Sea kayaking round Luing.

 Circumnavigation of Luing: a 32km day trip from Ellenabeich, Seil, January 2011.

18.2 km/hr in the Cuan Sound, between Luing and Seil.

The tide times in the Cuan Sound and the Grey Dogs (also the Corryvreckan) are influenced by low pressure Atlantic systems and can be difficult to predict within an hour's accuracy. However, in a high pressure system they are much more predictable, though times vary between springs and neaps.

The north and west going flood begins +0430 HW Oban (-0100 HW Dover)  at 7 to 8 knots at springs and +0515 HW Oban (-0015 HW Dover) at neaps.

The south and east going ebb begins -0145 HW Oban (+0515 HW Dover) up to 8 knots at springs and -0100 HW Oban (+0600 HW Dover) at neaps.

The time changes by 6.5 minutes each day between springs and neaps. The constant between HW Dover and HW Oban does vary, so most accurate times are calculated by using HW Oban times (though not if you have calculated HW Oban indirectly from HW Dover!!).

On the day, HW Oban was at 0749 and 2011 and it was 1 day after springs so the time had drifted 6.5 minutes from the spring time. So the north and west going flood started about 0749 + 0436 = 1225 and the south and east going ebb started at 0749 - 0139 = 0610. We were on the water by 0955.



The Grey Dogs were salivating, while awaiting our arrival.


Ferry gliding in the Grey Dogs.


A sting in the tail of the Sound of Shuna.


Toberonochy, what's the story?


The stirring sound of moving water in the Cuan Sound.


Darkness stole across the Isles of the Sea.

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!

The Grey Dogs were salivating, while awaiting our arrival.

It was a cold, grey, January day but the promise of spring tides took us to Ellenabeich on the Island of Seil. David, Jennifer, Jim, Phil and I launched our kayaks in the little harbour of this former slate mining centre.

The harbour at Ellenabeich is sheltered from the open Firth of Lorn by the island of Easdale which lies just over 100m across the Sound of Easdale. A little passenger ferry runs back and forwards for most of the day to serve the community that has grown up in the former quarrymens' cottages on the island.

Setting off down the Sound of Luing with Luing and Scarba on the horizon.

Our plan was to circumnavigate Luing using the ebb in the Sound of Luing then the flood in the Cuan Sound. It was spring tides with HW Oban at 0749 and 2011. Peak rate in the channels would be 9knots. So I calculated that in the significant channels the ebb (S and E going) would run until 1225 when the flood would start. Sunset was 1633. I wanted to get to the Grey Dogs for about 1130, which would allow for an hour's play before slack water. Because we were finishing in the Cuan Sound, I wanted to get back to Seil by dark (I also wanted to hit the Cuan at full belt at about 1530!) That meant leaving Seil at 1000. David and Phil arrived at my house in Glasgow bang on time at 0600 and we were on the water by 1000 sharp!

 It did not take long to reach the tiny island of Fladda, which sits right in the middle of the fairway of the Sound of Luing. Beyond Fladda, the bold outline of Scarba rose above Lunga and distant Jura.

Fladda lighthouse was built in 1860 by David and Thomas Stevenson. The wall surrounding the raised part of the island was built to give shelter to the keepers' vegetable garden!

We hardly had time to look at Fladda before the tides whisked us away at  15km/hr!

We continued at this rate down the Sound of Luing, towards the great bulk of Scarba under which the Grey Dogs were salivating, while awaiting our arrival......!

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!

A fishless lunch on Eileach an Naoimh

We slipped through a gap in the reefs through to the SE side of the Garvellachs. I fell behind the others to drop a mackerel line over the side. I very quickly caught a good sized one but when I pulled it in it was just a head! It had been very neatly bitten off at the gills by a seal that was following us. I gave up on the idea of mackerel for lunch. :o(


The magnificent Paps of Jura dominated the horizon to the south...


...while we made our way past the barnacle encrusted reef of Sgeir Leth a' Chuain towards the sloping SE side of Eileach an Naoimh... the rocky isle of the Saint.


We passed under the Clochain, a pair of ancient beehive cells where monks from the monastery retreated to pray.


