Against All Odds: Round Britain RIB Expedition Adventure

Belting round the rock that is Great Britain in a British-made RIB is a fitting challenge for men of the world’s pre-eminent seafaring nation. (With respect to the Dutch, they have no rock.) Driven by an intent to skirt the stone ramparts of our island fortress, one Devon threesome started off one summer from the River Exe. Sometimes they would blast out 100 nautical miles on a day of flat seas and good conditions. At other times they would struggle to make 30. After a cheery send-off from the Exe safe water mark at the start of June, the RIB flew to Plymouth then on to Fowey, where the crew camped on the pontoon until 0500 before breakfasting in Mevagissey. There was some tough weather to begin with, going round to Coverack and Newlyn from Falmouth.

It was a ‘really tough fight,’ Tom tells me, ‘to get round Land’s End‘. Inshore, there were steep overfalls: too rough for photos. Helm concentration was paramount. The boat carried a lot of weight. Trim was kept neutral. The waves declined after Longships lighthouse. But there were still hard yards to St Ives. Camping was welcome but ‘during the night it rained.’ Tom also confided to his diary: ‘I was attacked by dogs and a mad man was using a chainsaw between 1am-3am. Can’t wait to get out of Cornwall and back into Devon.’ There are occasionally ruptures between the Devonians and Cornish which can make themselves known at inopportune moments. But the locals’ welcome in Newquay proved the West Country brotherhood is strong. A break in the rain enabled the RIB’s first offshore lunge, heading northwards across the Bristol Channel. On Lundy they were the only boat. Finding a camp wasn’t hard.

The coastal glory of Wales beckoned. Puffins were offshore, the boat again followed by dolphins… At Tenby, to replenish fuel, it was necessary to walk to the petrol station three times. (Tom sighs as he recalls the effort.) In many ways it was the expedition’s biggest challenge. Unpacking dry bags from the boat every day was burdensome. Drying out took an especially long time after the boat was nearly swamped at Menai. As Tom puts it, they were ‘late on the tide and there was a bad sea state’. Adam, on the aftermost seat, called out breaking waves so Tom could apply full throttle, to keep the engine going. This prevented any slewing off from heading transverse to the waveset. Here in North Wales, a battery issue isolated the bilge pump and waves filled the moored boat one night.

‘Luckily being a RIB, the boat hadn’t sunk,’ Tom told concerned supporters at the time. ‘Nothing had floated away and the outboard wasn’t submerged.’ He tells me it was one of the hardest days of the trip. Every cloud has a silver lining, though. A pub landlord in Amlwch let them sleep in their bar rather than out on the harbour.

A calm crossing past Isle of Man and round Galloway had wind as the most serious obstacle. On Day 23, the placid surfaces of the Crinan Canal were at hand. The only rushing waters would be those of lock gate sluices. The only whirlpools the relatively harmless eddies of the entryways and high-walled chambers. Tom notes that the battery issues were compounded at this point by turning the ignition on and off in the locks. Here the utility of camping was tempered by the challenges of the natural environment. The log reports: ‘Woken up at 4 a.m. by midges biting… Had not fully shut the tent door.’

Sighting Ben Nevis from Loch Linnhe felt like a milestone. The UK’s highest peak can boost morale even if you’re not on a climbing expedition. The Caledonian Canal was slow progress. There were longer stretches between stopping points.

At Inverness, the RIB tube was gashed on the port quarter. The boat was lifted out at Caley Marina. Sometimes a bugbear for the RIB driver, this metal, sometimes rusty, protruding from underside of a pontoon, fendered off from higher topsided vessels, often goes unseen and therefore neglected by shore and harbour staff. The patch in Caley was the first structural repair in Tom’s ownership. Here there was an oil change and service. ‘We were expecting a cost of £600 for this once-per-100 hours service,’ explains Tom. ‘It turned out to be £250, so, not bad!’ An engineer coming in on their day off is genuinely a mark of extraordinary service.

A roaring boost to crew confidence came when dolphins and seals greeted the boat in the Moray Firth. It was a huge welcome back: saltwater joy. A great turning point was the move south, the first time really since Starcross. It’s always a good feeling to have those miles munched up under the hull.

