Paddling and portaging in the wake of the dead.

Our original intention had been to paddle the Small Isles at the beginning of May but a last minute increase in the forecast NE winds caused us to head further south for a trip out to Oronsay and Colonsay via Jura. It is just as well we did. My brother Donald (who we had arranged to meet on Eigg) has a large inflatable with a 25HP outboard and he had committed to the Small Isles but spent 3 days and two nights on Canna stormbound. So David, Ian, Maurice, Sam and I met at Carsaig Bay on the Sound of Jura. We were bound for Tarbert Bay on Jura where we would portage across into West Loch Tarbert, following the route of the wealthy dead of Argyll as their bodies were carried out to the Holy Isles of either Oronsay or Iona.

The Paps Of Jura rose enticingly above the low headland which encloses Carsaig Bay.

Due to the last minute change in venue we were just too late to catch the north east going flood tide in time to get through the Corryvreckan before the start of the ebb. As a result our rout SW to Tarbert was thwarted by the last of the NE going tide. However, a SW going eddy runs down the delightful channel inside the islands to the SW of Carsaig Bay.

It was very pleasant being carried towards the distant Paps by the swirling waters of the Sound of Jura.

However, all good things come to an end and we set off across the Sound of Jura with the tide carrying us to the NE. We did not bother ferry gliding because the tide was due to turn when we were in mid chanell.

Slack water arrived bang on time and with it the light breeze dropped, leaving a glassy calm.

You can see where the tide changed, mid channel on the first part of our route to the isles (bottom right).

The tide was now in our favour and by the time... 

...we reached the entrance to Tarbert Bay on Jura we were being carried along at 8km/hour.

As we slid into Tarbert Bay, we were following an ancient coffin route from Argyll to the Isles.

So our journey was to follow the route of the dead on their last journey. To avoid the tidal Gulf of Corryvreckan to the north and the Sound of Islay to the south, our bereaved ancestors landed at Tarbert and set off on foot across the narrow isthmus that joins the north and south parts of Jura. Their destination was the head of West Loch Tarbert, a deep sea loch which nearly bisects the island. So we loaded our kayaks onto trolleys and set off in our ancestors footsteps... on the coffin road to the west.

Like them we were heavily laden and rested our kayaks at many of the spots they would have rested their coffins. This ancient standing stone marks the route. It predates Christianity by thousands of years but there is also an ancient chapel nearby where mourners would have said prayers for the safe journey of the departed to the next world and for their own safe return from their journey to the isles.

After a long hard portage it was a relief to see the head of the loch and that the tide was still in.

The head of West Loch Tarbert drains almost completely so it is worth timing your arrival for round HW, which is 40 minutes after Oban HW. There is a narrow sea gorge to manoeuvre through to exit the inner loch. The tide runs through it at 8 knots springs so you better set off on the ebb! Just as we were leaving, the local resident laird, Andrew Fletcher, his wife and daughters passed by. They gave us big smiles and welcoming waves. 

It is a most wonderful feeling of lightness getting back in a boat after a laden portage. Our passage was assisted by both the ebb tide and a gentle NE breeze. We had to press on as to achieve our goal of circumnavigating Colonsay, before David had to return to work. We had to get as far down West Loch Tarbert as possible and it was already 18:45!

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

Grey Moidart skies and green seas

As we carried the boats to the water's edge, low grey clouds were streaming from the summits of hidden mountains to to our east.

Under the grey skies the shallow water appeared an almost luminous green that matched the green of the machair we had just left.

 Although the clouds were scudding over head we...

 ...were paddling in the lee of the cliffs until...

...we passed the ancient crofting township of Smirisary. "Spade among the rushes" is an evocative book by Margaret Leigh. It describes her hardships trying to recover an abandoned croft here after WW2 as she tried to make a living to support herself and her mother.

 Once past Smirisary our bows began to turn east into the Sound of Arisaig and the wind picked up.

