The Daoist Art of Sea Kayaking: Where Mountain Dragons Meet Sea Dragons

Or, how Dai just can’t shut up

First Published on Dragonfly.cymru 13 August 2025

A letter to Gethyn

Orite Boy?

You know, Geth, I was thinking about what you said last week about getting back on your feet after that heart scare. Remember how we used to chat about those old Chinese philosophers and their way of looking at things? Well, I've been paddling my kayak along the coast of Ynys Môn lately, and it got me thinking about something rather interesting.

For lads like us who've been through the mill with health troubles—whether it's a stroke, heart problems, cancer, or some major surgery—getting back to feeling whole again isn't just about doing your physio exercises. Sure, that's important, but there's something deeper going on. It's like we need to find our balance again, not just physically, but in our whole being, you know what I mean, butt?

Now, I've been reading about this Daoist approach to healing, and let me tell you, it makes perfect sense when you think about sea kayaking. Those ancient Chinese folk really understood something about working with nature instead of fighting against it. And here's the thing —they had all these stories about dragons living in the mountains and dragons ruling the seas, and where these two forces meet along the coastline, that's where the real magic happens. Rather like where Eryri meets the Menai Strait, wouldn't you say?

The Daoist Wisdom of Kayaking as Recovery

Picture this, Geth. You're sitting in your kayak off the beach at Llanddwyn, paddle in hand, with the mountains rising up behind you in the distance and Y Môr Cymru stretching toward Erin. Instead of trying to muscle your way through the water like some keen young thing, you're moving with the rhythm of the waves. The Daoists called this "wu wei"—doing without forcing, acting without strain. It's like when you're dancing with Angharad at your anniversary do. You're not wrestling with her, you're moving together, following the music.

That's exactly what kayaking does for someone recovering from a major health event. Unlike those brutal sessions at the gym in Bangor where you're grunting and your joints are screaming, kayaking along the coast from Beaumaris to Menai Bridge is gentle yet engaging. Each paddle stroke becomes like those slow, flowing movements you see in tai chi down at the community centre. Your breathing syncs with your paddling, and before you know it, your whole system is working in harmony again.

For stroke recovery specifically, the bilateral coordination required—left paddle, right paddle—helps rebuild those neural pathways that may have been damaged. Your physiotherapist would tell you the same: crossing the midline of your body, coordinating both sides, getting your core engaged without the jarring impact of running on tarmac. Out on Traeth Lafan, with the tide flowing beneath you, your brain is constantly making tiny adjustments, rebuilding connections while you're simply enjoying the view of the Carneddau.

The Chinese have always understood that water is special—they call it "shui." And there's something about that salt air off Morfa Bychan, the gentle rocking motion of the swells on Y Môr Cymru, that calms your whole nervous system. For lads who've had heart problems, that stress relief isn't just pleasant—it's essential medicine.

Where Mountain Dragons Meet Sea Dragons

Now here's where it gets really interesting, Geth. Those old Chinese stories about dragons—not the fire-breathing monsters, but the wise, powerful creatures that controlled nature's forces. They believed mountain dragons and sea dragons met along coastlines, creating sacred ground.

When you're paddling from Caernarfon toward Dinas Dinlle, say, you can feel this exactly. The mountain dragon—"Shān Lóng"—represents everything solid and dependable, like Yr Wyddfa itself, unmoved by centuries of weather. That's the inner strength you need when facing serious illness. The mountain doesn't panic or give up; it endures. But then there's the sea dragon—"Hai Lóng"—all about flow, change, adaptation. The tide at Y Foryd never stays the same; storms blow up and pass, water finds its way around every obstacle.

Recovery is exactly like this, isn't it? Some days you feel as tough as Tryfan, other days weak as a lamb. But like the sea around Puffin Island, you keep moving, adapting, finding your way forward.

Kayaking as a Mythic Journey Through Healing Waters

Every time you launch from the beach at Pwllheli or push off from the slipway at Aberdyfi, you're doing something deeper than exercise. You're tracing where Eryri sweeps down to Y Bae Ceredigion, riding currents between two of nature's most powerful forces.

Consider what's happening to your body out there between Ynys Enlli, say, and the mainland. Your core muscles work constantly for balance, but it's not jarring like lifting weights—it's conversation with the water. For heart patients, it's cardiovascular training that feels sustainable. Your heart rate increases gradually as you paddle toward Pwllheli, but you're not gasping like you would chuffing up Pen-yr- Ole-Wen with its endless false summits.

If you've had neurological issues, the coordination required is like physio that doesn't feel like work. Paddling from Abersoch around to Porth Neigwl, your eyes track your direction while your body maintains balance. Your brain rebuilds damaged pathways with every stroke adjustment for wind and wave.

But perhaps most importantly, there's what happens to your spirit surrounded by all that vastness between Môn and Eire. Your troubles don't disappear, but they find perspective. You're connected to forces that carved out this coastline over millions of years.

The Ritual of Recovery

When I'm getting ready to paddle from Trearddur Bay or the slipway at Rhosneigr, I sit in the kayak for a few minutes first. Just breathing, feeling the Irish Sea beneath me, acknowledging I'm entering sacred space where dragons meet. Each stroke becomes intentional, not forced. I'm not conquering Y Bae or proving anything—just moving with natural rhythm, letting mountain dragon strength flow through my arms while sea dragon wisdom guides my path along the Llŷn Peninsula.

There's something ceremonial about gliding past Caernarfon Castle, that bloody place where land meets sea, stone meets water. You honor both the solid reliability of Eryri and the flowing adaptability of the tide race around Ynys Enlli. Recovery requires both—determination to continue and flexibility when plans change.

Riding the Dragon's Current to Wholeness

You know what I've realised, Geth? Recovery isn't about returning to who you were before your heart scare. It's about becoming someone new, someone who's learned to work with the elemental forces keeping us alive and healthy. Sea kayaking around our Welsh coast gives us exactly this opportunity.

When you're gliding from Beaumaris toward Puffin Island, with the mountains rising behind and y Môr Cymru stretching toward misty Erin, you're not just exercising. You're reconnecting with something fundamental about being alive. You're learning to move between strength and flexibility, effort and ease, holding on and letting go.

So if you're working your way back from a health scare, perhaps consider the kayak as more than sporting equipment. It's your vessel for travelling through that liminal space where Mountain and Sea merge into something that can make you whole again.

The dragons are waiting, Geth. Shān Lóng with Yr Wyddfa's unshakeable strength, Hui Lóng with the flowing wisdom of Y Môr Cymru. Right where they meet, in that sacred space along our Welsh coast, there's a current that can carry you back to wholeness.

Fancy checking it out next weekend? The tide's perfect for a paddle around the Ynys.

Your friend Dafydd

glossary:

Ynys Môn - Anglesey

Eryri - Snowdonia

Y Môr Cymru - The Irish Sea

Traeth Lafan - Lavan Sands

Morfa Bychan - Black Rock Sands

Bae Ceredigion - Cardigan Bay

Ynys Enlli - Bardsey Island

Erin - Eire

#BollocsCymraeg