The folly of not bringing a trolley to Barlocco.

 Well laden with wood, we paddled out of Castle Haven under...

 ...the watchful yellow eye of the local heron.

 The sun was sinking fast, almost as fast as the sea level and...

 ...despite our best efforts the bar which connects Barlocco Isle to the mainland had dried. Our destination at Barlocco beach (the one with the fort folly) was 320m away on the other side. We could paddle 2.5km round Barlocco but the carry would still be 250m. A trolley would have been most beneficial but as I already knew there was little fire wood on the beaches, I had advised Ian and Mike to leave the trolleys and bring wood instead. In retrospect we should have brought one trolley and only two of us should have brought logs.

Anyway the retrospectoscope is a very powerful instrument so we had no choice but to get on with it. We left our bags of wood at the bar and carried the three kayaks up the beach. That was 1km of walking and 1km of carrying! We discovered that burning logs is not the only way to get warm. We just managed to beat...

 ...the sunset which was truly magnificent.

 The Solway skies really are wonderful whatever time of day...

...but this sunset was something special to behold.

My knees were absolutely killing me after the carry so I dropped my things and set up my tent just at the top of the beach beside the folly. The ground was not exactly level but my knees were done and I didn't care.

Ian and Mike found a much better camp site just 150m further on. Ian then very generously went back to recover the logs during the best bit of the sunset. I was particularly pleased about this as I just could not face a fourth trip back down the beach and back.

 While Ian was doing this I took some more photos with...

 ...his camera so that he would not miss out on photographs to help remember the wonderful Solway sunset by.

On his travels Ian had also found two very large logs which he rolled into place. One provided a back for the fire the other provided a seat. I used one of our ignition aids (bag of barbeque coals) and got the fire going with one match.

 As the giant star Arcturus slowly set in the west behind the Sun, we roasted sweet potatoes and Ian rushed off to replenish the supplies of Jura, which had run perilously low. My knees began to feel better and we chatted long into the night. On the far side of Wigton Bay the lights of the Machar's villages twinkled as meteors streaked and satellites cruised through the myriad of stars in the Milky Way above.

No ghosts on Little Ross Island, despite its tragic past.

By the time we set up camp on Little Ross Island, the sun was already setting across the broad expanse of Wigton Bay.

 We walked up to the lighthouse  as the last rays of the sun reflected on...

 ...the windows of the lighthouse keepers' cottages. It was behind...

 ...this window that the dark events of Little Ross Island's past were played out in 1960. The lighthouse keeper was shot in the head by the assistant lighthouse keeper who was later arrested in Yorkshire. He was found guilty at his trial in Kirkcudbright. There is a moving account of the tragedy by local man David Collin who found the body with his father.

As we pondered the past tragedy at Little Ross lighthouse the day slipped away and

...as we walked back down to our camp in the gathering darkness it was hard to believe that such a sad event had taken place in this beautiful spot. Several sea kayaking friends refuse to camp here. You might wonder if we were concerned about camping in such a place but there was no sense of malevolence, only a feeling of peace. We could think of no reason why any spirit of a murdered lighthouse keeper could hold any ill will towards mariners like ourselves.

 As the last embers of the day faded behind a pile of old lobster creels, we gathered what scant driftwood was to be found. We would need a fire as a chilling F4/5 northerly wind got up as...

...night fell. Fortunately we had brought a good supply of logs in dry bags on our rear decks and soon enjoyed the warmth of a blazing fire, (Carrying the logs meant we had left our trolleys behind. This omission would warm us further the following evening...) We spent several hours enjoying great chat while we ate baked sweet potatoes washed down by an isotonic drink (which is good for you) and is made by an Irish company.

I was woken in the middle of the night. The flood tide in the Sound was running against the north wind and it sounded as if the waves of the tide race were lapping the tent. Although we had carried them well up the beach, I was worried about the boats so I got up and used my tow line to tie them together and secure them to a rock. Suddenly a dreadful noise, like a pair of cats being strangled, reverberated round the island. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up but it was no ghost, just a pair of squabbling herons.

Read more  about the sunset at Little Ross Island on Ian's blog here.

Brownies, saints and crispy bottoms on Cara.

As we pulled our kayaks up the beach on Cara we saw the first and only glimpse of sunshine on our whole trip. Across the Sound of Gigha, the long sandy strand at Rhunahaorine Point on Kintyre became illuminated by a beautiful warm glow, which contrasted with the dark shaded hills behind. Yet another pair of otters had just swum behind the skerry in the foreground bringing our tally for the day to well into the teens (there had been such a surfeit of otters that we lost count).

Then the sun made a flitting appearance on Cara. It was shining between the narrowest of gaps in the clouds and by the time...

 ...I turned it was already fading but I could still just see my long shadow fading into the sand. Ian was quicker and got some nice sunlight photos here.

Before it got dark we thought we had better nip up to Cara House and pay our respects to the Brownie. Cara House was built in 1733 by the Macdonalds of Largie for their tacksman. It was last used by a resident on Cara in the 1940's when the tenant farmer left. I have written 24 posts on Cara in the past and you can read them here. Despite the large windows the house is a grim looking place and makes a fitting residence for the troubled spirit of the Brownie.

The house has a third attic floor and it is within this that the Brownie has set up residence.

Immediately next to the house lie the remains of Cille Fionnlugh (St Finla's chapel). I have previously written about the mistaken location of St Fionnlugh's chapel but the...

...splayed inshot windows and floor measurements of this building match the description in the Old Statistical Account of Scotland (1793).

We returned to the beach to cook our evening meal (forward planning reserve rations) to make up for the lack of lobsters at the Boathouse. We then got the fire going. We had brought well seasoned logs but had also managed to scour driftwood from the beaches and reefs of Gigha and Gigalum. Then an hour after sunset a remarkable thing happened. The NW wind increased and as it did so the clouds began to clear. We were left with a night sky of stunning clarity. Seldom have we seen the Milky Way shine so brightly. Satellites moved steadily across the sky and meteors left long but short lived trails through the constellations. We had to move back as the wind whipped up the intensity of the flames. I now have a pair of trousers with crispy leg bottoms! Needless to say we baked sweet potatoes and toasted our good fortune with some Jura Origin malt whisky which originates from its home on Jura just on the other side of the Sound of Jura.

Fire at sunset by the Sound of Bute.

Once we had got the kayaks up above where we expected high water to be we unloaded our bags just as...

...the sun was setting.

A few midges came out as we were putting the tents up but fortunately the breeze increased just enough to stop them flying.

There was no sign of the fire Mike and I had made back in June and we set a new fire in the same place.  It was nice having the heat of the fire while preparing our evening meal.

It was not just the fire that was glowing. Long after sunset the sky was too!

We decided that our new Helinox chairs were a fabulous addition to any camp fire!

Once the fire was well lit and...

...there were plenty embers we put the tatties in to bake.

We enjoyed our perfect baked potatoes in the twilight. The only sign of human activity was the Holy Island outer light and lights from a couple of fishing boats plying the Sound of Bute. All this, companionable conversation and no midges, we were certainly in heaven!

Golden sunset and embers on Inchmarnock.

The sun slowly sank to the NW over the Sound of Bute.

 As it did so the sky slowly turned to gold and...

 ...the ancient layers of sedimentary rock on Inchmarnock were illuminated by a lovely warm light.

 Normally midges are a problem in the West of Scotland summer evenings but a north wind meant...

 ...we enjoyed the sunset undisturbed.

After sunset we experienced an extended twighlight but the temperature dropped even further and so we turned...

...to the glowing embers of our fire and enjoyed the heat of many past summers as night drew round the mountains of Arran.

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.