28th April 2021 #1 Return to sea kayak camping, a trip to the Sound of Sleat and Loch Hourn.

Due to various health problems I have not posted much here recently mainly because I have not gone anywhere. However, I managed to get myself north to Glenelg on 28/4/2021 to join Ian from Mountain and Sea Scotland and friends. It is the furthest I have driven, furthest I have paddled and the most nights I have camped out in over 4 years.

I get easily tired these days and though previously I have driven to Loch Hourn, paddled and driven back in a day, I now stop every hour. I left Glasgow at 6am and my first stop was at the Falls of Falloch north of Loch Lomond.

My second stop was under the Three Sisters of Glencoe where 

the Alt Lairige Eilde tumbles into the glen over a series of three waterfalls. I also stopped at the Spean Bridge Commando Monument but there was no view to Ben Nevis due to fog. A further stop at the Loch Garry viewpoint was equally disappointing, due to a large forest having grown up and completely obliterated the view. Goodness knows what tourists make of it.

A final stop near the summit of the Mam Ratagan pass above Loch Duich gave a splendid view to the Five Sisters of Kintail.

Glenelg lay at the foot of the far side of the pass. We had wondered if we would get parked as all the likely spots are usually taken by motor homes. 

Before we left the cars we asked several locals. It turns out the popular Bernara beach was blighted by a few of the many camper vans who visit staying for weeks at a time and dumping sewage onto the beach. The community erected a 2 metre barrier which has kept all camper vans out. That is unfortunate for the responsible owners but was fortunate for us.

Soon we were loaded up and ready to go, though the tide was a long way out as it was spring tides.

My brother Donald came along in his small 2.75m Rib and 6HP outboard... the Guppy. He has made a video of the trip.

Photo Donald Wilcox.

Soon we were on our way with an increasing tail wind.

An RAF Typhoon banked overhead and we could see the pilot looking down on us then

we got a cheery wave from the local prawn boat OB164 MAIREAD M. I hope everyone was happy to see the return of tourists.

The wind quickly picked up and my camera stayed in its dry bag. The GoPro did capture 

some of the sense of freedom after the long winter lockdown.

All too soon it was time to drop the sail and land on our chosen spot for the night, an offshore reef with a white shell sand beach.

It was now spring low water so we had a long carry.

 

The kayak crew were Ian, Allan and his wife Lorna and his brother Raymond. My brother Donald had motored the Guppy round to the lee side of the reef where he would line it in as the tide rose. We were set for our first camp together in quite a few years. Our end of lockdown adventure had begun.

The bar at Morar was not dry.

Morar Bay is famous for its dazzling silvery white sands but it was a rather grey...

...day and, together with noise from the road, the train, a chain saw and...

...even a passing Hercules, I was concerned that Ian and Mike might not get the best impression of this beautiful spot.

So as we passed one of the stunning beaches on its north shore I described to them what it was like when the sun shone. This was on a previous trip and I enjoyed wonderful views to the Small Isles of Eigg and Rum (Canna is just visible to the left of Eigg) across the dazzling sands and turquoise water.

As the current carried us down between the sand banks the sounds of civilisation faded away leaving only the calls of the many wading birds. The mournful call of the curlew contrasted with the pip of the oystercatchers.

The ebb was running strongly at the shallow bar across the mouth of the bay where it met the incoming wind it created some standing waves. Normally at this point you would be captivated by the outline of Eigg on the horizon (just visible through the mist) but this time we concentrated on...

Photo by Ian Johnstone

...having fun in the small waves. We certainly got our faces wet on Morar bar.

Fog, Hercules, porpoise and greylag on the morning run to Inchmarnock.

We paddled round the north coast of  the Cock of Arran until our GPS showed the distance to our next waypoint on the isle of  Inchmarnock had stopped falling. 

We then set off on the second crossing of the day. The south end of Inchmarnock was 9km across the Sound of Bute but although the sky was clearing there was still fog at sea level and...

 ...there was not a sign of Inchmarnock on the horizon.

We set off on a compass bearing but shortly after leaving the coast of Arran the GPS showed the flood tide was drifting us to port so we continued on a ferry angle to starboard.

A roar of turboprop engines while we were mid-crossing announced the arrival of this RAF Hercules transport plane. They must have enjoyed a nice tour of the SW of Scotland as my wife saw it flying over the Solway Firth (125 km distant) a little earlier in the day.

