experiences and other footage. If we can share the vibe with others and make other people longing to go out with a sea kayak on the water, than our mission has succeeded! 🙂 If you are not a sea kayaker already, maybe now is the time? There’s a wide range of things you can do with this craft, and some training. Most important of all, it’s all about the smiles and the companionship! Enjoy!

 

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