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WORDS & PHOTOS:JOHN R. DEAN ANDSAM N. DEANPACKRAFTERS:JOHN R. DEAN ANDSAM N. DEANJohn R. DeanPerformance coaches take on packrafting: https://paddlerezine.com/spey-packrafting/Packrafting in Sweden: The land of lakes and islandsScandinavians have different words for their way of life and for the enjoyment of the outdoors. A handy phrase that is used to describe this experience or activity is friluftsliv (pronounced free-loofts-liv). Suppose you are planning to visit and open a dialogue with a Scandinavian. It translates as open air living, a connection to nature, an enjoyment of spending time outdoors, and a sense of connection with the environment.Indeed, it is not a new word at all; the word and its meaning were popularised by the Norwegian playwright and poet Henrik Ibsen in the mid-1850s as a term to describe the value of spending time in remote locations for spiritual and physical wellbeing, which society now craves. So, in summer 2025, we set off on a grand expedition for some friluftsliv, with packrafts, a variety of camping kit (ranging from a tent, hammocks and tarps, sleeping bags, thermal underblankets, a wood-burning stove, camping stove and gas, a barrel for storing food) and two bikes.We aimed to explore a lake system, an archipelago in the Baltic Sea, and a multi-day lake expedition in southern Sweden to explore the versatility and the essence of packrafting. The bikes were kept for an extra trip we added in Norway, which involved a train journey from Trondheim to Bod, a ferry to the Lofoten Islands, and a bike-pannier camping trip in the Arctic Circle.Our adventure started when we arrived at the LeShuttle around 18:30 on a Monday in August, to an empty parking lot and an electronic sign encouraging us to take the next train in 30 minutes. A dash around the empty waiting area and we are in the small queue for customs (UK and France) and joined the train. On exiting the train around 30 minutes later, we turn left (or east) and head off through France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark and finally The Bridge into Sweden. After a stop-off at a Swedish supermarket for provisions, we arrive at our first campsite.Lake snen is located in southern Sweden, in the county of Smland. One of the many lakes in Sweden that claims to have 1000 islands, and it probably does. Within the lake, some areas are protected (nature reserves), but they are easy to navigate around due to the wide expanse of the lake. While we stayed on one campsite in the southern part of the lake, there were quite a few more, all with ready access to the lake. As the lake is part of a canoe trail, canoes (aluminium) can be hired at various locations. Fishing in the lake is also possible, though a license is required (you can buy one at camp sites). Although the lake is popular in summer (June/July), in August it is pretty quiet, so it is easy to find your own wilderness on and off the water.We did two single-day paddles to test out the packrafts and ourselves and settle into the start of our trip. Our first trip from the campsite allowed us to explore an area around the skekulla nature reserve. The reserve is about 8 km north of Urshult in the Tingsryd municipality, an area noted for its fruit and meadow orchards. We did manage to buy fresh apple juice and honey from roadside stalls with honesty boxes for payment during an evening walk.In our packrafts, we gently glided in and out of inlets, enjoying our first paddling of the trip. Our second day trip meant a short drive to see another part of the lake, with a launch at Bosgrd, a paddle north along the itinerant canoe trail and after a leisurely lunch, a return to our starting position. Even though on both days the prevailing wind was a westerly, we found no difficulty in packrafting with a Beaufort force 3-4.Sankt Anna ArchipelagoA change of location and an opportunity to packraft on the Baltic Sea. We drove a few miles from our campsite to Tyrislt, also a starting point for sea trips, via a small ferry and sea kayak hire. Launching near the jetty was easy, as it had a very small beach area. The initial breezy conditions (a westerly of 12-14 mph with gusts of Beaufort Force 4) allowed us to test our skills and navigate between islands.Essentially, ferry gliding on a much bigger scale than on a river.The packrafts handled the bouncy waves very well. The headwind just required a little thought about how to apply trim to assist our forward progress, as the area abounds with islands, from bare rocks just showing above the water to those with seasonal habitation in the form of the classic red-painted Swedish cabins. The variable landscape, inlets and reeds along the waters edge, along with a variety of wildlife, including cows wading in the sea shallows, provided an enjoyable paddle in a fantastic island paradise.For our second trip, we chose a different location along the Sankt Anna archipelago. This time, launching at Mons, a holiday community, but as we were out of season in mid-August, it was all very quiet. The holiday community on a small inland headland consists of typical red-painted Swedish cabins aligned in rows, with a restaurant and sea kayak hire business at the waters edge. We had decided to test the adaptability of paddling a packraft by adding an overland portage to our day; this allowed us to change from one bay to another, overland.The lightweight packrafts, along with refreshments (lunch, drinks, snacks) and some other kit (first aid, spare paddle, spare clothing, electric and manual pump, repair kit, toilet bag and sunscreen) allowed, with ease, a 1.2 km portage from one bay to another via a country track and rural lane.While enjoying a floating snack and enjoying the quiet, isolated scenery, we discovered it is easy to make a packraft raft, simply by placing paddles across both decks and each of us resting a hand on them. A potential easy way to add a rafted sailing feature, using a downwind pop-up sail to aid the journey.As the area is popular with sea kayakers, we would occasionally spot small groups of them, between the islands, either heading back to Mons or leaving for a trip around the islands. Afterwards, we had a chat with the owner of the sea kayak hire business and discovered we had something in common, we both loved the Rogen National Park area of Sweden, us for the canoeing and him for winter walking in the snow.He informed us that people hire sea kayaks for day trips or multi-day expeditions (up to two weeks in some cases), given the large number of islands you can visit. Some of the islands are bird sanctuaries, and so you are forbidden to land. However, the owner provides maps to help you decide what direction you want to travel and which islands you might want to visit.But the highlight of our on-the-water trip was weaving in between the islands, and then, as we rounded one rocky outcrop, we saw a white-tailed eagle (or as we refer to them, a sea eagle) sitting there on the next rocky outcrop. And what a size, it seemed huge as we were less than 10 metres away and it was taken by surprise. As the sea eagle launched from the rock, we sat motionless in our packrafts and watched it take off and fly towards another hunting ground.TivedenOne of the objectives of using packrafts was their inherent versatility for transporting not only a person but also kit. We had opted for an overnight trip to test whether we could carry all the extra camping gear. We needed to make sure we could transport with us food (breakfast, lunch and dinner), camping gear (tarps, hammocks, underblankets and sleeping bags), cooking facilities (Trangia, cups and cutlery) and spare warm dry clothing with the ability to handle whatever weather (dry, warm, cold, dry, wet as we had experienced them all on our trip to Scandinavia).This 15 km designated canoe trail has picturesque lakes, connected by narrower waterways, and within its length, five portages, the shortest being 40 metres and the longest 400 metres, for a total portage distance of 965 metres.All the food and cooking facilities were placed in a barrel with carrying straps that allowed easy, stable attachment to the packraft. A larger dry bag contained all the camping gear, except the tarps. The tarps were kept separate in a smaller dry bag for ease of access. This turned out to be particularly useful when it rained quite heavily at lunchtime.ExperimentedThe use of a tarp (33 metres) created a dry space to make a hot drink and eat lunch. The other two dry bags contained personal hygiene items and spare clothing. We experimented with the best way to carry all the deck-bound drybags and the barrel to maximise paddling efficiency and provide comfort. As it turned out, the three smaller dry bags created a comfortable extended backrest.Overnight tarp with hammock camping provided a dry environment for all eventualities, including wind and rain, as well as an area to store kit overnight in the lee of the tarp. The use of a thermal underblanket and a three-season sleeping bag created a warm overnight sleep area even when the night time temperature dropped to 8C (in August).The ease of carrying a packraft made portages easier. With the ability to transport the drybags/barrel effectively on the deck of the packraft, secured with rescue tape and carabiners, the trip didnt feel like an endurance test but a country stroll. We are already looking forward to our next adventure.And what about packrafts?Their main advantage is their light weight (4.1 kg), making them highly portable. The fact that they only need to be inflated to around 1-2 psi can easily be done using either a manual bellows system (supplied by the manufacturer) or a small electric pump (Feather pump). It literally takes one minute to inflate the packraft. This means you get rapid access to the water from unpacking the raft to setting up and paddling off.A disadvantage of the packraft is the high water-to-boat contact, making progress relatively slow compared to, say, a sea kayak. As these packrafts lacked a skeg or fin attachment, they required constant correction to track across the water surface. Something that you start to do intuitively, particularly if you are familiar with kayaking small craft.A significant opportunity of packrafting is that your gear is stowed in dry bags on the forward and rear decks. However, some packrafts also allow gear to be stored internally in the inflatable compartments. This, for other paddling craft, may seem a little odd, but it is pretty standard in packrafting. This ability to transport kit makes single- or multi-day trips easy.A threat to packrafting is the potential for a puncture if you happen on an unexpected sharp rock or a partially submerged tree branch, but that is the same risk with any inflatable craft. And it is easy enough to take a small repair kit with you (it fits neatly in the back of the seat rest.Packrafts are great fun!There is high stability on the water, and when fitted with a spraydeck/cockpit, the inside of the packraft stays remarkably dry. Any water ingress is down to your footwear retaining water and shedding it once you sit down. It is recommended to use a longer paddle than a standard river kayak paddle; we found around 215 cm worked well. And for portability when travelling, a 4-piece kayak paddle supports the ethos of transportability.As we were both in the same packrafts type, we found that we identified different and more individually comfortable seating positions based on our own preferences and nuances. This meant that our trim was slightly different, but it aided our progress and comfort. The trim was also affected by the amount of kit each of us shared out in the dry bags, its weight, and distribution. But this is all part of individualising your own paddling style and comfort when journeying was our goal.Helpful information on paddling locations:It is worth knowing that by mid-August, the holiday season has ended in Sweden, children have returned to School, and most of the camping sites are occupied by overseas tourists. This means the lakes are pretty empty of any form of pleasure craft, including the aluminium hire canoes that abound everywhere.Lake Asnen, SmlandWe stayed at Kaerrasands Camping, near Urshult on Lake snen. The site has all amenities, summer outdoor concerts (we were out of season), and direct access to the lake. There are many other campgrounds around the lake. Camping: https://kaerrasandscamping.com/en/You can obtain a free map from www.visitasnen.se that provides a more comprehensive overview of the lake and its many features. We also bought a more detailed map (1:70,000) that provided enough detail to navigate through small channels and the wider open spaces of the lake. Link to nature reserve: www.visittingsryd.se/en/nature-reserve-askekullaTivedenPlenty of opportunities for wild camping or more formal camping: www.campingtiveden.se/en/). The canoe trail passes through several small lakes (Bosjn, Kvarnsjn, Bergvattnet, and Svsjn), connected by narrow waterways and portage points.Map of Tiveden (and surrounding area): www.calazo.se/kartor/tiveden-norra-vattern-sodra-kilsbergen-150000/The Tiveden Canoe Trail: https://en.tiveden.se/paddling/tivedens-kanotled/Canoe trail leaflet: https://uploads.naturkartan-cdn.se/uploads/site_pdf/file/2033/6b296a9f03892f36992900a1745f318c.pdfSaint Anna ArchipelagoIt is worth knowing that the Baltic Sea has no tides due to its geographical location. It has limited water exchange with the Atlantic Ocean and is referred to as a brackish water basin (the worlds largest). The large number of islands around the Saint Anna peninsula (and sea areas north and south) makes it ideal for sea kayaking.We stayed at Kllbuktens camping, a campsite in the stergtland archipelago. The site has all amenities, open areas for wooded motorhomes and regions for more seclusion if required. We used our hammocks and tarps, as well as a wood-burning stove and lived in isolation from the other residents of the site, though we did provide novelty value, as most had not seen a tarp/hammock system used for camping. And the glow from our enclosed fire made for an interesting sight for people taking an evening stroll with their dogs. While the site had direct sea access, the prevailing wind direction meant we selected other areas to launch and return to. There are many different camping sites in this area.Camping: https://sanktanna.se/Map of Saint Anna and the Gryts archipelagos: www.calazo.se/kartor/st-anna-och-gryts-skargardar-150-000/Sea kayak hire: https://kajakparadiset.se

