IF YOU suggested a weekend of sea kayaking to a complete novice, the usual hesitation would be due to a fear of tired arms, of being pulled out to sea or, most commonly, a fear of capsizing.
Not me. Sure, all of the above are pretty terrifying, but, to me, sea conjures up images and memories of one of my weirdest phobias – not sharks or jellyfish, or any kind of fish, for that matter. No, one of my biggest phobias is seaweed. Yes, seaweed, the slimy, bubbly, clingy, greenish, brownish stuff. Ugh.
I know, I know. It can’t bite, it doesn’t sting and it can’t chase you. But just the thought of it wrapping itself around my legs, and clinging with that awful slimy rubbery texture, is normally enough to have me running for the hills.
So, to spend a weekend paddling in the sea I was going to have to face up to one of my admittedly strange fears.
Our course was being run by Chris Wilson, one of the activities instructors at The Torridon Hotel, Annat, about 60 miles from Inverness, on the west coast.
We were part of a group of five being taken out on to Loch Torridon as part of an Introduction to Sea Kayaking trip.
We met in The Torridon Inn, the hotel’s onsite pub, at 8.30am on a typically dreich Scottish Saturday morning, where we were introduced to each other. Thankfully, only one of the group had been kayaking before, so I wasn’t too worried about looking like a wally out on the water.
We were then taken to get suited and booted for our day on the loch. After wrestling to get into a wetsuit-cum-dungaree invention, along with three layers of T-shirts, a waterproof jacket, waterproof trousers, a cag (watertight jacket for kayaking), wetsuit booties and a buoyancy aid, I was ready for a snooze before we had even left the changing rooms.
We were then taken to our launch site, where Chris explained the various parts of the kayaks we were using, how to hold the paddle properly and, most important, where to store our packed lunch.
To be honest, though, he could have been speaking gibberish, as all I could focus on were my surroundings. The rocky beach we were launching from may have had pebbles on it somewhere, but they were buried deep below a thick, webbed layer of sea fungus. As we trailed our kayaks over to the water’s edge I did my best to look straight ahead, but I could feel my feet sinking and slipping, the seaweed clinging to my ankles. That might have had something to do with the fact that I was the first one in the water.
My face was obviously giving me away, as Chris asked if I was feeling OK. I realised if I was going to be spending an entire weekend with him, I’d better tell him my secret. He looked at me incredulously. “Seaweed? Really?” he said. I nodded and all he said to comfort me was: “Well this is going to be interesting.” Hmph, I wasn’t sure if liked him very much.
Our first half an hour in the water was our trickiest of the weekend. Struggling to trust the plastic hulls in which we were practically lying down, many of the group took the odd wobble, a panic-stricken look on their faces. But as we got accustomed to the kayaks, or, as Chris put it, let the boat become part of your body, we took on a more Weeble-like quality – plenty of us wobbled, but no one went overboard.
The morning was spent learning how to control the boat, using the paddle to turn, turning on the spot, and weaving through buoys.
We made our way along the rocky coast, spotting an otter racing away from us, before pulling in at a cove for lunch. As we sat munching our sandwiches and savouring the hot drinks we had brought, Chris talked us through the equipment he takes in his kayak.
It’s incredible how much you can fit in the hull of the boat. He also explained what safety equipment was required for varying lengths of trips. Just pressing a button on one of his gadgets sent a message back to the hotel’s computer with our exact location on the coast, along with Chris’s personalised message: “I am OK, because I am awesome.”
The rain was starting to pour down, but, as we got back into the kayaks, the energy we were putting into slicing through the choppy waves kept us cosy, if a little damp.
The rest of the afternoon was spent learning more basic skills, such as how to use your paddle as a rudder, helping someone else who has fallen in, and how to get back into your boat should the worst happen to you.
By the time we had finished, my arms had fallen off somewhere in the Loch. Well, they could have, because I couldn’t feel them any more.
I just made it through my dinner that night and, exhausted, was in bed by 9pm.
I would like to say I was raring to go at 8.30am the next morning, but I won’t lie: I did consider doing a runner.
I was terrified I would get in the boat and not be able to pick up the paddle; my shoulders, arms and wrists were aching, plus my face and neck were on fire with midge bites.
Added to the fact that Chris – who must be related to the Energiser bunny because the man has boundless energy – had planned a day out at sea for us, I genuinely didn’t think I’d make it through the day.
But once we had wrestled our kayaks down a steep incline and on to a launch along the coast at Loch Shieldaig, I realised there was no getting out of it.
Again, blooming seaweed. This time, Chris shouted over: “Are you OK with this, or would you like a hug?” Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all.
Once we were out in the sea, I have to admit I began to really enjoy myself. Kayaking is most definitely one of the best ways to see the west coast, and the views were breathtaking.
We made our way to a little cove (minus a short stop when I became beached on a hidden rock) to have lunch. Just as I was about to paddle off, I heard a sharp exhaling sound and a splash. Scared of what I’d see, I was delighted when I looked and saw three huge grey seals. They came pretty close, basically reminding us that this was their territory. It was a truly unforgettable moment.
After lunch in Chris’s emergency pop-up shelter (it was pouring again) plus a lesson on tide times and wave patterns, we took to the water to learn how to stop ourselves falling in should we begin to tip, and how to tow one another should someone become ill, injured or exhausted.
Chris’s experience shone through, as he regaled us with tales of successful, and not so successful, kayaking trips. Although he had laughed at my phobia, Chris was an amazing instructor, making sure everyone was coping, and had everyone in fits of giggles throughout the weekend.
At around 3pm, we began to head back to shore. Amazingly, I wasn’t nearly as sore as I had been the first day, and felt competent pushing myself across the waves. Dare I say it, I was really loving kayaking.
And just to prove how much I had learned across the weekend I decided to face my ultimate fear. As I plunged my hand into the cold water and fished out a piece of green seaweed, I heard the group gasp. I held it in the air just long enough for Chris to take a photo, and receive a round of applause before flinging it back in the water.
Kayaking and seaweed conquered, I was buzzing. Trust me, if I can do it, anyone can.
The Torridon Activities team run kayaking courses throughout the year, from half-day courses to three-day expeditions. They also do gorge scrambling, mountain guiding, climbing, clay pigeon shooting, archery and river kayaking. For dates, prices and more information, visit www.thetorridon.com or call 01445 791242.