At the end of these jottings there is a 4 minute video of this trip. It might be a perfect antidote to a grey winters day. Please watch it and enjoy this journey with us.
Here was one of those days. You know the sort of thing; mid twenties Celsius, still, blue, breathless.
The air stroked us warmly as we moved through it, easing our minds and muscles. What winter bliss; so rare. In such balmy conditions, us Northern Europeans actually let our goose bumps relax and smoothen, and dare to hope for the perfect, even, tan.
For us Wallys, this was a day to get away from all that beach side flesh. At least two people had taken up positions on their deck chairs, heads back, mouths lolling open, feet in the cooling water. That was our queue to go.
Meanwhile, back at our base, our poor kayaks had the look of abandoned dogs, lounging about the place, positioned so we were made to feel guilty every time we left our pitch. No matter how many times we told them that they would not enjoy cycling to the shops, or walking up to the Gerro Tower, they still hounded us with those doggy looks. Today was to be their day. Lucky boats and lucky us.
We had decided to head into the neighbouring town of Xavia, or Javea, pronounced Have-ee-a, a town in two parts. One area is set up hill from the sea and the other is a coastal strand of eateries, bars and apartments set along a Palm dotted, sweeping cove. Our plan was to get there; we would be happy with that, eat our snack, grab a cafe cuppa and come back. This would be a three hour, sweaty slog, on foot. Today it would be a gentle two hour glide, sitting down all the way.
As ever, once on the water, we spent the day scanning for wildlife. One of us sported shiny new binoculars. The old ones having fogged in one eyepiece, on the stroke of midnight, on new years eve. The moment was reminiscent of the tales of grandfather’s clock. You know, the one that stops ticking the moment it’s master dies. Never to tock again. We are pleased to say, that so far, both of us still have pulses, although none of us knows what little bomb is ticking away inside us, waiting to make the mist roll down. On that cheery note, we paddled on.
The sea was oily smooth as we paddled. The shattered coast was strewn with gigantic boulders, and pockmarked with small coves and deep caves. Everywhere we looked, reefs lurked just on and under the surface. Very few places offered an easy landing. This is definitely no place to be shipwrecked.
After two hours and twenty minutes of bimbling about, cave mooching, bird watching, and very slow, lazy paddling, we arrived in Xavia. An hour later, we left, having eaten our sarnies and enjoyed cold drinks in the nearest bar.
You may wonder what we got up to on the return journey, you know, to liven it up and ring the changes. And our answer is, absolutely nothing. It was a hot day and what we did heading home, was exactly the same as we did coming out. It took us the same length of time to get back, which was a surprise, as we did not try for this result. For us the day was perfection. Why gild the lilly?
NB. In weather and sea conditions similar to the video, this is a very easy trip, which is perfectly suitable for beginners. Like any new activity, it can feel exposed and intimidating at times. If you fancy doing a trip of this kind, it is wise to go with at least two friends, one of whom should be an experienced kayaker. If planning a solo, or two person trip; those concerned need to be proficient paddlers. As a minimum, should you fall into the water, you should be able to hang onto your paddle, return your boats/sit-ons, to upright them and get yourselves going again. Apart from that little warning, jump on or into your craft and go. You will not be disappointed.
The Wandering Wallys 