Words: Martyn ChandlerPhotos: Martyn ChandlerWhat the Isle of Islay has to offerMy name is Martyn, and I have been getting out on the water in some form or another for most of my life. A few years ago, I moved to a city for my career, and with no exciting water around me and space at a premium, I didnt kayak regularly for the first time in years. I have since moved to the Isle of Islay and have rekindled my love for kayaking. I wanted to share with everyone what this island can offer!Islay has been inhabited since Neolithic times. Various people have come and gone over the Centuries, leaving their mark on the island. The Vikings made this island their home before being removed by the Scottish Crown. The Lord of the Isles then chose Islay as the seat for the land he controlled. The Lords of the Isles were powerful in their day and were second only to the monarchs of England and Scotland in terms of land ownership, control and wealth. They enjoyed naval prowess with large fleets of galleys. It is hard to believe now, but back then, the Celtic Sea, Wales and the Scottish Islands were essential trade routes.Nowadays, Islay is known predominantly for one thing: its heavily smoked and peated whisky. There are currently 10 working distilleries on the island, with another one under construction and another two in planning. If you enjoy a dram, Islay is the place to visit! Most are positioned on the coast, so they serve as good waypoints. Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg are so close together you could even have a water-based distillery crawl. However, I would advise against drinking and kayaking. I definitely havent Honest!Example trip: Dower House to MacArthurs Head LighthouseTotal distance: 36-40km, depending on the amount of exploration. I did it in around eight hours with plenty of extra stops.Loch IndaalI wake up early and take a walk to the end of the street. Here I get a good view over Loch Indaal, where I can gauge the wind speed and direction. As predicted, the weather will be good for a paddle over the south east side of the island. I am lucky to live here; I can step out my front door and know which areas of the island will be suitable for paddling that day. A one-minute walk confirms it for me. I think there are a few places in the UK where you can develop this level of intrinsic awareness of weather and how it affects local waters.The boat is already racked, and the kit is all ready to go, so a bit bleary-eyed, I set off for the launch point before most islanders have gotten out of bed. I drive the short distance to Port Ellen, where I see the ferry coming in for the first trip of the day, and continue up country past both Laphroaig and Lagavulin distilleries and onto the single track roads, where I start to feel like I am in that liminal space where civilisation ends, and adventure begins. There is a steep hill with a sharp bend in the road leading to the Dower House, an impressive old home now a bed-and-breakfast.Just past this house is a layby that is just big enough for my van to fit and still allow the area to be used as a passing place. Over the road is a picturesque bay, protected from most inclement weather by an island right in its mouth and a rather steep hill on the landward side. The sand is soft, there is not a breath of wind and the water is crystal clear. There is a single dinghy moored on a line the local fisherman being the only person to be awake before me today.I launch my old, battered, but reliable Current Designs Scirocco into the water and begin paddling towards the first island called Rubha nam Balla. I have had this boat for a long time, and I find there is something comforting about the familiarity of paddling the same boat for many years. Its strange to say, and it turns out even more challenging to describe, but after years of paddling the same boat, you get to know it on a deeper level. It feels almost sentient, like there is a shared knowledge of how to paddle when Im sitting in it.She has a name, Rosalie. It is no longer just a bit of shaped plastic. Over the years, lots of people have questioned my boat choice, some even saying it is in worse condition than some of the club boats. Perhaps I am a sentimental fool, but I wont let go of this boat until it cracks, and maybe not even then.Anyway, I am by myself, as I often am when I am paddling now. A multitude of feelings are in my head at the moment. Excitement for the day ahead, that feeling of reconnecting with an old friend and, in the back of my head, a little trepidation. I take all necessary precautions when paddling solo, but there is always that niggle that something untoward could happen, however unlikely. I havent swum for many years, and I cant even remember the last time I capsized outside of controlled situations. Nevertheless, that feeling is still there. I think this is healthy, and I would worry about myself if that niggle left me.You see, I love solo kayaking. I have a job and home life that keep me around people all the time, and it is therapy for me to spend some time alone doing something I love. I started in the first place out of necessity, since it isnt easy to find buddies in a small place like this. Add that to personal life, work commitments and weather, and it becomes a logistical nightmare to get on the water with anyone. Solo paddling solves this. I love the freedom to do whatever I want. I am also a snorkeler and once landed in a small cove on the Oa peninsula to swim 500m to a snorkel spot I wanted to try. I dont think any kayaking buddy would be too impressed with me in that situation!Constantly risk assessingOn the flipside, I have to always err on the side of caution. I dont go out by myself whenever I see white horses in the loch, and I dont go anywhere near tidal flows. I am also constantly risk assessing when I am out and am never far from a landing spot. This does curtail where I can paddle.Digression aside, once around the initial island, I look out Southeast and see the edge of another set of islands called Ceann nan Sgeiren and Eilean Bhride. I plan to paddle out to those islands and travel along the seaward edge. There are several tiny islands around here, which results in some top-tier rock hopping. I move between the islands until a splash catches my eye.At first, I assumed it was a cormorant, as I had already seen loads of them today. It turns out to be an otter who has just caught breakfast. It looks like a small lobster has been caught otters eat well here. I am surprised by how chill this otter is. He knows I am there and seems unfazed. My sightings of this species to date have been rare and fleeting, so this is a real treat and one I cant wait to tell my wife about (she will be jealous!).Red Deer stagContinuing, I get to the end of this set of islands and make the small crossing across Poll aChreoig to Eilean aChiurn. This is a much larger island by comparison, and as soon as I get to its shores, I am greeted by a Red Deer stag. It is well known that these animals are good swimmers and travel between the islands in search of fresh plants to graze. I have never seen one swimming myself. That sight is on the wish list.I continue along the Eastern coast of this island until my waypoint comes into view. It is a small lighthouse on the NE edge of Eilean aChuirn. I saw this lighthouse from a ferry trip and instantly wanted to get close to it. I dont know about other sea kayakers, but I seem to get drawn to lighthouses, which is, of course, precisely the opposite of what they are designed for.The lighthouse is set a little further back up the island than I initially thought, and the rocks in this area make landing difficult. I continue, a little worried that I wont be able to get onto the island easily and go around to the Northern part of the island. Here I find a stony bay that allows easy egress. To get to the lighthouse, a fairly challenging uphill scramble through nettles, bracken and brambles was required. Eventually, I came to the lighthouse, which is very small by lighthouse standards. You can climb the external ladder to enjoy the view from the top.Satisfied that I had ticked off my lighthouse visit, I spent a bit more time on this uninhabited island, having lunch and doing a bit of snorkelling and swimming alongside at least ten curious seals (both Harbour and Grey Seals) before launching again and heading N/NW towards the Islay mainland. Once back on the Islay shoreline, you can head back to the start, rock hopping as you go or head in the opposite direction and continue NE towards Ardmore Point.From here, you can follow the coastline generally North, exploring the bays and rock hopping among the tiny islands. There is a small bay called Glas Uig, which on the map appears to be of little interest. There is actually a white-tailed sea eagle nest in this area, so it is one of the best places to find this magnificent bird.German U-boatIf you like your World War II history, you will be interested to know that a German U-boat took refuge in this bay for weeks. Local farmers were wondering where their livestock were disappearing to, and it wasnt until years later that a visitor and a previous German submariner admitted to some locals in a pub that they were restocking food and water in this remote part of the island.Continuing, you will reach Claggain Bay, another ideal egress point, and you may choose to park and shuttle if you have the luxury of a buddy. Continuing, you will reach a small bothy called Proaig. You can stay in this bothy, but you kind of need to like cold, wet nights and dont mind sharing with sheep. Behind the bothy is Islays tallest peak, Ben Bheigier. To the right, you will find MacArthurs Head Lighthouse perched up on a hill. This is accessible by both foot and boat from here. A small pier and a long set of steps access the latter. Within the hill between Proaig and MacArthurs Head, you may spot a cave.Baldy MhurachaidhThis is the cave where a now-legendary illicit distiller, Baldy Mhurachaidh, once made his brews. It is said that an islander betrayed him, apparently because he had annoyed him. The excise men were told where to look for him, but he escaped and hid his last keg of whisky somewhere in the area. Legend has it that it has never been recovered, and Baldys whisky could still be found today.I hope that this has whetted your appetite for exploring the island. This is just one example of a trip that can be done easily and contains wildlife, folklore, history and stunning scenery. The island is steeped in history, mythology, legends and an unrivalled knowledge of the sea from people who have lived and worked here for a very long time.Spend any time here, and the culture starts to seep in through every pore. You even begin to pick up Gaelic here. It is similar to Welsh, so I have an upper hand, having grown up in North Wales. This makes sense, as around 800 AD, a kingdom that incorporated Wales, Western Scotland and Cornwall existed.There is something here for every sea kayaker, from impressive cliffs, sea caves, stacks and arches, isolated beaches, coves that are only accessible by small boat, several tidal flows that can become races, a world famous whirlpool if you venture to the neighbouring Jura, surf spots, uninhabited islands and abundant sea life.So if you want to paddle somewhere a little different, give Islay, or indeed any of the Hebridean Islands, a go. It is incredible just how different they all are. Each has its own characteristics that make it unique.