 Just as the mist cleared allowing us to see Inchmarnock a solitary porpoise surfaced ahead of us.

At last the skies cleared revealing the...

 ...bright quartzite beach at the south end of Inchmarnock. The heat of the day was building and we had chosen to wear dry suits for the open crossings as the water temperature was only 7.5 degrees C and the wind had been forecast to get up to F4 southerly.The wind never appeared with the result was that we were boiled in the bag. The air temperature was 18C on the coast (24C inland) and it was the hottest day of the year so far.

As we approached the reefs of Inchmarnock a flight of greylag geese passed by. These large geese are not resident in the Clyde and migrate further north in the summer. It was the 29th of April and the other species of migratory geese had long since gone. The greylags do lag behind the other geese somewhat as they are always the last to leave in the spring.

Skipness bombing range and the Tirpitz.

We made our way up from the beach at Skipness Point to the Old Chapel and its walled graveyard. Just to the east of the graveyard we came across this old concrete arrow.

It can be clearly seen in this view from Google Maps.

The arrow points straight down the Kilbrannan Sound and it formed part of the Skipness bombing range in WW2. RAF and Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm pilots based at nearby RAF Machrihanish practised dropping bombs and torpedoes here.

They were observed by a team of about 45 Wrens who recorded the bombing runs from a lookout post on the west side of Skipness Bay. In March 1944 the Skipness range was used to train squadrons for the attacks on the German battleship Tirpitz. After a series of partially successful raids using aircraft carrier based light aircraft, Tirpitz was eventually sunk by heavy RAF Lancaster bombers in Tromsø fjord on the 12th of November 1944. Afterwards, a RN Vice Admiral visited Skipness to congratulate the Wrens for their part in the effort to sink Tirpitz.

The horror of WW2 seemed very far away as lambs grazed the fresh spring grass growing round the old concrete arrow.

A near miss at the Heads of Ayr.

Unfortunately I have not been paddling since a shoulder operation at the end of July and then a little knee surgery at the beginning of October.This has caused a modicum of pain, which has rather limited my interest in the internet.

However, life goes on and I can dip into the back catalogue for some more sea kayaking posts. This time last year would seem a good place to start....

 It was a cold and frosty morning when we set off from Seafield beach at Ayr on the Firth of Clyde.

 We were bound for the former fishing port of Dunure which lies to the south of the Heads of Ayr.

 The Arran mountains were topped by a dusting of snow.

 We had just entered the shade of the Heads of Ayr when an aerial drama unfolded above our heads...

 Two jets hurtled towards each other...

 ...then created an interweaving...

...pattern with their contrails.

Between a rock and a contrail on Ardlamont.

I got up on the sixth day of our expedition after having slept very little. The pain in my injured shoulder had steadily worsened making sleep all but impossible. To make matters worse I had finished all my painkillers. Our plan  had been to spend a further two days exploring the Kyles of Bute before returning to Ardrossan on the Ayrshire coast. However, I could not face a further miserable night so I explained the situation to the others and we decided to head directly to Ardrossan some 42km distant. We did consider whether to paddle 33km to Brodick on Arran and then get the ferry to Ardrossan  but it would have put my injured shoulder under too much pressure to get the last ferry.

 The beaches at Ardlamont point are composed of steeply sloping rock shelves. The rock is 600 million years old and is made of sediments which been subjected to considerable metamorphic changes. The great pressures, folding and heat have produced some beautiful patterns in the rock.

In places the rock shelf is covered by beaches of cobbles. Mostly these are of the same metamorphic rock but there are also some sandstone, quartz and granite cobbles mixed in.

 The water looked very inviting for a swim but as my shoulder was so sore I decided not to risk it. Only Jennifer was brave enough to go in as the water in early June was still only 11 degrees Celsius.

We slowly packed the kayaks as the heat of the day began to build. Thankfully there were far fewer midges than the previous evening.

 It felt great to be paddling down the Sound of Bute with Arran on one side and...

 ...the rocky shores and yellow gorse covered banks of Ardlamont on the other.

There was absolutely no wind so the sails remained furled on our decks. My friends accommodated my injury by paddling slowly, much more slowly than...

...the passengers on this Trans-Atlantic jet, which was the only other sign of human activity. Long after the jet had gone, the reflection of its contrail writhed like a snake in the water ahead of us.