It was 5am when we crawled out of our tents. We’d arrived at 11:30 the night before and did not have nearly enough sleep. Regardless, we clambered down below the lifeboat station with our boats. As we put on our decks the sky had begun to glow but the sun had not yet seen fit to emerge above the horizon.
I have a little bucket list for canoeing, and for as long as the list has existed the Bitches has been near the top. For those not in the know, the Bitches is a tidal rapid that forms between the most south west tip of Wales and Ramsey Island. Named by old-timey sailors who swore like old-timey sailors, the Bitches is a formidable stretch of water and has been the ruin of many craft over the years. But, for plucky kayaks the waves formed on this rapid offer some of the best surfing in the UK.
Tidal rapids are something special. They seemingly spawn from nowhere as the moon and sun literally align to haul oceans over otherwise unavailing rocks, and where once sat quiet and calm water emerges a beast foaming at the mouth.
That metaphor may be a slight hyperbole, but fortunately like their werewolf brethren, tidal rapids follow the lunar cycle making them pleasantly predictable (unlike the rest of the UK’s rain fed rivers). Unfortunately today’s ‘pleasant prediction’ was that the bitches would be running around 6am-ish. Thus we found ourselves taking our first paddle strokes somewhat unsure as to whether we were the early birds or the worms.
From the get on its roughly a 3km paddle up the coast and across the Channel to the Bitches. This is best done while the water is still fairly slack and it can still be a bit of a slog, particularly in short boats. The paddle adds a small level of jeopardy as it’s impossible to know the form of the feature until you get there. This elevates the Bitches a mere park and play into a propper adventure.
We passed snoozing seals and hugged the coast, eddy hopping up the sea as the tide started to move like a great lumbering freight train beginning to depart the station. Across the channel we could begin to see the white caps around the black needle like rocks that form the Bitches, and so we left the comfort of the mainland and departed into the nearly 1 kilometer ferry.
And it really is a ferry glide. As soon as you pull out into the channel it becomes apparent how fast the water is already moving. It is here that you may start to understand just how exposed you are, floating in a tiny boat in an ambivalent ocean. But stomach that feeling for now, keep paddling and eventually you’ll find yourself in the large swirling eddies below the rapids. It will all be worth it.
I don’t really know what to say about the surfing. You know, it’s kind of the main event, the reason you’d go. If a bunch of white water paddlers are willing to subject themselves to well in excess of 10 paddle strokes to get anywhere it’s got to be pretty bloody good. And do you know what? The Bitches is really bloody good.
I think Jack’s photos speak louder than any words I could muster. We had hours of gorgeous soul surfing on beautiful glassy waves.
It really is the land of the long boats and I had a great time ripping around in my RPM, hoping over the central shoulder, to crash down in the curler on the far side. Some slightly more competent freestyle paddlers (looking at you Harry & Jack) were even able to pull off some blunts in their long-boats and the slalom boats could tear up even harder than my old plastic with their added speed. But, above all else I was probably most jealous of the surf kayaks.
Curious and reclusive beasts not often spotted in the UK, this was truly their natural habitat. Their flat bottoms, and knife sharp edges seemed to offer an unparalleled amount of fun on the fast green wave, even if it does take an unparalleled amount of concentration to avoid being power flipped into oblivion.
But fear not there are spots for short stumpy boats too, and portaging over one of the rocky outcrops means you’ll always be able to make the wave even if your boat or your biceps are not fast enough to ferry onto the main wave. There are also other features and waves to be found along ridges of rocks. These include, but are not limited to a curling wave that had a tendency to randomly swallow people and one that Harry Price described as ‘interesting’. So, make your own decisions on that one.
The main wave was by far the friendliest although, off the back of it the sea could be a little ‘‘munchy’. I definitely scored one or two mystery moves, and another member of our group actually suffered a deck implosion, so maybe remember those air bags. This was probably the first time most of us had ever had to use an x-rescue in anger. But not me, I was too busy eating sandwiches on a rock.
I’m also reliably told that a little bit of swell makes everything a little spicier and complicates the eddy access, as everything surges up and down several feet. It also increases the likelihood and size of the ‘way-home-whirlpools’, but more on that later.
Once everyone is knackered and the fun is over and done with, your paddle is not over and done with. While the paddle out is a sedate slog, the paddle back is certainly spicier. The route back to St. David’s lifeboat Station looks simple, but by now the tide is pumping even faster than before and will do everything in its power to flush you out into the Irish Sea or drag you towards some inconspicuous looking white caps.
It was just as we were considering these two fates that a certain Mr Teapot mentioned the way home ‘way-home-whirlpools’. “Way-home-whirlpools?”, I answered. “I hate whirlpools” replied jack”. And just like that all three of us were headed round in a big circle as a ‘way-home-whirlpool’ opened beneath us, threatening to suck us all in. These delightful features can form as you pull out of the relative calm behind the bitches into the main current and are certainly something to keep an eye out for. I have long been a believer that swans make the best sprint coaches, but they come second only to large whirlpool spouts that are already grasping at your tail.
Having survived our little ordeal, our attention was drawn back to the whitecaps. In actual fact these are far from inconspicuous and once in the current they barrel up faster than anticipated. As you rapidly draw closer you might make out a suspicious horizon line in the middle of the sea. This is Horse Rock, a series of underwater stacks in the middle of the current that form far less friendly whirlpools big enough to sink actual boats, let alone kayaks. Going through this is not recommended.
Thus there are 2 options. Option 1, a mad ferry above horse rock where you’ll be convinced you’re about to be flushed into it regardless. Or option 2, a mad ferry below the whirlpools where you’ll be convinced you’re about to be flushed out to sea. Personally, having now flirted with both options, I’m an option 2 man. I think the lifeboat will do a much better job of rescuing me if I’ve not been pre-drowned by Horse Rock. Plus, I’ve been meaning to visit Ireland some time regardless.
With only a few brief moments of panic we made it back to the lifeboat station, and clambered back up the steep steps. With the early start we were off the water by 8:30am. Just in time to grab Breakfast in St. Davids and spend the day doing whatever it is normal people do at the beach. Later we bag the evening tide and then a slightly more sociable 7am session the following morning.
With all the hazards and a veritable sea of consequence the Bitches is a highly recommended trip, but only for seasoned paddlers. There are local boat tours of the rapids and wildlife if you want to see the spectacle. If you pick a good tide, you may even see some paddlers out for a play. Or perhaps myself as I will definitely be back.
Thanks to everyone who made this trip.
Side Note: If traveling down from the north be sure to swing by Gloucester Services for what can only be described as an enlightening experience.
River Stench 