Pigs have wings in Pig's Paradise, Colonsay

Leaving Port Lobh on the west coast of Colonsay we now found ourselves on a very committing part of Colonsay's western coast.


Out at sea the swell just rose and fell gently.


I had hoped to land at Port Ban on the wildest part of Colonsay's entire coastline but the swell was breaking heavily on the steep beach.


Port Ban is a raised beach and the cliffs surrounding it are known as "Pigs' Paradise". Despite its remoteness, someone has carried a heavy wooden picnic table down to the shoreline.


We didn't see any pigs (winged or otherwise) but there were plenty sea birds especially guillemots, black guillemots and fulmars. In the spring these cliffs are one of the biggest bird breeding colonies on Scotland's west coast.


We pressed on as the day began to die. We were looking for somewhere safe to land. Tomorrow's forecast was for 6' surf!

A hint of Spring round the Little Cumbrae Island.

We set off from Bute towards the north end of Little Cumbrae.


It was really pleasant and almost warm.


We were surprised to see several yachts with sails up at this time of year!


As we approached the lighthouse on the Little Cumbrae, we saw a gannet and courting eider ducks.


We rounded the north end of Little Cumbrae, there is a nice shingle beach to land on. The mountains of Arran still looked wintry.


We made our way south to the Little Cumbrae Castle then back over the channel to Seamill. We were home by 5pm but what a great short winter day!

15/02/2009

A lunchtime Guinness and a quick shag!

We made surprisingly good time up the Sound of Islay. We knew we would easily arrive in Port Askaig in time to catch the ferry so we decided to stop for some lunch. We drew the kayaks up this remote and delightful beach. Our boots made satisfying crunching noises in the pebbles as the tides in the Sound of Islay swept by.


As the sun had crossed the yardarm, some 20 minutes past, it seemed appropriate to wash our sandwiches down with our favoured libation.


At the other end of the beach, the local shags remained unmoved by our presence as they squabbled among themselves for possession of the highest perch. One of the shags was much quicker than the others and always seemed to end up having ownership of the favoured ledge. This lovely spot, at the edge of the white capped waters of the Sound of Islay, is overlooked by the Paps of Jura, which heave towards the NE sky.

15/07/2008

Sonar and a snoring Sammy seal slumbering soundly on Sanda

After our rounding of the Mull we left the coastline of Kintyre the wind dropped to nothing..


and the the mist began to gather and it was difficult to saw where the see ended and the sky began.


Soon the Kintyre coastline was shrouded in mist and not long afterwards we were enclosed by thick fog again. In the background you can see Dunaverty rock upon which once stood Dunaverty Castle. It is has one of the most bloody histories of all Scottish castles, ending in the massacre of between 300 to 500 Royalists who in 1647 surrendered after a siege to the Parliamentarian Lieutenant General David Leslie.

Our crossing of the strong tides in the Sound of Sanda was guided by GPS and sonar.

The fog was so thick that we were only 30m from Sanda when we finally found it. Our final approach had been guided by a strange deep ZZZZ ZZZZZZ ZZZZ sound that penetrated the miasma.


Just on the rocks we found Sammy the seal cub fast asleep, snoring his head off and completely oblivious to our presence.


Altogether now.... Ahhhhhhh!

26/07/2008

White tailed sea eagles, a swim and a can of Guinness

After rounding the Mull of Kintyre and entering the Firth of Clyde we came across a pair of sea eagles soaring with their offspring.


We needed a break and the sight of the sands of Carskey Bay proved most welcome.


We were by now rather hot.


I went for a very quick swim while Tony sensibly cracked open a can of Guinness.


We lazed in the sun while we looked back at the line of cliffs leading to the Mull of Kintyre, home of mists and sea eagles..... days like these.....

26/07/2008

The bird colonies of Ailsa Craig

The sea bird breeding colonies on Ailsa Craig are amongst the biggest in the World. At this time of year, the scale of life being rejuvenated is simply humbling.

05/05/2008

Remnants of Scotland's ancient forests of oak.

This view, of Beinn Sgritheall from Loch Hourn, is most people's idea of the scenery of Scotland: a wild landscape of bare mountains tumbling into deep sea lochs. It is, however, not natural. It is man made and is a result of deforestation. After the retreat of the last ice age, a beautiful sessile oak forest grew on much of the western sea board of Scotland. It was cut down over the centuries to clear the land for agriculture, to build ships, provide charcoal for the iron industry and tannin for the leather industry.


