Words & photos:
David Priddis
Nordkapps around Nordkapp – A 50th anniversary sea kayaking trip
2025 is the 50th anniversary year of the original Nordkapp sea kayaking expedition. A few years back, I realised this was coming up and started working on the idea of paddling Valley Nordkapp kayaks around the Nordkapp peninsula, as a fun way to celebrate the original expedition. This sparked both the development of the Valley Nordkapp Sea Kayak and showed the world that sea kayak expeditions could tackle challenging routes, and, in a way, set the stage for modern sea kayaking as we know it today.
So the brainstorming began. Unfortunately, a retrace of the original route was straight out of the window, both in time and cost. As if I was going to find anyone to join me on this adventure, then it had to be achievable within two weeks of the work holiday. So the research into a suitable route evolved from there. Settling on a route starting in Alta and ending in Lakselv via the famous Nordkapp headland. Both the distance and route had a few advantages.
It was roughly 12 days of paddling if we could average 18-25 miles a day. Leaving two days for rest or bad weather days. Plus, there was a regional airport at either end. Allowing the other paddlers to fly in and out and maximising available paddle time within our 14-day window. So early on, I was committed to driving the kayaks and kit from Jersey to Nordkapp and back – a 7,650km round trip involving 10 days of driving and two ferries. Now, with a rough plan in place, I started approaching other paddlers I knew who paddled Nordkapp kayaks. Interest in the idea was high, but the number of people who could commit to such a plan was small. This, along with a couple of hiccups along the way, meant that only three of us reached the start line of the route.
Logistics
Fast forward twoish years, with endless hours spent poring over satellite imagery to find a range of suitable campsites along the route. Plus lots of e-mails and research to form a workable plan for logistics, flights, accommodation, food availability, water sources, tides, currents, etc., and all the million-and-one details that go into a plan like this. Finally, we stood on a beach just outside of Alta, with loaded kayaks and a big smile on our faces.
The three intrepid paddlers who stood there that day were John Richardson, a lifelong Nordkapp paddler and veteran of other long-distance kayak adventures. I have managed to talk John into doing the Devizes to Westminster race (K2, non-stop) and the Yukon River Quest race (K2). Benjamin Keir, fateful Nordkapp owner (I sold him my Nordkapp when I left Australia) and veteran of another 10-day sea kayak trip we had shared from Yeppoon, Northern Queensland, Australia. Then there was I. The crazy paddling friend who comes up with these ideas and now makes a living out of taking people on everything from a fun introductory kayak tour in the home waters of Jersey, through to multiple-day sea kayaking trips like this one in cool paddling locations around the world. AKA Kayak Nomad.
A variety of Nordkapp models
As we slid the Nordkapp kayaks into the water and then clambered into the cockpits, they sat low in the water. With much of the kit and food we would need for the days ahead. At this point, it’s worth noting that we had a variety of Nordkapp models from different eras of this kayak’s long and esteemed history. I was paddling a 1979ish Nordkapp HM with Ocean cockpit and small 18cm round hatches. But with the addition of a modern-day hatch retrofitted at some point in its past. This gave me an extra challenge with both the handling of the kayak and packing it with all the kit and food I needed, which I will elaborate on later. John was paddling a Nordkapp Jubilee (25 years) in the evolution of the design, with all the main modern features: keyhole cockpit, oval hatches, adjustable skeg, and increased volume compared to the HM.
Taking advantage of this, John managed to cram all his main camping meals for the entire trip, along with a couple of spares, into the kayak. I, on the other hand, only had space for five days’ worth of food and had to make use of the supermarkets en route. Ben was paddling a Nordkapp RM (plastic rotomolded), which is more robust than the composite versions and proved helpful given the number of rocky landings we encountered. So we had a good representation of Nordkapp models across its production timeline. It would have been nice to have a Nordkapp 50 with us, but time and money didn’t allow.
Perfect weather
In the first few days, we couldn’t have asked for better weather or water conditions. The air temperature was still warm (18 °C) for the time of year, with plenty of sunny and calm days and mild nights. The perfect way to ease into any big trip. Allowing us time to get into our paddling, navigation and camping routines.
Especially as the first day was a long 23.5-mile (38.7km) paddle over six hours. Because of limited campsite options and suitable landing sites on the route. But we were rewarded with amazing sunset colours as we landed and settled in for the night.
Over the next few days (4-7), the weather was more variable, from flat calm to strong winds, thankfully mostly with us. Then there was the extreme wind and waves we experienced on the afternoon of day five, which was two hours of survival paddling!
