The log boat from Gigalum made its way slowly through the skerries.

 The SW coast of Gigha is a delight, offshore skerries and shallow waters with...

 ...a sandy and weed covered bottom create a marvellous environment to journey through.

Ian could not resist landing on a reef to get a little more height for getting photographs of the sea bed. Unfortunately there was still no sign of the sun which would have made his photographs zing!

 As we paddled south, back towards our temporary base on Cara...

 ...there was just a hint in the west that the sun might break through but...

 ...the gap in the clouds was only fleeting. Then...

 ...low grey clouds gathered in as both kayakers and the fishermen on OB595 (Blue Angel from Tarbert) were making their respective ways home. The Gigha community windmills were rotating steadily in a chilling NW breeze. We were glad that yesterday's T shits had been replaced by thermals and dry suits. Once on shore we knew it was going to be a cold night unless we could find some more firewood.

After leaving Gigha we had one further delight. With the haunting calls of curlews, the pip, pip, pipping of oystercatchers and the raucous croaking of a couple of squabbling herons ringing in our ears, we had yet another chance to paddle through the skerries at the...

...south end of Gigalum Island. I even managed to find...

...some decent bits of firewood within the rocky recesses of the skerries.

 From Gigalum Island the white shell sand beach below our camp was now just a kilometer away across the Sound of Cara. We landed just before 6pm. We had only covered 30.4km since leaving that morning but the circumnavigation of Gigha had proved to be full of interest. Although we may not have had the sun, we had enjoyed light winds and only the slightest of swells. This meant we had been able to explore some nooks and crannies on the exposed west coast that would have been all but impossible at most times of the year, never mind in October when the West coast of Scotland is normally blasted by equinoctial gales sweeping in from the Atlantic. On landing again on the shore of Cara, we did not forget to greet the Brownie in the proper and appropriate manner. On Cara one must take nothing for granted...

The correct protocol required when greeting the Brownie of Cara

 From Gigalum we crossed to the south end of Gigha before heading across the Sound of Cara to...

 ...Port an Stoir  at the north end of Cara where we intended to camp.

The east beach was occupied by some resident goats. I immediately thought of goat bhuna but we decided to land on the west beach instead.

 If one lands on Cara (and especially so, if one intends to stay the night) it is a wise sea kayaker who knows the correct protocol for greeting The Brownie. It is vital to do this before doing anything else. One needs to raise one's cap then doff it in a suitably deferential manner while at the same time saying in a clear voice "Good Evening Mr. Brownie". The only acceptable variation to this protocol is to change the greeting to suit the time of day of one's arrival.

Failure to satisfy The Brownie on this matter will result in him interpreting your arrival as a serious diplomatic faux pas. All manner of mischief may then be unleashed upon your party by this unhappy spirit. Campbells need to be particularly careful as The Brownie is the spirit of a MacDonald who was murdered by a Campbell. Best advice would be to never disclose your surname on Cara. If your first name is Campbell then you must use a nickname or visit Gigha instead. The annals of Scottish sea kayaking are full of tales of The Brownie's mischief; kayaks floating away in the night, paddles being hidden in the bramble bushes, full bottles of malt whisky being emptied during the night and much, much worse.

 We found a little driftwood but were glad of the barbecue coals and logs we had brought with us and soon...

 ...had an excellent fire going on the white shell sands of Cara. previous visitors had burned multiple fire rings in the machair.. hope the Brownie got them!

 Anyway we were just thinking that life did not get better than baked sweet potatoes when...

...this amazing moon rose out of the fog on the Sound of Gigha.

A foggy crossing to Gigalum and why I never go to sea without GPS.

Back on the first of October much of Scotland basked under the blue skies of an Indian summer. Ian and I decided on a short notice camping trip of two nights to Gigha and Cara. When I arrived at Tayinloan on the Kintyre mainland there were stunning blue skies but as Ian arrived thick mist rolled in from the sea. The very stuff that Paul McCartney wrote about when he was staying in his farm just down the road. We decided to take tea and cake at the excellent Ferry Farm Cafe which is adjacent to the ferry car park.

Well fortified, we set off into the fog on a 5km crossing of the Sound of Gigha. I regularly paddle in fog on the Solway and Ian and I have paddled together from Rum to Eigg in thick fog so we didn't think twice about it. I had plotted a waypoint into my GPS that would take us on a course that diverged south of the ferry route by 60 degrees. I had set it for the isle of Gigalum at the south end of Gigha as it would cross the Flat Rocks the Wee  Rocks and Gigalum Rocks on the way. This would expose us to the minimum danger of shipping as anyone with a draught of more than a few inches would keep well clear of these rocks in fog. The ferry captain did ask us about our plans as he was concerned in case he ran us down. However, he was reassured when he heard our plans. Of course both the wind and tide would carry us off course but I had set my GPS to give the bearing from our current position to the waypoint on Cara. As we crossed if the bearing dEcreased we went lEft and if it Increased we went rIght.

Half way across, the mist thinned just for a moment and we were lucky to experience this wonderful fogbow.

We caught sight of something in the mist. The fog magnifies everything and Ian thought it was an island with trees but it was just Gigalum rock with some cormorants on it. We were bang on course and Ian called the ferry captain on the VHF and let him know our exact position. We could hear his engine rumbling well to the north.

 Shortly afterwards we arrived at Gigalum and...

...a hazy sun put in a brief appearance as we paddled through the amazing Gigalum skerries. There was no chance of getting run over in the fog here. Many very experienced sea kayakers are disparaging of GPS and never use it. Pn the contrary, I never go to sea without a GPS (actually I have two, my phone is a backup). Of course on this crossing I was also using my compass, map, ears, nose, sense of what the wind was doing (and the smells it carried) and sense of what the tide was doing. I suspect that some of those who chose not to use GPS do so because they have not taken the effort to learn how they work and understand their advantages and disadvantages.