I had never even stood on the Mizen but from what I read and heard it was a rugged outcrop battered by ferocious Atlantic swells and bent and twisted by tempestuous tidal currents. I had butterflies as I rounded the last cliff which had been blocking the Mizen from my view and as it came into view I was not disappointed, rugged does not begin to describe the incredible scene before me and this was a calm day. Sensing that this may be my only chance to get close, as I had near perfect conditions, I moved inshore between a rock awash with breaking waves curling in a white foaming cauldron and the headland itself, with only a small gap to slip through. Had I company on the water I may not have been nervous but on my own I was certainly pushing my limits but it was worth it, the rush of getting that close and for a brief moment knowing that I was further south than anybody on our fair Isle was a great thrill. As I paddled clear rather pleased with my achievement I began to adjust my heading north; a direction which will dominate my compass for the next 2 or maybe 3 weeks until of course I round Malin head.Decision made I bounced through the churning sound to be met with a freshening head wind and lumpy sea. From here the struggle began. The joys of the previous 2 days soon left me as I cursed and grunted my way into the wind struggling to hold the speed above 1knt. My left shoulder then gave rise to a sharp pain, each time I pulled the paddle through the water I grunted louder, it was then that my spirit began to strain.
The following struggle forced me yet again to question why I was doing this and for the first time I seriously considered if my body could hold up to this relentless pressure, or torture as it seemed, but not only that could my mind take it?
Decision made I bounced through the churning sound to be met with a freshening head wind and lumpy sea. From here the struggle began. The joys of the previous 2 days soon left me as I cursed and grunted my way into the wind struggling to hold the speed above 1knt. My left shoulder then gave rise to a sharp pain, each time I pulled the paddle through the water I grunted louder, it was then that my spirit began to strain.
The following struggle forced me yet again to question why I was doing this and for the first time I seriously considered if my body could hold up to this relentless pressure, or torture as it seemed, but not only that could my mind take it?
« The Merry Month of May at The Loft Yoga Studio Clonlara. Mike Jones Shares his journey as he circumnavigates Ireland on his Solo Kayaking Trip. »
