22.4 km/hr in the Sound of Luing

Leaving Easdale there was not a breath of wind and away from the rocks the swell was just a lazy roll in the ocean.


We were headed down the Sound of Luing with the ebb tide.


Gradually the pace picked up and we fairly whizzed past Belnahua, Fladda (with its lighthouse) and little Ormsa. (Photo Jennifer Wilcox)


At the north end of Lunga the GPS hit 22.4 km/hr and where the tides from the west and the north east of the island converged, there was a very impressive whirlpool about 15m in diameter with a bright green eye


The current only backed off once we were south of the Grey Dogs. (Photo Jennifer Wilcox)


We were soon under the wooded slopes of eastern Scarba and Kilmory Lodge.


In the lee of Scarba all was calm again as the tides died away.


To the south east corner of Scarba from Belnahua is 10 km and we had averaged 12 km/hr. Now, as we turned the corner, we could see the great Gulf of Coryvreckan ahead. We would need to wait till the last of the ebb before we forced a way through.

10/05/2008

"A weekend at the races." Ocean Paddler # 6.

Issue six of the renowned sea kayaking organ, Ocean Paddler, carries an article entitled "A weekend at the races." It was composed by myself and carries a selection of photographs like the one above. In it Tony is contemplating on the view from Lunga across Eilean Dubh Mor to the distant mountains of Mull beyond. Rich Parkin and the editorial team chose several accompanying photographs. All depict scenes of calm waters and serenity amongst the islands of Lorn. Regular readers of Ocean Paddler will realize that my articles complement tales of great circumnavigations and crossings that some sea kayakers would rather only read about. My articles are designed to inspire average recreational paddlers to get out and explore their local waters. As a result, the choice of photos in the articles tend to show calm seas and blue skies!

However, these are the pictures that Rich, the editor, would rather you did not see! Do not be fooled by photographs like the above, the Grey Dogs can bite!

The Grey Dogs, two hours into a spring flood tide.


The race extends about two miles out to sea.

A 22m RIB shows the scale of the standing waves.

25/26/08/2007

A day at the races, continued...

After we slipped through the gap to the north end of Lunga we turned north past the islets of Fiola Meadhonhach and Rubha Fiola. The spring ebb tide was running strongly south but we found ourselves in a counter eddy which propelled us northwards to Sgeir nan Gabhar. This is the sight that awaited us.... a harmless little tide rip.


The little loop on the map at the top end of Sgeir nan Gabhar must look so insignificant to you, the dear reader. However, to Tony and I it represents a mountain we could not climb, a torrent of defeat, the ebb of our dignity and a flood of retreat.

We left the shelter of the eddy and immediately were in the full force of the rip. Another big eddy was coming up the west side of Rhubha Fiola and curling round to join the main stream that was running to the SE. It prevented us finding an inside route and a wall of water pushed us further out. I was paddling as hard as I could, my paddles were flashing in the sunlight, my lungs were bursting, I seemed to be making progress. Tony came alongside and as I glanced towards him I saw we had made no forward progress at all! Teeth gritted, I started panting as I tried to increase my stoke rate. "I'm not going to last much longer!" The sparkling waves were speeding past faster than I had ever paddled before and my chest was bursting. A fulmar swept effortlessly into view, its teasing wing tip clipping the wave that was just about to pile into me and sap my last reserve. I could resist the streaming tide no longer. "Tony I've had it!"

I broke off and relief and spray swept over me as I bounced downstream at high speed through the wave chain. It seemed like an eternity of effort but the GPS later revealed that our premature ejection from the race had occured after a mere two minutes.


We now had a problem. We had set up camp on Lunga's west coast and now the powerful tides of the Firth of Lorn had cut us off. Our only chance was to try and return through the gap we had been playing in. Unfortunately the tide had dropped and a steep wall of rushing water lay ahead. Tony managed to get through at his second attempt. I made three unsuccessful attempts but was by now completely exhausted. We tried to set up my tow rope for Tony to pull me through but there was nowhere for him to stand far enough upstream and he lost leverage just as I approached the fastest section of the chute. Beaten back by the force of nature, I retired to lick my wounds and look for my split paddle that had come off in the struggle with the tow line.

A few minutes later Tony appeared on foot, over the rocks and kindly paddled my boat speedily up the chute. That's what younger, fitter friends are for!


We returned to our camp on Lunga's west coast. The golden eagle was circling overhead. It was great to rest our weary bones round the camp fire and slake our substantial thirst as the sun went down behind the mountains of Mull.

