What Happened to the Royal Sovereign Lighthouse?

Iconic chalk cliffs

The Seven Sisters Country Park, in the south of England, features precipitous chalk cliffs, where the sea has cut into the undulating dry valleys and ridges of the south downs. To the east of the seven sisters, the cliffs peak at Beachy Head. At 530 feet high, this is the tallest chalk cliff in England. Diminutive by comparison, a red and white painted lighthouse stands below on a wave-cut ledge.

 

Beachy Head with lighthouse

Beachy Head Lighthouse, and Belle Tout

This elegantly tapered granite tower was the last traditional offshore lighthouse to be built by Trinity House in this tower style. Starting operation in 1902, it replaced the earlier, 1834, clifftop Belle Tout lighthouse. Belle Tout was frequently obscured by sea mist, and, inconveniently, was out of sight of ships passing close to the rocks below. The newer lighthouse was better placed.

Belle Tout, however, is still there, currently operated as bed-and-breakfast accommodation. In 1999, when threatened by cliff erosion, the 850-ton structure was moved inland 56 feet.  The cliff erodes with a big collapse periodically, at an average of about two feet per year. Sooner or later the lighthouse will need to move again, or it will end up at the bottom of the cliff.

Kayaking beneath the cliffs

When I lived in southeast England, I rated Beachy Head and the Seven Sisters as one of the most scenically attractive sections of the coast within easy reach by kayak. Launching onto the River Cuckmere at Exceat Bridge, to the west, a round trip to Eastbourne beneath these amazing chalk cliffs measured about fifteen miles.

In those days, three keepers manned the lighthouse which was powered by paraffin (Kerosene), until a supply of electricity reached the lighthouse in 1975. I moved away from southeast England before 1983, when the lighthouse became fully automatic, and the keepers were no longer needed.

 

Beachy Head lighthouse

Birling Gap

At Birling Gap, between the Seven Sisters cliffs and Beachy Head, a hamlet with road access perches in a dry valley at the cliff-edge. Many of the original buildings have already been taken by cliff falls.

There was usually a temporary flight of steps of some kind from the cliff top to access the beach. Since the sea frequently damaged or washed away the steps, access was never guaranteed. The carry down, and back up was often awkward to negotiate with kayaks, especially when replacement steps took tight turns. We used this launch place to catch the tide east past the Beachy Head lighthouse, with its ledges and overfalls, toward the Royal Sovereign shoals offshore Eastbourne.

 The Royal Sovereign Shoals.

The Royal Sovereign shoals are littered with wrecks. From 1875 onward, a lightship was moored there to alert ships of the dangers. The most recent lightship to serve there resembled the Varne lightship, shown. The Varne marked a point roughly midway between England and France, a comforting confirmation of our progress when I first crossed the English Channel with friends in 1974.

Varne lightship, Mid-English Channel

The Royal Sovereign lightship was replaced by a lighthouse in 1970.  As a teenager at that time, I was fascinated by the plans for how that lighthouse would be constructed, and how it would be positioned on these always underwater shoals.  It would look quite different from a traditional tower lighthouse. 

1967 Admiralty chart shows Beachy Head and Royal Sovereign shoals

The Royal Sovereign Lighthouse.

The structure was built in two parts, on the beach at Newhaven. The hollow base, with the column attached, was towed out to the shoal. The base, once flooded, sank onto a leveled area of shoal.

The second part of the lighthouse, a rectangular cabin section with a helicopter landing pad, and light tower, was towed out later. At high tide, this structure was held above the base until the falling tide dropped it into position on the column. Finally, the telescoping inner section of the column was jacked up by 43 feet and cemented into its elevated position.

The lightship was towed away when the lighthouse began service in September 1971. The lighthouse, provisioned by helicopter, was manned by three keepers. The whole construction procedure was filmed and can be seen on YouTube (22 minutes)

Royal Sovereign Lighthouse

A closer look

This unusual lighthouse stood tantalizingly within reach by kayak, just 6 miles offshore from Eastbourne. In March 1976, I left from Eastbourne to see it up close, timing my crossing to arrive at slack tide. Eastbourne offered an easier solo beach launch than Birling Gap with its steps. 

The tides may have run as forecast that day, but the weather certainly did not. The wind picked up from the southwest, kicking up a sea. My spray deck leaked, and with so much water washing over, my cockpit began to fill. I carried a sponge, but when I unsealed my spray deck, waves flooded the cockpit faster than I could bail. I gave up and pushed on. 