Yet there were more hard days. More hard weather. Residents of the West Country, ‘on safari’ in Scotland, as it were, often notice that Devon and Cornwall are nearly always in a different weather system to the one affecting things up north. Thus the rain at Peterhead was exaggeratedly miserable in comparison with the sunnier weather enjoyed by crew family and followers. Out of Peterhead, engine problems had them put into Aberdeen. A loaned multimeter ‘confirmed our suspicions of electrical issues’, the log reported. They returned to Peterhead. Electrical issues are not necessarily best diagnosed in rainy weather without recourse to shelter. Plan B was now to go to Devon, pick up the trailer and come up again to take the boat home by road. But Peterhead Bay Marina, Caley and Bridger Marine all ‘provided extremely helpful assistance and vital information,’ affirms the expedition log. The process of following down the line to isolate the specific problem is a tried and tested routine. Once parts are stripped could the process of deduction begin. Tom tells me it was eventually established that a new alternator was required. A new one was ordered for delivery to Peterhead and fitted there.

At Arbroath, they had a good look around the engine again. At this point, there was a sense of overwhelming forces being arrayed against one and the expectation of having to find an alternative route. But Anstruther, Fife, to Sunderland, was a good run. Puffins and porpoises, lighthouses, Berwick-upon-Tweed for fuel and lunch, Holy Island, Bamburgh Castle and the Farne Islands… Logging 1350NM put them over the halfway mark. From Whitby to Spurn Head there was no worrying about the engine. At Spurn Point there was leisure to mull over the awesome natural processes of longshore drift that created this impressive coastal landform.

A cruise in flat seas down past Skegness and across the Wash ended at Blakeney, Norfolk. Moving past the seal colony was a privileged sight. This delight was tempered by the experience of Great Yarmouth. The place is not alone in exhibiting signs of deprivation common to many coastal towns in otherwise prosperous counties in the south and east of England. There was one final big corner to turn round. But North Foreland and the Channel still seemed far away, even with five hourly daily boat rides. More than forty days into the expedition, the log notes this now-quotidian misery: ‘The same as riding a bucking bronco while having buckets of water thrown over you.’

A dash across the Thames ended in a truly grim hostel in Dover. This appeared to be a low point on that account. (It was only a brief glimpse, as alternative accommodation was quickly found in the form of a Travelodge.) The longest daily stretch then came, bombing around Dungeness, a pit-stop in Brighton, then burning plenty of fuel to Cowes, where they dried their kit out after a thunderstorm.

Enjoying a barbecue on the beach might have been the dream held before the expedition. At Mudeford they had their chance. Tom noted in the log: ‘This is what we had imagined the whole trip would have been like, but it’s taken over seven weeks to happen…’ After a Chesil beach camp on July 28th, the ultimate obstacle was the tidal race at Portland. Breakfast in West Bay was followed by a ‘blast home’, then the beer flowed as celebrations began in Starcross. A battle won. The men had proved their mettle.

Highlights

The scenery and sea life we saw was amazing, particularly on the West coast, but some of the best memories were due to the people we met. One of the best was arriving in Amlwch and trying to find a camp spot close to the harbour. There wasn’t anywhere obvious, so we went to the Adelphi Vaults… On finding out what we were up to, the Landlord, John, called a number of local RIB enthusiasts who turned up for an afternoon session! Then, on discovering we still had to go and set up camp, we got to sleep in the pub. An absolute win!

Worst experience

Two stand out. One, the short-lived instant dread as the boat effectively turned into a submarine when entering the Menai Strait with large waves created by wind against tide. Two, the intermittent engine fault resulting in an unplanned Aberdeen stop in the hammering rain. After a few hours moored under the loading ramp of a livestock ship, we decided to head back to Peterhead to the extremely helpful Harbour Masters. Throughout the trip, relying on a single outboard without any shore support did cause continued anxiety.

Most valued items

Winter clothing, a teapot, and a tiny tender. If I were to do it again, I’d take an inflatable paddle board instead.

Influence on future boating

The trip was planned following a lot of boat camping trips around the Southwest in small RIBs (~4.5m), including crossing to Alderney from Starcross. A bigger boat for comfort and space was always a dream, but the cost of fuel, repairs and storage led to the realisation small boats are affordable and very capable. That is what I’ll stick with in the future.

The team’s advice

Don’t rush, long legs aren’t so much fun, and you will miss loads of the coastline. Stand in close and you’ll see so much more.

Spend time exploring estuaries. With the right tides you will access remote sheltered areas and come across some real delights.

Your daily average mileage will probably be much less than anticipated. Be prepared in case bad weather pins you down for a few days. Rushing into the wrong conditions will fatigue you and your vessel.