Round Britain adventure
How do you kitesurf in the UK’s most challenging waters? With a Nelson by your side! Stew Edge and Islay Symonette explain how their 45ft motor cruiser helped them achieve their dream
A Nelson 45 supports two crazy kitesurfers on a challenging quest
Huge majestic wind turbines towered above us, spinning fast, but quiet as desk fans. How many metres above the water were those blades? How high were our kites? It was nerve-wracking and surreal.
This was the first time since leaving Hull that we’d lost sight of land and the security of a beach. Ramsgate was only 20 miles away, but it felt much further. We were in Fisherman’s Gat, a navigable channel, but our air draught was the highest of any vessel that had ever sailed through. We were kitesurfing through a wind farm!
‘You guys OK?’ asked Joe from our support boat Mentor, the Nelson 45 we’d bought to accompany us on our roundBritain challenge.
‘We’re fine,’ we replied from our individual headsets. We were very much in control, but the dynamics of the wind were proving challenging. Kites can’t go straight upwind or downwind, so we were kiting on a reach. Each time we passed a turbine the wind would die and the kite would crash into the sea. The Thames windfarm was the first of many challenges we’d encounter on our clockwise circumnavigation, but fortunately Mentor was with us all the way.
Search for a boat
We’d spent a year searching for the perfect support boat. Our ‘mother ship’ had to be fast enough to keep up (15 knots cruising speed), sturdy enough to handle 12ft swells and big enough to accommodate four people comfortably. We quickly ruled out dayboats and sports fishers, and after a lot of research narrowed it down to two boats – an Aquastar 38 or a Nelson 45. The Nelson was older – built in 1974 – but, as is often the case with older boats, you get more for your money. With an onboard generator and 2,500lt water and fuel tanks, we would have the freedom to live aboard for two weeks if we got stuck in the Outer Hebrides. Mentor had already proved herself seaworthy as an RNLI training boat in Poole, and we couldn’t wait to put her to the test. We also bought a small RIB, which we’d use for launching and recovering the kitesurfers.
We found Mentor in Hull, the UK city of culture until 2021, and a fitting place to start our adventure. Plus, it was early May and if we headed south we’d get away with wearing wetsuits, not drysuits. We needed to wait for the right weather, so spent a week in Hull Marina fixing faults that showed up in Mentor’s survey. We also practised some safety drills, and how to launch and recover the kitesurfers from the boat.
Ready to launch
The day of our departure came: May 2nd. None of us had ever piloted a twin-engined boat, and skipper Joe found it tricky to
navigate past all the pontoons to the fuel berth. Mentor had small rudders and no bowthruster. On our first day we kited through Donna Nook firing range, where the F-15 fighter jets practise. We passed a target buoy waiting for an F-15 to fly down. Fortunately we didn’t see any jets. Would they have noticed our kites? Probably not!
Planning the voyage was one of the biggest challenges. We needed 10 knots of wind to fly the kites and a favourable tide. Mentor doesn’t have sea-legs. She can’t take to the bottom, so we needed to be sure we could make a safe anchorage every night.
That first week was amazing. Every day there was a different view: shingle and pebble beaches, sand cliffs and beautiful golden beaches. Norfolk surprised us. We hadn’t realised there were so many old towns and villages. We anchored off Gibraltar Point near Skegness for a few
days, and made friends with a grey seal.
There wasn’t a day when we didn’t see wildlife. The foilboard is so silent; there’s so little resistance that we’d often sneak up on seabirds. Every now and then we’d come across a flock of guillemots. You’d reach them on the foilboard and two seconds later all 50 birds would disappear at once under the surface. Razorbills, on the other hand, would run across the water, wings flapping. We saw dolphins and sun fish, too.
In Cromer we encountered lots of crab pots, more than anywhere else on the voyage. We’d be going along on the hydrofoil (a big fin) and suddenly the board would stop, and we’d go splat! On Mentor, Joe had to be especially careful because the lines between the pots were floating and not weighted as they should have been. On the plus side, we anchored near some fishermen that night and bought five crabs for dinner. Delicious!
On approaching Great Yarmouth it was tempting to skirt the beaches, but we had to get used to kiting where Mentor could go. It meant ignoring that inbuilt safety mechanism which says ‘stay close to shore’.
To reach Ramsgate we had to cross a 45-mile stretch of the Thames Estuary. As well as the busy shipping we had the new wind farm to contend with. We struggled with fluky wind for 10 miles afterwards.
Ramsgate has a lot of history. It was an embarkation harbour during the Napoleonic Wars, and in World War II more than 40,000 soldiers were landed here after the evacuation of Dunkirk. It has a huge harbour wall and is the only Royal status harbour in the UK. It was a bit of washing machine to get in, though. You can surf on the wave coming off the harbour wall!