Words: Unai AldanaPhotos: Unai Aldana &Pep JuanedaMeet the authorUnai AldanaFrom the Atlantic to the MediterraneanBorn in the Basque Country, I didnt actually pick up a paddle until I landed on the Balearic coast. My journey began with the Balearic Canoe Federation (Federacin Balear de Piragismo), but it was under the mentorship of local legends like Pep Juaneda and through hundreds of hours training with my partner Andrs that I truly learned to read the water.A Passport to AdventureMy kayak has been my passport, and this sport has given me so much more than just fitness; it has given me a way to see the world.Ive travelled twice to the classic tidal races of Anglesey and tested myself in the famous Bitches tidal race in Pembrokeshire. Ive had a brief taste of the currents in Brittany, battled the heavy Atlantic swells of Fuerteventura (twice) and South Brazil, and ventured north on two expeditions to the frozen majesty of Norways Lofoten archipelago. I also returned to the Basque Country to try kayak surfing and learn from some of the worlds best riders.This dedication to understanding dynamic water eventually led me to earn my Sea Kayak Leader (Tidal) and Advanced Sea Kayak Award (Tidal). For me, these arent just certificates; they are the foundation that allows me to explore safely and understand the environments I write about.Closer to home, Ive paddled the Costa Brava and explored our Balearic neighbours, Ibiza and Formentera. In every place Ive been, Ive learned from great coaches and even better people. But I am not done yet I want to keep travelling, keep learning, and keep meeting paddlers.I am not a pro athlete; I am just a humble enthusiast with a deep passion for the sea. My goal is simply to share my love for the sport and welcome new people to La Roqueta, as we locals call this island.Mallorca: The Mediterranean playground for Europes sea kayakersMallorca is hardly a secret. In the outdoor world, it is a heavyweight. Every spring, the mountain roads fill with pelotons of cyclists testing their legs on the climb to Sa Calobra. Hikers traverse the dry-stone paths of the GR221. Climbers flock here for world-class Deep-Water Soloing, and the bays are full of sailors.Yet, strangely, for sea kayakers, the island remains a blank spot on the map. While other athletes have claimed the mountains and the rocks, the coastline itself remains the last great undiscovered frontier of Mallorcas sports scene.For us, the local paddling community, this is a mystery. We know this island is not just a holiday destination. It is a fortress of limestone, a labyrinth of caves, and a year-round training ground that demands respect.Granted, we have to be honest about the water itself. If you are chasing the roaring tidal races of Anglesey or the ripping currents of Brittany, you will be waiting a long time here. Our tidal range is so polite it is barely noticeable often less than twenty centimetres and you might start to think the moon has forgotten about us entirely. We dont do tidal races.However, what we lack in flowing water, we make up for with a landscape that feels like a true wilderness hiding in plain sight. This isnt a tourism campaign. It is the simple, daily experience of living and paddling here. And the more I paddle abroad, the clearer it becomes that this quiet island holds one of the most complete, complex, and underrated sea kayaking environments in Europe.A European Hub That Feels Like a WildernessMallorca enjoys a unique position on the European paddling map. Logistically, it is incredibly accessible; a short flight connects it to France, Germany, the UK, the Netherlands, and Scandinavia.The infrastructure is exceptional, a happy side effect of Mallorca being one of the most visited islands in the Mediterranean. While the masses flock to the resorts, we paddlers benefit from the sheer scale of the logistics that support them. This tourism popularity ensures a density of flights and connections that is unmatched, making it easy to arrive, rent a car, and get to the water. It supports a local paddling community that is growing in numbers and spirit every year.Yet, the moment you leave the beach, that intense tourism infrastructure fades away. You are instantly transported into a Mediterranean landscape shaped by dramatic geology, sudden headlands, and long, committing stretches where civilisation feels miles away. It offers a rare balance: the logistical comfort of a major European hub combined with the visceral sensation of being somewhere raw, exposed, and wild.Touring the Fortress: The Northwest coastlineThe northwest is the beating heart of Mallorcas serious touring. Here, the Serra de Tramuntana a mountain range so culturally and physically significant it has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site drops directly into the sea. This creates a monumental limestone corridor that feels like paddling along the outer walls of a gigantic fortress built by nature. The cliffs rise hundreds of metres straight up, changing colour as the day moves ochre at sunrise, silver-blue at midday, and a burning red at sunset.There are long stretches here without a single exit point. The coastline folds, shifts, and narrows; the water deepens quickly beneath your hull. On a calm day, the silence is almost unreal, broken only by the rhythmic drip of your paddle blade. On a livelier day, the sound of waves ricocheting off the rock amplifies everything. This section of the coast requires respect, planning, and confidence, yet it rewards you with some of the most striking scenery in the Mediterranean.Clapotis: chaos, rhythm, and pure funOne of the defining features of paddling in Mallorca is the prevalence of clapotis. This isnt limited to the high mountains of the north; it is a signature of the entire island. Because so much of our coastline is vertical limestone rather than soft beach, the swell doesnt dissipate it rebounds.When incoming waves collide with waves bouncing off the cliffs, they create a chaotic, multi-directional energy that forces you to read the water second by second. It happens all around the island, wherever the rock meets the swell.Northern Europe is famous for this type of challenging water, but Mallorca delivers this complexity with warmer air, warmer water, and brighter light. It is playful, technical, and sometimes humbling. Kayaks rise and fall unexpectedly, strokes must adapt instantly, and the feeling of surfing these diagonal rebounds is pure joy. For paddlers looking to sharpen their boat handling without the numbing cold of the Atlantic, this is a natural, high-energy training ground.Rock-hopping: the limestone labyrinth of the southIf the open water is for fitness, the shoreline is for play. While the north is defined by vertical height, the south and southeast are defined by intricacy. This area stretching from the sandstone ledges of the Delta to the arch-filled coves of Santany is a geological sculpture garden.The coast here splits into low arches, hollowed shelves, narrow slots, and gullies that look like they were drawn by an architect obsessed with playful lines. Rock-hopping here is a sport in itself. The waters clarity is key here; you can see every underwater feature as you slide across it, allowing you to place the kayak with absolute precision. It transforms the experience from a guessing game into a visual art.Calm days invite long, flowing runs through tunnels and cuts. Days with a bit of swell turn this southern playground into a dynamic, alive place. Timing becomes everything. You learn to feel the rise of the water under your hull, to accelerate at just the right moment, and to let the boat dance with the rocks rather than fight them.Surf: short fetch, high energyWhen we put down the touring blades and want pure adrenaline, we head for the surf. While we dont get the long-period ocean groundswells of Fuerteventura, Mallorca has a secret weapon: short-fetch intensity.When the wind kicks in, the long sandy strips of the north specifically around Cala Mesquida and the bay of Alcdia and the southern beaches closer to Palma, like Can Pastilla, transform. The waves here are generated by wind over a shorter distance, resulting in a shorter period and more concentrated energy. The result is steep, fast, chaotic fun. It is an intense style of surf kayaking that allows for endless laps and rapid-fire decision-making, perfect for sharpening your bracing and control in the impact zone without the intimidation of deep-ocean power.Downwind runs on the east coastThe east of Mallorca feels like a world entirely different. Gone are the unending fortress walls of the northwest; here, the limestone is lower, and the coastline is serrated by countless calas small, sandy coves that act as safe havens.This geography makes it the ideal zone for downwind runs. When the wind kicks in from the North or South, running parallel to the shore, the coast turns into a conveyor belt of clean, workable swell. You dont get the intimidating isolation of the Tramuntana; instead, you get a high-speed corridor where you can link runs and practise cadence, always knowing that a sheltered beach for a rest or an exit is rarely more than a few kilometres away.Intermediate paddlers find this distinct lack of commitment confidence-building, while advanced paddlers use the fetch to clock up fast, exhilarating miles in beautiful, golden light.The caves: hidden from the eyeNo paddling description of Mallorca is complete without mentioning the caves. The coastline is riddled with them. Some are massive chambers that you can paddle deep into, where the sound of the ocean echoes against the walls. Others are small, unobtrusive cracks hidden from the eye, only revealing themselves when you are right upon them.Once inside, the water often glows a distinct, vibrant turquoise, illuminated by sunlight filtering in from underwater openings. Some are calm places to rest; others, exposed to the swell, require timing and trust in your skills as the sea breathes in and out of the rock. Exploring them is a mix of geology and adrenaline finding your way into the dark and turning back to see the blue light of the exit.Weather: the island advantageMallorcas biggest advantage for European paddlers is not just the mild climate it is the strategic choice the island offers. Honesty is vital here: this is not a static swimming pool where the sun never wavers. We have the Tramuntana days, where the wind creates serious energy. We have mornings of significant swell and dynamic conditions that demand respect. But this is precisely where the islands geography becomes your greatest ally.Because Mallorca is an island, the weather here works like a menu, not a sentence. When the north is churning with whitecaps and heavy swell perfect for those seeking a challenge the south is often glass-calm, protected by the mountains. When the west is blown out, the east offers shelter. The furthest coast is rarely more than an hours drive away.Even in winter, the windows of stability are generous. Air temperatures typically hover in the mid-teens, often touching 18C or 20C on those blessed calm days. Crucially, sea temperatures rarely fall below 14C. This means you can practise rescues, rolling, long journeys, and technical skills without the bone-deep, debilitating cold that dominates northern Europe.I recall a moment last winter in Anglesey. After a great session in lively water, I was shivering on the beach and said to a Danish paddler and a Dutch paddler, Im freezing this is Mallorca-cold.They both laughed at me. So, we decided to compare the actual numbers on our phones. Copenhagen that week was sitting at 1C air and 4C sea. North Holland was enduring 4C air and 5C sea, with that distinctive North Sea wind that feels like it cuts right through drysuits. Meanwhile, back home in Mallorca that same week, it was 16C in the air, and the water was holding steady at 15C.Suddenly, my cold didnt look very cold at all. It was a funny moment, but also revealing. It explained why training here during the winter doesnt feel like a fight for survival. You can push yourself, develop skills, and still genuinely enjoy being on the water.An open invitationMallorca has shaped my paddling, and it continues to shape the small community that lives here. But truthfully, despite the world-class conditions, we see almost no visiting paddlers here. Aside from a handful of professionals in the know like Geth from Sea Kayaking Wales, who has discovered the potential here the waters remain surprisingly quiet.And that is a shame. Cyclists, climbers, and hikers have all found their paradise here, yet the kayak community is still missing out.So, consider this an invitation. I am just a humble paddler who loves the sea, but I can tell you that the community here is open, the water is waiting, and we are eager to share our playground. Come and paddle La Roqueta not as a tourist, but as one of us.

