Tag Archives: Old Harry Rock

Packrafting the Swanage Pinnacles

A recent picture on BBC News of David Attenborough plugging his new Ocean film (or lamenting the ravaged state of the seas) reminded me that the dramatic Swanage Pinnacles and arches are just down the road. Having paddled just once last year, this would be a good first paddle to break in the shoulders. Last summer got nixed by a big book job, which was tackled full-on and did in my back for months and months – all compounded by finally catching the Covid (or so it felt).

As beach towels and brollies were getting unfurled, I unrolled my boat and left Swanage Bay (above) at the bottom of the tide. It would carry me north against a light breeze that would flip and get behind me around noon.
But setting off towards Ballard Point (left), the TXL was all over the place, handling like a 1psi vinyl bath toy. Had I forgotten how to paddle straight in the last year? I groped under the stern with the paddle to see if it clanked against the skeg. Either I missed it or it wasn’t there.

Back on the beach, sure enough – no skeg; probably dislodged while putting in. This happened once before, landing on a rocky ledge where the fore and aft of the shallow surf saw the skeg slip its mount. After that I wrapped it in hi-viz tape.
I couldn’t see how it had happened today on a smooth, sandy beach, but I spent the next 40 minutes wading up and down, juggling estimates of longshore drift with onshore breezes, but unsure exactly which of the 20 Swanage groynes I’d set off from. I finally accepted the skeg was MIA: some errant doggie must have snapped it up and rushed it back to its bemused owner. Drat – and I’d paid for 6 hours parking too! I went for a swim anyway, ate my sandwich, then packed up while a beaky seagull dryly observed the lambent folly of human endeavour.

*Look for my Skeg, ye Mighty, and despair!*

Heading back, I recognised a little sandcastle I’d passed on my way down to the shore, all of 2 hours ago. Was it here I put in? I wandered back to the nearby groyne on the off chance, but soon got distracted by the flash of some sunglasses. I waded round the end of the groyne to pick them up and there sat my skeg! Like a lost desert traveller expiring just one dune short of a palm-ringed oasis, my search had been one groyne short. Saved by a thoughtful beachcomber, I grabbed my skeg and left the shades: this show was back on the water ;-)

Don’t lose your skeg
The lack of tension, even once inflated, can dislodge an Anfibio skeg following a small fore and aft movement of the hull pressing on the sea- or riverbed. On a flowing river, skeg-free is not so bad and you might need the clearance anyway, but at sea you definitely want a skeg for good tracking. Here’s one solution.
• Stick something like a fat sharpie under the rear skeg patch to lift the fabric away from the hull; you don’t want to stab your packraft
• Make two incisions which line up with the hole at the back of the skeg
• Feed a reusable cable tie through the slits and leave it in place. The skeg will now be secure

Skeged up, the TXL sliced NE towards Ballards Point like a troupe of dolphins late for the ball. I was sitting on the optional floor inflata-mat, which stiffens the long hull, reducing drag).
Edging towards the Point, I could feel the boat slowing down against the eddy hooking back southwest into the bay (left; LW+3). Passing over the corner some clapotis (below) was jingling about, pushed up by the eddying current.

Once round the corner, with the wind and tide now behind me, I was expecting record speeds. As usual though, with a backwind you lose the ‘wind-in-your-face’ impression of speed, which can be quite dissatisfying. To my right, jet-skiers were thrashing about, making me feel uneasy. Paddling quietly along, it’s hard not to feel intimidated, far less any aquatic fraternity towards these wave-jumping motocrossers. The sooner they all go electric the happier we’ll all be. But either way, I bet they’re a blast to ride!

Up ahead rose the oddly nameless Jurassic fang, seen behind Attenborough at the top of the page. All the other outlying pinnacles hereabouts are flat-topped. When you work out the thin rib of chalk where they got DA to stand to get the shot, you’d hope there was an unseen safety line securely attached to Britain’s most treasured national. As I passed between the fang and the cliff wall, a gust shoved me through, and I saw later the GPS had hit a dizzying 9kph.

Beyond lay the first of the chalk arches which make this paddle so special, and why it got featured on the title page of my IK beginner’s guidebook (below). At the first small arch the wind bounced me back off the high walls, then whooshed me through the calcified portal like a popped cork. On the far side some paddle-boarders out of nearby Studland were taking a break on a tidal ledge.

With the tide about halfway in, I threaded the passable arches around Old Harry’s (above), while other paddle sports enthusiasts milled about at the geological wonder of it all and from the cliffs above, walkers looked down with envy.
Once round the corner and in the lee of Ballard Downs, all that remained was to head west for Studland South Beach and pull the plug.

With a bit of energy to spare and nothing to lose, at one point I put my head down and powered on to see ‘what she’ll do [mister]’. The GPS data log revealed a blip from a steady and sustainable 5kph to a limited-endurance 6kph, which would soon drain the batteries. Six kph must be the maximum hull speed of a TXL on near still and windless water. Better to save such efforts for unwanted offshore headwinds. Even then, looking at the data below, I’m again amazed what a portable raft which you can easily pack up and walk with anywhere will do on the open sea. ISuPs may be loads more popular, but to paraphrase former Met Police commissioner, Robert Mark, ‘I’m convinced packrafts are a major contribution to paddle sport adventures’.

