Author Katie Carr talks to Bryony Cottam about grief, vulnerability and finishing her brother’s journey
Katie’s travel insights
• Travel with people you trust
• Break big journeys into chunks
• Let nature steady grief
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Katie Carr had never kayaked before she launched her boat into the Bristol Channel in March 2023. She knew the water conditions could be challenging, having spent the previous year immersed in the extensive notes left behind by her brother, Toby. An avid kayaker, Toby had set out to paddle all 31 sea areas of the UK Shipping Forecast – a maritime weather report dating back to the mid 19th century – as a way to cope with the death of their older brother, Marcus, in 2017.
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Toby paddled 16 of the Shipping Forecast’s areas, but never managed to finish the challenge. He died from the same genetic illness as his brother in 2022. But Carr made sure that his notes became the book he had planned to write, Moderate Becoming Good Later, before taking to the water herself to complete the journey he had started.
When she first set out, and even when she paddles now, Carr says there were moments that felt on the edge of what she could control or find comfortable. ‘But I knew that I was going to be doing it with other people who would be there coaching me the whole time.’ That in itself, Carr admits, proved to be an additional challenge. ‘I’m quite an independent person and not particularly good at asking for help,’ she says. ‘I found it quite difficult to admit that I was a beginner.’ It’s a vulnerability she believes we all need to embrace more often. ‘We don’t tend to spend time doing things that we aren’t already competent at.’
Over the next two years, while balancing life with two young children, Carr paddled the coastal waters of Britain and Ireland, from the Pembrokeshire coast to the remote Shetland Isles. She describes how, after years of living in Spain, she was often struck by the beauty of her surroundings, even while paddling along the industrial shores of northeast England. ‘Often it was the sheer enormity of the place, or the experience of being somewhere that most people don’t go,’ she says. ‘I think nature can really help you to remember your purpose, to remind you that life goes on, particularly when you’re grieving.’
It was here, out on the water, that she felt most connected to Toby. ‘I was often thinking about him; I found it hard not to cry the first couple of times I launched. It was a special feeling being in a place where he had spent so much time, and then it became a place where I did too.’
Carr completed her brother’s journey in 2025, documenting the experience in her new book, Thundery at Times. Reaching the final leg of her journey, which culminated in the Shetland Islands, she was struck by the reality of her achievement. ‘I almost couldn’t believe I was there,’ she says. ‘It’s interesting – you look at the logistics and ask: “How did I end up here?” Then you remember: I broke it down into tiny little chunks, and little by little, I got myself here.’ It’s a reminder, she says, that no undertaking has to be an all-or-nothing affair.
‘It’s really easy to think: “Oh, I can’t do these big challenges because I have kids or some other commitment, I just can’t go away for months at a time.” But you can still set yourself these big challenges, maybe they just take place at a slower pace or spread out over several years. You don’t have to become a full-time explorer, it doesn’t have to be your whole identity. You can also have a normal job and a family. It might take you longer, but it’s still just as meaningful.’