What would the morning hold? Before then, the eagle's hungry chick squawked all night.

25/08/2007

A day at the races

After a pleasant second luncheon, we paddled round the SW corner of Lunga. The tide and swell made for great paddling conditions.


We continued up the west coast of Lunga looking for the entrance to the channel between the maze of islands at its north end.


There was about a metre diffence in level in the channel and the ebb tide was now running strongly.


So we stopped for a play.

25/08/2007

Peak of the Eagles, Lunga

After passing through the Grey Dogs tidal race, which lies to the south of Lunga, the skies cleared. We took a break in the magnificent bay of Camas a'Mhor-Fhir which nestles under Bidean na h-Iolaire or peak of the eagles.


What a great place to go sea kayaking!

25/08/2007

Grey Dogs tide race

I recently described an intoxicating brew called Grey Dogs strong ale. We felt reasonably justified in its consumption because we had just come through the Grey Dogs tide race (or Bealach a'Choin Ghlais in the Gaelic). There was a force 4 wind from the west and we approached at the end of the second hour of a spring flood which runs towards the west. We felt it prudent to land and inspect the exit.


Gannets and seals were having a feeding frenzy on fish that were being swept through the narrows.


The mist gave the Grey Dogs a foreboding atmosphere. From our seat high on the rocks, the whole place had the appearance of an amphitheatre in which primeval forces were the star act and we perhaps would become part of the entertainment.


Then the spell of the place was broken, a RIB came through at high speed. The tourists looked very damp.


The race runs at about 18km per hour through the narrows between Scarba and Lunga and then extends 4km out into the Atlantic.


Well if the tourists can do it so can we!


It started deceptively calmly.

There now follows a short intermission as no photographs were taken for some reason.

Intermission.


Nearly through, looking back at Tony.


Now through the Dogs, Tony is satisfied but thirsty.


Once we cleared the race, there was a little swell on the Atlantic side of the Grey Dogs but then the sun came out!

Moonset over Little Colonsay and Lunga

After a long day, when we paddled from 9am to 10pm, we prepared a meal on a rocky knoll on the island of Inch Kenneth in Loch na Keal on the remote west coast of Mull. Long after sunset there was still a red glow in the north western sky as a dusky crescent moon sank below the island of Little Colonsay at the mouth of the loch.

Treshnish friends.

Sammy, I am not speaking till you get the name right. It's NEVILLE!

Razorbill and Puffin on the Treshnish Isles.

Razorbills

Hello, my name is Neville and I have come here because I am a razorbill....

Fingal's Cave, Staffa

Until 1829 this great sea cave on the island of Staffa in the Inner Hebrides was known by its Gaelic name, Uamh-Binn or Cave of Melody in English.



Approaching Staffa, you are struck by its three layered structure. The lowest is a layer of tuff (or compressed volcanic ash). The amazing mid layer is composed of dark basaltic hexagonal columns. These formed as a layer of lava from the Mull eruption slowly cooled. The top layer is another layer of lava which has cooled to form a uniform layer of basalt.



On the day of our visit a boat load of tourists landed as we approached the island. But by the time we pulled our kayaks up on the little beach beside the jetty, the tourists had all “done” the cave and made their way onto Staffa’s summit plateau. We made our way round to the now deserted Fingal’s Cave and slowly entered, our eyes adjusting to the darkness into which soaring basalt columns disappeared like the pillars supporting the vault of a great mediaeval cathedral. Our ears were filled with the gentle surge of the surf and our thoughts naturally turned to Mendelssohn’s Hebridean Symphony, which had been inspired by this natural music of the cave.



Then it started, out of the darkness came the most beautiful singing of Handel’s Messiah. The Glorias rose as a duet to the roof of the cave then echoed round till a whole chorus of harmonies filled our ears. The hair prickled on the back of our necks and we were captivated by the sound as we stood silent in the darkness. When the singing stopped, two German music teachers emerged from the gloom of the cave. It was a reminder of how Mankind’s own works can sometimes challenge even the most remarkable of Nature’s wonders. We congratulated them and were delighted when they asked if they could stay and watch while we brought our kayaks round to paddle inside the cave!



Then in 1829, Mendelssohn subtitled his manuscript for Hebridean Overture "Fingal's Cave" after the mythical Scottish/Irish Giant. The name has stuck.


PS added 21/1/07

This was a perfect day and at its end, we enjoyed a perfect sunset from the summit of Lunga in the Treshnish Isles looking over Coll in the Inner Hebrides to the distant mountains of Barra and South Uist.