The 28 mile stretch of water that separates Lands End from the Isles of Scilly can be one of the most challenging crossings in the world, with strong complex tidal currents, unpredictable weather conditions and navigation hazards. It is also a stunningly rugged trip. Here is the story of our crossing in 2008.
A beautiful but tiny granite island archipelago, thirty miles paddle from the western tip of Cornwall, but with open Atlantic Ocean all the way to America if navigation is not precise. So why would anyone be crazy enough to attempt it in a fabric and aluminium folding kayak?
Read on for our expedition blog and here is the link to a much more detailed article written by the excellent kayaking photographer and writer Simon Everett who covered our trip.
https://thepaddlermag.com/2015/11/26/treacherous-lands-end-to-the-scilly-isles/
We had been travelling out to the Scilly isles for years, visiting family friends who lived on the island. Mostly on the small de Havilland “twin otter” plane from Newquay on the 45-minute flight to the main island - St Marys. I always used to gaze out of the smudged Perspex window as we passed over the north coast of Cornwall and out into the Celtic sea. Steeped in history and with hundreds of ship wrecks, we passed over Sennan Cove, Lands’ End, Longships and the bumpy, noisy, aviation fuel permeated flight out to the main island, St Marys, landing on the tiny grass runway airport.
A couple of times we had taken the 3-hour ferry crossing on the flat bottomed Scillonion ferry, taking passengers on one of the most notorious and roughest crossings in Europe. I can confirm that reputation, having spent one trip being violently ill in the toilets while the boat cork screwed its way through the rough crossing. Never to be repeated.
After kayaking across the English Channel and keen to set a new challenge, we were on holiday in the Scilly Isles and while having a pint in the Mermaid pub, I asked our local friend Richard if he knew anyone who had kayaked from the mainland and whether it was possible….
A year later Raf and I were huddling in darkness in our bivvy tents on a windy Cornish night on the beach at Sennen Cove with two fabric and aluminium touring kayaks tethered outside and the all too close sound of the surf crashing onto the beach. After a year of training, we had been waiting for a weather window, the right tidal conditions for a daylight crossing and a support boat which would provide cover on the dangerous 8-hour crossing. For this trip we were raising money for the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institute) who kindly let us use their lifeboat station car park for the trip and the NSPCC.
The tidal flows on the route are complex, with strong current changes and with the timing of the trip cutting across low and high tides, it was a choice to either paddle against a 4+ knot current at the start or the end of the trip. Our plan was to leave at first light, catching the low tide and getting a boost as we paddled towards Lands’ End as our first waypoint, meeting our support boat from Sennan harbour en route. Sennen beach was the closest launch point, but added another mile onto our journey.
Finally, with our ocean paddling gear and safety equipment ready, at 5.30 in the morning, we launched through the big surf and out onto the sea, paddling due west to meet the support boat.
We were oblivious to the drama unfolding on shore as Richard and Jay tried to launch the 18 foot twin engine Powercat from the steep granite slipway at Sennen harbour, with the trailer getting stuck in the sand. We arrived to hear the revving of the Land Rover, with clutch smoking, slowly inching it out of the sand and back up the ramp.
Finally at 6am we were off, paddling due west towards the daunting, jagged crop of rocks over a mile offshore, and the imposing 115 foot tall Longships lighthouse.
As we headed out to sea, the choppy conditions gave way to a big 10-foot swell and we realised we had underestimated the power of the strong rip tide which pulled us towards the rocks and foaming white water, at one point less than 150m away. We had to paddle hard to keep a safe distance.
As, thankfully, the lighthouse slowly receded, we settled into a routine of steady paddling, switching between techniques to ease the pressure on muscles and joints and taking 5-minute breaks every hour to average a respectable 4 knots.
Let’s talk quickly about our kayaks and support boats (the techie bit)
We wanted to try the challenge in folding kayaks that would be easy to transport on the ferry coming back so we chose Folbot Cooper folding kayaks which for under £850/$1000 were the closest in shape and performance to a touring sea kayak and could be rolled and used for self-rescue if needed. Most of our kayaking friends thought we were crazy not using a hardshell sea kayak.
Folbot, based in South Carolina, were brilliant in helping us work out how the kayaks would perform in rough sea conditions and we put them through their paces in the Solent.
The Cooper is a 5 metre (16’6”) kayak with a relatively narrow (61cm, 24”) beam allowing a 6-7km/h cruising speed. It comes in a backpack as an aluminium kayak frame with a zipped on Hypalon hull, made rigid by two long inflatable sponsons along the side. At the time, and for the price, they were the closest thing we could find to a rigid touring folding sea kayak.
Sadly, Folbot are no longer in business.
My one piece of advice for anyone planning a long ocean trip with a folding kayak is, as well as the waterline speed and hull drag, take into account the amount of energy you lose as the boat flexes between waves. This was a significant overhead on our trip.
Our support boat was supplied by a local boat builder on Bryher called Powercat. Jay who was taking two demonstration boats back from the mainland agreed to support our trip and was joined by Simon Everett, a photographer/writer who was covering the expedition for a couple of magazines.
So back to the trip.
The next few hours of open sea crossing were an endurance paddle, constantly scanning the horizon for signs of the eastern isles and our first glimpse of the Scilly Isles archipelago. We had to compensate for the current pushing us south, paddling north west and our average speed slowed down to 3.7 knots as our performance dropped and we had to constantly adjust for the tide.
We saw occasional large boats in the distance but most of the time were paddling in an empty sea. At one point a family of dolphins swam alongside, playing and jumping out of the water. We were also lucky to paddle past a large sunfish (Mola) which was a strange looking huge flat circular member of the shark family, basking on the surface.
Finally, after six hours of paddling we saw the faint glimmer of the Eastern Isles in the distance but the tide had switched and we had to battle a strong 4 knot (9km/hour) tidal flow against us. Cranking up the power, we slowly made headway and it was another couple of hours of hard paddling before we arrived at the seal laden Eastern isles, the gateway to the Scilly Isles archipelago.
For the final three and a half miles, we paddled across the sound to the eastern tip of St Mary’s and hugged the coast through the crystal clear waters, arriving at Porthcressa beach to a great welcoming committee. We had made it!
After a quick interview with the local radio station, we packed up the kayaks, threw them in the back of richard’s pickup and went back for a quick shower. Then down to the Mermaid pub, where it all began, to have a few pints and thank our support crew.
The next morning, we walked with the Folbot kayaks in rucksacks down to the quay to get the three hour ferry trip back to the mainland. Luckily for my sea sickness, it was a calm day !
Photos by Simon Everett.
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