Two schools of seakayaking campers, a tattie howkin' stick and a Colonsay sunset.

Once we had revived ourselves with some well earned sports recovery drinks we set about getting...

...our tents up and cooking our evening meal...

...before sunset. David had forgotten a bottle of locally distilled elixir, which  was stuffed up the side of his kayak skeg box but...

 ..a shout of glee announced its discovery and...

 ...he returned from the beach with a youthful spring in his step just before sunset.

At this point it is worth mentioning the two schools of kayak campers. The first carry their kayaks right up the beach and deposit them beside their tents. The second pull them up the beach just enough to avoid the tide carrying them away in the night. As you can see, we belong to the second school!

So just as the sun kissed...

 ...the western horizon we left the beach to the kayaks. We were pretty confident that not even the Hag of Colonsay would bother them.

While David had recovered his elixir, Ian, Maurice, Sam and myself had scoured the beach for drift wood. We set our fire on the sand below the high water spring mark so that no trace of our passing would remain. I have never understood why people drag stones from the beach to build a fire ring on the machair then leave a permanently charred hole as a mark of their passage.

Gradually we reconvened with our piles of wood round the fire where...

 ...we spent a most convivial evening recounting stories and setting the world to rights. Note the tattie howkin' stick to the right of this photo.

This is never burned until the baked potatoes (and Ian's recent introduction baked Bramley apples with clotted cream) are ready  and require howkin' from the fire. Only when all consumables have been recovered from the embers may the tattie howkin' stick be sent to its fate.

It was now 10:30 but the full moon was up and...

 ...the sky to the west still glowed red.

Gradually the sky darkened and we got on with the serious business of a comparative tasting of several Islay, Jura and Speyside malt whiskies.

I am sure we reached a consensus but for the life of me I can't remember what we decided. We will just need to reconvene, hopefully with friends who could not join us on this occasion, and repeat our deliberations. Sea kayaking really does not get much better than this.

Read Ian's account here.

Sea kayak camping in Nirvana

This was the view we woke to the morning after the amazing sunset.

I could not resist going in for an early morning swim. At 11C the sea temperature was warmer than the air temperature at only 7C.

We wrapped up warmly in Buffalo jackets as there was a cool easterly breeze.  However, there are few locations that can match this for a view over breakfast.

The wind was forecast to get up to 5-7 easterly which is why we had left our shuttle car at Samalaman rather than further east, at the head of Loch Ailort, as we had done the last time we had done this trip. This meant we did not have far to go but even so, we decided to start packing the boats early.

 We were in no particular hurry though as...

...we wanted to savour these wonderful surroundings for as long as possible. Our fire had burned away to just a few ashes, which we scattered in the sands then...

 ...after a last check that we had left the machair pristine, we...

 ...left Port Achadh an Aonaich, the port of the field of the steep place, to...

...the local inhabitants.

A celestial fire in the sky over Ardnamurchan

Once we got the tents up there was not much time till dark but Ian and I went back out on the water. Ian had been here about three weeks previously and seen a decent sized deciduous tree washed up on the rocks. Armed with a Silky Supper Accel folding saw we soon cut it to pieces.  We filled our hatches and tied the bigger bits onto the back decks.

 We returned to the sea just as the sun was setting.

 You really can't beat a sunset on the west coast of Scotland. We are far enough away from the Equator for it to be a long drawn out affair.

The crags above the mirror flat sera turned a wonderful orange colour. If you look carefully at this photo, Ian appears to have a 5 o'clock shadow and be unshaven but that is actually the shadow of my head!

 This was truly sublime paddling as the sun sank slowly between Ardnamurchan peninsula and the isle of Muck.

To the south of the sunset, Ardnamurchan is the most westerly point on the British mainland. To the north of Muck the sunset was framed by the Sgurr of Eigg with the...

 ...Cuillin of Rum beyond.

 This proved to be a spectacular sunset, as the sun started to dip below the horizon it illuminated the undersides of the clouds with a fiery glow.

 The temperature plummeted after sunset and the Cuillin of Skye appeared as we paddled north.

 We paddled inshore of some skerries then Ian and...

 ...I rejoined Mike and Lorna back at the camp site. Just as we landed the embers of the sunset reignited as...

...although the sun was by now well below the horizon its rays were reflecting off the undersides of the clouds.

 ...and it did not stop there, this equinoctial northern sunset just went on and...

 ...on. This was taken an hour after sunset when the glow of the dying sun had now moved north to between Rum and Skye.

 What a view to enjoy our dinner bay. Unlike the previous evening when we dined together, we just sat silently appreciating the incredible...

 ...view of a celestial fire over Ardnamurchan.

As the darkness gathered we brought the wood up from the boats by the light of our head torches and lit the fire. As we had plenty of wood we were set for a comfortable night of convivial conversation and baked potatoes. It was an hour and a half after sundown and there was still an ember of the sunset in the sky. However, the embers of our fire were still going well 6 hours after sundown!

For the full stereovision experience of this amazing sunset, join Iain on his blog here.

More sea eagles than you can shake a stick at in Loch Moidart.

From the ancient walls of Tioram castle we...

...proceeded to explore the inner recesses of Loch Moidart with the flooding tide.

The local sea eagle put in another appearance, soaring above the steeply wooded slopes.

 A series of delightful channels separate the many isles that dot the inner loch.

As we paddled deeper into the wilderness, clouds streamed out from the summits of the high hills creating delightful contrasts between light and shade.

 Some of the isles plunge steeply into the sea but others are...

 ...easier to land on being low lying. However, beware of camping here if a high spring tide is due in the early morning. Attractive, close cropped, level grass becomes covered at HW.

 It was a joy not to be racing to get through the tidal North Channel of Loch Moidart on a falling tide (as we have often done).

 The line of the North Channel runs straight as a die and the iconic...

...summit of the Sgurr of  Eigg draws the eye...

 ...towards the open sea. Suddenly Lorna saw yet another...

...sea eagle wheeling over the crags above the channel.

It is a bit of a sea eagle hot spot here. David and I had seen these two here seven months previously.

 As we neared the sea the clouds drew back and we paddled the outer half of the North Channel in...

 ...glorious sunshine which enhanced the autumn colours.

 At low tide the mouth of the North Channel is a maze of skerries but...

 ...at high tide most are covered. We exited the North Channel and entered the open sea with a most marvellous prospect over the Sea of the Hebrides to Eigg and Rum.

 We now proceeded to Port Achad an Aonaich where we intended to...

 ...set up camp on the machair. I went for a quick swim in 11C water then...

...we set up the tents, but the day was not over yet..oh no!

For the full stereovision experience follow this trip on Ian's blog:

here and

here