Every so often, someone paddles into your life who reminds you why we fall in love with sea kayaking in the first place. For me, that person was Urban Heupgen, a solo paddler whose journey across Europe I’d been following from afar—right up until the day he appeared, quite literally, across the water from my home.
At the end of August 2025, Urban put out a simple request: did anyone have a safe place to store a kayak over winter? He was on Jura at the time, just a short paddle from us across the Sound. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to offer space at the shop. A few messages later, he was crossing the Sound, and by that afternoon we met up.
He stayed with us for a few days, and in that short time we talked about everything—his route so far, the next stages, the strange joys of long crossings, and the quiet determination that keeps a solo paddler moving. Urban is one of those rare people who is both deeply thoughtful and wonderfully down‑to‑earth. You can’t help but enjoy his company.
When Urban bought his kayak in Estonia, he needed to get it home to Germany. Most people would arrange transport. Urban decided to paddle it.
That choice set him on a route through Finland, Sweden, and Denmark. Later he kayaked from the Danube to the Black Sea—a classic journey for many European paddlers, but Urban didn’t stop where most people would. His mind kept wandering to the next horizon, the next coastline, the next possibility.
Because he returns to Germany for work between sections, the expedition has unfolded in chapters rather than one continuous push. But that seems to suit him. Each leg has its own flavour, its own story.
When I asked Urban about his most memorable moment, he paused for a long time. Then he said something that tells you everything about him:
“There were so many beautiful and powerful moments throughout the trip that choosing just one feels impossible—and honestly unfair. As I try to answer this, I get completely lost in memories.”
Eventually, he offered two.
One was the intense, emotional arrival on Icaria, after a 40‑mile crossing from Mykonos—exhausted, relieved, and overwhelmed in the best possible way.
The other was darker: a near‑drowning on the west coast of France. A moment that stays with him “in a very different way.”
Unlike many paddlers, Urban’s favourite moments aren’t the landings, the campsites, or the coastal scenery. What he loves most is being far offshore, with no land in sight, in calm conditions where the mind can drift and the paddle strokes become almost meditative.
It’s a kind of freedom that only solo paddlers truly understand.
One of the things I admire most about Urban is that he’s an unsupported solo paddler who doesn’t chase the newest kit. Much of his gear dates back to 2007, when he first bought Noatun, his kayak.
As he put it:
“There might be better gear available now, but I tend to get attached to the things I once chose and trusted.”
There’s something refreshing about that in a world obsessed with upgrades.
Urban returns to Scotland in May, and he’s already looking forward to the big crossings our coastline offers. He also has a quiet yearning to paddle to Iceland—though he’s the first to admit there’s a lot to consider before committing to something that bold.
When I asked him to name the chapter of his journey that brought him to the west coast of Scotland, he thought for a moment and said the Iberian Peninsula leg might be called “Changing Seas”, marking the shift from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. For 2025, he chose “Bridge to the North.” A perfect fit.
Urban is a thoughtful, almost shy person, so when I asked what advice he’d give to someone planning a similar route, he smiled and said:
“People who seriously consider a journey like this are so rare that giving advice almost feels pointless.”
But he did offer one insight:
“The most important thing is to be obsessed with a goal and with making progress—to push through long stretches of dull moments and deal with difficulties, like finding a place to camp in regions where camping is forbidden, as it is in much of the Mediterranean.”
It’s classic Urban: honest, understated, and quietly wise.
It was a joy having Urban stay with us and to get to know him beyond the social media posts and route maps. We’re already looking forward to welcoming him back in April or May—and with a bit of luck, he’ll be around for the Midwest Sea Kayak Symposium, where I suspect he’ll inspire more than a few paddlers to dream bigger.
Who knows what journeys he’ll spark next?
