Leaving the Scilly’s is not a straightforward affair – particularly at that time in the dark. The channel is littered with wrecks. Paddlers are able to deftly nip around the carnage but the escort boats are greeted almost immediately by them when emerging from the safe haven of the new quay. The walls of the Atlantic pub pay an unnerving tribute to a myriad of black and white pictures depicting scores of stricken vessels strewn across various rocky headlands and other wrecks themselves – which focuses the mind to say the least!
Escort crews were up at 4am and prepping their craft ready to leave as close to 5am as possible. The harbour was eerily quiet with only the frenetic activity of a few scurrying along in the shadows. As we left the entrance it dawned upon me that almost a year ago that Andy had approached me asking if I thought he and his son, Lee, being none paddlers, would be able to make the Crossing? Knowing how challenging the Crossing is a polite ‘yes, but maybe next year…’ response would follow. But in this instance, aside from the huge personal upsets that have befallen Andy’s family, he had a look in his eye that spoke volumes. It was clear that this mild mannered man not only possess the determination but the capability to make the crossing in 2016. The enormity of the mammoth undertaking is difficult to fully comprehend given that both Andy and Lee had only previously paddled plastic kayaks – and I am not sure they did either. After hundreds of hours’ of practice enduring numb bums and dead legs the duo where now at the business end of a very long day. With lights flashing and florescent buoyancy aids lit up by various head torches the pair gingerly edged their way out from the island into the Celtic Crossing followed in close proximity by Jack Coope on this 17ft prone paddle board and a pod of Dolphins.
Similarly, Jack popped down to the Ocean Sports Centre at Carbis Bay and asked if I thought he would also make it across on a paddle board with only four months until the event. Jack, it appears is hewn from a similar cloth, although worlds apart. A local surfer with a penchant for extreme endurance activities and a grizzled determination. Something which would stand him in good stead when two weeks out a potentially critical injury interrupted his training. Unable to knee paddle on his board (a more powerful and efficient method of paddling) due to a chronically enflamed bursur of the knee, Jack was restricted to laying on his belly throughout the crossing.
Two very different motives drove these three together for an epic crossing. With something like this there is a huge emotional investment and it is difficult to watch sometimes as a support crew – passively watching the slow and inevitable break down of a person to where only raw inner strength can bring you home. What makes the crossing more than an endurance event is that there are so many special moments crammed into a finite amount of time, Dolphins surfaced almost immediately as the tiny group exited the channel into open water, the deep cobalt blue of the breaking dawn giving way to a fiery red on the eastern horizon foretelling imminent change, adding a greater sense of jeopardy. Seeing marker buoys being pulled under water mid channel as if some omnipotent force were pushing everything northward (which it was!). Or how the crystal clear turquoise waters of the finish belay the torrent that lay beyond. To see the inextricable father and son bond glow as both Andy and Lee stood on the sand shattered yet relieved. The wave of raw emotion wash fleetingly over Jacks weary face emanating from some dark place as he rounded the quay in Sennen. From a purely voyeuristic stand point to witness the depth of a person’s determination triumph; to keep going when all you really want to do is stop is a painful honour to be a small part of. All of this combines to make the Celtic Crossing a very special moment in time. One which only upon reflection does its enormity fully come home.