It was only two months since we paddled through Patagonian seas, but two months off the water felt like a lifetime. The weeble that I am (with no muscles that work below the chest) felt very wobbly as I nosed my way out of the jetty in Laide – a west coast Scottish village, its sands gleaming in the rare sun. Within the first kilometre, my back support had slipped down and I watched Andy, the not-so-long-ago novice kayaker, skilfully powering his way into the distance.
We reached a rocky point, and I was surprised how fast we were covering ground. But rounding the corner, a series of headlands fingered into the horizon, telling me I’m got it all wrong. I’d been forcing the coastline to fit the map. We’d only done 5 km, so there was still a long long way to go.
“Andy, I think we should turn round”
“What for? Let’s carry on”
I should have insisted, persuaded him otherwise, pointed out we’d be there at sunset, if we were lucky. But it was windy, and I was too tired to debate. So we paddled on.
Tendonitis from the Patagonian paddling adventure kicked back in, and my wrist creaked with each stroke into the wind.
At the next headland,
“Andy, can you put me on tow?” I needed to ease my wrist.
At the next headland.
“We’ve only done 10km? Still 25 to go?”
On we went, eager for the kilometres, straight-lining from point to point, no time to explore and enjoy. The sun sank low. We paddled faster, chasing the headlands before dusk ate them up.
Lured by the day’s bright sun, it had been easy to forget it was still March, the air still raw with winter, the water icy cold, that darkness came fast.
In Loch Ewe, we paddled exhausted in darkness, towards shore-side silhouettes, eager for a place to land…too tired to appreciate the stillness of evening, too numbed from straight-lining the day. It had been a long day out.
The best parts of being out adventuring are exploring, noticing, enjoying good friends, and having good times. Quality not quantity…sometimes its good to turn around.
Our goal...the San Rafael Glacier
It squeezed us dry of every last drop of energy, and then demanded more. Patagonia, that distant magical place with towering spires for mountains and roller coaster seas, where someone told me “there’s nothing much doing with the tides from what I remember”, ate us up. It lived up to its name as ‘The Eater of Men’ (and women to be pc), and supplied a string of tough stuff, none of it helped by Andy hurting his back a few hours before starting. He crawled into the kayak high on drugs but still in pain, with a posture worse than Quasimodo. We would be two cripples in the wilderness, neither able to walk. It seemed a crazy plan to ‘set forth’, a hard juggle of our good sense with our commitment to make a film.
Andy being a big wall climber is well used to pain and thrives on things being as hard and grim as possible, so he was determined to try for at least one day in a kayak. I’ve a history of ex-boyfriends with bad backs, paranoid about my part in that, and though desperate for him not to make it worse, was no force to his stubbornness (which the Triple Echo film crew were thankful for). So in an already keen wind, we began – how hard could 5 days get? – our journey through tide-tortured waters. Fourty km a day, not much for some, but a lot for two wobblies who hadn’t sat in a kayak for five months, took us through tidal races, island narrows, white water rapids, and winds that built from nought to ‘too scary’ in no time at all. Any comfort we’d taken in our adventure being safe, given the proximity of the film crew on their boat, the ‘Natuiluca’, disappeared on day one, when they lost us, our white double kayak just a speck amongst the expanses of breaking waves. We felt vulnerable, all too aware that under ‘non-filming’ circumstances we would never come to such a remote man-eating place without other kayakers, believing some safety in numbers.
We were initially disappointed at our original month of paddling being shrunk to only 5 days by the filming schedule, and reticent about how realistic or challenging the journey would be…but we were quickly counting the days of effort that still lay ahead. Each night, I dragged myself through barnacles and crabs towards bivvy spots that might keep us safe from the unpredictable tide, and Andy crawled around, chopping small logs to roll the kayak up the beach. In sympathy, and seeing Andy doubled in pain, the camera crew occasionally carried a bag up the beach to help our slow process of making camp.
