Ferry gliding in the Grey Dogs.

We arrived at the Grey Dogs when there was still plenty of ebb left in their bite! Here Jim is ferrying ith the current running from left to right at 7 knots.

On the ebb when the tide is east going, it is usual to pass through the Dogs from west to east, through the broader south channel. But we were here to play so we spent time ferrying the north channel...

... and round Eilean a'Bhealaich, which sits mid channel where it is isolated by the swirling tides.

Away to the south west, through the Grey Dogs, we could see Colonsay on the horizon.


I have pretty crappy paddle technical skills but there are some things in this video (taken by Jennifer) that might be helpful to paddlers progressing to more tidal paddling.

The current in the centre of the channel is flowing right to left at 7 knots and eddies either side are flowing left to right with fairly sharp eddy lines with swirly bits.

Note the acceleration out the eddy on the far side, I cross the eddy and hold a high angle (bow pointing well upstream) as the current is quite fast.

It's really too far too far away to see, but I have lifted my left, upstream edge to ferry across.  (I well remember the first time I crossed a fast river eddyline in a Pyrannha H2 kayak, without lifting an edge. I was upside down before you could say "Edge"!)

Sometimes to maintain a high angle and stop my bow being swept down stream I put a quick double stroke in on the right downstream edge.

Once I am nearly across, note the lifting of the right, "downstream edge as I cross the eddyline and meet the eddy current which is flowing "upstream"..

I have my skeg up. Of course an expert would have such perfect edge control on a ferry glide that they really would hardly have to use the paddle at all....

All too soon it was time to leave the Grey Dogs. You can see the two rock formations, like dogs' heads behind Phil and David, which might give the channel its name. What a fun place!

Givin' the Dogs the slip!

Although there was some growling from the throat of the Dogs and the occasional fleck of saliva, all looked remarkably calm and, much to Phil and Jennifer's relief, we slipped past the Grey Dogs on our way north to the tip of Rubha Fiola.


Scarba slipped astern but still dominated the skyline above the east coast of Lunga.


Ahead lay Fladda lighthouse backed by the island of Seil and the distant mountains of Morvern. Fladda light was built by David and Thomas Stevenson in 1860. The light flashes white from north through east to south and flashes red to the north and there are red and green sectors to the south. There is a large walled garden in which the keepers grew vegetables. Our speed increased as we passed Lunga and increased to 12km/hr before we reached our turning point of Rubha Fiola.


Rounding the point at the north end of Rubha Fiola, we were fortunate that the current on the west side was much less, even at the height of the tidal flow. We had now entered the Firth of Lorn and a dramatic coastline lay ahead, with the headlands of Rhubha Fiola, Lunga, Scarba and distant Jura all blocking our way back to Crinan.


It was about this point that Jennifer and Phil realised that we were now committed to returning either by the Grey Dogs or the great Gulf of Corryvreckan...


...so they consoled one another with some Jelly Beans!

Relaxing, with the roaring of the Dogs in our ears.

The tides carried us north at 8km/hr out of the Sound of Jura into the Sound of Luing, which separates Scarba on the west from Luing on the east.


The east coast of Scarba is sheltered from the prevailing wind and has a thick growth of deciduous woodland. Both red and fallow deer can be seen here. Kilmory Lodge lies 88m above sea level while the summit of Cruach Scarba 449m towers high above.


We had now been paddling for two hours and ten minutes. Even with tidal assistance, we were ready for lunch by the time we reached Poll na h'Ealaidh, Scarba's sole claim to anything resembling a harbour. The view to the north, through the Sound of Luing and across the Firth of Lorn ended in the distant mountains of Mull and Morvern.


We walked out to the end of the pier, hardly able to believe that we had just paddled all the way from the distant hills of Knapdale behind us.


We had a leisurely lunch while the tide built up to full speed in the nearby Grey Dogs, which lie between Scarba and the steep rocky knolls of Lunga to the north. Relaxing afterwards, with the roaring of the Dogs in our ears, Tony helped put Phil at ease by telling him about the huge standing waves we would encounter in the races ahead. "You'll be fine Phil, it's easier when the waves are bigger than 8 feet, they're more spaced out!"

A trinity of tideraces: circumnavigation of Scarba

Circumnavigation of Scarba: a day trip of 38.5km from Crinan, October 2009.


We rush to pull the kayaks out of the clutch of the sucking white tendrils of the Corryvreckan whirlpool!

The seakayakphoto.com school of sea kayaking: lesson one, paddling in a current.

Crossing the Rubicon in the Dorus Mor

A whiter shade of pale in the Sound of Jura

Pool of the Song in the Sound of Luing

Sleeping Grey Dogs

Friends to watch over you

Free fall on Scarba

Menace hung in the windless air, even for the most daring and venturesome.

Showdown with a goat in the Corryvreckan!

Calculating slack water in the Corryvreckan

The mystery of the goats of Reisa an t-Sruith

Back for more in the Dorus Mor!

End of another Glorious Dorus Day

Crinan's pyroligneous past.

Friends to watch over you

Looking back at the Grey Dogs, from a distance of over 2km, it all seemed so calm and innocent.


To the north the mountains of Mull dominated the distant horizon. The long necklace of islands that make up the Garvellachs and the Black Islands lay in the middle distance and little Guirasdeal and Lunga were in the foreground. What a magnificent playground.


We paddled below the dark cliffs of the north shore of Scarba.


We were watched from upon high.


Rounding the NW corner of Scarba, distant Islay and Jura came into sight. We were now paddling on the open Atlantic and the swell increased.