From the landing spot, we climbed up to a little platform beside the monastery, which had a great view over to the Gulf of Corryvreckan, which lies between Scarba and Jura. Even from this distance we could see the swell breaking on the exposed SW coast of Scarba.


The view to the south towards the Paps of Jura showed that the monks must have enjoyed the scenery while meditating.


We too attempted to meditate, while enjoying our fish-less lunch. However, we were subjected to a most ferocious midge attack in the midday sun. Don't these midges play by the rules? Either monks were very thick skinned or the beehive cells were midge proof. If they were stuck in these windowless cells for months on end, maybe they didn't enjoy the view after all!

A Corryvreckan eddy.

We waited at the SE entrance to the Corryvreckan for 1.5hours after slack water, to let the east going ebb tide build up a little bit. We then launched into a counter eddy, which took us back west at 10.8km/hr into the Corryvreckan again.

We were passed by a west going yacht, motoring at full belt on top of the 10.8km/hr of the eddy. It was really nice to see its single handed skipper displaying such a confident knowledge of these tricky waters. We exchanged waves of mutual respect!


Tony and I then broke out into the main ebb. The eddy line was rather stimulating and then, out in the main current, huge boils, 150m across, erupted on the surface from the depths below. However, there was not a breath of wind and the surface of the Corryvreckan remained surprisingly calm. Even a light wind can turn these waters into somewhere very unpleasant. We were entertained by some porpoises feeding on confused fish.


After spending some time in the eddy, Jennifer and Phil came out to join Tony and I. It was their first trip into the Corryvereckan other than at slack water.


Once we were all in the main ebb, we found ourselves "drifting" along at only 14km/hr!


All too soon, we were ejected from the Corryvreckan. This is Phil's "Been there, done that." photo!


This was our track through and across the Corryvreckan from west to east. Slack, before the east going ebb, was predicted at 16:00, it was 3 days after neaps. We entered the west end of the Corryvreckan at 15:38, passed 180m SW of the pinnacle over which the whirlpools form at 15:52. at 16:01 the sea went glassy calm indicating slack water. (Note: tidal predictions here are very dependent on air pressure and are only reasonably accurate in the middle of a high pressure system.) We landed at Port nam Furm, at the SE entrance to the Corryvreckan, at 16:18. We relaunched at 17:18 into the west going eddy and finally left the Corryvreckan at 17:46, an hour and 46 minutes after slack water.


Don't be fooled by the calm conditions we encountered in the Corryvreckan on this current trip. This photo with a little wind shows the Corryvreckan in a much more serious mood.

Waiting for the ebb in the Corryvreckan.

We entered the great gulf of Corryvreckan just before slack water. There was no swell and we had never seen the SW of Scarba in such calm conditions.


Jennifer tried to look under the water to see if she could see the Old Hag that stirs the Corryvreckan but the witch must have been scared of Jennifer's goldfish hat.


Even at slack water there was some stirring as we paddled over the submarine pinnacle that throws up the "whirlpool".


Even Phil had found the whole experience somewhat anticlimactic, so we decided to stop for an evening meal...


...on a lovely cobbled beach on the NE tip of Jura.


We had a grandstand view of the Corryvreckan as we consumed our victuals and washed them down with a fine malt or two. We would now wait until the ebb had built up sufficiently for a little fun...

Guirasdeal, a miniature Scarba!

On leaving Lunga we approached the fair isle of Guirasdeal and Scarba beyond. It is like a miniature Scarba. One wonders what sort of cataclysmic geological events shaped this wonderful little isle.


We often take a break on its steep cobble beach but I knew my knee could not stand a landing there. At this point we had to decide whether to return to the Sound of Jura via the Grey Dogs (over Jennifer's left shoulder) or to carry on further south west and go through the Corryvreckan.


We decided to make for the Corryvreckan and crossed over to Scarba. There is another beach at the NW corner of Scarba but it is not suitable for dodgy knees either!


The cliffs, with their dry caves and raised beach, make Scarba's west coast a truly inhospitable place. This is the calmest we have ever seen it but there was nowhere to land, for anyone with the remotest sympathy for gel coat, so we kept paddling!


We came to the final headland before the Corryvreckan, what would it be like?

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!