On 26 April 2026, I left Lowestoft Harbour in Goosejuice, my sea kayak, friends waved me off, a few paddled with me a short while. Four and a half months later, I returned having covered 3,856km around mainland Britain in 141 days. It was a solo expedition, but I soon discovered that I was very far from doing it alone.
Having recently retired, I wanted to mark a new chapter with a proper adventure. I wasn't chasing records. I wanted to explore Britain's extraordinary coastline, challenge myself physically and mentally, and meet people along the way. Importantly, I also wanted to raise awareness of men's health and marine pollution, supporting Movember and Surfers Against Sewage. By the end, I'd raised nearly £5,000 across the two charities.
Preparation involved considerably more than paddling fitness. Years of kayaking, sailing, biking, running and adventure travel provided a foundation, but Britain's coastline demands respect. I needed to be robust so I could turn up every day. Every day also meant studying forecasts, tidal streams and charts, planning passages around headlands, sandbanks and shipping lanes. I carried camping equipment, food, repair supplies and satellite communications. Planning was essential; knowing when to abandon or change a plan equally so.
Sea kayaking is, in my view, the hardest form of touring, demanding equipment that is reliable, robust and adaptable. I'd used Reed Chillcheater sea kayaking clothing for years, particularly valuing its durability in the unforgiving marine environment. My short-sleeved kayaking cag was excellent in warmer conditions, while the full touring cag provided essential protection against cold winds, driving rain and breaking seas. Being able to regulate my body temperature while staying protected was invaluable during long days afloat and the challenges of a long-distance sea kayaking expedition.
During an enforced break for repairs and bad weather in North Devon, I visited Reed Chillcheater's workshop in Braunton, Devon. Founder Chris Reed showed me around, personally measured me for a new touring cag and made a bespoke dry bag for my tent. His enthusiasm, ingenuity and understated generosity were infectious. The cag fitted perfectly! Samantha from Reed even offered me her home while she and her husband were away. Support doesn't get much more personal than that.
The coastline itself was breathtaking, particularly Western Scotland. Rounding the Mulls of Galloway and Kintyre, negotiating powerful tidal streams and transiting long stretches of remote cliffs brought some of the greatest anxieties and rewards. Towering cliffs, seabirds, seals and otters were regular companions. On one occasion I was astonished to encounter an extraordinarily rare white “Leucistic” otter with its cub!
There were glorious days of sunshine and effortless paddling, but also fierce headwinds, confused seas, torrential rain. Scotland was hard and while England and Wales baked in the intense heat waves, North West Scotland was battered by continuous storms. The notorious midges left my lips and eyelids swollen almost beyond recognition. The katabatic winds off the Clo Mor Cliffs, terrifying!
Not everything went to plan. At Bude, enormous surf prevented a safe landing and RNLI lifeguards brought me ashore by jet ski. They recovered Goosejuice from beyond the breakers but the rudder and carbon paddles got broken in the 8-10 foot surf in the process. After an hour waiting offshore, I was thoroughly chilled. The lifeguards lent me a Reed Chillcheater Beach Patrol jacket, which proved superb at restoring warmth. An unexpected opportunity to test another Reed product in precisely the conditions for which it was designed!
Recurring and increasingly frequent migraines sometimes proved harder to manage than the sea. Learning to rest, adapt and accept help became as important as physical endurance.
The environmental message grew stronger as I travelled. I witnessed troubling evidence of pollution and heard repeated concerns from coastal communities about sewage discharges and bathing-water quality. At Lyme Regis, I joined a Surfers Against Sewage paddle-out protest, surrounded by swimmers, surfers and paddlers demanding cleaner seas. It was a wonderful demonstration of community determination. Remarkably, I was welcomed into the home of the Bristow family, whose father, Giles, is SAS's Chief Executive. Later, from Scotland, I interviewed Giles about the challenges of improving Britain's water quality.
But perhaps my strongest memories are of people and their stories.
At Thorpe Bay Yacht Club, where I'd been generously accommodated, I learned that the club was still reeling from the suicide of a 17-year-old cadet just weeks earlier. Nobody had seen it coming. At Cadgwith, Brian, a retired farmer who welcomed me into his home, spoke about the pressures of farming and how he'd helped fellow farmers struggling and on the brink of suicide.
At Scourie, in northwest Scotland, I met Jason, a larger-than-life Geordie who revealed that he'd buried his 28-year-old daughter only a week earlier, following a ten-year battle with a brain tumour. Her dying wish had been that he fulfil his ambition to explore northern Scotland. There he was, touring the NC500 with his partner, grieving but determined while sleeping in a roof-tent on their small car. Incredibly, despite everything he'd endured, he insisted on making me breakfast. Twice!
Another camper at Withernsea shared his experiences of hitting rock-bottom following the death of one of his twin sons, before insisting on giving me £20 for breakfast. He now helped others through his own charity.
These encounters were profoundly humbling. They reinforced why I wanted to encourage men to talk openly, recognise when they're struggling and seek help early. The message applies equally to physical health, including recognising possible signs of prostate cancer and seeking medical advice rather than putting it off. Too often men struggle silently, sometimes with devastating consequences.
Throughout the journey, complete strangers offered meals, beds, showers, tools and help hauling my heavily laden kayak up beaches. Sailing, kayak and surf clubs opened their doors. Friends travelled considerable distances to support me. Above all, my wife Lisa and our family provided extraordinary practical and emotional support, visiting me on both Fathers Day in Wales and my birthday in Scotland! My friend Adam, was my “anchor” checking in daily and helping me with planning. He was often my “swear-post”!
On 13 September, family and friends joined me for the final paddle into Lowestoft, where a wonderful crowd had gathered. My brief summary was simply, "Turns out it's a long way!"
It certainly was. But ultimately, this expedition wasn't simply about distance or endurance. It was about discovering the extraordinary generosity of ordinary people, the beauty and vulnerability of our coastline, and the reassurance that growing older needn't mean growing less adventurous.
I set out alone, but I could never have completed it without others. Being independent but accepting help, aren’t opposites. Both are strengths. Together they helped an old bloke paddle a long way, slowly!
To find our more visit Ian's website: www.goosejuice.co.uk