Bumblebee Paddles

My actual first kayaking trip was when I was a Guide. We went to Hamworthy School’s tiny swimming pool, which I imagine could probably only fit two or three kayaks at a time, and we learned to roll. Then I probably didn’t set foot in a kayak for nearly twenty years, until I went out with a local company for a trip to Old Harry Rocks.

At university – and this was getting on for seven years after graduation, so it took a while for the thought to take root – I realised that despite growing up practically on the doorstep of one the greatest waterscapes in the world, I’d never actually made much use of Poole Harbour. I had a go at sailing because that felt like the obvious answer and I have my RYA Levels 1 and 2 but it turns out I’m not a natural sailor and my dreams of casually hiring a dinghy and having beautiful days wafting around the harbour were never going to come true. Maybe kayaking or canoeing could fulfil that dream. What sent me off to find out was that I’d been to the Outdoors Show in London in February and stumbled across the Go Canoeing people. So, as soon as the weather wasn’t entirely terrible, I booked a trip out in a kayak.

We were in double sit-on-tops and we paddled out from South Beach, Studland. I think I was with one of three men out for a stag weekend and so we were kind of in competition with his mates in their boat. I don’t remember anything about the paddle along the coast and up to Old Harry but then we went through. It’s always amazing to get up that close to it because there’s so much going on that you can’t see from above, like all the gaps, holes and passages – and how much rougher the water is on the other side. On a map, Studland Bay doesn’t look that sheltered but in reality, it is. It’s so much smoother than when you cross the chalk headland. I was a newcomer, far too old not to be frightened and I had an instinctive habit of leaning away from scary waves. Unfortunately, when you’re sideways onto those waves, that’s exactly the right thing to do to capsize the kayak. The first time was a bit of a shock, although it was more of a shock to feel the bottom of the sea beneath my feet. Who knew it could be so choppy and yet so shallow?

Our instructor, Dan, got us back in the kayak and I was surprised to find I was really warm after my dunking, even though it was a grey and miserable day. We chased down all the bits and pieces that had fallen out with us and got settled again. But after five more dunkings in less than ten minutes, we had to give up. Dan made us into a raft with a couple of the other boats and we paddled awkwardly to Old Harry and landed on the rocks around the base. Even wet and defeated, I could appreciate that this is a thing most people don’t get to do. The only way to get down here is to start down here and the only way to do that is make your way out from the beach, either in a boat or by swimming (and I don’t recommend swimming this far out). Dan opened up an orange emergency shelter and we sat inside and ate sweets until we’d warmed up and recovered from our adventure.

Getting back again was no problem. We were back in Studland Bay and the water was like a mirror, except it only reflected the miserable sky above. No waves, no capsizing. I think I might even have tried to make up for the capsizing by paddling extra-enthusiastically, in a race with the other stags that no one said out loud was a race.

All in all, I got back to shore concluding that kayaking was no more for me than sailing was.