Words: Cory JonesPhotos: Cory JonesCory JonesBig Salmon River: Yukons Most Beautiful TributaryIt begins with the long, quiet road away from Whitehorse the tarmac that soon gives way to a dirt road, providing sensational views across the Yukon forests and mountains. Every mile brings fewer houses, fewer signs, fewer reminders of civilisation. After three and a half hours, the road drops towards a sweep of water framed by dark spruce. This is Quiet Lake the head of the Big Salmon River and the start of what many paddlers call the most beautiful tributary in the entire Yukon watershed.Over the next two weeks, we would paddle from here to Carmacks, and then continue for another seven days down the Yukon River to the old gold rush town of Dawson fourteen days and hundreds of miles in one of the wildest corners of North America.Quiet beginningsQuiet Lake lives up to its name. Even in late July, when much of the Yukon is at the height of summer, theres a stillness here that seeps into you. The air is scented with the spruce forests, ravens calling overhead, and somewhere out in the bay, Great Northern Divers (Common Loon) echoing ghostlike calls.That first afternoon, we eased the canoes off the gravel shore and paddled across seven kilometres of calm water to the lakes outfall. The pace was unhurried theres something about starting an expedition with no real rush, no need to make miles on day one. We camped near the old cabins that sit just a stones throw from the outlet, their weathered timbers hinting at a time when trappers and prospectors moved through here regularly. In the shallows beside camp, large grayling swam lazily over the gravel bed, oblivious to our arrival. These arctic grayling were plentiful in the gravel beds with their dorsal fins breaking the glassy surface.Through the lakesDay two took us through the chain of three lakes that feed the Big Salmon proper first the short gravel-bed link into Sandy Lake, then another narrow, reed-lined channel into Big Salmon Lake. Each passage felt like paddling through a diorama of northern beauty: pale green sedges waving in the shallows, the musk of wet spruce, the sudden clatter of a merganser taking flight ahead of the canoe.By the time we reached Big Salmon Lake, the wind had risen, pushing against the shore in white-tipped riffles. Luckily, it blew from behind, giving us a helping shove across the open water. Late in the afternoon, we rounded a headland and saw, at last, the true beginning of the Big Salmon River a dark, clear flow sliding between spruce-clad banks. A First Nations cabin stood nearby, its high cache shed raised on stilts to keep food safe from bears.First LogjamsThe Big Salmon does not let you forget that this is real wilderness travel. Within hours of starting downstream, the river bent sharply, and we found ourselves face to face with a wall of timber a logjam stretching bank to bank and nearly 100 metres downstream. There was no chance of paddling or lining through. We hauled the canoes up on the right bank, unloaded every barrel and bag, and began the first of what would become a familiar portage routine.Portaging a fully loaded canoe is not something you do for fun. Bear barrels full of food, safety kits, personal bags everything had to be carried along a rough path through the spruce. Then the empty canoes were dragged and lifted over the portage route, tied off with highwaymans hitches for easier handling. It didnt take long to repack and shove off again, but half an hour later, another logjam appeared. This one was shorter, but the mosquitoes were worse a cloud of whining persistence We renamed the river the Bug Salmon on the spot.That evening, we camped in a stand of spruce along the bank. The smell of woodsmoke mingled with the tang of fresh-caught fish in the pan. It felt good to be back in the rhythm of river life firelighting, cooking over open flames, and listening to the water slide by in the dusk.A pattern to the daysBy the third day, a weather rhythm had emerged, one that would stay with us almost to Dawson. Mornings began cool and cloudy, and the light filtered through a layer of thin grey. By mid-morning, the first sun would slip over the hills, warming the forest edge and burning off the mist. By noon, it was hot high twenties Celsius and cumulus clouds began to build over the hills. In the afternoon, the wind would shift, sometimes with a faint katabatic punch, blowing down-valley from the high ground. On some days, cumulonimbus towers bloomed and brought short bursts of rain and the rumble of distant thunder. By evening, the skies cleared again, and the temperature dropped quickly after the sun set around 22:00.The Big Salmon itself widened day by day. The first miles were narrow, the water quick and playful, with rippled runs and occasional rocks easy to spot if you kept alert. We faced two more logjams one short enough to line the canoe through after lightening the load, another requiring a brisk portage but after that, the river was clear. Higher water might mean fewer portages, but it would also make lining and scouting trickierWildlife on the riverThe first bear came on day three a young black bear grazing on berries along the right bank. It raised its head, watched us for a few seconds, then melted into the forest. It wouldnt be the last. By journeys end, we had seen six black bears and one grizzly, not to mention the countless signs of their passing: footprint on sand and gravel banks, claw marks on aspen trunks, fresh scat.The beavers were even more conspicuous. Lodges rose from the shallows like organic sculptures, and each morning and evening we heard their tail-slaps echo across the water. A family of otters watched us pass them from the banks as we rounded a bend. Overhead, pied kingfishers hovered and dived, while flotillas of mergansers shepherded their chicks across the current.The confluenceAfter five days, the tributaries of the South Big Salmon and the North Big Salmon rivers joined the main river. The current slowed in places, the river now broad enough for long, lazy meanders between gravel bars. In other areas, there were long riffles and wave trains with huge rocks in the river from cliffside erosion. Eventually, we reached the fish weir a metal structure that channels salmon into a sensor that counts them on their upstream migration.Salmon runs here are a shadow of what they once were. The Chinook that return are smaller on average, a sign that fewer are surviving to older, larger ages. Fewer fish means less spawning success, and each year the numbers dip a little more.Environmental note: Salmon in declineThe Big Salmon River is named for the Chinook salmon that once surged upstream each summer, completing a migration of more than 3,000 kilometres from the Pacific. Today, numbers are a fraction of their historical levels. Smaller average fish size means fewer eggs per female, reducing reproductive success.At the metal fish weir near Big Salmon Village, every salmon must pass through a counting chute. Data here feeds into long-term monitoring, but also tells a sobering story: fewer fish each decade, threatened by warming ocean temperatures, changing river flows, bycatch in marine fisheries, and habitat loss along their route.Paddlers are asked to pass through the centre of the channel to avoid damaging the weir and to pause a moment to consider the fragile, ancient migration unfolding beneath the canoe.At the confluence with the Yukon River, the landscape opens dramatically. The Big Salmon Village once stood here a major First Nations settlement. We camped on a wide gravel bar, grateful for the sudden drop in mosquito numbers.Down the Yukon to CarmacksThe Yukon River felt like a different world broad, deep, and steady at an easy twelve kilometres per hour. We passed Little Salmon Village, still home to Little Salmon/Carmacks First Nation families, who hold their annual gathering here each July. By the time we reached Carmacks a week from Quiet Lake we had settled into a rhythm: rise with the light, paddle until mid-afternoon, set camp, cook, watch the river until the long twilight faded.Many paddlers end their trip at Carmacks, content with the Big Salmon leg. But we pressed on, with another seven days to Dawson.Into the historic heart of the YukonBeyond Carmacks, the Yukon flows through deep forested valleys, past wooded camps where red squirrels scolded us with relentless chatter, letting us know exactly how unwelcome we were in their chosen glade.We soon reached the famous Five Finger Rapids four rock pillars splitting the river into narrow, fast-flowing channels. They have a fearsome reputation from the days of the gold rush, when heavily laden paddle steamers had to winch themselves upstream through the gap. For us, in high summer flow, the rapids were straightforward a line down the left channel, the canoe pitching gently over standing waves. A few kilometres later came Rink Rapids, another easy read-and-run. In fact, the most boisterous waves wed seen were back upstream just past the North Big Salmon confluence.Fort SelkirkMidway to Dawson, we stopped at Fort Selkirk, once a Hudsons Bay Company trading post and later a key steamboat port. In its heyday, over 200 steamers plied this river, carrying miners, supplies, and dreams between Whitehorse and Dawson. The gold rush of 1898 transformed the region overnight and just as quickly, the boom faded.Today, Fort Selkirk is preserved as a historic site by the Selkirk First Nation and the Yukon government. Weathered buildings line the riverbank: the old schoolhouse, the Anglican mission, the trading store. Walking through in the evening light, its easy to imagine the clang of the steamer bell, the bustle of cargo being loaded, and the mingling of languages Tagish, Tlingit, English, French on the dock.Bears and the Big RiverOne evening, sitting on the gravel shore, I watched what I thought was a drifting log. But it had ears. After a few minutes, it became clear it was a bear brown, with a shoulder hump a grizzly. It swam steadily across the Yukon, easily covering the 600 metres to our island. Another night, a black bear tried to nose into camp. We drove it off with shouts and clanging pans, and it swam away into the current. The next day, yet another black bear swam the river as if it were a casual stroll.The run to DawsonThe final days brought a sense of the journey drawing to a close, though the miles still felt long. The Yukon here is huge; its currently deceptive even with the flow helping, the scale can make progress feel slow. We camped on sandy beaches, on forested points, and once on a bare gravel spit under a sky that refused to darken.Then, one afternoon, the bend opened, and Dawson City appeared a cluster of false-fronted buildings in the gold rush style, the outlines of old paddle steamers pulled up on the shore. Here, the Klondike River meets the Yukon, and with it, the stories of 1898 flood back tens of thousands of stampeders hauling their gear over the Chilkoot Pass, building boats to float downriver, and gambling their luck on a few ounces of gold.Stepping ashore after two weeks on the water, I felt that same blend of relief, satisfaction, and quiet melancholy that comes at the end of any long river trip. The Big Salmon had given us everything calm lakes, technical portages, wildlife encounters, history, and above all, the sense of being truly away from it all.If you go:For paddlers inspired to take on the Big Salmon River, Mike Rourkes Big Salmon River Guide Book (https://riversnorthonline.com) is an invaluable resource, with maps, notes, and portage details. The classic trip is Quiet Lake to Carmacks (about seven days), but adding the CarmacksDawson leg doubles the time and takes you deeper into Yukon history. Be prepared for self-sufficiency this is remote country, and once you leave the road at Quiet Lake, the only way out is downstream.Big Salmon River trip plannerQuiet Lake to Dawson City 14 days distance:Quiet Lake to Carmacks via Big Salmon River approx. 320 km (7 days).Carmacks to Dawson City via Yukon River approx. 410 km (7 days).Total: 730 kmBest season:Late June to mid-August for stable water levels, long daylight, and fewer early-summer floods.Mosquitoes peak in July, especially on the Big Salmon headnets are essential.Access:Launch at Quiet Lake (3.5 hour drive from Whitehorse via gravel roads).Shuttle or charter arranged in advance for vehicle relocation or pickup at Dawson.Permits & regulations:No permit required for paddling, but respect First Nations lands and local guidelines.Follow fish weir signage near Big Salmon Village keep to the centre channel.Main hazards:Logjams: Four major jams between Big Salmon Lake and the Yukon confluence; all require portaging or lining.Strainers: Frequent along upper sections scout blind corners.Rapids: Mostly easy read-and-run, with larger standing waves near the North Big Salmon confluence; Five Finger and Rink Rapids are straightforward at normal summer levels but require attention. Grade 2 overall.Wildlife: Black and grizzly bears are common store food securely and carry bear spray.Wildlife highlights:Arctic grayling, beaver, kingfishers, mergansers.Bears often swim across the river; maintain distance.Salmon (Chinook) migration in late summer.Campsites:Gravel bars, forest clearings, and sandy beaches along the Yukon River.No formal sites Leave No Trace principles essential.Maps & resources:Big Salmon River Guide Book by Mike Rourke essential for navigation and portage details. (riversnorthonline.com)1:250,000 topographic maps are recommended for the wider context.

