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!

Moonlight over Pladda and Ailsa Craig.

I awoke at 3am to the the sound of lapping as High Water approached. It seemed very close to the tents and I was concerned about the kayaks. There are two groups of sea kayakers. The first carry their kayaks right up to the tents each night and the second (into which we fall) just carry them up above where they expect the night high tide to come.

Fortunately noise carries a long way in a still night and the kayaks were well above the tide. I was glad to have awoken. It was just 4 days after a full moon and there was enough light to see both Pladda and Ailsa Craig. Both the moonlight and the Pladda lighthouse lantern were reflecting on the Pladda Sound as it was calm at slack water. I could just see the lights of a fishing boat off Ailsa Craig and to the right of that (at the edge of the photo) I could see the port navigation light of the Dutch container ship MV Energiser making her way up the Clyde to Greenock.

Satisfied by the beauty of the scene and reassured by the lack of wind, I made my way back to bed. It would be a long paddle to Ailsa Craig in the morning.

Black Bun and a black swan in the gloaming.

 We landed at Bracken Bay for the second time but all the hot mulled wine had been finished...

 ...that morning and so we enjoyed watching the day slip away while enjoying a hot coffee and some home made Black Bun (Scottish Christmas cake).

Reinvigorated, we set off on the final leg of our journey as the...

...glow in the south western sky was fading.

We paddled on towards the ruin of Greenan castle as darkness began to fall and...

...the lights of Ayr came on and twinkled across the bay. Quite a commotion of bird noise drifted over the water from the flocks of birds feeding at the mouth of the River Doon.

Just as we made landfall at Seafield, a black swan landed noisily in the water beside us. It is a native of Australia and this one spent several months at the mouth of the river Doon in the company of the local mute swans. Presumably it was an escape from a zoo or a bird park. We were frozen as we loaded the boats onto the cars, goodness knows how the Antipodean bird was feeling, a long, long way from home.

Benediction and supplication on the Little Cumbrae.

Low tide had revealed a short undamaged section of the old slipway under the Little Cumbrae lighthouses. I was extremely grateful for the help I was given in getting my kayak to the water and in getting me into it! The ebb tide was running at 5km/hr past the little harbour and we had some fun in little standing waves until...

 ...the flow reduced as we approached the south end of the Lttle Cumbrae. Sadly it was now time to say goodby to Ian, who was going to paddle back across the Firth of Clyde channel to Bute.

 We continued south towards Gull Point where the sea was...

 ...very calm....

 ...before turning north towards Castle Island.

The Coastguard MSI broadcast warned of freshening NE winds in the evening.  As it was getting late, we didn't want to hang about so, when we stopped for a quick bite to eat under the walls of the castle, we stayed afloat in the kayaks. It was here that yogmaster David delivered benediction.

As night fell, and right on cue, a cold NE breeze picked up. It was now time to get our heads down (in supplication as David said) and paddle hard for home. We arrived at Largs well after dark but perfectly safe, thanks to David's intercession.

Another great day out on the Clyde. We had covered only 24 km but we saw a great deal..

Moonlight and dark, empty windows at Greenan.

As the last of the sunset faded to darkness we continued...

...paddling in the moonlight under...

...the grey walls and dark empty windows of Greenan Castle, which has stood...

...on this rock for hundreds of years, guarding the southern approach...

...to the town of Ayr .

We slipped silently and unobserved through the darkness and pulled our kayaks over the sands of Seafield.

Our wonderful short winter day had finally come to an end.

A feeding frenzie and toasted footsies in Carradale Bay.

 As we left the harbour at Carradale, the Sun slowly sank behind...

 ...the hills of Kintyre leaving...

 ...a lovely pink afterglow...

 ...as we paddled towards the south end of Carradale Point.

Off the point, we saw an amazing display. Several porpoises had herded a shoal of fish near the surface of the sea and were feeding on them. Lots of noisy sea birds had joined in the feeding frenzy. I had never seen porpoises doing this before.

We rounded the south end of Carradale Point and turned to the north towards the wide strand of sand at its head. The campsite was still closed for winter so we were going to wild camp on the dunes behind the beach. However, lots of people were taking advantage of the unseasonal March weather and were enjoying the sunset on the beach. So...

...we found a little patch of grass on the headland that had been closely cropped by the feral goats. We soon had a fire going  under the light from the moon, Jupiter and Saturn. Across the bay, the lights of the the hamlet of Waterfoot twinkled as the fire sparked and toasted our footsies!

Poetry in the landscape of Arran.

We continued paddling up the north coast of Arran passing...

...the great landslip of Upper Old red Sandstone rocks at the imaginatively named Fallen Rocks.

What with virgin's breasts, fallen rocks (and we haven't even come to the Cock of Arran yet) our ancestors sure had a poetic way with words when they named bits of landscape.

Gradually the dusk...

 ...gathered round the great expanse of the Sound of Bute and we eventually came...

...to our camp site near Millstone Point. It was hard work labouring the kayaks up from the spring low water mark. Once we had the tents up, we soon got a fire going and cooked our meal under the Moon Jupiter, Saturn and a myriad of stars. One by one they followed the Sun as they dipped behind the high, unseen mountains in the darkness to the west.

A UFO in the sky at night above Loch Tamnavay.

On arrival at the head of Loch Tamnavay several of us set off for a shakedown paddle on the loch.

Ian quickly entered full smug mode, as he had been allocated Gordon's new Valley Etain. It will be worthwhile following Ian's excellent blog of our trip. Then you will be able to enjoy our voyages in full St Kilda Stereovision (tm)!

Although it was 21:45 hours, the mid summer sun was still shining on the distant hills of Scarp.

The beauty of the still evening was enhanced...

...when the moon rose beyond the rocky  slopes of Aird Beag.

We paddled out of Loch Tamnavay into the open expanse of Braigh Mor...

...then entered little Loch Tealasavay as the sun was setting.

We then paddled back to the Cuma in the moonlight. (Photo of myself and Ian by Gordon.)

Our route was only 10km but it was in the most beautiful and remote of locations.

As the moon rose and began to set again, we spent a very convivial evening excitedly chatting about our adventure to come. Murdani and I stayed up after the others, catching up on old times, but I went below about 02:30 on 12/06/2011. Minutes later, Murdani called me up on deck again. The moon had gone down but Murdani said in a quiet voice "What do you make of that?"

High in the sky (higher than Altair in the SSE or Arcturus in the SSW) a bright white disk of light was traversing the sky from west to east. It was difficult to estimate its height and speed but if it was as high as a passenger jet, it was travelling across the sky about 3-4 times as fast. It was not a satellite, I regularly see them and it was much bigger. It was not the international space station, which I have also seen, as in these latitudes it rarely gets higher than 10 degrees above the horizon. It was a still night and there was no engine noise nor were there navigation lights and strobes that you would expect to see on a jet airliner.

Then, when it was about 20 degrees above the eastern horizon, an amazing thing happened. Until that point its velocity had appeared constant but suddenly it started ricocheting from side to side, as if bouncing off invisible walls on either side of its track. What was it? Neither Murdani nor I had a clue. I had had a small amount to drink but Murdani had taken no alcohol at all. We had seen an unidentified flying object (UFO) above Loch Tamnavay.