After a few days in Ramsgate we continued south. The white cliffs of Dover were spectacular. We tried to get as close as possible while avoiding the wind shadow, and concentrating on the giant ferries in the distance. Fortunately, we’d been given a 20-minute window by Dover Coastguard. We were very aware of ferries travelling at 30 knots, and were in constant communication with the harbour. At one point we saw a rescue helicopter. Not for us, thank goodness.
Engine trouble at Dover
While we’d been worrying about ferries, Joe had a different issue to deal with on Mentor. During our sea-trials she’d been expelling sooty smoke, which we’d naively thought was just down to the engines not having being used much in the previous five years. We’d been frequently changing the primary fuel filter, which was black after a day or so.
By the time we got to Dover Mentor was stalling at low revs because the fuel supply wasn’t getting through.
We checked the 44-year-old fuel tanks and there was sludge at the bottom. There had obviously been diesel bug at some point in Mentor’s history, and here was the evidence. We pumped out the diesel at a facility in Dover, spent 12 hours scrubbing the tanks, then pumped it back in again.
Whenever you buy a diesel boat everyone says ‘you must know about the bug!’ but this was our first experience of it, despite having lived on a Dutch Barge for the last decade. After this the engines ran clean but the port engine was still stalling at low revs.
At Brighton we stopped again because of the engine issues. The next step was to clean the fuel lines which were also beginning to clog. After this we had no more issues and only had to change the filters every two weeks.
Needles at dusk
With a fully functioning engine we were free to enjoy the wonderful views of the South Coast. One evening, we anchored at Alum Bay on the Isle of Wight, where the sand is all different colours. It was an incredibly calm day, and when the tourists left we had it all to ourselves. We took the RIB to within a metre of the Needles and watched the sun set as a dolphin played by the anchor.
Just off Portland Bill we lost an engine again. The exhaust pipe had become disconnected and was pumping poisonous fumes and exhaust smoke into the boat. We stopped the starboard engine and switched on the exhaust fan. A connection had come loose, vibrating
‘We’d be on the hydrofoil and suddenly the board would stop and we’d go splat!’
away from its V-clamp. We motored into Portland harbour on one engine and anchored so we could fix the problem. We resealed using exhaust putty and reconnected it all with locking nuts. It was reassuring to know that Mentor has two engines, linked to separate fuel tanks – if one goes wrong there’s the other to get you back ashore.
We anchored in Portland Harbour and the next day went snorkelling and caught crab for supper. There was no wind for a week, so we spent the time exploring Weymouth and the surrounding area. Lulworth Cove was just beautiful, especially after all the day-trippers had left.
Land’s End to the Scillies
A big challenge for Mentor was staying close enough to us, while being aware of all the navigational hazards. We could run over sandbars but Mentor couldn’t. Joe kept a careful eye on our kites – checking they were still flying and that we were navigating the course he’d set for us.
We had our VHF radios on Ch16 and Ch72 and on the trip from Salcombe to Falmouth heard a fishing boat calling: ‘What the hell are these kiters doing out here!’. We tried to respond but the VHFs weren’t working that well in the swells. Fortunately, Joe called from Mentor to explain what we were doing. A lot of people might have seen our kites far from the usual beaches and been alarmed.
Rounding Land’s End took special consideration. We had to stay a long way from the cliffs as onshore winds and rip tides would be difficult for Mentor and even the RIB with a 20hp engine. If the swells got too big, or we had tangled lines, we’d need to get back on board Mentor quickly. A 10ft swell was the limit of what was safe – something we encountered a lot after leaving Mount’s Bay for the Isles of Scilly. Seasickness was a problem during the crossing, but our spirits were lifted when we saw a 6ft blue shark swimming under the surface just metres away.
We didn’t expect the Scilly Isles to be so beautiful! The sea was turquoise – like being in the Caribbean. We’d never seen so much seaweed: fat strips, curly ones, horse whips and sheets of lasagne, you name it, we saw it. And all in different colours!
When we tried to lift the anchor after three days we pulled up so much seaweed it would have broken the windlass so we had to launch the dinghy and cut it free.
Even then, the windlass didn’t run free. It had been getting stiffer to turn so Joe took it apart and serviced it.
It was just as well, because when we left Tresco we snapped a gear control cable. Joe moved both throttles into forward but something was wrong. Mentor started spinning. We were drifting through moorings, holding fenders either side, and had to drop the anchor really quickly. There was a lot of chain to get out, but with a free-running windlass we did so before we hit anything.
The problem this time was a snapped morse cable: another thing we’d need to sort out before leaving.
Seabirds of Skomer
One of the highlights of our trip was anchoring off Skomer on the Pembrokeshire coast. There are anchorages on the north and the south side of the island, and one of them is always safe.