Words & photos: Nikki Bettis 32 Feet Up https://32feetup.comNikki Bettis@32feetup links Nikki Bettis vlogged the entire journey on their social media @32feetup: www.instagram.com/32feetup www.youtube.com/@32feetup www.tiktok.com/@32feetup Facebook page (we posted daily during the trip): www.facebook.com/32feetup96 days on the Mississippi with seven kids What the river taught us about courage, family, and carrying onThe Mississippi River doesnt care who you are. It doesnt care if youre prepared, brave, overwhelmed, or barely holding it together. It doesnt care if youre a seasoned paddler or a single Mom figuring things out as she goes. The river just keeps moving. Its wide, patient in some places, and narrow and demanding in others. But it only asks one thing of you: show up and keep going.Appalachian TrailIn 2023, we hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. After surviving domestic violence and a divorce, we needed a new adventure. The Mississippi River was it.I showed up with seven of my 15 biological kids, a handful of kayaks and canoes, and a plan that looked a lot cleaner on paper than in real life. Ninety-six days later, after 2,350 miles on the Mississippi River, I understood something I hadnt fully grasped before. Adventure isnt about conquering nature. Its about letting it change you.Before we launched, people asked the same question over and over again: why would you do this with seven young kids (6-14 when they started and 7-15 when they ended)? Sometimes it came from curiosity, sometimes disbelief, sometimes judgment wrapped in concern. The easy answer is that we love adventure. The honest answer is that I wanted my kids to see what perseverance looks like when it isnt filtered, edited, or made comfortable. I wanted them to experience a goal so big it couldnt be rushed, skipped, or hacked.The Mississippi River is not a highlight reel. Its a slow burn. Its early mornings and gritty hands. Its the wind that humbles you and the silence that makes you think. Its learning to live inside uncertainty without panicking. That felt like precisely the kind of classroom my kids needed.Northern MinnesotaIn Northern Minnesota, the river greeted us gently at first. Calm water. Quiet mornings. Bald eagles perched in the trees like they knew something we didnt. It didnt take long for reality to set in. The Mississippi isnt one river; its many. It changes personalities daily. Some mornings, it carried us effortlessly. Other days, it felt determined to test every ounce of our patience.Barges were our first real lesson in humility. You dont out-paddle them. You plan. You wait. You communicate. You read the water and accept that you are small in a vast system. That lesson landed fast and stayed with us.My Kids learned to read currents. They started noticing weather changes before I did. They encouraged each other when fear crept in. They knew that quitting was easy to imagine but harder to live with afterward. As a single Mom, I felt the weight of every decision when to push, when to rest, when to call it early, and when to say we could go just a little farther. The river taught me that leadership isnt loud. Its steady.We didnt just paddle the Mississippi. We lived beside it. River towns welcomed us in ways Ill never forget. Strangers offered rides, meals, stories, and places to rest. Retired lock workers shared decades of river wisdom. Campgrounds became temporary neighbourhoods. Boat ramps turned into dinner tables. And the kids experienced their first-ever Halloween.The Mississippi connects people long before it connects places. Every town had its own relationship with the river. Some revered it. Some feared it. Some depended on it without ever really looking at it.Some days I cried quietlyNot every day was inspiring. There were days I cried quietly, days when logistics felt heavier than the paddles. Days when the river stretched endlessly ahead, and I questioned who I thought I was to take this on.The Mississippi taught us lessons no book ever could. You cant rush water. Power doesnt announce itself small efforts compound. Bad days dont cancel good goals. You miss everything if youre always focused on the finish.We learned to celebrate tiny victories like a smooth crossing, a perfect campsite, a sunset that stopped us mid-sentence. We knew that fear doesnt mean stop; it means pay attention.When people ask what my kids gained from the adventure, I dont talk about miles, days, or records. I talk about confidence that cant be taken away. They know what it feels like to commit to something massive and finish it. They know discomfort is temporary. They know teamwork isnt optional. They know theyre capable of more than they believed on day one.Normal feels strangeAs the river widened toward the Gulf, something shifted. The current felt different. The air changed. The end was no longer theoretical; it was close enough to feel. I expected a celebration. What I didnt expect was grief. When you live simply, paddle daily, and measure life in river miles instead of notifications, returning to normal feels strange.On our final day, we cheered. We hugged. We cried. We let the moment land. Ninety-six days. One river. A lifetime of perspective.We learned something profoundThe Mississippi didnt make us fearless. It made us honest. It showed my kids that the world doesnt bend to your comfort, but it rewards your courage. Adventure doesnt solve your problems. It reveals who you are when things get hard. And thats exactly why well keep showing up to rivers, trails, and wild ideas that dont make sense to everyone else. Somewhere between the first paddle stroke and the last mile, we learned something profound and straightforward: we are capable together. And the river just keeps flowing, waiting for the next group brave enough to listen.

Words:Emily LeggePhotos:Emily Legge &Craig LeggeEmily LeggeNational Autistic SocietyIf you would like to make a donation to the National Autistic Society, please go to my JustGiving page at: www.justgiving.com/page/riverspey-paddleforpurpose?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL. Your support is very much appreciated.Paddling the River Spey in springtime by Cory Jones:https://paddlerezine.com/river-spey-in-springtime/Pensioners canoeing on the River Spey by John R. Dean: https://paddlerezine.com/river-spey-2/low-down on a highland paddleCanoeing the River Spey by Sarah Webster: https://paddlerezine.com/low-down-on-a-highland-paddle-the-river-spey/Paddling the River Spey a jewel in the crown of Scottish rivers by Richard Harpham: https://paddlerezine.com/paddling-the-spey-river/The spey: from source to sea: paddling for purposeThere was snow in the mountains when I first dipped my paddle into the river that had filled my dreams for months. I was finally here, and I drank in the late October beauty along the river. The swirling amber water merged into hues of green, gold, copper and yellow, as the trees stroked orange leaves along the bankside. Behind us lay the Cairngorm Mountains, rose-painted as Dawn crested above them.The previous day, nerves had taken hold of me. I couldnt concentrate on the beautiful lakes we drove past or the rolling hills. Instead, I was panicking: what if Id forgotten something? What if our guide didnt like me? What if I made a mistake whilst paddling? These intense worries, so common in autistic people, drove all the excitement out of me until I was an anxious, jittery mess. Before this trip, fear of the unknown had created a barrier to new experiences, and I was terrified that my usual panic would keep me from taking advantage of such an enormous opportunity.I spent the night sleepless, worried about what would happen and whether I had enough experience to complete this trip the hours ticked by on my phone until finally, it was time.I met our guide, Stephen McCall, on a freezing morning on the 26th of October. Given my lack of paddling experience and age, I realised I needed to hire a guide for the trip. But my family could not afford a guide or the cost of expensive paddling equipment. But where there is a will, there is a way, and I encountered incredible acts of kindness and generosity from the broader paddling community, without which this trip could not have happened.Scottish Rock and WaterI researched and wrote to a few guiding organisations a big ask considering that I was writing to them in their peak season. I got many unanswered letters and calls, but just as my determination was beginning to wane, I got a call from a man who I can honestly say has become a bit of a role model for me. Stephen McCall, owner of Scottish Rock and Water, said he could guide me down the river for five days at cost after peak season had ended, provided we obtained drysuits for our safety (it would be freezing!).Peak PaddlesportsI was now left with a problem at about 700 each for drysuits (we needed three), this was unaffordable. So, I wrote to various outfitters, and Pete Astles team at Peak Paddlesports replied promptly and kindly loaned us three brand-new Peak Adventure Drysuits and lifejackets. Considering they are such a well-established brand and I have no paddling experience or significant social media presence to advertise their gear, their generosity was astounding, given that I could offer them very little coverage in return.I had brought all the food, which was labelled and portioned for each day, and then my friend and I sorted it into two barrels: one wed take out to the campsite, the other to the river. This meant that I meticulously put each labelled bag in the barrel which it corresponded with. Stephen said he had never seen such an organisation!Although autism is difficult to manage on a day-to-day basis, paddling showed me that it can have many advantages. In this case, my very obsessive need for order and practicality worked out in a way that benefited everyone. Autistic people thrive in environments where their traits can be helpful: our weird, quirky selves can often be a solution to a problem, and I think paddling complemented me well!Neurodiverse adventurers belong in the outdoor world just as much as anyone else does.The first day was difficult this was such a new skill for both my friend, Laura, and me but Stephen was patient and began teaching us the first of many new skills we would acquire. It was also raining and extremely cold, which were not exactly ideal conditions. For me, the sound of the paddle on the hull was very distracting, but soon we came to another piece of stunning scenery, and the noise gradually faded into the background.Nests of birds sat atop autumn trees, and the low light of the sun tipped the leaves to gold. We passed through Loch Insh and along relatively flat sections of the river.For beginners, this was the perfect time to begin learning how to read the river and different strokes, and for the more experienced, it was a time to enjoy the scenery. It quieted much of the worry I had been carrying for the weeks leading up to the trip.Evening fell, and we stopped to camp on a beautiful bank of the river. Laura and I put up our tent for the first time, competing against my dad (who had put up many tents in his life). We lost the first night, but we won the rest.Insomnia a common diagnosis in autistic people had plagued me since I was 11. Camping is notoriously uncomfortable, and I would be sharing a tent. From the second night onward, around 02:00 in the morning, I would sneak out of the tent (with about a 100 layers on) and sit under the tarp we had set up.A loud mindWithout time alone on an expedition, my mind would become very loud at night, so I always needed time to decompress. I would sit and watch the night, and once I even saw a deer!Finding ways like this to enjoy the expedition without falling into social burnout made me much more susceptible to the genuine joy of a paddling trip. In the morning, I would wash my face in the freezing water, and sometimes the eddy or lake was so still the sky reflected itself like a mirror. Autism allows me to experience the outdoor world uniquely: where others see five colours, I see 50.This made me appreciate the beauty so much more; I could smell whiskey in the air from where we passed large hills that stored the alcohol, and I could hear so many different birds. Somehow, being outdoors, where the world stretches endlessly, reduced the overwhelm of everyday life. Simple worries, like exams or the next work project, get swept away. It becomes the wind on your face, the water breaking around your paddle, the sun at your back.As we progressed, the river ran faster and higher.Day three was perhaps my favourite day. Laura and I were in the same boat, and I was steering. We had been learning to read the river but had got distracted by a conversation. Suddenly, our boat began to run over rocks. Stephen, helpfully, called out that it was a wee bit shallow, which would have been useful five minutes before!Day three was also the famous washing machine. This was understandably nerve-wracking, and although arguably wed already navigated bigger rapids, the Washing Machine is a talked-about rapid for a reason.The anticipation was enormous, but new adventures on the river were starting to excite me. The worst thing that could happen was that we would fall in, and the dry suits so far had kept us completely dry in the rain. Only my hair would get wet (which, to a teenage girl with curly hair, is admittedly not ideal).My hyper-focus came in handy, however, and I picked what Stephen deemed a great line, and we barely needed to bail afterwards. I didnt realise wed finished until my dad shouted to pull into an eddy. That all-consuming concentration is what makes neurodiverse athletes great, and I believe more neurodiverse people should use it to their advantage. Its not weird; it can be what makes you successful.EmpoweringStephen was a brilliant teacher and read me well; he recognised that whilst I lacked experience, I was keen to learn to be more independent, but at the same time was anxious about making mistakes. Instead of throwing me in the deep end straight away or just taking me down the river without doing much myself, he gradually empowered me, giving me more and more responsibility when he felt it was safe and appropriate. By the time the third day came about, I was confident enough to go down it without Stephen or my dad in the backseat.My guide Stephen, my friend Laura and my dad made an unlikely but close-knit team, but we got along splendidly. Even when it was cold and wet and getting dark, we all pitched in to do our jobs, and the laughter around the fire at night quickly made us forget any hardships of the day.On the fifth day, the river had dropped to 0.8 but was still running fast. Tree strainers also lined the route, and there were more rapids and bridges to avoid. Eventually, Laura and I tipped, having rounded a corner too wide, attempting to see around it. We went over a massive wave, narrowly missed a fallen log, and then had to swim across the fast-flowing river to avoid more tree strainers.And we managed all of this whilst holding on to our paddles. Afterwards, Steven said we had taken a wee swim. I can attest to the fact that the Scottish people dont know what small means! Thanks to Peak, we remained completely dry and warm, which I was very grateful for, because it was about 2 degrees.HypervigilantAs an autistic person, my nervous system is already in a much more heightened mode than that of neurotypical people. This meant I was hypervigilant for the rest of the day, and I was very grateful we made it to the end without falling again. Despite this, the feeling of accomplishment was amazing. My challenges dont mean I cant complete expeditions; they just mean I must put in a bit more work.If you are doing something truly worthwhile, it is unlikely you can accomplish it on your own. The English poet John Donne once suggested that no man is an island.In this trip, I have found this to be abundantly true. A support system was vital to me continuing when it felt hard. Expeditions are about the company, and friendships come from shared experiences. My advice: no matter how old you are (I was 15), what your gender is (because yes, women can paddle too!) or whether youre neurodiverse, the outdoors has something for everyone.If you struggle with the enormity of a long expedition, make contingencies! My dad was aware that I might not be able to complete the five-day trip down the River Spey. There was a possibility that I would feel totally overwhelmed after a day or so, or that the river conditions would require us to end the trip prematurely.My Dad helped me to define what success meant under different scenarios, and this helped me to manage my anxiety and fear of failure.Another step in my journeyDoing one trip has not taken away the challenges I face as an autistic girl. But it is another step in my journey to understanding myself better and learning not only to cope but to thrive in a world that can often be bewildering for me.A community with peopleI realise that not all expeditions start and end so well, but I am grateful that the first big trip that I organised and planned, mostly independently, has gone so well.It has made me realise that, as much as my autism sometimes pushed me to be on my own, I need to be in a community with people to achieve my dreams and to help others achieve theirs.Kindness, it seems to me, is alive and well in the paddling community, and I encourage anyone to rely on it. The people I have come across have offered nothing but helpful advice.I am simply left with this question, Whats next, and with whom?

