A unobstructed view thanks to midges and shaggy dogs.

We passed by the south coast of Easdale...


...on our approach...


...to the little harbour at Ellenabeich, which nestles below the rocky slopes of Dun Mor, on the Island of Seil.


We called in at the Oyster Brewery Bar Restaurant for a Guinness and some excellent haddock and chips. Despite being crowded when we arrived, we got the best seats. We are not sure if it was the coincidental arrival of the Highland midge or David's shaggy dog stories that cleared the terrace...


...but the view south across the flooded slate quarry to Luing, Scarba and Easdale was marvellous.

On this occasion, we stuck to Guinness as our previous favourite local brew, Grey Dogs Strong Ale, was no longer available. At least we could see the view this time!

Pool of the Song in the Sound of Luing

We broke out of the tide towards the Corryvreckan and entered the Sound of Luing between Scarba and Luing. Kilmory Lodge, which is one of the few houses on Scarba, stood high on the hill side above us.


On the other side of the Sound, low lying Luing presents a gentler contrast to the steep hills of Scarba. In the distance, we were preceeded up the Sound by a pod of about 30 bottlenose dolphins, which were thrashing the surface of the water in a long line and some were leaping clean into the air.


We had seen them here before, in February 2004, but at much closer range.


We stopped for second breakfast below the Lodge on the wooded shores of Scarba, at the delightfully named Poll n h-Ealaid, "pool of the song" . Phil noticed the strength of the tide, which nearly swept him past this little harbour...

The Sounds of Luing and Cuan

On leaving the Grey Dogs, we entered the Sound of Luing and made our way up the east coast of Lunga. This is one of the surviving houses. We then entered the maze of tidal channels between the north of Lunga and its neighbouring islands.


Returning to the Sound of Luing again, we started a ferry glide across the now flooding north going tide. We were headed for the island of Luing on the east side of the sound. Looking north we could see all the way up the Sound to Insh, Fladda with its lighthouse, Easdale and Seil.


Looking south down the Sound, the tumbling crags of Scarba were lost in the mist.


Working our way up the east shore of the Sound the tide accelerated us north past Dubh Sgeir with its light and the lighthouse of Fladda.


We found the MFV Rambling Rose tied up in the sheltered inlet of Cullipool. In 2001 she went to the rescue of a yacht which went aground in a force 8 August gale, the family were saved including their 18 month old baby. The Rambling Rose was a scallop dredger operated by brothers Eoghann and Alastair MacLachlan. The Scottish Government recently banned scallop dredging in the Firth of Lorn and she has been modified for prawn fishing.


Rounding the northern end of Luing, we paddled east into the Cuan Sound between Luing and Seil. We eddy hopped through the Sound against the west going flood spring tide.


Turning round, we blasted back down the Sound..


...until we were ejected into the Firth of Lorn. The Island of Mull provided a backdrop as we made our way back to our starting point at Ellenabeich on Seil.

What a fantastic weekend in the tides between these glorious islands.

31/08/2008

Timed to perfection but nearly marooned on Luing!

This was 19:03 on 11th May 2006.

We had just successfully executed a remarkable sea kayaking day trip from Glasgow. The night before, I had noticed (as you do) that the tides were right for a trip out through the Grey Dogs to the Garvellachs then back to Scarba, round its south end, through the Corryvreckan and back up the Sound of Luing. The snag was that Mike and I were working the next day and David was meeting an ex vet student friend from South Africa for their 40th year reunion dinner. Her flight got into Glasgow airport at 21:30pm that night. The only way to do this was to drive from the mainland over the Bridge over the Atlantic, onto the Isle of Seil then take the ferry across the Cuan Sound onto Luing and drive to Black Mill Bay and launch there. A quick Google search for the ferry timetable brought up the Calmac website which showed regular sailings into the late evening.

We had aimed to get the 19:35 ferry and I was just congratulating myself on having half an hour to spare when an awful fact gradually invaded the euphoria of an amazing day. If you look closely at the photo above you will note that there is no ferry!



On our drive to the jetty I had noticed something that looked very like a ferry moored in a bay 1.5km to the south. Somehow I had managed to blot this unwelcome observation from my consciousness. Any sea kayaker that can work the tides through the Dogs and the Corry must be able to read a simple ferry timetable! I dug the Calmac printout out of my map case and we should have had another 3 ferries to choose from right up till 22:05. Something was not right and I soon found out it was when I walked over to the small waiting room. The Cuan Ferry is run by Argyll and Bute council and on their timetable (which was nailed to the wall) it was quite clear that the last boat ran at 1805.

David took it very well. Not only had I bashed his car getting off the ferry that morning, now I had got us marooned on Luing for the night and his friend would be stuck at the airport. A more highly strung party would have started arguing and shouting but not us. In the absence of a nearby sea kayaking hostelry, we cracked open three cans of Guinness from our emergency rations. Sitting on a grassy knoll in the spring evening sunshine, we pondered our options. First we found that our mobiles had no reception. Then we wondered if David should paddle across and try and hire a taxi to take him to the airport.