 We got a little respite as we passed close under Rubha Ghead a' Leighe but...

 ...then it was heads down as the easterly wind funnelled out of the Sound of Arisaig.

It was a cold, fitful wind and I could only snatch photos in the short lulls. My hands were numb with the cold and at one point I nearly dropped my camera trying to get a photo of the clouds streaming of the summit of Rois-Bheinn (878m).

Then we arrived in the shelter of Salalaman Bay just as a...

 ...blink of sun provided a moment's warmth before the rain started. It was here where we had left our shuttle car and our journey through and round the lands of Moidart came to an end.

On our previous trip we had left the shuttle car at the head of Loch Ailort. I am glad the weather forecast had accurately predicted the strong easterly!

Tourists fled from Castle Tioram on our approach.

We were quite hot by the time we had finished the portage and manoeuvred the boats over a salt marsh to the edge of Loch Moidart where we...

 ...joined these mallard ducks on salt water (for the first time in this trip.)

 I always love that feeling of weightlessness when you paddle a heavily loaded boat away from the shore.

 We were not going very far. We still had to do second luncheon and we needed to wait until the flood tide had filled the tidal north channel of Loch Moidart.

Castle Tioram (pronounced Cheerum) sits on a tidal island and would make an ideal place to stop. We saw various tourist fleeing the island as the rising tide threatened to cut them off. However we would not have the castle entirely to ourselves...

 ...this magnificent sea eagle was wheeling overhead on its great barn door wings.

I always associate Tioram Castle with the birl of the bagpipes because on my first visit,  there was a piper playing at the foot of the castle wall. He was not a local, in fact he was on holiday from Nova Scotia! The sound of the pipes echoing from the castle walls and the misty cliffs round lonely Loch Moidart was spine tingling. I nearly expected to see the Young Pretender himself being carried up the loch in a birlinn.

At first it looks like there is nowhere to land as the grey walls of the castle merge into the grey rocks of the isle which fall steeply into the sea but...

 ...turn a corner and there is as delightful little beach. However, who knows what grisly deeds took place there in the castle's heyday?

Tioram was the ancestral home of  Clan Ranald from the 14th century. The family owned the castle until the early 20th century, though it has been a ruin since  the early 18th century. The castle currently belongs to a Scottish businessman, Lex Brown, who has been in a long battle with Historic Scotland to restore the building to a habitable state.

We spent a lazy hour as the tide rose and I even managed a swim in the 11C water then it was time to continue our exploration of Loch Moidart.

For the full stereovision experience read Ian's account here...

Where the river ends and plunges to the sea.

 It is difficult to say where Loch Shiel ends and the River Shiel begins but...

by the time you arrive at the triple arches of Shiel Bridge (1935) the current leaves you in now doubt that this is now the river.

Slightly downstream is the older single arch bridge built by Thomas Telford in 1804. In higher flows a little rapid forms just out of sight and downstream of the bridge. On opur last visit we could hear it roaring.

On this occasion it was like the proverbial millpond.

The Shiel is an important salmon river and the season runs from early May to end September. As we were here in Mid October we had the river to ourselves.

Unlike the majority of Scottish rivers there is no weir or dam to control water levels. On our last visit the river level was as high asa the fishing platform hand rails.

The river winds through some magnificent countryside. Gentle riffles signify the presence of...

...shallow shingle raspids.

The autumn colours were stunning.

As we were due to arrive at low tide  there would be about a 3m drop over the final rapid to the sea so we decided to portage...

...through the lovely deciduous trees that line the river.

Ian's orange deck was particularly harmonious with the fallen autumn leaves.

The rapid was not nearly so fearsome as on our last visit, however a nasty eddy can catch the unwary here and with loaded sea kayaks we were happy to leave this section un-run.

After a diversion to see the Falls of Shiel, it was but a short stroll till we caught sight of the sea in the sheltered waters of Loch Moidart,

For the full stereo vision experience read Ian's account here...