So, how did day five unfold?
The planned route was only 13.5 miles and would finish at a hotel in Havøysund for the night. So achievable if the sea conditions got challenging. The day started with a breezy (F4 gusting 5) morning, following windy nights camping. We had camped on the side of a channel with big cliffs behind and a low island opposite. This was funnelling the wind in the direction we needed to head, so it was a leisurely paddle down to where we would meet our first open water crossing of the day (3.75 miles or 6km).
At the end of the channel, we could see a stream of current leaving the wider bay to our
east, spanning about 100m. After which sea conditions looked reasonable all the way to the island of Store Latoy. Which was both a handy halfway point and offered a plan B campsite/beach option. So we decided to head on and forged across the tidal stream, then set a course for the southern tip of the island.
The wind continued to blow F4, gusting to 5, and as we left the protection of the mainland’s cliffs, it whipped the sea into a splashy quarter sea. We dug in and, with a bit of hard work, arrived at our rest point at the south end of Store Latoy Island. While munching on our snacks, we discussed and assessed the 2nd open water crossing ahead (4 miles or 6.43km). Sea conditions looked better than what we had just paddled through. But there were strong winds of F8 gusting 9 in the forecast.
However, the wind and weather forecasts had not proved very reliable over the preceding few days, which added to our scepticism that these F8-9 winds would even appear. Added to this mix of unknowns was the lack of information about the area’s tidal currents. Other than a vague warning that there could be big waves sometimes. Based on our first-hand observations and knowing it was a relatively short distance of open water, we figured we could get across before anything really bad could show up. So we set off on a direct course for the towering cliff in the distance. Twenty minutes into the crossing, the wind started to build, and feeling committed to our course, we pushed on.
Winds of F8 gusting 9
Twenty minutes later, it was a totally different story. We now had winds of F8 gusting 9, pushing a quarter sea from our rear right. Combined with an accelerating tidal flow against us and the wind. Jacking up into 2m crashing waves. We had three main problems. We couldn’t turn back and paddle against an F8-9 wind. We were finding it extremely difficult to hold the course we wanted in the 2m waves and quarter sea. Which was causing the kayaks to weather cock badly, my HM especially. Forcing me to take a zig-zag course across the conditions and separating me from the others.
The only practical course of action was to push on and try to reach the shelter of the 300m cliff as soon as we could. Whilst trying not to have your paddles ripped from your hands by the gusting winds or get rolled over by the occasional breaking wave slamming you into your side. Forcing our way forward, we all made it to the corner of the cliff, but it didn’t provide the relief from the wind we were hoping for. Instead, it spun the wind into mini tornadoes, which both pressure-washed you with sea spray and still threatened to grip the paddles from your hands.
Paddling as hard as we could in the less windy periods, we now at least didn’t have to contend with the crashing waves, which had now formed a more orderly green swell/wave and were headed into the channel towards Havøysund. The deeper we got into the channel, the calmer the conditions became, and by the time we were on the edge of the town, the channel was flat calm, and it was hard to comprehend the sea conditions we had just paddled through. On finding the marina, we needed to access our hotel. Ben headed rapidly for the shower to warm up after the pressure washing, and John and I proceeded to hump kayaks and kit up to the grass at the back of the hotel. We all then proceeded to decorate our rooms with the washed and drying kit, before a wander round town, food shopping, and some kayak repairs. We all slept well that night.
Fully restored, with a midday departure due to the current in the Havøysund channel. We set off in far calmer forecast sea conditions for day six, which, again, involved two open-water crossings to the island of Måsøya and the plan B option to camp at its northern tip. We were all happy for a more cruisey day of paddling, arriving at the cliffs of Magerøya in late afternoon, and the only real challenge was finding our campsite beach amongst a sea of islands. Once settled in with tents pitched. We were treated to a beautiful sunset in the direction we had just paddled from.
The northernmost point in Europe
Day seven was the day that, if all went to plan, we would be rounding Norkapp. It started with a helpful F3 behind us on our open water crossing to the most northern cliffs in all of Europe. First arriving at the beautiful sandy beach of Tunes, for a rest and a view of the actual northernmost point in Europe, the Knivskjelodden peninsula, with Nordkapp still further on. All looked well, so after a quick lunch we pushed on to round Knivskjelodden, and so came into view the grand cliffs of Nordkapp. Towering some 300m from sea level, they couldn’t help but make you feel small as we approached them. Accentuated by the tiny figures of people standing by the railings at the top.
