The Perfect Force 3

I grew up on the coast of Maine, the sea was in my blood as a child, so after all of two hours sea kayaking experience, I booked a five day course at Plas y Brenin. (Pre-course reading included Sea Kayak Navigation by Franco Ferrero - see below.)

"We're too old not to be doing the things we want to."

Day 0
Arrived early to find my planned long walk towards Snowdon washed out by p***ing rain. So I had a short walk, then explored the impressive sprawling premises and well-stocked bar, and read the notice boards. There would be eight courses in progress through the week, comprising about 60 assorted walkers and climbers, and four paddlers.

Day 1
Little Dave, Big Dave, Rachel and myself met up after breakfast with our instructor Leo. The others were fitter, more confident, and had much more all-round outdoor experience than I; my advantages were years of dinghy sailing on the sea 30 years ago, and hours of coaching on the Goyt from the excellent lads at Brookbank.

We took the sea boats out on the lake for a couple of hours to get used to them - and they take some getting used to, after a river boat, being superb at going a long way in a straight line, and seemingly impossible to turn.

The low cloud and heavy rain bothered us not at all, but we spared a thought for the walkers and climbers. Allegedly in the exact spot for the best possible view of the Snowdon Horseshoe, we did have a good view of a Chinook helicopter using us for a prolonged training exercise in low-level kayak spotting.

Then we took the boats into the indoor canoe pool to practice capsizes and rescues. My attempts to rescue Rachel mainly ended in falling in myself, but the Daves got carried away doing Eskimo rescues (of which more shortly), and had to be dragged out of the pool for dinner (which was plentiful and very good).

Day 2
Time to get onto the sea. Change of instructor, as Leo was at home with the flu, after spending most of the weekend in the water, teaching rescue techniques to my mates Ros and Dave.

Chris took us over to Rhoscolyn Bay, where the southerly wind would blow us back onshore, and we practiced technique in the sheltered inner bay before nosing out through a narrow gap into a choppy, windy, confused mass of Irish Sea.

Big Dave promptly fell in several times, and was Eskimo-rescued each time by Little Dave. Rachel was sea- sick. I hid behind a rock gibbering in terror. After a while Chris decided it would be more useful to retreat back into the bay, and by the end of the afternoon we were all scooting around happily on a light swell, feeling pleased with ourselves.

We missed PyB's lavish 5pm tea. We were also beaten to "our" drying room by some 30 walkers and climbers who had again been out in p***ing rain all day.

Day 3
And our third instructor: Franco Ferrero, PyB's head of canoeing (see above - "the god himself", as a fellow MCC paddler put it later). This was our longest paddle, running north on the tide from the Menai Bridge to the lighthouse overlooking Puffin Island, about 12k in almost five hours, including a short break for lunch and many pauses to admire the bird life.

The weather had lifted, we were all starting to get the hang of it and relax enough to appreciate where we were and really enjoy it.

Days 4 and 5
Were an "expedition", led by Franco. We went west with the tide along the north coast of Anglesey, but with a moderate offshore wind, we had to hug the coast, working against back eddies most of the way, from Point Lynas to an impressive ruined brick- works at Porth Wen where we camped

The others were asleep by 10pm, but I stood watching the full moon rise across the bay, through a band of cloud up into clear sky, until the calm high tide seemed to shine more brightly than the moon itself, the whole bay like a giant bowl of pure light.

At midnight I walked back to the beach and carried my boat down to the water; but after a long minute or two, common sense prevailed, and I carried it back up and went to sleep.

By morning the wind had dropped, so we headed out towards Middle Mouse and turned to catch the main tidal stream eastwards, a mile or so offshore.

The eddyline was interesting. I briefly reverted to gibbering in terror, which Franco gracefully turned into an instructive demonstration of short-towing rescue technique (bear in mind that an eddyline on the sea can be a hundred metres wide, and genuinely "interesting").

We were back at Llaneilian all too quickly, and spent another hour or two playing follow-my-leader through tiny gaps between the rocks, backing into sea caves, being investigated by a seal, and learning more towing and rescue techniques, before the tide turned outwards and we had to come off the water.

Then there was the anti-climax of getting home. This included a final pint in the bar, distracted from a superb view of Snowdon (at last!) by England winning a test match on the second day (or was it the other way around?), before negotiating the PyB shuttle-bus, three severely crowded trains, and a taxi driven by a rabid angler, carrying two heavy bags full of wet kit, and a paddle. Actually I recommend carrying a paddle on a crowded train - the extra space you get is worth the sarky comments.

Overall the whole thing was excellent. The course was well balanced between technical training and touring, the instructors were first- rate, the PyB kit is high standard (I'll take less of my own next time), the accommodation is comfortable, the food (all freshly made there, even the bread) is excellent, and there's a choice of good beers in the bar. (No, they're not paying me to write this!)

So what have I learned?
That sea swell really does only go up and down, not sideways. That you edge a sea boat out, onto the paddle, in a sweep stroke turn. That the best way to turn a sea boat is simply to edge it, and it will curve - slowly, but you have all the space on the sea to turn in.

That working with the sea and the tide is tuning into some of the strongest forces you can ever meet, and is an extraordinary privilege.

That, wearing a sea kayak, you can go magical places where no-one else easily can, as remote from your normal world as a distant planet, but better, because the sea is so fundamental, primeval, essential to this planet.

"Make time to play, while there's still time."

Contributed by Mary McGee Wood