Then suitably refreshed, I decided to check out the waiting room. I noticed a small yellow notice.

"In case of medical emergency, call this number."

Well I'm a doctor. And it was an emergency! So I phoned it from the coin box phone outside. It turned out to be a call centre in Liverpool and the girl knew nothing about Luing or where it was. I asked her for the ferryman's number but she said

"I can't do that but I'll get him to ring you back."

I looked at the ancient rotating dial phone. There was no number.

"There must be a number." she said.

David cracked open another Guinness to assist in the search for the elusive digits but there were none to be found. Then the girl had a brainwave:

"Give me your mobile number..."

"There is no point", I said, "none of our three mobiles are getting a signal."

I could sense I was stretching her incredulity. This city girl had probably never been out of cell phone range since she had been born. Indeed, her developing brain may have been partly modelled by mobile microwaves.

Then I had a brainwave:

"Just tell him to phone the Luing call box"

"What's the point of that? He wont know the number, there must be thousands of call boxes on Luing."

"You don't know Luing! Please, just ask him to ring the call box, I am sure he will know the number."

About 5 minutes later the phone rang, it was the ferryman. I explained our situation and he agreed to come but he said he would need to call his mate who lived some distance away. He would then need to use a dinghy to get down to the ferry and fetch it back up to Seil, pick up his mate then come across and pick us up. (Then he would need to repeat the process to get the ferry back to the mooring.)


MV Grey Dog

We were ever so pleased as when he arrived. He knew all about the mistake in the Calmac timetable and said there would be no charge for the crossing. We had already resigned ourselves to finding bed and breakfast accommodation on Luing, which would have cost us about £20 each so we gave them £60 for their trouble. They were very reluctant to accept it but we insisted. They were obviously prepared (and pleased) to be able to help, for only a thank you in return.

Fortunately the 105 miles on the road to the airport were quiet and we pulled into the airport pickup area just as David's friend was exiting the arrivals hall.

What timing, it's amazing what you can cram into a day!

Cuan ferry: passport to the Grey Dogs and Corryvreckan!

MV Belnahua

The tidal Cuan Sound (between the isles of Seil and Luing in the Firth of Lorn) runs at up to 15km/hr. The little ferry, the MV Belnahua, makes the short crossing several times a day. It is very instructive watching her ferry glide. The captain only ever crosses the main flow at right angles to save fuel. He then uses the slacker water and eddies at the sides to make his way back to the jetty.


MV Grey Dog

I have not been able to get out paddling recently so this photo is from last May. When we arrived we found that the Belnahua was off on its holidays, leaving the tiny MV Grey Dog in its place.



It was just big enough for David's car and my trailer and it lurched alarmingly as we drove on. There is no turntable so you need to reverse off. David did not fancy this so I had a go. I did pretty well until the last moment when I clipped the front bumper on the ramp sides.



It did not spoil our day, it allowed us to have a fantastic day trip from Glasgow out through the Grey Dogs tidal channel, round the Garvellachs, back to Scarba then home via the notorious Corryvreckan. We had tidal assistance all the way!

There is one point to note about the Cuan ferry. Although Calmac list the timetable, it is actually operated by Argyll and Bute council. Calmac state "We cannot be held responsible for any errors or omissions".

More about that another day....

A close encounter of the cetecean kind.

Rob said "you haven't lived until the 6 foot dorsal of a big bull knifes it's way toward you and disappears under your keel, the golden glow of a big yellow eye still visible." Rob I would be scared out of my wits! However, in a small way I have known something akin to your amazing experience.



Almost exactly 3 years ago we were paddling round the islands of Luing and Shuna in the Firth of Lorne. As we crossed the Sound of Shuna the wind dropped to nothing, then behind us came a thrashing noise like the paddle steamer Waverley. It was a group of about 30 to 45 bottlenose dolphins. They seemed to be feeding right on the surface as they came round Rubh Aird Luing. We stopped paddling and drifted in the tide. We were lying about 200 metres off their track but as soon as they saw us, all three pods came over for a closer look.



We were surrounded. The females and calves circled round on the outside, then the adolescents, then two large alpha males ignored my daughter Jennifer and came for me at high speed on the surface. Mature males weigh about 650kg and can travel at up to 30km/hr! They barrel rolled just under my kayak and one after the other, I saw the eye looking up at me then the pale belly and finally the tail. The second just flicked the bottom of the kayak ever so gently with its tail. The pair then exploded from the water before crashing back with a huge splash. They repeated this several times. Awesome. I have since seen the big one with the lateral bend to its dorsal fin 65 km to the south near Cara.



Only after what seemed like an age did the dolphins stop showing off and resume their fishing trip. Stunned, we were left on our own in the silence of a winter sunset in the Sound of Shuna.