We found a little scrap of beach with some shelter from a reef. Tony and Phil went in first. I made a very awkward landing. Then Tony got a good hold of my boat and Phil lifted me right out and up onto my feet. They then carried my boat well above the surge line. I had been fine when paddling, with my injured knee in its brace under my dry trousers, but I now realised how dependent I was on the others for landings.

Thanks guys, I could not have managed this trip without you!

:o)

Sleeping Grey Dogs

Leaving the Pool of the Song, we felt another pull. This time it was the pull of the Grey Dogs tidal race. It was spring tides maximum flow and there was not a breath of wind so we could hear the Dogs growling from some way off. Phil said "We are not going through there are we?"

"Oh no!" said Tony, quite truthfully, as we carefully vetted the Dogs' condition through the south channel before...


...turning in to the straighter north channel. Just as we passed the point of no return, Tony quietly said "Phil, see when we turn the corner, just after this wee island? Just keep paddling".


Tony led the way down the inverted "V" between the worst of the eddylines as the water sloped downhill between the gap. Phil stuck to his stern. I brought up the rear, ready to pick up any pieces.


There was ony about 4 or 5 standing waves and then we were through onto flat, boily water at 18km/hour.


The stirred up water extends...


...well to the west of the Dogs.


But at last we hit calm water again. Phil was noticably moved by his recent experience. "Was that like a grade 4 river?" he asked. We hadn't the heart to tell him it was only grade 2!


By now Phil had regained his composure: "What an experience !.. Only one thing guys... Where is my badge ?"

"Now, now, Phil, if it's wee bajes yer efter, ye'll jus' need tae jine a club!"

We were very lucky to hit the Grey Dogs when they were sleeping. If there is any westerly wind or swell then they can be rather different.


We would not have taken Phil through the Grey Dogs...


...if we had found conditions to be like these two recent trips.

The seakayakphoto.com school of sea kayaking: lesson one, paddling in a current.

I have not been out for a while, since I dislocated my knee on Gunna. Four months of inactivity have left me pretty unfit. Phil, who has been paddling for less than a year, hadn't done any tidal paddling at all. So given it was a spring tide we thought it would do both of us some good to sample the tide races on the west coast. We set off from Crinan at the top end of the Sound of Jura.


We nipped through the Dorus Mor.Then we paddled quite hard to break out of the current that was heading straight out the Corryvreckan towards distant Colonsay. Next we paddled up the Sound of Luing where we saw a huge school of perhaps 30 or 40 bottlenose dolphins, leaping clean out the water.


After this we went through the Grey dogs at the peak flow of the spring tide, we bashed through the standing waves at 18km/hour. We had been pretty economical with the description of the Grey Dogs that we gave Phil. Just as we passed the point of no return on our approach, Tony quietly said "Phil, see when we turn the corner just after this wee island? Just keep paddling".


Next we paddled down the west side of Scarba and entered the Corryvreckan. The flood was still running out against us but we used an eddy on the Scarba shore to enter the Great Race. Spray from the agitated water hung in the windless air. The eddy ended at a small headland and swung out into the main flow where it joined the rotating mass of water which forms the whirlpool. I said “Phil you need to get round this headland so paddle quite hard and don’t look back.”


We got round the headland and landed in a little bay to wait for the flood to ease off. We had to drag the boats well up the beach as seething surges of water threatened to whisk them away into the jaws of the ‘vreckan. Slack water arrived suddenly and lasted all of five minutes.


We blasted through the Dorus Mor again. The Paps of Jura heaved above the SW horizon. The ebb from Loch Craignish now joined the fun. Even a large fishing boat got caught by the current and sidestepped several hundred metres.All too soon we were back in the shelter of Crinan, a mere 39km after we had left. Not bad after a four month lay off and for Phil’s first lesson in tidal paddling.

Fair Guirasdeal

From most angles it looks like Guirasdeal is impossible to land on but there is one chink in its armour through which we made our way to this stony beach below its rocky tower.


There are no sheep on Guirasdeal so we found this meadow of delightful wildflowers.


From the top, looking SE we caught sight of the Grey dogs tide race between Lunga and Scarba.


Turning to the SW we saw distant Jura beyond Scarba. The Great Race of the Corryvreckan lies between.


To the north we had a wonderful panorama of the Slate Islands.


We set off for the Grey Dogs as dark clouds closed in cutting off the only blink of sun we were to see that day.

30/08/2008

Hot Dogs in the Grey Dogs

Before we ventured near the Gulf of Corryvreckan, Tony and I thought we had better go for a warm up in the gentler waters of the Grey Dogs at the north end of Scarba. To ensure most benefit of this exercise, we timed our arrival for full spring flood conditions. It has to be said that we were not disappointed. There were a few standing waves in the fairway of the Grey Dogs.


We had been here before but we were quite impressed by the size of the waves in the race. We were headed for the west coast of Scarba which is round the headland on the right, on the far side of the wave train.


Our GPS track of the weekend shows some exploration of the various tidal bits of this most interesting area, the Sound of Luing, the Cuan Sound, the Grey Dogs and of course the Daddy of them all, the Great Gulf of Corryvreckan.

30/08/2008

Sweet dreams are made of this.

"Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something"
Eurthymics

Imagine the crackle of the fire over the distant low murmur of the Grey Dogs tidal race. The aromatic smell of well seasoned driftwood mingles with the peaty aroma of a Jura malt whisky. In the distance the embers of the dying sun linger behind distant Ben More on Mull. Slowly darkness encroaches and the cobbles on the beach are lit with the flickering light of the fire. Tales of great seakayaking voyages are exchanged in hushed tones until tiredness brings on silent contemplation.

Sea kayaking dreams are made of this and we found and lived them on Scarba.