On South Beach oiled-up heliophiles were laid out like seals. It reminded me of a radio doc about boredom I’d caught the previous evening. In an experiment, apparently 70% of males preferred to self-administer a light electric shock rather than sit still in an empty room for 15 minutes. They should give them a sun bed next time, but perhaps I’m missing the point.

I could have walked back the couple of miles over Ballard Downs to Swanage, but what with the time wasted on the skeg search-and-rescue mission, I didn’t want to risk getting back late to the parking before something terrible happened.

So I treated myself to the 20-minute open-top #50 bus ride back to town.

All together now:
We’re all goin‘ on a
Summer holi-day…’

Packrafting Old Harry (Swanage)

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On Google Maps an ebbing tide spins out an eddy of sand out into Swanage Bay.

Swanage to Studland past the Pinnacles is one local paddle I don’t mind repeating. In normal conditions it’s the most dramatic, easy paddle I know on the Jurassic Coast, sheltered as it is from the Channel swells. Today I’m going to make a loop of it: packraft round to Studland and walk back to Swanage over the downs (map left). All up about 11km which should be doable in the 4 hours I’ve put in the meter.

It’s always further than it looks to the north corner of Swanage Bay at Ballard Point, so I sit back and let the wind do the work. But apart from the odd gust, it doesn’t feel like 12mph – like sailors say, it’s either never enough or too much. GPS recordings later reveal no records were broken.

Around here I was expecting to top up or ‘temper’ the TXL’s sagging hull with the handpump once the air inside had cooled down and softened following 20 minutes immersion (as explained on the previous outing).
But remembering the Multimat floor mat this time, there was no tell-tale crease in the TXL’s sidetubes, even with a slow leak I noticed at the beach from one of the mat’s seams (left). So the mat must do the job in supporting the hull, even if, sat higher, I felt a bit wobbly on setting off. The mat’s not been left out in the sun, let alone sat on since I filled it in advance, but I’m not surprised a leak has sprung, with probably more to come; I-beams are weak under pressure but it’s a necessarily lightweight design that still weighs nearly a kilo. You pump the mat up as firm as you dare, otherwise what’s the point; I must have gone a bit far. I’ve picked up similar, wide, I-beam seats from Anfibio with the same damage; all easily repaired with quick wipe of Aquasure sealant.
I know it would need a stronger pump (like my K-Pump Mini), but, despite added cost and probably weight, a 2-3 inch thick dropstitch floor mat – either TPU or nylon – would be a more durable floor mat. The AE Packlite+ packrafts use them.

Round the corner the wind eddies out and drops a bit, and up ahead the big spiked pinnacle is still such a surprise I initially mistake it for a big moored yacht. You’d think I know by now. A couple of sea kayakers are heading the other way, into the tide and breeze. They’re curious about the sail and raft.

I admire their sleek, water slicing craft. I’ve just finished reading Moderate Becoming Good Later, Toby Carr’s attempt to kayak in the 31 Shipping Forecast zones (right) before he succumbed to cancer in early 2022, aged just 40.
He pushes himself hard, starting with Iceland, a lap of some Faroes, out to Utsire island 40km off Norway and the full coast of Galicia [Biscay, Fitzroy], as well Bishops Rock lighthouse beyond the Scillies [Plymouth, Sole, Fastnet, Lundy] before his health collapses.

He reached some amazing places and it reminded me what a uniquely effective boat the modern sea kayak is in experienced hands. Combine today’s lightweight composite materials with inexpensive GPS tracking, satellite comms and ever more accurate forecasts, and radical paddles like the ones listed above become possible if you have the nerve, the strength and the wits to know when to wait it out.

But I’m bobbing along in a packraft, also a great tool for more amphibious adventuring. More kayaks come through, including some SoTs and all clearly unpatriotic types disinterested in how England’s women might be doing in today’s World Cup Final. Luckily we can look forward to days of analysis and debate when we get back ashore.
As I near Old Harry I tuck the sail under the deckbag and wait for some paddle boarders to squeeze through on their knees before threading all the arches I can; there must be over half a dozen here, not all full or wide enough for the TXL at the current tide level.

As this news report from a few weeks ago shows, it doesn’t always end well for paddle boarders taking the 1.2-mile run from Studland beach to Old Harry’s. But at least the guy rescued after 7 hours was wearing a PFD which I rarely see among paddle boarders. It’s just never become a custom, same as with Thames rowers. I don’t get it myself but maybe the lack of required clobber is part of iSUPing’s appeal. It is of course easy to crawl back aboard so out at sea – always a sketchy idea – an ankle leash is probably more important.

That done, all that remains is a paddle along the northern lee of Ballard Downs to a busy beach all of 6 feet wide, pack up and a walk back over the Downs to Swanage.