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Sea kayaking Argyll, Scotland

25/5/2019

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Finding the ferry port just as the ferry was boarding was excellent luck. The drive from Dunoon to Kames on the Ardlemont Peninsula gave a taste of the Scottish wilderness, high hills on one side and the water on the other. Quiet, winding roads took us eventually to Carry Farm just as the last light was fading. The smell of the sea! A cosy bed and a good night’s sleep.

I never knew how much there was to know about the weather. When you’re in a sea kayak, even a small change in the wide speed or direction can cause drastically different conditions. Phil Keetley - kayak coach, mountain rescue and army colonel - knows it all. Coaching us and coaching the coaches Ann, Juan and Roger. I was on a course aimed at completing the Sea Kayak Award offered by British Canoeing. Before the award is completed you need to demonstrate that you can handle yourself in up to Force 3 conditions, so I was soon learning all about wind, tide, fetch, charts and maps.

Taking to sea in a borrowed boat with my coursemates was nerve racking. My long sea kayak took some getting used to, Phil had us paddling figures-of-8 around moored yachts, practicing turns of different kinds in the calm bay. Gannets took huge dives from great heights, I interrupted Phil’s advice to point out the curved back of a porpoise. Seals eyed us from the shore, blending into the rocks. “Look where you’re trying to go.” Advice quietly whispered and shouted out loud.

What happens when you’re at sea and you fall in? We practiced various methods of getting back in. Grace and dignity are not required.
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Navigating along the coast required attention to detail, sea conditions got a lot rougher when we rounded the headland at Ardlamont Point. Waves 75cm high feel rather tall from the seat of a boat. So that’s what Force 3 feels like.

Packed for a trip: lunch, snacks, sunscreen, map and compass. “Take us to this rocky outcrop, don’t tell the others.” My navigation task had to be accurate to the nearest millimetre on the map. Lunch stop was in a secluded bay, three remote houses peaked out from the foot of the hills. “Imagine living here, commuting to the shop via kayak.” Fizzy worms passed around.

The Burnt Islands - where vikings cremated the fallen in battle. Seals watch curiously, disappear, bob up behind us. “What would you do if you had a hole in your boat?” I clamber onto the foredeck of my classmate while she flips and drags my boat across hers to mend the imaginary hole. The oyster catchers laugh as they whirl above our heads.

“Yes that’s Buttock Point,” chuckles Ann; the humorous name of the northern end of Bute. We hug the rocky shoreline, closer than any other vessel can go. Moon jellyfish, their transparent bodies visible just below the surface. Edible lettuce seaweed and barnacles stuck fast to the rocks. We stop in a bay, slippery boulders show the tide line and instruct us where to leave the boats. “No-one else can reach here, there are no footpaths, no roads. It’s too shallow for bigger boats.” The place is ours for a while.

Splash “Swimmer!” “I’ve hurt my arm.” If the kayak coaching dries up then Phil can be an actor. We put into practice all that we’ve learnt to rescue a casualty, tow them to shore, hail a lifeboat, construct a shelter. We could’ve acted faster, we made some mistakes, but did well enough to pass. Sat in the warmth of our makeshift shelter we discuss how it went.

The final paddle back. The blue water calls me to stay. I feel confident now. I want to explore. I’ll come back.

Tangled hair, sunburnt skin, salty clothes and a great big grin.



Are you ready for your own adventure? For Scottish trips contact Phil at Sea Kayak Argyll and Bute and for trips on the broads and the sea, as well as coaching in Norfolk contact Ann Merryweather
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Dorothy Wordsworth: #thisgirlcan

6/5/2019

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I increasingly find myself talking about gender. The issues about gender pay-gaps, equality and discrimination seem to be topical in my musical life as well as my sporting and travelling life. For example, I'm involved in the recently created Society of Women Organists which was formed to promote women in this drastically male world. Reception to the new society hasn't been wholly positive - some men have reacted negatively, I speculate (because I don't know), but I would guess this is because we are criticising the status quo, pointing out the inequality in the age-old world of church music. No-one likes to be told that they are wrong. I think this is where anti-vegan reactions come from too.

This isn't confined to the music profession either. My canoe and kayak club runs women only nights which were set up during the launch of the #thisgirlcan initiative, which aims to encourage more women and girls to participate in sports. Men sometimes don't see why a female-only space is necessary, as is the case with Girls that Scuba - the clue is in the name. Male divers have questioned why there needs to be a group excluding them, but if nothing else, do they really want to hear about how to manage periods on a liveaboard or which wetsuit brands account for women having breasts?

I was recently asked to write about how I had ended up being an organist. It was largely down to having exceptional female role models. As well as having a female choir master as a teenager and a female organ teacher during my A levels, my Grandma, who sadly died this year, was a strong influence on me and the overall atmosphere of the family. She was one of the first women to be ordained a priest in the Church of England. She did things that women weren't supposed to do - and she made it look normal. I grew up not realising that there were some things that girls didn't do. Maybe they just hadn't done them yet. Which brings me to Dorothy Wordsworth.​

Born on Christmas Day in 1771, Dorothy was an exceptional walker and writer. Her poet brother William regularly used her detailed diary accounts for inspiration for his poetry. The amount and scope of Dorothy's walking habits was criticised by her relatives for not being socially acceptable, to which Dorothy writes:

"I rather thought it would give my friends pleasure to hear that I had courage to make use of the strength with which nature has endowed me, when it not only procured me infinitely more pleasure than I should have received from sitting in a post-chaise – but was also the means of saving me at least thirty shillings."
Dorothy scaled England's highest mountain, Scafell Pike with her friend Mary Barker in 1818 - along with Mary's maid and two locals who acted as guide and porter. Her brother used her account of this mountaineering achievement in his guidebook to the Lake District without giving her any credit. More detail about this can be found at this post on the British Association For Romantic Studies blog. For an account of the Wordsworth's lives as well as to read some of Dorothy's work, find her Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland which you can read for free here.

So, the moral of the story? If you want to do a thing, go ahead. Figure out a way around the obstacles. Provide space for everyone to try their thing, maybe sometimes that's a single-gender space. Lift each other up and be kind.

Have you had experiences similar to mine? Let me know, comment below.
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    Hannah the traveller

    is a travel and lifestyle blog with focus on running, vegan eating and of course global travel.

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