Field Journal

Elliot Brown makes fine, durable watches for adventurers. Daniel Neilson tests the Canford on a paddleboarding trip to the north-west coast of Scotland, a place where time twists and turns.

I dragged the paddle through the dark blue waves. Whitecaps were beginning to appear farther out in the sound, but our destination was just around the next rock, a rock that, to my mind at least, seemed like a giant peninsula. I pulled again, struggling against the wind and current. And again. There was no stopping; we needed to keep going. My movement forward seemed insignificant, but within seconds I was around our final obstacle. The cove sheltered the swell immediately, and we were back on flat water, the now-gentle waves helping us towards land. With a sense of relief, I powered to the small beach.

I jumped off as the board scraped along the pebbly beach, dragged it up a safe distance and ungracefully plonked myself down. And here, on a lonely peninsula off the west coast of Scotland, I sat, somewhat bewildered.

The shifting perspective had been all consuming. For a couple of hours (or was it five?) I had focused my mind on the inches ahead of me as we hugged the coastline: on the next wave, on the next rocky outcrop, on where to put my feet and on my paddle stroke. I focused on the minutiae of the world around me with an almost mesmeric concentration. Then, as I sat, tired and happy, I looked up and the world expanded like a mushroom cloud. The mountains behind leaned over, their white peaks almost above me. Out to sea, I saw the next wave of rain wash across the Sound of Arisaig and head towards us. The wild Atlantic beyond. The vastness of the ocean, to the bright purple of the mussel shell I’d idly picked up, the vivid green seaweed I’d slipped on, to the silhouetted mountains beyond. I felt dizzy. Size, perspective, time; they had all squirled up like a flashback in a 1980s sci-fi movie. I felt viscerally and emotionally alive, acutely aware of myself and my surroundings as I only do when I’m in the wilderness.

Daily life runs to a schedule of school runs and 6Music News on the half hour. It runs at the same speed, with the same views, and with the same perspective. Out of our common physical environment and milieu, our outlook changes; that’s why we get outside and outside of our comfort zone. It is as refreshing as it is rattling. Out here, there is only one frame of reference we can hold on to, and we need tools for it. That is time, and the tool is a watch.

For people who climb mountains and go on expeditions, who travel on the ocean or cross time zones, a watch is not a luxury. It is, like a Leatherman or a water filter, a necessary tool for adventure. An analogue watch – whose battery won’t die, which won’t fail when wet, and will function under extreme temperatures, pressures and G-forces – is an instrument that can keep us safe, keep us in the right direction, and maintain our perspective. Jet pilots, deep-sea divers, astronauts, mountaineers all use analogue watches. No, it is not a luxury.

Elliot Brown watches emerged out of the water; well, the inspiration did and as a tool. It was started by Animal co-founder Ian Elliot and watchmaker Alex Brown to make watches that would withstand ocean travel, mountain expeditions, and long-distance journeys, and go on for years. ‘They’re built to last for years, not fashion seasons,’ Ian Elliot said. ‘There’s something comforting, putting on a watch that’s collected a few scrapes and scars, each with its own story to tell.’

They spent thousands of hours perfecting the first two watches, the Canford (pictured here) and the Bloxworth (there are now five styles). The Canford has a Swiss-made movement with a three-year battery life. It is designed to survive. There is a custom shock-absorbing steel movement housing that is unique to Elliot Brown. The case is made from marine-grade stainless steel that is pressure tested to 150m twice during construction and then to 200m. The glass itself, hardened anti-reflective mineral crystal, gives a clear vision throughout all conditions and the watch is shock resistant to ISO1413 (the shock received by a wristwatch while falling from a height of 1m onto a horizontal wooden floor). The face of the Canford (there are several to choose from) and the bezel use a long-lasting Superluminova that can be seen in low-light conditions.

The marked internal rotating bezel works brilliantly for timing pace and distance in minutes or seconds, and has a smooth action, but not one that is easily knocked on. The two crowns have a grippy knurling that can be used with gloves on, and the overall profile is low at 13.5mm, so this handsome timepiece can be worn to your smart NGS meeting. There’s enough space on the straps to fit it over a wetsuit too.

The straps themselves are something to behold. My watch arrived wearing a leather bracelet, but there are other options to choose from, including a durable PVD bracelet or a nylon webbing. Our favourites, pictured, are the collection of colourful rubber straps. These are designed specifically for outdoors use, being lighter than the metal bracelet and don’t absorb water as the leather ones do. They are made from EPDM rubber, a silicone-free material that isn’t affected by sea water or UV light. A nice touch is that moulded to the inside are the contour lines from Tyneham Cap, a hill near Elliot Brown’s Dorset base.

From the beach, I sat and watched Wilderness SUP guide and founder Barry Wallace and photographer Rachel Keenan come into the bay and land. We tethered down our paddleboards and started carrying our bags up to the bothy for the night. It was 3.00pm, much earlier than I’d thought, but with the rain now thundering down, I relished the idea of a lazy afternoon in the bothy. Barry started a fire; we hung our wetsuits and spent a quiet afternoon chatting, drinking tea, reading. As the weather cleared in the evening, we returned to the shoreline to explore the coves and islets that appeared at low tide.

We returned to the bothy when night fell, and after a couple of drams and some pretty impressive banter, we fell asleep to the crackle of a fire and the wind rattling against the window. Time seemed irrelevant, and for that one day it was. By morning, however, as we prepared to move on, we pored over maps, consulted with tide times and checked our watches. We were moving again, and time became very, very relevant.

We pulled our paddles briskly and moved our boards into the swell. I glanced at my watch, strapped on over a wetsuit, and took a mental note. If we didn’t get a move on, we’d have a long portage ahead of us. I pulled again, a little bit harder.