Interview: Peter Tranter.Photos: Urban Heupgenwww.instagram.com/kayak.noatunA chat with the paddler who is circumnavigating Europe Urban HeupgenHi, my name is Urban, I am 52 years old, and I grew up in Munich, Germany. I travelled a lot in my life, visited all of Europe and the North American continent, and lived in a camper van. Before this trip, I had never kayaked or done any other watersports. I spend a lot of time on my projects in Lithuania and Spain.Where exactly did you begin the circumnavigation? Which countries have you paddled, and how long has it taken you to reach Scotland?At first, and until Barcelona, this trip wasnt meant to be a circumnavigation. I bought my kayak in Tallinn, Estonia, in 2007 and was originally trying to find a way to transport it to Germany, where I wanted to paddle. I found no practicable, inexpensive way to bring it home, so I decided to paddle it home, crossing over to Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Germany.Six years later, again interested in kayaking, I started on the Danube River in Ulm. From here on, I would say, that this is the beginning of my circumnavigation, although this was still not planned at that time. Paddling down the Danube River to the Black Sea is a popular adventure among European paddlers, but I had the urge to explore further. I was very curious what would come next. Turkey and the Mediterranean seemed very appealing to me, and why transport the kayak when I can paddle?Over the following years, between work, I added one trip after another, left my kayak where I stopped, and continued from there the next time, until I ended up in Barcelona, travelling to Turkey, Greece, Italy, France and Spain. Five years later, in 2024, I finally decided, following the example of Freya Hoffmeister, to make it a circumnavigation of Europe. I went around Spain and Portugal in 2024 and started this year in May, aiming to reach Scotland, where I stopped for the season by the end of August.What was it that gave you the idea of circumnavigating Europe?When I restarted in Barcelona, I had a sailing catamaran and could have travelled much more comfortably. But I am made for adventures. The idea of circumnavigating a whole continent in something so small as a kayak fascinated me; it seemed very special, especially if it had not been done before.How does kayaking on the ocean give you particular satisfaction?There is indeed nothing more satisfying than being far out at sea. Coastlines are, in many places, beautiful, wild and interesting, but out on the ocean, when all the land disappears behind the horizon, you feel solitude and loneliness. And this is for me the most satisfying experience. An ordinary kayak is not necessarily made or intended for the open water, crossing over to faraway destinations like from island to island in Greece, for example, but doing it anyway, sometimes met with admiration, sometimes with confusion, doing something most people wouldnt do is exactly my thing.What draws you to these long and challenging adventure paddles?Doing something that nobody has done before, I am still not one hundred percent sure, but on the other hand, it would have been known long ago. This is something that draws me to a certain point; I cannot deny it.Which has been your most challenging part of the expedition?There have been many, relative to my experience. The first, and for a long time only big challenge was crossing from Estonia to Finland with almost zero paddling experience. People called me crazy, but for some reason, I knew that I could do it, and I managed just fine. Besides that first 60-kilometre crossing, the Baltic Sea, the Danube River, and the Black Sea didnt offer many opportunities for me to make much progress in my experience.Greece was the first place I encountered a few difficulties and challenges because of its many crossings from island to island, ranging from 40 to 70 kilometres, and Greece is definitely not an easy paddling destination for the inexperienced paddler like I was. One Crossing in particular: the forecast had predicted a Beaufort 4.The crossing from Mykonos to Ikaria turned out to be the most challenging, I remember. The wind has increased to six Beaufort in the middle of the passage, turning around was no option, I have reached my absolute limit in terms of my abilities. In northern France, north of Ile de Batz, I experienced my first, quite violent tide race, which I had not known to exist. The current draws me into an area where a 2-3 metre swell rose to a very steep, at least five-metre mess with overfalls. I was praying not to die here.You must have met some memorable and kind people on your travels would you care to name a few and why?Although I am someone who is not looking for paddling-company necessarily, I like solitude and tranquility, and definitely prefer to be alone in my camp, I have met hundreds of friendly and gorgeous people over these years, mostly local people who I met on the beach, in my camp, who offered me food and help and mean a lot to me, because they are a big part of my adventure. I remember all of them, but with only very few, I am still in contact.What kayak and equipment are you using at the moment?Amazingly, and I often think about this when I am far from the coast, I still paddle my first and only 18-year-old Reval Viking from Tahe, which I bought in Tallinn. Advertised as a fast River kayak by that time, with a significant load capability and not necessarily made for bigger waves or the open ocean. I never sat in or paddled in another kayak, which already has many scratches and has been repaired often.Sometimes I would like to try another kayak at least, never really had the chance, but would never abandon my beloved one, which carried me for so many thousands of kilometres now. I changed my no-name paddle to a mid-wing from Epic just this year, and finally, after using the same gear for thousands of kilometres, I got a new cagdeck from Reed Chillcheater, who also supported me when I was in Braunton on my way to Wales.You restart the circumnavigation of Europe again in May. Will this be from Scotland, where you left off in September? When and where will you finish?Yes, I always continue where I stopped the previous year. I always left my kayak in marinas, kayak clubs, and with people who offered storage, and then continued at the same spot, because I dont want to leave a gap in my route. Unfortunately, there is no way to say where I will end up in Fall 2026, as the route is still unclear.I might have to wait a long time for the right weather window to do the big crossings I have in mind. It could be another 4,000 kilometres to the Shetlands. The route to Norway lies behind a big question mark. After doing the rest of Scotland, can I include Iceland and the Faroe Islands in my journey? I am still trying to find out.Have you spoken or taken advice from any paddlers who have undertaken similar expeditions around Europe in the past?Because of the following destinations I might undertake next year, including long-distance open-water paddling, I need advice from experienced paddlers, as I still do not consider myself very experienced. I am in contact now with Jeff Allen and Patrick Winterton. I am also interested in talking to Freya, but I think she is paddling right now on her circumnavigation of North America.Do you have any favourite conditions for sea kayaking, or are you happy with whatever Mother Nature bowls your way on the day?Calm conditions are always good for distances, but are rarely experienced outside of the Mediterranean. When I crossed from Wales to Ireland, I was lucky to have a flat sea, which helped me get back on course. Otherwise, I take what I get until Beaufort Force 5, depending on the distance, but resting a day or two when paddling for months is a nice thing anyway.How have you changed as a person due to your extended expeditions?I am not really sure if paddling, or this adventure so far, changed me. The trip is certainly a big part of my life, no doubt, and for that reason, I became a paddler, enjoying water sports I have not done before.Whats the most enjoyable encounter with wildlife that youve had?I have seen Orcas in Greece and Gibraltar. This was fascinating and somehow frightening at the same time because of the problems and encounters with boats. Seeing Dolphins is always a gorgeous feeling. I saw them almost every day, huge jellyfish in Wales. I was hoping to see whales in Ireland and Scotland, but was not lucky enough. I saw Puffins in Wales and Ireland, the cutest birds ever, and I fell in love with them. Fascinating animals anyway, knowing where they go on their journeys.If you could capture just one feel good moment in your time kayaking, which would it be and why?Somewhere in the Marmara Sea, I saw a turtle floating on the water. When I got closer, I saw her wrapped in ropes, not able to swim. I pulled her onto my spraydeck. I didnt have a knife, but somehow got rid of all these ropes. She was still alive and let her free.Is there any issue that stops you from sleeping at night?Not really. I mean, on my tour, there is the weather forecast, which could worry me, or how to launch from the beach I came in on; it could be a different situation the next day, after the wind picks up overnight. I usually sleep well and profoundly. My following destinations have more potential to keep me awake.Are you tempted to write a book on the circumnavigation when you have finished?Yes, I have thought about it, and it is still in my mind. When I finished my circumnavigation, this tour was an adventure no one had ever done before, with endless great experiences. It would certainly fill a book. I am just not sure if I am a good writer.What advice would you give your younger self?Nothing really. All I have done has its reasons, and is exactly what I had to go through. There are tons of things I could have made better or differently, but then everything would have turned out differently.Whats your favourite day-trip paddle?I think you dont mean what was the best paddle day on my tour, because there were so many relaxing on a gorgeous coast, exploring caves and hidden beaches, or cruising through hundreds of islands like in Sweden. But the best of all is, after days and weeks out in the open sea, spending some days on a canal or river.Do you have an ultimate achievement, and if so, what?Of course, completing my trip around Europe, and preferably all parts of Europe, if I am strong enough to do so. This would, later on, also include Russia, paddling back to the Black Sea. Getting visas, permissions, and all sorts of allowances for Russia will be hard, and I hope they understand what I am doing and dont put too many obstacles in my way. But this will be in a couple of years, and I dont think about this too much now.Whats the one location you havent paddled that would be on your bucket list?Lets just assume that I reach Istanbul again and the circle is closed, I would like to paddle around Sicily and Sardinia completely. These are the central Islands of Europe, and I might not call it a circumnavigation without really going around these. And there are other destinations in the far north of Europe which I could include, but this is beyond what I could plan now. A list of potential and gorgeous paddle destinations can be long. Patagonia, the Northwest Passage, some Pacific Islands The question is, how much will the desire for further journeys and adventures be? I just dont know yet.What do you do when not kayaking?I enjoy working on my projects in Lithuania and Spain, trying to establish permaculture and create a nature-oriented way of life. I also love my enduro motorcycle and do paragliding, but havent had much time to practice lately.Is there any place or country on your route which you would consider the most beautiful?This is probably the most-asked question from people I have met on my trip, and it is hard to answer. Its funny because I tend to name the country the asking person is coming from. And indeed, all regions have beautiful places, and it would be unfair to select. To make a list of all the areas which I would consider gorgeous wouldnt make sense here, but if I had to name only a few, it would be Greece, where I had a gorgeous time all the way through. The combination of landscape, jumping from island to island, people and hospitality, climate and overall experience comes very close to perfect. And the incredible Archipelago of Finland, land, and Sweden definitely do not deserve a second place.Quickfire questions:If you could paddle with anyone in the world, dead or alive, who would it be?Interesting, well, I dont know. There was another guy, Jiri, from the Czech Republic, who also intended to circumnavigate Europe at the same time I did, but unfortunately gave up or had other plans. We almost met in Italy after I crossed from Greece; he arrived a couple of days later at the same spot where I had camped, from the Adriatic Sea. I think about him often, but I hardly have any contact with him anymore. I wish he hadnt stopped. It would have been great to paddle together. Yes, this would be the person.If your kayak had a name, what would it be?My kayak actually has a name because, in Germany, its the law to have one. NOATUN. I named it after the home or castle of the god of the seas, Njrdr, in Nordic mythology.Whats the strangest thing youve seen floating in the water?A huge, really huge inflatable toy in the middle of my crossing from Greece to Italy. I almost wanted to catch it and take it with me, but then I thought, someone in Africa would have a use for it.If you could only paddle to the beat of one musical track, what track would you choose?I never listen to music while paddling, but in my camp, with a beer or a glass of wine, I love listening to music. Voyage, Voyage from Desireless just comes into my mind, but there are so many good songs from the 80s!What essential gear do you always bring?Meanwhile, and it was a little different at the beginning, all my gear is quite essential. I just can not afford to bring something I dont really need. All for camping, making meals, very few clothes, and of course, whats necessary for paddling. One paddle, the cag deck I am wearing. My GPS with inReach, a radio, my cellphone and an action cam. This is it. And lots of food, often for two weeks, because I dont like to go to the supermarket more than necessary.If your canoe could talk, what would it say about your paddling skills?Improvable! No, well, I dont know, I think it would say that I improved very well over these years. Starting with no experience and paddle technique at all, to a pretty good technique and no fear of new challenges. That would just sound rightWhats your most unusual kayaking ritual or superstition?Well, yeah, this might be a little bit embarrassing, but Noatun has carried me for so many thousands of kilometres, and after a crossing or a nice paddle day, I give it a pat and some words to say thank you!Whats the ultimate kayaking superpower you wish you had?Better rolling and surfing. Yes, I know, you heard it now, and its embarrassing, and I usually dont talk about this much when I meet other kayakers. But I hate it when my head gets underwater. I just can not get rid of this feeling. I know that I would have more fun and be more relaxed about going to shore and going out in stronger winds, but I am not sure if I will ever learn it properly.There was an incident on the west coast of France where a two-metre breaking and tube-forming wave hit me. I lost my paddle, almost drowned because I could not exit the boat fast enough, and I also lost my kayak because the rope around my kayak broke. Thankfully, some people on the beach helped me get in and saved the paddle and the kayak. This knocked my confidence quite a bit.If you could only speak in kayak-related puns for a day, whats your best one? Any final shout-outs?I just hope I have the mental and physical strength to navigate these upcoming challenges safely. Easy paddling is over now. But how far would I have come if I hadnt dealt with so many before?Huge thanks, Urban, for all of your help on this and for taking time out of your busy schedule we really appreciate it.