My kayak had a bulkhead immediately behind the seat, and another beyond my feet, so although water could not flood the whole kayak, it drained forward. The deeper the water grew in the cockpit, the more it weighed down the bow, and the more forcefully the kayak weather cocked away from where I wanted to go. It was a tough paddle back. 

A lesson learned

That experience got me thinking not only about a better spray deck, but also about bilge pumps. Preparing to circumnavigate Iceland by Kayak the next year, 1977, I deck-mounted a Henderson Chimp pump on my new kayak. 

Deck-mounted bilge pump with red and black handle

This kind of pump made it possible to empty a cockpit without removing the spray deck. Easy enough to operate when rafted to another kayak, it was challenging to use when balancing in rough seas, solo. I next experimented with foot-operated pumps which let me continue paddling while pumping. 

Kayaks approach lighthouse

Visiting the keepers on the platform 

Next month, I paddled out to the Royal Sovereign lighthouse with friends. With visibility limited to four miles, I called the coastguards beforehand to inform them of our plan. Bearing gifts of newspapers and fresh milk, we paddled into the fog on a compass bearing. At the lighthouse, we climbed out onto the ladder on the column, tied our kayaks, and scaled the ladder to knock on the door. One of the keepers welcomed us and treated us to a tour of the lighthouse followed by coffee.  

By the time we clambered back down the ladder, the tide had turned, carrying our kayaks out of sight behind the pillar. Anxiously, we hauled on the lines, relieved to find the kayaks still firmly tethered. 

When crossing from Eastbourne, the tide offered little assistance. But on the 18-mile round-trip from Birling Gap it gave us a helpful boost, especially past Beachy Head. The extra miles compared to a round trip from Eastbourne were more than compensated for by the assistance of a spring tide. We timed our launch from Birling Gap, on the flood tide, to round the lighthouse at high water slack and return with the ebb. Birling Gap became my favorite launching place.

Where is the lighthouse now? 

The Royal Sovereign lighthouse was a great target for a fun day trip by kayak, but times change. The light was automated in 1994, and from 2006 onward everything was controlled from shore. Full-time keepers were no longer needed, and the lighthouse remained unoccupied except, occasionally, for maintenance. 

The concrete Royal Sovereign lighthouse, state-of-the-art when built, deteriorated more rapidly than the granite Beachy Head light tower. It was only designed to last for 60 years. Royal Sovereign was taken out of service on March 21, 2022, and scheduled for removal. 

Removal is expected to take three summers, while buoys, north, south, east, and west cardinals mark the shoals. Will there be another lighthouse there? Unlikely. Since ships carry far better navigation systems than in the past, a lighthouse here is considered redundant. 

The first stage of deconstruction began in October 2023, with the removal of the rectangular top section. For now, only the column, on its base, remains. Has anyone been tempted to paddle out to see it before the column is removed? 

If you are interested in learning more about the lighthouse, Bexhill Maritime offers a wonderful description.

 

Sculling

 

What is Sculling?

I don't mean saying cheers in Swedish: skål, or  Icelandic: skál. Sculling  is a term used to describe two ways of propelling a boat using oars. One of those can also be used to propel a boat using a paddle. As a kayaker and canoeist, I'll focus on efficient paddle technique, but here is some context first.

Sculling or rowing?

Technically, there is a difference between sculling and rowing, particularly in competition, although the two terms are often used indiscriminately. Rowing (or sweep rowing) requires at least two oars, one oar for each rower. In other words, at least two people are needed to row, one oar each side. Only one person is needed to scull, using a pair of oars, one in each hand. But there is another way to scull. A single person can propel a boat using a to-and-fro movement with one oar, usually over the stern, although sometimes at the bow or over the side. 

Grab and pull method. (Or grab and push).

The sculler, facing the stern of the craft, grabs the water with both blades and pulls against them to propel the boat forward. The familiar sight of racing sculls with the scullers sitting low to the water, facing the stern using two oars, is a classic example, but many people scull small boats using two oars while facing forward. In this case the sculler grabs the water with both blades and pushes the craft forward. 

The three scullers facing the stern of the green boat work two oars each. The helmsperson (coxswain) in the back faces forward. Venice Italy.

Side-to side method, single oar.

The sculler swings a single oar thwartwise (from side to side) with the blade aligned to push the boat forward with every sideways swing.

Sculling a sampan with a single oar over the stern, using a side-to-side movement. Suzhou China.

