Beaten by Bracklesham

A post appeared from "Magicseaweed Surf" on Facebook the other day, saying that there was going to be big swell, but a lot of wind. So I checked out the surf and weather forecast for the Witterings, and looked good for Wednesday evening, with the wind dropping later. A 5ft forecast, 7 seconds between waves, with F4 Westerley. LW about 16:30, so getting there at 18:30 and it should be OK. Playboat still broken, so sea kayak it shall be.

Decided to check out West Wittering first of all. I was running late, getting there at 19:15. The car park would cost £2 and closed at 20:30. Had a quick look at the beach, looked sandy, gentle slope and a long way to walk at LW! Decided that I needed more than an hour, so went on to Bracklesham. The car park there cost £1.20.

By this time the tide had come in quite a bit, with the water coming up to the shingle. The period looked more like 4 seconds, so it was going to be a battle. Moreover, the water surged in onto the shingle, and then back out, providing some spectacular clapotis as the outgoing wave fronts met the incoming ones.

I must have spent the best part of half an hour engaging in comedy entries and exits; I was trying to enter in about 2 foot of water off the shingle, with technique that just didn't work for me in those conditions. I must have looked like a complete novice. Perhaps this was an omen that I should just give up there and then! Undeterred, I resorted to getting in on the shingle and just slid in. Whilst faffing I got broadsided and side-surfed back up onto the shingle, as if the sea gods just wanted to put me back in my place on the beach. I had to get out again and have another go.

Finally I managed to get away from the shingle, and was breaking through the onslaught of waves as they arrived. At one point a pair of waves broke on top of me, backsurfing and almost capsizing me, I felt pressure on the back of the blade for about 3 seconds, after which time I threw myself in and rolled back up.

I persisted with the paddle out, and finally got to the back of the breaking zone. There was still a lot of big 3m swell, but I was able to pump out. Feeling pleased with myself that I managed to get through the melee with the cockpit 1/4 full of water, I then turned round to do my run. Time was getting on so it would be the only one. I was feeling a bit stiff; I should have rammed my knees alternately to loosen the hips. At the time I didn't know that I was making a mistake; I didn't look at the shore to see if I needed to paddle along to get back in line with where I launched, I just turned round on the spot.

As I paddled in, I briefly caught a couple of waves. Seeing the bow dive, I leant back and fell off the back of them. Then I paddled in some more, and saw the next wave front. I paddled like mad to catch it, then got onto the wave. After 20 seconds of ruddering I was really determined to stay on it; I really wanted to keep riding the bloody wave and get a total hard-on. However at the point where I should have switched from a rudder to a bongo slide, I opted to keep ruddering. And promptly fell in shoreside, for the first time since I can remember. Then I attempted to roll up, in a really lazy fashion. I shifted the paddle shaft along, and reached for the surface with the paddle in a stabbing fashion. My "top hand", head and body were a long way from the surface; I didn't lean forward and kiss the deck. So I managed to get halfway up, my body being over the back deck, and my head reaching for the heavens. I got a breath and repeated the exercise. Another 5 times.

Then I ran out of lung capacity and bailed, and found myself shoreside of the boat with a big wave coming in. I tucked myself in and faced down as the wave surfed the boat over the top of me. I came up after the wave, looked up and saw that the boat was long gone, thinking, "thank f**k I'm not out to sea"! I was quite a way offshore, and must have spent what felt like a very long 5 minutes swimming to shore, with every breaking wave surging me forwards, trying to rip the helmet off my head. I was peturbed to see my boat heading for one of the groynes. Then the two became acquainted. Too well acquainted. They even started mating! Fortunately, the water was high enough that the boat could pass over the top of the groyne after its brief romantic encounter.

Finally I got ashore, retrieved all the flotsam, and commenced the long drag back to the car park, reflecting on how the roll that I had believed to be pretty bombproof had failed to be so. It must have been a good 500m downshore to where I'd started.

I feel battered and bruised at being defeated by the Bracklesham surf. What an excellent place it can be to test and practise your skills in a rough environment. I will go away and do some roll practise, then be back there very soon to get very wet and love the water instead of trying too bloody hard to keep my head out of it!