There are a few surviving pockets of the natural oak forest such as this one at the head of Glen Trool in Galloway.


The forest floor is carpeted with mosses, lichens, ferns and holly.


Another surviving pocket is on the north shore of Fleet Bay on the Solway Firth. Here the oaks grow right down to near the high water mark.

The great western sessile oak forest of Scotland must have been indescribably beautiful.

Sammy the Loch Moidart seal pup.

We spotted Sammy, a grey seal pup, through a gap in the skerries in Loch Moidart. Its mother was basking on a nearby rock. We did not speak and moved on silently, leaving them undisturbed.

Hundreds of thousands of other seal pups are not so fortunate. I have no doubt that my ancestors did this sort of thing on a small scale to survive. I also know that some of my ancestors were whalers. Again they did this to survive.

Part of the evolution of human society and the development of our humanity is surely to reach an awareness that the other animals that we share this Earth with should not be abused. We should respect them and if we do not need to slaughter them to survive we shouldn’t. Of course this seal cull is really just the tip of the shitty iceberg of the way in which our species treats this world and everything in it. What a far sighted lot we are.

Fortunately for Sammy, here in Scotland sealing and whaling are not seen as an essential part of our heritage and identity and, as such, there is no call for their continuance on cultural grounds. There is still a small number of hunters who shoot deer and birds for sport but perhaps not so many as in North America. Maybe there is a cultural difference and need in some parts of Canada but most photos of sealers I have seen are of people of European origin, many of them probably of Scottish decent. Does the economic survival of one of the wealthiest countries in the World really depend on this slaughter?

I am no vegan but I try to meat that has come from animals that have been well treated and humanely killed. I avoid 99p chickens!

Rolf has something to say as well.

10/10/2004

Barnacle geese on an early passage north through the Sound of Jura

We finally broke out of the current that was flowing from the Dorus Mor relentlessly towards the gaping jaws of the Gulf of Corryvreckan beyond.


We were now heading north west with the rocky isle of Reisa Mhic Phaidean on our left. All day long, we had watched great skeins of barnacle geese flying north up the Sound of Jura from their wintering grounds on Islay.

They spend the summer on Spitzbergen, some 2700km away to the NNW. I do hope they were not fooled into an early departure by that glorious high pressure spell in February. They normally leave in April and the severe weather since mid February must have made a northward migration almost impossible.

Beyond the geese, you can see Kilmory Lodge on Scarba and the distant mountains of Mull.

12/03/2008

White tailed sea eagles of the Dorus Mor.

While we were exploring the islands of the Dorus Mor we saw these two magnificent white tailed sea eagles. The strong currents and disturbed waters of the race bring fish to the surface and the sea eagles are ready to swoop down and catch them with their talons.

In the summer you can also find gannets feeding here but they can dive more deeply and catch the fish with their bills.

12/02/2008

The long and winding road, to the Mull of Galloway

I might have mixed up my McCartney songs but you get the idea...

Despite being part of mainland Scotland, when you are travelling through the Rhinns of Galloway, you feel you are on an island and so must have fallen asleep on the ferry.


The lambing season starts early here, hinted at by palm trees being just about the most common garden plant in these parts. In the southern half of the Rhinns of Galloway, you are never more than 2.5km from the Gulf Stream warmed sea and so frosts are rare.


However, it is not always like this in winter. High on the Mull, Kennedy's Cairn commemorates a postman who died on this road while delivering the mail in a snowstorm .


We left one car at East Tarbert to pick up later when we landed there. There is a road down to the old lighthouse boathouse and jetty.


You can get right down to the grass beside the boat house. The jetty was built to service the lighthouse before the road was built. If you look carefully at the top of the beach you can see a huge steel deck hatch that has been washed off a ship rounding the Mull in a storm.

17/02/2008

Winter sunset as we approach the Mull.

We left Rainbow Rock as the thin winter sun was sinking towards the south western horizon and the air was full of the mournful calls of wheeling gulls.


With each headland we felt the power of the tide increase until it was like a huge lazy river, pushing us ever faster and inevitably towards the Mull of Galloway.


The rocks turned red as the sun sank lower.


We were often tempted to break out of the tide and take a diversion through rocky channels.