WORDS:LISA DREWEPHOTOS:LISA DREWEBioLisa is an award-winning outdoor writer, paddler and guidebook author, best known for her Paddleboarding book series published by Wild Things Publishing. She has explored hundreds of routes across Britain by paddleboard and kayak and writes regularly for outdoor and paddlesports publications.https://www.islandeering.comRead Lisas prior post on ten of the best paddling routes in London and thr South East at:https://paddlerezine.com/10-best-paddling-routes-in-the-se/Five UK Winter paddles with pitstopsFrom sea lochs, mountain lakes and canals to a tidal lagoon full of military history, here are five winter paddle routes with great cafes and cosy pubs on the way.Winter paddling offers a quieter, more considered way to explore waterways, with fewer people on the water and a natural shift towards sheltered routes and shorter, slower journeys. Cool air on your cheeks, woodsmoke drifting from canal boats, and breath lifting into pale light sharpen the experience, while landscapes stripped back to their essentials open up around you. Afterwards, theres nothing better than cosying up by a pub fire, wrapping your hands around a warm coffee, or stepping into a welcoming caf for a post-paddle treat.Here are five of my favourite winter paddles and pitstops.1. Loch Harport, Isle of Skye, HighlandA long, narrow and generally sheltered sea loch on the west coast of the Isle of Skye, which opens into Loch Bracadale and its scattered islands. Framed by low, heathery hills and distant views of the jagged Cuillin, its biggest draw for many visitors is one of Scotlands most famous single malts, crafted on its shores at Talisker Distillery. But venture out on the water, and there is far more to discover, including regular sightings of sea eagles.Once launched, paddlers have several options. At 5km long, the loch lends itself to simply exploring its indented shoreline. Paddle southeast past the village of Carbost towards Satran, and on spring high tides slip past the cemetery and wrecked fishing boats to explore the salt marshes of the River Drynoch (6km return). Alternatively, head northwest past the fisheries and out into Loch Bracadale (9km return). More experienced paddlers can continue west beyond Portnalong Harbour (11km return), then round Ardreck Point into the sheltered, sandy sweep of Fiskavaig Bay (8km one way from Carbost).Back on shore, the village of Carbost is one of my favourite places on Skye for coffee, brunch, beer and seafood not to mention whisky making it a perfect post-paddle stop.Parking & launching: Carbost Pier, IV47 8SR (5, includes launch fee). Grid ref. NG 37601 32203; Lat, long: 57.30473, -6.35839. (www.carbostwaterfront.weebly.com).Pitstops: Caora Dubh (https://caoracoffee.com) for the best coffee in Skye.The Old Inn and Waterfront Bunkhouse (www.theoldinnskye.co.uk) best pub and music in Skye.The Oyster Shed (www.theoystershed.com) and Three Chimneys at Talisker (https://talisker.threechimneys.co.uk) for excellent seafood.Caf Cuil (www.cafecuil.com) local food, brunch and cake.Getting there: Leave the A87 at the Sligachan Hotel, take the A863 towards Dunvegan, then left onto the B8009 to Carbost. Drive through the village, pass Talisker Distillery, then immediately turn right into the parking for the pier.Special notes: Generally sheltered from the prevailing SW winds, especially along the lochs west coast. Avoid NW winds, which funnel down the loch. The Drynoch salt marshes empty quickly, so its best one hour either side of a spring high tide. If paddling to Fiskavaig Bay, take care around Ardtreck Point as any SW swell/wind can concentrate around this point.Map: OS Explorer 410, Portree & Bracadale.Full route map: www.islandeering.com/paddleboarding-loch-harport/2. Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal Explorer: Pencelli to Talybont-on-Usk (7.5 km return)Meander along the pretty Monmouthshire & Brecon Canal through the wooded Usk Valley, at the edge of the Brecon Beacons National Park. Built to transport coal, limestone and agricultural produce, traces of this industrial heritage are still visible along the canal today. Paddle from Pencelli on a peaceful out-and-back route to Talybont-on-Usk, with an optional tunnel extension (an extra 2.5km return). From the Pencelli slipway, turn right (southeast), passing the Royal Oak pub and continuing beneath a succession of bridges and drawbridges, with fine views across to The Blorenge.Reach the main drawbridge on the outskirts of Talybont-on-Usk. Portage on the left bank, cross the road to rejoin the canal, then continue across the aqueduct between the Star Inn and the White Hart. For an optional extra, paddle a further 1km to reach the 343m-long Ashford Tunnel, where, halfway through, a ventilation shaft opens dramatically to the sky. Return the same way.Access: British Waterways Licence required, which is included in membership of the Paddle UK or PaddleCymru, or can be purchased from the Canal and River Trust.Parking: Small parking area alongside launch point (alternatively, park on the roadside on B4558 towards Pencelli Castle campsite, and access the canal down the steps beside the road bridge).Launch: Pencelli Slipway, Talybont-on-Usk, Powys, LD3 7LX. Grid ref. SO 092 250; Lat/long 51.916, -3.322.Pitstops: Pencelli: The Royal Oak. Good beer, popular local canalside inn (www.facebook.com/TheRoyalOakPencelli).Talybont-on-Usk: The White Hart Inn, canalside pub and bunkhouse.Canalside Caf in Talybont village for breakfast, lunch, cake and Indian food (https://talybontstores.co.uk).Camping: Pencelli Castle Caravan and Camping Park. Fabulous camping and caravan site on the edge of Pencelli village, close to the canal and local pub (www.pencelli-castle.com).Getting there: A40 E from Brecon, signed towards Abergavenny; right onto B4558 signed to Pencelli; continue through the village, following signs for Plas Pencelli.Special points: Launch from signed canoe access points only to protect the canal banks. If entering Ashford Tunnel, check the tunnel is clear of other craft before entering, wear a forward-facing bright white light and a PFD with an attached whistle. Do not attempt to paddle the tunnel alone.Map: OS Explorer OL12, Brecon Beacons National Park (western area).Full route map: www.islandeering.com/paddleboarding-pencelli-to-talybont/3. LLynnau Mymbyr, Capel CurigPaddle amidst Snowdonias highest mountains, with magnificent views of Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa), the Glyders and Moel Siabod. Fed by the River Nantygwryd and once a single lake, the growth of a delta now almost cuts the lake in two.Launch from the gravel slipway at the lakes east end.The stunning views of Snowdons Horseshore will draw you along the wooded southern shore past the boathouse and jetty to the west end of the lake, where there are also fine views of The Glyders. Continue through the narrowing, watching out for wildlife in the reedbeds, into the second lake.Pass below Garth Farm Campsite, where the Nantygwryd enters the lake, and a couple of tiny gravel islands make a good place to sit and enjoy the views. The return along the north side of the lake is craggier with views to Craig Wen and Crimpiau at the east end of the lake as they loom over Capel Curig.Access: No licence required.Parking: A4086 layby, Plas-y-Brenin, Capel Curig, Betws-y-Coed LL24 0ET. Grid Ref: SH 71583 57832; Lat/long: 53.10219, -3.91954.Launching: Via a gated path from the layby, head down the steps, cross the footbridge, turn right along the track to the waters edge (250-metre walk). More accessible parking and launching arranged via Plas y Brenin.Pitstops: Lolfar Wyddfa Bar & Dining, Plas-y-Brenin. Hearty food, local ales and superb mountain views at the outdoor centre (www.pyb.co.uk/lolfar-wyddfa-bar-dining/).Lessons: Plas y Brenin offer a wide range of adventure sports courses, including paddlesport courses and taster sessions on the lake.Special notes: This is a natural lake. Please clean your board before you enter to prevent the spread of non-native species. In higher river flows, take care to stay upstream of the bridge to the Plas-y-Brenin centre.Getting there: Leave the A5 at Capel Curig; head 500m west on the A48086.Map: OS Explorer OL17, Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon).Full route map: www.islandeering.com/paddleboarding-llynnau-mymbyr/4. Calshot Lagoon to Ashlett Creek (6 km return)A rich mix of coastal beauty and military history, this route explores the sheltered waters of Calshot Lagoon before skirting Southampton Water to Ashlett Creek and its historic inn. Protected from the Solent by the 1.5km-long shingle bank of Calshot Spit, the lagoon is a haven of saltmarsh and intertidal mudflats, supporting a wide range of resident and migratory birds.Launch from the north side of Calshot Spit to enter the lagoon, taking time to explore the waters around Calshot Castle. Built by Henry VIII in 1539, this low, circular stone fortress once mounted heavy guns to defend the vital harbour at Southampton from seaborne attack.Nearby, the vast hangars of Calshot Activities Centre were initially constructed as part of Calshot Naval Air Station, which operated flying boats. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, Calshot also hosted the prestigious Schneider Trophy an international seaplane racing competition that played a key role in the development of high-speed aircraft.Continue north past the perimeter of the former Fawley Power Station to enter Ashlett Creek and the small, picturesque harbour beyond. Here, the Jolly Sailor a historic smugglers inn offers a warm welcome and open fire, to warm up before returning the same way.Access: No licence required. Launch: Calshot Lagoon Beach.Parking: Calshot Activities Centre (charges), Jack Maynard Road, Fawley, SO45 1BR; Grid ref. SU 487 020; Lat/long 50.81595, -1.30937.Pitstops: Calshot Activity Centre, basic grub with great views across the Solent (www.facebook.com/CalshotCafeBar). The Jolly Sailor, cosy pub for food and drink (www.facebook.com/AshlettCreekJollySailor).Camping: Stunning views over the Solent to the Isle of Wight and beachside camping with Calshot Activities Centre (annual Calshot Camping Access pass required for pitch booking 35. (hants.gov.uk/thingstodo/calshot/stay/camping).Getting there: J2 M27, then A326 south towards Fawley. Look out for the brown tourist signs for Calshot Activities Centre.Special points: During spring tides, a double high tide can occur, giving more time to explore within the lagoon. Its best to enter as soon as the mud banks are covered, which can be up to 2.5 hours before high water (HW). Be mindful that the lagoon empties quickly and can catch paddlers out. Its recommended to exit one hour after HW or to stay in deeper water around the end of the spit.Map: OS Explorer OL22, New Forest.Full route map: www.islandeering.com/paddleboarding-calshot-ashlett-creek/5. Exeter Canal Loop(7 km circular)A gentle, varied loop from Exeter Quay linking the Exeter Ship Canal and the River Exe, passing historic quayside buildings, a country park and water meadows.Start at the basin at Exeter Quay and paddle south along the canal past the historic wharf buildings for 1.4km. Leave the canal just before Salmonpool Swing Bridge (Grid ref. SX 927 907; Lat/long: 50.70610, -3.52031) and portage your craft for 150 metres from the landing stage on the left bank to the River Exe, using the steps to access the water.Continue downstream