Would the real Sammy Otter of Inchmarnock stand up?

There was still a chill wind from the north as we paddled down the west coast of Inchmarnock towards its...


 ...southerly point. We then turned north into the Sound of Inchmarnock which separates it from its larger neighbour, Bute.

 It was like entering another world. The low sun warmed the rocks and in the lee of the land the water ahead was like...

 ...a millpond.

 I turned the kayak round to get a last view down the Sound towards Arran. I was just turning again when all of a sudden this...

 ...little fellow periscoped up beside me.

He was gone in a second but I hope he was the real Sammy Otter of Inchmarnock and not an imposter.

Caught between midges and reefs on Inchmarnock, a hard place.

Mike and I rose early on Inchmarnock on the last day of our trip round the West Kyle, Loch Fyne and the Sound of Bute.

 Unfortunately so did the midges and we fled to the shore...

 ...where we had left our food and cooking things.

Despite the breeze, the early morning sun and the vast expanse of beach the midges were still biting. A good ploy on a sunny day is just to lie in bed until it is too hot for the midges. However, we had to get going early as the tide was ebbing fast and at low tide the cobbles run out and...

 ...jagged reefs separate the beach from the sea. You can find easier spots to land and camp at all states of the tide at the north and SE of Inchmarnock.

Fortunately the midges hurried our breakfast and packing and we were able to launch while the tide was still well above the reefs

Sammy the Inchmarnock otter is an imposter!.

Once we had negotiated the reefs exposed by low tide, the upper beach on the west coast of Inchmarnock was a broad expanse of cobbles.

We set up camp at the top of the beach and set to preparing our evening meal.

We had a grandstand view across the Sound of Bute to the rocky ridges of the north Sannox mountains of Arran. The notch of Ceum na Cailich, (the Witch's Step) and the granite tors on the summit of Caisteal Abhail (this means "castle of death" not "stronghold of the ptarmigan" as you may read elsewhere). A yacht was beating up the Sound into the cold northerly wind which also brought the remarkably clear air.

Due to the chill wind we wasted no time in getting the fire and...

 ...the baked potatoes on.

 This must be one of the best views in Scotland and we had it all to ourselves until...

 ...what I thought was Sammy the otter put in an appearance. He ran along the beach from where a little trickle of a burn issued into the sea.

 He made for his favourite fishing...

 ...pool where he caught several sea urchins before...

...heading home again.  What a place, we were just 50km from my house in Glsgow but there was not a sight of human habitation.

I am grateful to Ian and Ben (see comments below) for correctly identifying this animal as a mink. The first unconfirmed sighting of a mink on neighbouring Bute was in 1981 and the first confirmed report was a dead mink at the north of Bute in 1982. Since then numbers have increased. Local naturalist JA Gibson has published an account "Atlas of Bute and Cumbrae vertebrates, 1980". An update Supplementary notes on Bute vertebrates was published in the Buteshire Transactions in 2004. In it Gibson writes about the mink  "I believe it has not yet reached Inchmarnock." and "During a visit to Inchmarnock in 2001 no mink were seen and there was no obvious predation on eider nests." It is sad that the mink is now indeed on Inchmarnock.

Straight ahead for Inchmarnock, hard a-port for Portavadie.

All too soon after our lunch break David and Phil had to turn hard to port to Portavadie. For them, their trip was over.

With a fair wind Mike and I pressed on and left Loch Fyne,  passing on the inside of Skate Island.

 We met Donald on his way back from Inchmarnock then we passed the wide expanse of ...

 ...Kilbride Bay.

 We kept offshore this time and made landfall at,,,

 Ardlamont. At low tide our camp site of two nights previously would not have been an easy landing but...

 ...it was fine for a brief stop before the...

 ...eight kilometre crossing to Inchmarnock.

Inchmarnock is low lying but is a beautiful spot to camp. The easiest spots to land are at the north and the south east as there are treacherous reefs at low tide on the west side.

 This is all that remains of a wreck on the Tra na h-Uil reef.

Mike decided to practice some self recoveries then we...

  ...kept a lookout for a suitable landing place...

...and found this one. We had arrived on Inchmarnock.

The sea was clearer than the air.

We set off from the south of Inchmarnock and explored a little way up the west coast of the island before turning back down...

...the Sound of Bute. The sea fog slowly rolled about the Sound before gradually...

lifting. Above the fog the Arran summits soared through into clearer air.

As we paddled through the skerries at the south end of Inchmarnock we realized that the waters of the Sound were clearer than the air above.

Don't forget your silk stockings on a visit to Inchmarnock!

We woke on Inchmarnock to a thick fog which a light wind was blowing in from the sea.

 The breeze kept the midges away as we busied ourself preparing first breakfast.

Nothing quite smells like frying bacon but unfortunately the wind dropped and the smell of our cooking attracted a cloud of voracious midges.

 It was time for midge jackets and we escaped to the water's edge to eat our victuals.

Despite the return of the light breeze, the midge attack continued as we loaded the boats. Phil had remembered his midge hood but had clean forgot his silk stockings. By the time he...

...got into his boat his legs were more mottled with bites than the bottom of the crystal clear sea. Fortunately wading into the cold sea helped to reduce the irritation of the bites.

Our cups runneth over on Inchmarnock's fair strand.

 We  drew our kayaks up on a cobble beach on Inchmarnock as the sun was going down.

We soon gathered small supply of wood for our fire. There was a surfeit of driftwood along this shore.  Native American people had a somewhat disparaging term for this type of fire, which they called "a white man's fire". However, the wood was so well seasoned that it produced almost no smoke. Being broad minded we would take no offence in how others described our fire. Admittedly it did add to the carbon footprint of our otherwise green trip but we were not burning fossil fuels. Almost all of the wood was from trees that had been carried down the great rivers which feed the Firth of Clyde.

It was now time to pour some excellent 15 year old Dalmore. Note the confident and experienced way in which David poured this fine distillation of the grain of the Earth. "Only three cups?" I hear you say. Then...

...David produced a fourth. Guess which one was his!

As the night wore on we enjoyed many of David's shaggy dog stories but it was thirsty work laughing and fetching more logs.

As the full moon came up the potatoes were baking in the fire and Phil was appointed official tattie howker. Life really does not get much better than this.We were totally content.