A combination of the two techniques

Gondoliers use a modified version of sculling, using a single oar while standing in the stern facing the bow. They use the scull with a rowlock (the forcola) to one side of the stern, using a combination of the “grab the water and pull” action, and the “to-and-fro” movement. They never switch sides and mostly keep the blade in the water during recovery between strokes. The gondola is asymmetrical to make steering easier since the gondolier uses the oar to both propel and steer, always on the same side. The elevated position of the gondolier allows the oar blade to stay closer to the hull, making the gondola easier to navigate through the narrow Venetian canals. A sculler in a racing scull sits low, the oars reaching wide.

 

A gondolier sculls using a single oar to one side of the hull near the stern. Venice Italy.

Over-stern sculling

 All over the world, especially in Asia, a similar sculling movement is used over the stern of the boat. The back of a single oar or paddle, whichever is used, is engaged in a pushing mode. The leading edge of the oar is slightly closer to the stern than the trailing edge.

Sculling a Sampan with single oar blade in pushing mode at stern, Suzhou China (Above and in Video below)

Over the bow sculling

Coracles are circular, bowl shaped, so the bow in this case is more of a concept rather than a design feature. The paddler kneels or sits, sculling the craft with the face of the blade engaged, in pulling mode at the front. The coracle is used for fishing with a net, when the short paddle used single-handedly frees the other hand to work the net.  Coracle - Wikipedia. 

The sculling draw, to move sideways.

Canoeists and kayakers use sculling to pull their craft sideways with the face of the blade engaged. (We also use a similar blade action but starting with the blade flat on the water and moving the blade across the surface in the manner of a knife spreading butter, to aid or to recover balance. I’ll go into how to use that, another time.)

The blade action is a to-and-fro movement, with a slight adjustment of blade angle with each swing. The blade movement is most easily understood if we first imagine a pendulum action with the blade in neutral. That is, sliced edge-first with no pressure on either the face or the back of the blade.

If we angle the leading edge of the blade slightly away during each swing of the pendulum, the blade will try to climb sideways away from us. This is the pulling mode. This is the style used to pull a canoe or kayak sideways, or a coracle forward.

Pulling mode, here dragging the dock toward the right. For clarity, blade is shown partly immersed but it should be fully immersed when in action

If we angle the leading edge of the blade slightly closer to us than the trailing edge, the blade will try to climb sideways closer to us. This is the pushing mode, used for over-stern propulsion, and also to push a kayak or canoe sideways.

Pushing mode, here pushing the dock toward the left. For clarity, blade is shown partially immersed. It should be fully immersed in action.

Refining the paddle stroke.

Keep blade upright to go sideways, or flat to aid support.

The stroke is most effective at pulling the craft sideways when the blade is held upright: perpendicular to the water, with the blade fully immersed.  The closer the blade angle approaches horizontal, the less effective it gets at pulling sideways; it climbs to the surface rather than sideways from the craft. When it climbs to the surface it may be used to aid balance or recover it. A 45-degree angle to the water surface will offer a lot less sideways pulling effect compared to a 90-degree angle.

Here, the blade is used one-handed in pulling mode, the shallow water necessitating a low blade angle to the water of about 45°. While less effective at this angle, you'll notice it did offer some balance support. Lake Toba Indonesia

Positioning the top hand directly above the bottom hand throughout the stroke will prioritize the sideways pull, while lowing the top hand to the level of the deck will make the blade more useful in maintaining balance.

To maximize sideways movement, rotate your torso to face your direction of travel, hold your top arm straight, horizontal at shoulder level, over the water perpendicular to the side of the kayak. Control the blade angle with your lower hand. Pause momentarily at the end of each swing while you change the blade angle.

 Try using the paddle in the manner of a pendulum, with the top hand in a fixed position and compare the effectiveness to when you move both arms together, keeping the top hand vertically above the bottom hand. Does torso rotation help your draw stroke?

Figure of eight.

Watch your blade carefully throughout the stroke. During the pause at the end of each swing, when you change the blade angle ready for the return swing, your kayak or canoe will slide closer to the blade. To allow for this, the blade must creep a little farther from the hull during the following swing. This makes the motion of the paddle naturally describe a figure of 8, (8 on its side against the hull as shown) even when you try to simply pendulum the blade in straight lines. 

There is no need to deliberately focus on describing a figure of 8 with the blade, as this will occur naturally. Any deliberate pull toward the hull at the end of each swing will tend to make the kayak yaw while moving sideways.

Steering while moving sideways

You can steer by sculling with a lesser blade angle in one direction than in the other. You can also turn by sculling only at one end of the craft, leaving the other end almost stationary. Play with it!

Find more tricks and tips in my book, The Art of Kayaking.

Learn more about the author at nigelkayaks.com

Listen to your paddle. Kayaking and canoeing tips.