beneath the footbridge and on to Countess Weir Road Bridge. After 150m, exit the river via the steep slipway on the right. Cross the sewage works access road and use the landing stage to relaunch into the canal.Paddle north (right) along the canal, passing back under the road bridge to reach the locks and pub. Use the pontoons opposite the Double Locks Inn to portage and stop for refreshments. Return along the canal to Exeter Quay, with excellent views of the distant cathedral and opportunities for wildlife spotting along the way.Access: No licence required.Parking: Haven Banks car park (charges), Michael Browning Way, Exeter EX2 8HH.Launch: Exeter Canal basin at AS Watersports Pontoon (please keep the area free before/after launch), 300m walk from the car park, EX2 8AX. Grid ref. SX 92067 91915; Lat/long: 50.71681, -3.53023.Pitstops: Exeter Quay Topsham Brewery and Taproom. Great beers and atmosphere for post-paddle pint (www.topshambrewery.co.uk).Boatyard Caf and Bakery. Good coffee and pastries (www.boatyardbakery.co.uk).Double Locks Inn. Very popular Devon pub with open fires and good roasts (www.doublelocks.com).Getting there: Approach Exeter city centre on A377, at traffic lights turn right at Haven Banks sign and follow Haven Road to the canal basin.Special notes: On low tides, the river Exe can be shallow downstream of St James Weir, and some access points may be unusable, so starting the trip two hours either side of high tide is recommended. Watch out for other water users and the low bridge at Salmonpool on your return to Exeter Quay.Map: OS Explorer 114, Exeter & the Exe Valley.Full route map: www.islandeering.com/paddleboarding-exeter-canal-river-exe-loop/Final wordWith the right routes, winter paddling is about comfort as much as adventure. Sheltered water, short days and quiet surroundings make for memorable journeys especially when they end with warm food, hot drinks and a pub or caf close to the launch point.

Words: Ian JonesPhotos: Ian Jonesand the rest of the crewThanks to: Davide Longoni and Tommy Fasoli of Riversoul the kayak and rafting centre in Valsesia https://www.riversoul.it/?lang=enAndy Holt of Escape to Adventure. Kayak courses and guided trips. https://escapetoadventure.comRead Ians previous expedition from Ecuador at: https://paddlerezine.com/the-piatua-ecuador/Itchycoo Park The Egua River, ItalyOver Bridge of SighsTo rest my eyes in shades of greenUnder dreaming spiresTo Itchycoo Park, thats where Ive been(What did you do there?) I got high(What did you feel there?) Well, I cried(But why the tears there?) Tell you whyIts all too beautifulAs we park at the put-in of the Egua after the drive up the lyrics above play to the theme of the day, Its all too beautiful, Steve Marriot tells us as I switch off the ignition.I doubt Paolo Longoni realised what he had done on the 27th May 1984, when he made the first descent of the Egua in a Taifun di Prijon. I doubt he realised that over the coming years, people would flock to this steep little ditch of a river in the Valsesia region of Italy, that it would feature in pictures, videos, and articles. We owe this man a great debt. Sure, someone else would have done it first, but they didnt; Paolo did, and many followed, including us.The Egua has become a test piece of the area and the individual. The locals run it at high levels, few eddies, the tap turned open, a constant flow of moving water, changing, pulsing, pushing, pulling, requiring adjustments. Adjustments made without thought, the connectivity between brain and body seamless; hopefully, that seamless action translates to the boat, its movement, its position, our position, whether we are going to get a beating or a smooth passage.The lines are narrow, subtle even. We decide to commit: to paddle or not. Is it grade, yes or no? At the put-in, theres a hubbub of conversations in French, German, Italian, and English around me. Ive done this river before, yet there is still a sense of trepidation; the earth beneath my feet is constant, the water beneath my boat is not.Placid to chaosThe character of a river changes from placid, still waters in an eddy to the chaos of white water created by unseen riverbed obstacles. It is the chaos we see that makes the concerns in our minds, and the more concerns, the more chaos we see. Our job, if that is how you want to define it, is to see our own path through the chaos. A reflection of the chaos of our everyday life, pretty much. Just as life throws us curveballs, so does the river. We plan for what we expect, but have to be ready for the unexpected.I guess the level was the high side of low, enough, enough to float and have fun, not enough to scare us witless, which, given the gradient, would be all too easy with a few centimetres more.A gemDescribed by Dr Robin on ukriversguidebook.co.uk forum back in the day as an insanely steep low volume creek with mind-blowing slabs and drops. A gem. Who are we to argue? The Egua is the white water park for kayaks you might design if you won the Euro Millions.It is probably the perfect example of the regions rivers that have been drawing boaters to the area since that first descent. One of the many tributaries of the Sesia river, its origins lie high up the valley, and the put-in is a fair drive up the SP10 from Balmuccia. If you are making the pilgrimage to Italy, it is most definitely a river to include in your hit list.It starts with a bang from the put-in under the bridge, water cascades down steeply, disappearing out of sight as you crane your neck from your eddy under the bridge, looking for the line. Navigate the first few rocks and shoots before dropping into the gutter, negotiate a few stoppers and make sure you are facing the right way by the time you arrive at the first drop of note.River stoppingThe Egua is an exercise in river stopping, not river running. At these levels and within our ability, we stop, inspect, set lines, and set safety. With experience and levels, and perhaps fewer in number, our flow might match the river. There are twelve of us in the group, a big group, but there is an order, and the progress we are making is such that we can keep track of numbers.experienced groupIn the read-and-run sections, I am the last man. Davide knows when he sees me, its good to go. In set-piece rapids, Tommy is usually designated last man, unless he has set the line and is on bank safety. The group is experienced and works well together; a nod is as good as a wink to a blind man, as my grandmother used to say. Signals are exchanged, and progress is made.The achievement of one rapid is soon surpassed by the next, one problem solved becomes another to overcome as we move downstream. There is no crux move on the Egua; there are lots of them, and a pin is a missed stroke away. There are a few I do not want to be in those places, but by and large, the river at lower flows is forgiving. I imagine this might change at higher levels, and it doesnt take much imagination to see it. The gradient is relentless.Today the sun shines, the water glistens, the silence broken by laughter, shouts of encouragement, we are all paddling for each other. Of course, we want to make the moves ourselves, but we gain just as much satisfaction from seeing our friends make a clean line, hoping we can do the same.Captured for posterityHowever, when one of us messes up, the group has it on camera, phones, SLRs, GoPros, and drones; its all there to be captured for posterity, the clean lines are appreciated; the not-so-clean lines provide the fuel over a beer at the end of the day for some light-hearted ribbing. The trophy blades are awarded at the end of the week, and its the Egua that provides the moment of the week. The moment Davide thought he could be dealing with not one but two dislocated shoulders, one of our number escapes with only injured pride, the blades are his until the next trip.This is the first time I have run the river top to bottom with no portages, bar the chossy section after the first feature. It feels good, or is it relief? Im not sure. A trip to Italy without paddling the Egua would feel as if Id been cheated. Its that gutter move at the top that causes the concerns, the concerns that manifest themselves into the vaguely sleep-deprived night when you know its what awaits when dawn breaks, when breakfast and coffee are done, and the 50-minute drive to the river is over. Ive been waiting a year for this, since the last trip. The mental gymnastics rehearsed a hundred times over the previous twelve months are behind me; only the moves ahead remain.Nouria NewmanI know above me, on the bridge, there is an audience, eager to see success or failure. An audience wanting to see the lines, to see how difficult it looks, some thinking, can I make those moves, execute the proper strokes at the right time. Nouria is up there, not that I know that until the end of the day, and Im pretty sure she doesnt need to see our lines!I sit patiently, waiting. A signal, and this is it, a year in waiting. Three hundred sixty-five days give or take a few since I was last here, last year, four of us walked off, instigated by me, the levels were spicy. Today, lower, much lower, doable. Nose clip, a breath, break into the flow. Success follows.The river keeps on giving until the last drop, Cylinder, straight forward, but safety live bait is required. Its a flat-to-flat drop, calm water to calm, but at the bottom, the sloping rock slide creates a recirculating stopper that has been the undoing of many. Get this wrong, and there is potential for some downtime; get it really wrong, and the only way you are coming out is someone coming in to get you, on a rope, even at low water levels.The jewel in the crownOf all the rivers in this region, the Egua is probably the jewel in the crown, the centre piece of your Italian experience. The Sesia, classic river running. The Gronda is steep, but it just doesnt have that out-there feeling as you see the village below you. I think one of the reasons the Egua delivers so much to the average boater is that its achievable.So many of the rivers we might see these days on social media are beyond many boaters. We see the pro boaters, the sponsored few, dropping into the social media perfect river. The Egua is that river for us, decent boaters, all wanting to test ourselves and have one of our mates take that picture that we can put on our wall at home or make our social media profile picture.Thanks, Paolo, for showing us the way all those years ago.The Egua RiverThe Egua River in Italy, located in theVal Sesia, isa world-renowned, steep, technical whitewater creek, famous among kayakers for its waterpark feel with slides, drops, and granite features, often rated Class IV-V, perfect for advanced paddlers seeking adrenaline, especially during spring snowmelt, with guides offering trips and challenging sections like Egualand for skilled creekers.Key Characteristics:Location:Val Sesia, Piedmont region, Italy.Difficulty:Highly technical, primarily Class IV-V (advanced/expert).Features:Steep gradient, numerous slides, drops, bedrock, and boulder gardens.Nickname:Egualand due to its waterpark-like nature.Season:Best in spring (April-June) with rain and snowmelt, providing ideal water levels.Who Paddles the Egua?Experienced whitewater kayakers looking for challenging, fast-paced creeking.Groups that build up skills on more manageable sections before tackling the Egua.Check https://rivermap.org for maps and put-in/take-out details.