Why? Because there was a shrinking glacier to reach, carving into the sea in the Laguna San Rafael. Because neither of us can say no to adventure. Because now we’ve survived being swallowed up in the ‘Gulf of Elephants’ and its 20km open water maelstrom, and been swept by ten knot tides to a icebergs bluer than any colour swatch blue could be, life feels sweeter for a little while. It took a lot, but it was all worth it, and the Pisco Sour in our Santiago airport hotel right now tastes better than ever.
The verdict on Andy’s back….strained ligaments in his sacro-iliac joint, 6 to 12 weeks to recover. It might even drag Andy away from his Apple gadgetry, to the gym. And if anyone reading this fancies a paddling adventure in Patagonia, we’ve a great contact there with kayaks and kit and keen to help anyone get out there.
Thanks to Triple Echo and their fantastic film crew, the Nautiluca and their fantastic boat crew, and Patagonian Logistics, there will be a documentary about this, on BBC Scotland in March (I think). Happy paddling!
Wish it had been this sunny at the glacier (not our pic)…read more about our laguna arrival at www.andy-kirkpatrick.com Sorry no photos yet but camera batteries flat or with the airport baggage handlers!
P.S. Our Palm gear was superb – kept us dry, and was durable to those barnacles, and the best cut buoyancy aids we’ve ever worn.
Will Patagonian waters be this calm?!
At the end of the week, paddling in Patagonia beckons, but right now it’s 55 degrees hotter here in Australia than at home in Scotland. Going outside is like stepping into an oven, and going training on the bike (to keep fit for the kayaking trip ahead) means being wrung dry of every last drop of fluid. Even at 8am this morning, I was cycling through the sprinklers in the park to cool down. Had the good fortune last week of meeting an Aussie handbiking champion – he holds so many world records I lost track, both for biking and weight lifting. He looked like a condom stuffed full of walnuts, and left me for crumbs as he sprinted off up the hills. Him in his lycra, bare chest and tattoos, me in my pink crocs, baggy shirt and beach wear! Maybe I should be sitting in the shade, playing with nephews and eating ice cream instead.
Will be chillier in Chile by Sunday, then a few days to get down to Patagonia, fit the kayak, pack kit, and meet the BBC film crew before heading onto the water. Hoping it won’t be too windy, that there won’t be many leeches, and that a small Ray Mears hacksaw thing that Andy has bought will clear us a patch of jungle / bush big enough for our tent every night. It’ll be strange to sit in a kayak as it’s been a few months, and even stranger to see icebergs and glaciers after this 40+ heat.
Can’t wait to get back on the water, and feel cooler again too!
I’ve always fancied a paddle in the glaciers and fjords of Patagonia – that long cold place down south, with cuddly fleeces named after it. The pleasure of kayaking is simple for me – its an escape from wheels and tarmac. I’m paralysed from the chest down, and there’s nothing more freeing than being out on the water. Sea kayaking is what I do most of, mainly because without any muscles that work below the chest, I have appauling balance and behave much like jelly. Its taken a while to paddle a single kayak and stay upright, but off to Patagonia in January, and have chosen to go double, in expectation of ferocious winds.
The plan? Hmmm – not clear yet, but basically to paddle south, through islands and fjords towards Laguna San Rafael where the glacier carves into the sea. There’ll be a small film crew along, making a documentary for BBC tv, about us kayaking there – the winds, the wobbles, the leeches…and the general adventure, whatever unfolds. I’ll be leaving my wheelchair behind for the duration, so it should be suitably bizarre TV to watch me bumming around the rainforest, and in and out of the kayak. I’ll be paddling with my partner, Andy Kirkpatrick, better known for his climbing exploits and a beginner to sea kayaking. There’s only the two of us, and as yet, apart from some great Palm gear coming our way, we’re feeling a bit unprepared. Nothing Christmas won’t solve.
Watch this space…
