Baked Bramley apples at a Shian Bay Sunset.

As the sun in the west sank behind distant Colonsay...

 ...it illuminated the moors of Jura to the east with a warm red light. A full moon rose into a cold blue sky above the misty hills beyond the moor.

We gradually gathered round the fire with our sports recovery drinks. Camp raconteur David kept Sam amused with tales such as how he had rolled more cars than kayaks!

 We were all set for a most convivial evening but...

 ...Ian and I made our temporary excuses as we...

 ...photographed the last of the sunset in the hope of capturing a green flash.

As we made our way back up to the camp, a cold mist began to roll down towards us from the Jura  mountains.

Gradually it spread across the near full moon, which was now high in the sky. Ian and I delighted in telling Maurice that as the full moon meant the tides were at springs, it would be an exciting trip through the great Gulf of Corryvreckan in the morning. As Morris had not been through the Corryvreckan before, his face visibly paled in the moonlight, as we continued to wind him up with tales of giant waves and whirlpools....

 Soon the cold mist wrapped around us making everything wet with condensation.

We were glad of the warmth of the fire. David and Sam had to sit ever closer on their bench seat as Ian and I continued to cut the ends off to keep the fire going to ensure...

...cooking of Ian's new signature dish...baked Bramley apples with clotted cream and sprinkled with cinnamon. 

Life really does not get much better than this. For us it is the essence of sea kayaking. Using a small boat to voyage and navigate yourself to remote, special places gives a real sense of adventure and achievement. Alternatively, we could have signed up for Saga Holidays "thrilling tour and cruise adventure for the over 50's" to Machu Picchu and the Galapagos Islands for £5,000 each (well Sam might not have been eligible as he is in his twenties). :o)

Read Ian's account here.

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.

Enchanted again by the remote west coast of Jura.

The sudden feeling of remoteness when you enter West Loch Tarbert on Jura never ceases to surprise.

 Gradually the inner loch narrowed until it looked like we were heading into a dead end...

 ... however a hidden right angled bend took us through the constriction at Cumnann Beag. The tide runs through here at a peak of 8 knots springs.

Once through into the middle part of West Loch Tarbert, the easy option would to have been to stop at the comfortable bothy of Cruib Lodge. However, by doing so we would have committed to a 50+ km following day, if we wanted to get round Colonsay. So we pressed on but...

...once we passed the second narrows at  Cumhann Mor we could not resist stopping at...

...the magnificent raised beach at the entrance to the outer loch. These sparkling clean cobbles are nearly 20m above sea level and though the tide last uncovered them 10,000 years ago, it looks like it just went out yesterday.

It was now getting late and we pressed on down the southern shore of outer West Loch Tarbert.

Seven years previously, Phil and I had scouted out a campsite near Glenbatrick so we decided to check it  out.

It proveed to be a fantastic location for both tents and a view to the west.  We unloaded the boats and set up the tents just as...

 ...a magnificent sun sank below...

...the distant silhouettes of Oronsay and Colonsay on the western horizon.

 After sunset, we prepared our evening meals under the light of a near full moon before...

...washing our things in a nearby river which flowed down from the summit of Beinn Shiantaidh (the Enchanted Mountain) which at 757m is the second highest of the Paps of Jura.

Well over an hour and a half after sunset there remained a deep glow in the west from the departed sun. It was too late to light a fire but we sat round the tents and cracked open flasks of Jura Origin and Caol Ila malt whiskies, which were distilled just 13 and 14 km away on Jura and on the neighbouring isle of Islay respectively. We talked long into darkness, planning for the following day and reminiscing about past expeditions together.

You can also follow this trip on Ian's blog here...

East meets west at Fidden, sheng fui at sunset

 It did not take long to paddle back to Fidden from the maze of the Moai of Mull and...

 ...soon we had both kayaks and F-Rib above the HW mark in good time before...

 ...the sun started to go down.

 It did not take long to get dinner on and Ian shared...

 ...a most delicious venison stew and new potatoes with Donald and myself.

 The sun going down...

 ...beyond the Fidden reefs and...

 ....the Sound of Iona.

Once the sun had set we set about lighting a fire on the beach (we brought our own logs). Just as a few midges began to bite a strong NE wind got up kept them away and helped the fire get going. We were rather pleased with the sheng fui arrangement of our dark sports recovery drinks on the white sands of Fidden..

We swapped tales long into the night as the moon followed the arc already taken by the sun. The drumming call of a snipe echoed round the rocks as it flew overhead.. What a day it had been!