At last the Mull of Galloway, surmounted by its lighthouse, lay before us. We would be rounding it at 3 hours after slack water and there was now no turning back....

A day at the races, continued...

After we slipped through the gap to the north end of Lunga we turned north past the islets of Fiola Meadhonhach and Rubha Fiola. The spring ebb tide was running strongly south but we found ourselves in a counter eddy which propelled us northwards to Sgeir nan Gabhar. This is the sight that awaited us.... a harmless little tide rip.


The little loop on the map at the top end of Sgeir nan Gabhar must look so insignificant to you, the dear reader. However, to Tony and I it represents a mountain we could not climb, a torrent of defeat, the ebb of our dignity and a flood of retreat.

We left the shelter of the eddy and immediately were in the full force of the rip. Another big eddy was coming up the west side of Rhubha Fiola and curling round to join the main stream that was running to the SE. It prevented us finding an inside route and a wall of water pushed us further out. I was paddling as hard as I could, my paddles were flashing in the sunlight, my lungs were bursting, I seemed to be making progress. Tony came alongside and as I glanced towards him I saw we had made no forward progress at all! Teeth gritted, I started panting as I tried to increase my stoke rate. "I'm not going to last much longer!" The sparkling waves were speeding past faster than I had ever paddled before and my chest was bursting. A fulmar swept effortlessly into view, its teasing wing tip clipping the wave that was just about to pile into me and sap my last reserve. I could resist the streaming tide no longer. "Tony I've had it!"

I broke off and relief and spray swept over me as I bounced downstream at high speed through the wave chain. It seemed like an eternity of effort but the GPS later revealed that our premature ejection from the race had occured after a mere two minutes.


We now had a problem. We had set up camp on Lunga's west coast and now the powerful tides of the Firth of Lorn had cut us off. Our only chance was to try and return through the gap we had been playing in. Unfortunately the tide had dropped and a steep wall of rushing water lay ahead. Tony managed to get through at his second attempt. I made three unsuccessful attempts but was by now completely exhausted. We tried to set up my tow rope for Tony to pull me through but there was nowhere for him to stand far enough upstream and he lost leverage just as I approached the fastest section of the chute. Beaten back by the force of nature, I retired to lick my wounds and look for my split paddle that had come off in the struggle with the tow line.

A few minutes later Tony appeared on foot, over the rocks and kindly paddled my boat speedily up the chute. That's what younger, fitter friends are for!


We returned to our camp on Lunga's west coast. The golden eagle was circling overhead. It was great to rest our weary bones round the camp fire and slake our substantial thirst as the sun went down behind the mountains of Mull.

What would the morning hold? Before then, the eagle's hungry chick squawked all night.

25/08/2007

Sammy the seagull.

Sammy the seagull likes following ferries
and although his daily diet varies,
he hopes you will throw him a crust,
of a sandwich, you really must.

A close encounter of the cetecean kind.

Rob said "you haven't lived until the 6 foot dorsal of a big bull knifes it's way toward you and disappears under your keel, the golden glow of a big yellow eye still visible." Rob I would be scared out of my wits! However, in a small way I have known something akin to your amazing experience.



Almost exactly 3 years ago we were paddling round the islands of Luing and Shuna in the Firth of Lorne. As we crossed the Sound of Shuna the wind dropped to nothing, then behind us came a thrashing noise like the paddle steamer Waverley. It was a group of about 30 to 45 bottlenose dolphins. They seemed to be feeding right on the surface as they came round Rubh Aird Luing. We stopped paddling and drifted in the tide. We were lying about 200 metres off their track but as soon as they saw us, all three pods came over for a closer look.



We were surrounded. The females and calves circled round on the outside, then the adolescents, then two large alpha males ignored my daughter Jennifer and came for me at high speed on the surface. Mature males weigh about 650kg and can travel at up to 30km/hr! They barrel rolled just under my kayak and one after the other, I saw the eye looking up at me then the pale belly and finally the tail. The second just flicked the bottom of the kayak ever so gently with its tail. The pair then exploded from the water before crashing back with a huge splash. They repeated this several times. Awesome. I have since seen the big one with the lateral bend to its dorsal fin 65 km to the south near Cara.



Only after what seemed like an age did the dolphins stop showing off and resume their fishing trip. Stunned, we were left on our own in the silence of a winter sunset in the Sound of Shuna.