Learning to feel. Blind people learn to read Braille with their fingertips, rapidly scanning patterns of bumps, gathering meaning as I do when I sight-read a book. On the street, a blind person surveys their surroundings with a cane.

So, how much information about the water does a kayaker or canoeist gather in this way from their paddle? As a beginner, only a little, but more with practice.

Imagine standing with your paddle on the end of a dock with your eyes shut. You reach down to dip your paddle into a current flowing past the end of a dock. You should be able to feel the direction of the current, and whether the current is fast or slow, and if the water is turbulent. Would you be able to feel if there are waves? If so, could you gauge their size, and direction? Imagine holding your paddle lightly in your fingers, and then with a fist grip. Which offers the more sensitivity? 

A light grip offers most sensitivity.

A light grip is key to fine blade control. It allows us to tweak the blade alignment to get the maximum grip against the current. Holding gently, we feel whenever the blade starts to pendulum, or trembles dragging against the current. We can twist the blade, edge-on to the current to find its angle of least resistance and steer it through tumbling currents while maintaining least resistance. It is easier to be accurate when we have a loose rather than tight grip. 

Keep a loose hand grip.

 

Just as we rarely look at our feet when walking, we do not watch our paddle constantly when we kayak; we mostly look ahead. We feel the water through the paddle. Sure, our sight and hearing reinforce or confirm what we feel, but we cope surprisingly well in the dark, or when our hearing is impaired by hat or helmet, or when we paddle with our eyes shut.

So, how different will the water feel when we transfer from dock to kayak? While the dock stays fixed, our kayak moves. We place the blade to pull ourselves forward, to push back, or to turn. When we do this, do we feel the water as if it were something solid to lever against, or something that gives, letting our blade drag as it did when we stood on the dock? Or do we feel a bit of both? What happens when we pull our paddle hard against the water, compared to when we pull gently?

 

Feel how the blade interacts with the water.

Confronting such questions will help us understand what is going on and help us maximize the effect of our paddle. Pull or push the paddle hard and the water moves. Better use that energy to move the kayak, not the water. To be efficient, we should minimize how much water we move, while maximizing how much we move the kayak. We find that balance by feel.

Only then can we can choose whether to use our energy to move water or not. Beyond a certain point, more exertion churns the water, making noise but adding little to our speed. When we ease off until our paddle strokes become quiet, we move very little water, sacrifice only a little speed, and save a lot of energy. 

 

Feel how the blade reacts in the water, and how the kayak responds, then tweak the angle accordingly.

Blade alignment

Whitewater slalom competitors work to maintain optimum blade alignment through complex turns in turbulent water. Imagine underwater you are trying to catch the current in your hand. You can move your hand to find the angle at which the pull of current is strongest. Whitewater paddlers feel and take advantage of the changing direction and strength of currents, feeling the water through the palms of their paddle blades. To cross an eddy line, they must get their angle of approach right, make precision blade placements, and nail their timing. They constantly adjust blade angles to best catch the currents, which swirl and surge. With experience, they anticipate those currents, but they fine-tune by touch.

Look where you are going and feel the water with your blade.

 

With practice, many of the details they feel, and act upon, become so familiar they blend to become automatic. The changes in water pressure on the blade trigger unconscious responses.

 

You rarely need a fist-tight grip.

Watch an expert play on a rapid and everything looks effortless, as if the current slows down for them. Most of their sensing and responding is done unconsciously. They work with the water. In contrast, a beginner in the same space often fights the water. Overwhelmed by the burden of consciously gathering and processing all the details, paddling become crisis management. So, how do we best progress from fighting the water to working with it?

 Here are some tips:

1.      Much of paddle control is done by feel. Learn what to feel for. A good instructor should be able to guide you.

2.   Listen to your paddle. It makes more noise when you move water.

2.      Focus on feeling the water through your paddle with every stroke. A light grip with fingertip control will enable the most feedback.

3.      Note what you feel, then try to put it into words. For example, you might observe: “the paddle starts to shake toward the end of my paddle stroke”. Or: “I splash water at the start of each stroke.” Awareness is crucial. 

4.      Question each effect you notice and decide if it is desirable. Will your stroke be more effective if you try to make this happen more, or less? How would you achieve either outcome?

5.      Aim to move the kayak rather than the water.

When you apply your skills to the waters you wish to paddle, whether calm or rowdy, always question what is going on. Once you can interpret, evaluate, and respond to all the signals that come from the water through the paddle, the paddle will become an extension of your body. Use your paddle to seek maximum effect for minimum effort, and work in harmony with the water.

You can learn a lot even without your kayak.

Learn more from my book The Art of Kayaking, Find me at nigelkayaks.com.