The Devil's bridge of Burrow Head.

Due to lost time on the shuttle, we had started a little later than planned. We still needed to meet the tidal window at Burrow Head and so we skipped first luncheon,  carrying on towards the Head.

Close to the head, a strong counter eddy forms in the last 2 hours of both the flood and the ebb, particularly so at springs. This means that "slack water" close under the rocks occurs when the main race is still stonking off shore. If there is any wind against tide the main race will look quite scary and the eddy line will create very confused water. As you are approaching the head to take advantage of the inshore slack, you will see great lumps of water from the main race heaving on the horizon and you can have a bit of a dry mouth before you round the corner and actually see what it is like.

Our missed luncheon allowed a calm passage at just about slack water. The tide was only moving at 1 knot.

The rock architecture at Burrow Head really is quite superb.

After our non stop dash to the Head, it was a great joy to drift in the tide...

...beneath upended layers of Silurian Greywacke.

All too soon we had rounded the Head and slipped under...

...the Devil's Bridge.

Touching the past on the way to Burrow Head.

At Bloody Neuk, about 4km short of Burrow Head, we came across the wreck of the SV Chile, which came to grief here in WW1.

Although she was a sailing vessel, she had steam powered winches...

to work her rigging.

There is nothing quite like touching the wreck of a once great ship...

...as mental preparation for rounding a distant headland, with a notorious tide race.

We were so far south that there was almost a whiff of civilisation in the air.

At the end of January we drove far to the south, into the recesses of Galloway's remote Machars peninsula.

The winter sun struggled into the sky above the distant Burrow Head, a mysterious headland, which is isolated by the swirling tides that scour the Irish Sea.

We convened at the little harbour of Port William. Our arrival did not go unnoticed, the local sea kayaker braved the minus 5 degree frost to bid us welcome.

To the north, a line of clouds betrayed the reason for the long drive south to Scotland's second most southerly point. We were about the same latitude as Hartlepool in England! So far south were we that  if you took a deep breath, you could almost get a whiff of civilisation in the air.

Out at sea the mysterious Scares floated on the horizon.

The shuttle to Garlieston was rather complicated by the myriad of small Galloway lanes, which ran in all directions. We did not return the same way we went, indeed we almost never saw Port William again and fully expected to drive into Lord Summerisle's estate. Our usual navigational ploy of keeping the land on our left had failed miserably. Since Jim and I were concentrating on the driving, the excessive use of global warming liquids fell squarely on Phil's shoulders.

Jetting off for some winter sun on Costa Clyde

From the mouth of the Doon we paddled under the grim walls of Greenan Castle, which is perched right on the edge of the cliff. Castles are one of the great features of paddling in Scotland. They are a reminder that what are now apparently remote places were once lived in (and fought over) by our ancestors.

We bumped into Richard, from Ayr, who was trying out his shiny new Rockpool GT. I particularly liked the deck, which blended from dark grey at the stern to white at the bow, very smart!

As we headed south, round the Heads of Ayr, our ears were assailed by a terrible racket...

...which was made by an Antonov AN-123 (Alpha Delta Bravo 1859) heavy lift cargo aircraft taking off from Prestwick airport. Fully loaded these weigh 405,000kgs, no wonder the engines are a bit noisy. About 3 years ago, I saw its even bigger sister the AN-225, which has a maximum loaded weight of 600,000kgs, taking off from Prestwick. The air was crackling!

Once round the Heads, all was quiet and we even found shelter from the cold northerly breeze.

A convenient tree, which had no doubt come down the river Doon, ...

...made a wonderful seat for an early luncheon.

Sitting there in the winter sun, it was hard to imagine the snowy chaos which had enveloped most of Scotland.

Isle of Whithorn

On our paddle round the exposed headlands, reefs, wrecks and tides of Burrow Head, Tony and I, like countless seafarers before us, found shelter in the harbour of Isle of Whithorn. The surrounding waters of the Solway Firth and the Irish Sea are cruel mistresses. In January 2000 the Solway Harvester , a scallop boat, went down and all her crew, seven local men, were lost.

I have mentioned the Isle before. It was indeed an isle until a causeway was built in 1790 connecting it to the mainland and enclosing its safe harbour. The houses above are built on this causeway. The harbour served pilgrims from afar who wished to visit the shrine to St Ninian. He founded a Christian church (The White or Shining House: "Whithorn") in approximately AD 397. The White House was situated 6km inland from the Isle. Recent archaeological digs have found evidence of trade with Mediterranean countries dating back to the 4th century AD.



Turning to starboard, our eyes fell upon on the Steam Packet Inn, a potential sea kayaking pub! We felt duty bound to assess whether it came up to the standards required of such an establishment. Being visible from the kayaks was a promising start. We had some reservations on entering by the main door and seeing freshly pressed, white table linen on the tables in the dining room. Turning into the pub, our salty boots sank into a deep carpet. Would the staff welcome two thirsty kayakers in dry suits? We need not have worried! The true test of a sea kayaking pub was passed. The bar maid did not bat an eyelid as she took our order for two pints of Guinness which was offered at two temperatures, including my preferred ice cold.



Regular readers of this blog will appreciate our never ending quest for oases of refreshment such as pubs and ice cream parlours. On this occasion, we were stunned to discover that the Steam Packet Inn also served the local delicacy of Cream of Galloway Ice Cream. Tony and I were delighted to award a 5 star seakayakphoto.com rosette to this esteemed establishment!

The staff of seakayakphoto.com do hope that readers appreciate the hardships that are endured in bringing these reports to their attention.

The wreck of the SV Chile

While paddling round Burrow Head, Tony and I came across the wreck of the iron sailing vessel Chile. She lies at the low water mark at the foot of a defile through the cliffs, which are to the north west of Port Castle Bay.



Her riveted iron plates and winches litter the shore. She was a German vessel, built for the nitrate trade with Chile and was impounded in Liverpool at the outbreak of WW1. Captain Weaver was taking her to Glasgow when she was driven on to the shore by a storm and the powerful tides round Burrow Head. Her great masts towered above the cliffs but the sea was pounding her to pieces. The Captain managed to get the crew safely ashore in the boats then led them to safety up a steep path through the cliffs, known as the Ladies' Steps. They were so grateful that they presented him with a picture of the ship which can still be seen in the Wigtown Bay Sailing Club clubhouse.



The resting place of SV Chile.

Burrow Head

Last Wednesday, Tony and I paddled Burrow Head in south west Scotland.



It juts into the strong tidal streams of the Solway and separates Luce Bay and Wigtown Bay.





We found strong tidal streams, some of the best rock architecture, caves and rockhopping which either of us have found anywhere on Scotland's west coast or the Hebrides. Another plus for the magnificent south west.