As we approached we saw thousands of birds in every direction. Joe went slowly,
‘It was reassuring to know Mentor has two engines – if one goes wrong there’s the other’
not wanting to startle them, but they ignored us. ‘We’re not moving for you!’
Day and night there was a cacophony of screeching and chattering – it was like you’d just walked into a high school canteen. ‘Feed me, feed me,’ said the puffin chicks, while their parents darted back and forth with fish in their mouths.
With still a long way to go we crossed St George’s Channel in the Irish Sea, and found ourselves slaloming through lion’s mane jellyfish. About 2ft wide, with long orange tentacles, they looked like Victorian petticoats floating in the water.
When we reached the Saltee islands off the coast of Ireland we met huge gannet colonies, each nesting on a rocky outpost. We then kited up the east coast, passing a huge regatta in Wicklow. There must have been 60 yachts out, all flying their spinnakers. We were glad to be safely out of their way.
Preparing for Pentland Firth
From Northern Ireland we crossed the North Channel to the west coast of Scotland – somewhere we’d love to go back to one day. We anchored off Mull and used our RIB to explore all the beautiful, sandy beaches – places you could only access by boat. The beaches near towns and villages were reasonably free of litter, but it was the remote ones where we collected the most. It was upsetting to see so much plastic.
We had good wind for the next leg from Cape Wrath to Scrabster and kited 60 miles in six hours.
Scrabster is the northernmost port on the Scottish mainland. From here you can get the ferry to the Orkney Islands, across Pentland Firth. This stretch of water is notorious for the strength of its tides, which can reach 16 knots – among the fastest in the world. No-one has done it on a kitesurfer before. Even for large motorboats such as Mentor, it was a daunting prospect; just three days earlier a tanker had run aground. Though we’re experienced sailors and had done a lot of coastal navigation, kiting presented a different challenge. If the wind was with the tide we’d lose all apparent wind in our kites and they’d fall out of the sky. We needed wind against tide, but we also needed calm conditions, and Pentland Firth was anything but!
We spent six days at Scrabster, chatting with the fishermen and waiting for the right conditions. Our tidal window was Scrabster LW+1, just as the tide was turning. We needed the least amount of tide, and smoothest waters. An hour earlier, with wind over tide there were standing waves, races and overfalls.
Finally, when all the stars were aligned, we set off – then it was practically over before it began. It was so easy it was almost an anti-climax: no Merry Men of Mey or Swelkie to contend with. We’d crossed the most dangerous bit of coastline in the whole of Britain, and it was flat calm. If anything, though, it proved how important it is to do your homework.
Kiting in the murk
In Aberdeen we had an eerie encounter with fog. We’d never launch our kitesurfers in such conditions, but when you’re already out there it can descend quickly. Just minutes before we’d been admiring the lighthouse and the white sandy beaches off Peterhead in brilliant sunshine, yet now we could barely see our hands in front of us.
‘I can’t see you,’ called Joe anxiously over the headsets. We could just see him so we headed closer and dropped our kites into the water so the RIB could pick us up. Mentor had radar onboard. It wouldn’t pick us up, but we needed it for the shipping. There were oil rig support vessels coming and going all the time.
Joe sounded the foghorn every couple of minutes. We heard it from our headsets first. It was so loud it hurt. Then a couple of seconds later it would blast across the water, the electronic signal being faster than the speed of sound.
When the fog cleared we found the tide had whizzed us round the headland, right in front of a fishing boat.
The last leg
We had strong winds all the way to the entrance of the Humber, then just six miles from the finish, the wind dropped altogether. We motored into Grimsby and spent the night waiting for the wind to return.
The next day was forecast for a good breeze. We set our alarms for 0430 and woke to the smell of coffee bubbling on the stove. Joe made us a hot bowl of porridge and we set off to our start point on the northern side of the Humber, waiting for a window during slack tide to cross the shipping lane. After the last outbound and inbound ships had passed we set off, but it wasn’t long before others loomed on the horizon. Every 10 minutes we saw a car ferry or container ship four storeys high. It was unnerving! What we hadn’t realised was the size of the wind shadow from these huge vessels. We were in the middle of a traffic separation scheme and all of a sudden the wind backed and our kites fell in the water. Those last three miles were actually proved the hardest of all.
We had 5 knots of tide in the Humber estuary and a good wind to push us to our finish line at Haile Sand Fort. Joe honked Mentor’s foghorn, Jeremy was snapping away with his camera and we gave a cheer for Oscar, who’d crewed on the first leg of the journey.
In 103 days we’d kitesurfed 2,440 miles and raised £10,000 for the Armada Trust and the Marine Conservation Society. It was an adventure we’d all shared, and one to be proud of. However, the star of the show was always Mentor.