Paddling underneath and rounding the tip of Nordkapp was both a dream come true and a sense of relief that the paddling plan (generally) had been working thus far, with so many factors at play and the reminder, only days before, that the weather was firmly in charge in this part of the world. I couldn’t help but think that even with the mountain of preparation undertaken, we were still lucky to be able to paddle by one of the most famous locations of the sea kayaking world.
Once around the east side of Nordkapp, we headed for the small jetty and landing point set back from the main point, in a bay of its own. As we neared, the wind got stronger. Rolling down the cliffs and coming from unexpected directions. We didn’t hang about and crossed the bay towards our fjord and campsite for the night. The winds made us work hard for every metre of water covered.
Swinging around from head-on, to a crosswind, to behind and eventually culminating in a wind tunnel effect on our landing beach, forcing us to change out of our wet kit quickly, not to get chilled down. We then scouted around for the most sheltered spot in the dunes to pitch our tents. This meant quite a trek from the kayaks to our campsite amongst the dunes, with multiple trips back and forth with the kit.
The next day didn’t start a lot easier with a tricky launch through a metre-high wave, landing on a disappearing beach amongst big boulders. As we exited the fjord, we got our last view of Nordkapp, bathed in sunshine as we rounded the cliffs to its east. This was followed by a long and slow (tide against us) open water cross to the tiny harbour of Helnes fyr, where we had a late lunch in the sun, before pushing on along the shadow cast cliffs on route to Honningsvåg. Chilled down and losing the setting sun over the hills, we were keen to cross the harbour and reach our hotel for the night.
The pontoon I had spotted on Google Earth was 1.2m above the water. Complex teamwork ensued to support each person standing up in their cockpit and to lintel press onto the pontoon, followed by lifting loaded sea kayaks from the water. Now, in the chill of early evening, we pulled our dry clothes from the kayaks and took shelter in a tourist hut.
As the local security guard looked on, confused as to where three sea kayakers had just appeared from, and a kit explosion around them. We then had to empty the kayaks of kit, haul it across the quay, over a road and upstairs to the hotel entrance. After which, we stashed the kayaks behind a tourist gift shop on the quay side. All this after 21.6 miles of demanding paddling and nearly seven hours on the water.
Rest day
The next day was a rest day, and we tried to eat our body weight with two breakfasts and multiple cups of tea and coffee. I got to catch up with some friends I had not seen for ten years who were travelling through, and most of the rest of the day was taken up with visiting Nordkapp. Including the visitor centre there, via a bus tour from Honningsvåg.
Weather conditions at Nordkapp were a whiteout with mist and rain. We couldn’t even see the famous metal globe from the rear doors of the visitor centre, only some 50m away. We ventured out briefly to get a group photo by the world, in the wind-driven rain. Once back in town, we went for a general exploration of Honningsvåg, including some food shopping for the last leg ahead.
Gearing up and packing the kayaks the following day involved the same rigmarole of shutting the kit down to the pontoon and putting loaded kayaks back on the water from 1.2m up. Then the gymnastics of getting in your cockpit without falling in. I think we were all glad to be paddling out across the channel between Magerøya and the mainland of Norway. Weather conditions were now definitely more typical for the time of year.
Mostly grey skies, occasional rain and a chill in the air. You knew winter was on its way in this part of the world. Over the next few days, we paddled south into Porsangerfjorden, and as we did so, the rolling swells of the sea disappeared, leaving flat water with wind chop at times. The further south we got, the greener the hills became. Until we started to see small trees first, then proper-sized trees towards the end.
We enjoyed several great wild camp locations on islands along our route. With campfires most evenings and waking up to vast views across the fjord. It’s also worth noting that over the course of the trip, we are treated to three impressive displays of the northern lights, with dancing green clouds hovering in the sky, sometimes edged in pinks and reds. Always a delight to see.
The last day
The weather came good on the last day of the trip, with the sun coming out in the afternoon, and we had to dodge rocks in shallow water as we got towards the end of the fjord and the town of Lakselv. The final few miles were in flat, smooth water with the sun setting over the mountains as we pulled up on our final beach of the trip.
Tired but satisfied, we had completed the trip we had set out to do, rounded Nordkapp and dealt with many challenges and scary sea conditions at times. We covered 231 miles/372km in 12 days of paddling and completed a paddling goal, which, as sea kayakers, we can be proud of.
