Preaching to the converted in Blackwaterfoot Harbour.

 From Corriecravie we came to Aird nan Ron (Seal Point) and true to its name, the point was a haven for common seals.

  At the next headland, Kilpatrick Point we passed the Preaching Cave in the low cliffs behind the shore. The only sermon we heard were a few singing common seals.

Leaving the hamlet of Kilpatrick we set off across...

...Drumadoon Bay towards the...

 ...village of Blackwaterfoot.

The sands of the village beach are backed by The Doon, a dramatic basalt sill which once had an extensive Iron Age settlement perched on its summit.

Nowadays the settlement of Blackwaterfoot is at sea level and clusters round a tiny harbour at the mouth of....

 ...the Clauchan Water. I explored this waterfall which is the limit of navigation as the local bus rumbled over the bridge.

As we paddled round the little harbour, the family in the VW camper from the camp site gave us a big wave. I think they were surprised we had arrived in Blackwaterfoot before them! From the sea it would be all too easy to miss this tiny harbour. It is worth keeping your eyes open, fortunately I did not have to persuade either Ian or Mike to take a detour. Neither of them are headland to headland types either.

Selkirk Arms Hotel, Kirkcudbright.

From the landing place at Kirkcudbright harbour it...

 ...is a short 400m walk (even for a hungry and thirsty kayaker)...

...through the town's quiet historic streets to...

 ...the Selkirk Arms Hotel. The hotel has a long history and Robert Burns wrote the "Selkirk Grace" here in 1794.
“Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it, But we hae meat, and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit”

The current owners have taken full advantage of the proximity of the Kirkcudbright fishing fleet and serve a variety of seafood dishes in the hotel's restaurant, bistro and bar.

The local speciality is king scallops. These were succulent and perfectly cooked. They were served with a green pea puree and crispy slivers of pork belly.

 Needless to say the Guinness was perfect and the lobster.... This delicately cooked lobster had been delivered to the hotel kitchen just a couple of hours before our arrival. It was beautifully shelled and presented and was served with a little garlic butter and parsley sauce. Stunning.

 The monkfish had been landed that morning and the tails in crispy batter were served with a contrasting sweet salad and local chutney.

Not everyone likes fish and the roast pheasant was a tantalising on the tongue alternative. The thinly sliced breast meat was tender and moist and was served on a potted bed of diced leg meat and black pudding. The thick, tasty sauce from the juices had clearly been reduced for hours.

Those with simpler tastes were also well catered for. The Selkirk Burger was home made using local Galloway steak and served with crispy local dry cured bacon, lettuce and tomato. The chutney was locally made from red onions.

The service was the perfect blend of efficient and attentive without being over fussy. (Not once did I hear that dreaded command "ENJOY".)

This was a stunning table of food and I highly recommend that sea kayakers in the area make a visit for a drink and or a meal. Those from further afield could also stay in the hotel's rooms.

So how does the Selkirk Arms rate as a sea kayaking pub? Well I have had to take a mark off because it is not visible from the water and another mark off because it is a 400m walk from the slipway. So adding it all up the Selkirk Arms Hotel scores 11/10 and so rates as one of the finest sea kayaking pubs in Scotland. One of the owners, Chris, is also a sea kayaker and you may even bump into him on the water!

A distinct lack of malodour down in the Kirkcudbright mud.

This is another trip from my back catalogue. It was a glorious July day when Tony and I made our way down the muddy banks of the River Dee at Kirkcudbright on the Solway coast. We launched from Gartshore Park to the west of the town. Although the mud looks terrible , it was actually only 2 cm thick with relatively firm ground beneath. We had expected it to be foul smelling but it was not malodorous.

We launched 2 hours after low water so the flood was well established. We kept out the main current by paddling in the shallows and sticking to the inside of the bends. The tower marks what used to be the end of the Kircudbright sewage pipe. Fortunately a new marine outfall was built in 2006 and the sewage treatment works' effluent is now discharged about 10km away, under the sea at the mouth of Kircudbright Bay.

 Squabbling gulls were feeding at the rising margin of the tide which was...

 ...sweeping upstream. We could not yet see the sea beyond the muddy banks of the river channel.

 This old wooden fishing boat now lies above all but the highest tides but she has seen better days.

We paddled along the wooded shores of St Mary's Isle. The "isle" was the site of a priory dating back to the 12th century but nowadays it is just a secular peninsula. The channel between the isle and the mainland has long since silted up and the monks have long gone..

At last we caught sight of our destination. As the tide in the channel rose, Little Ross island and its lighthouse appeared over the mudflats.

An unadventurous lot, down on Ayrshire's Atlantic Coast.

All too soon it was time to leave the shelter of the River Stinchar.

As it was near high tide, the bar at the river mouth was well covered...

 ...but still gave David an excuse to practice his air braces.

South of Ballantrae Bay the coastline is dominated by steep cliffs of dark Cambrian basaltic rocks. On this stretch we came across this particularly fine pillow lava. It looked like it had just oozed out of the volcano but that was about 500 million years ago.

We now entered a sea kayaker's wonderland, the coastline consisted of a complex series of gullies, geos and caves.

Each time we came to a headland we would say "that was the best bit of rockhopping ever" only to discover, once round the headland,...

 ...that the next bit...

 ...was even better.

 Waterfalls cascaded down the cliffs, only to be lost in piles of boulders above the sea.

 Ayrshire's Atlantic coast...

 ...just kept getting better and...

...better. In the SW of Scotland we tend not to travel far to enjoy sea kayaking in exotic locations. I wonder why we are such an unadventurous lot?

Don't look a vet's gift horse in the mouth.

We decided that the sheltered lower reaches of the River Stinchar would make an ideal spot to partake of our first luncheon. My knees were killing me so I craftily let the others land first, so that there would be plenty of hands to assist me ashore.

The previous evening, or rather earlier that morning, at 3am to be precise, David had won a case of some beer stuff called Budweiser. Though I have some familiarity with the Czech Budweiser, a premium lager which comes in large bottles, this was something new. It was brewed by an upstart American company and served in rather small bottles. We are well used to screw caps, ring pulls and cork stoppers but the security cap on the top of these bottles had us foxed. The difficulty removing it seemed to be in inverse proportion to the strength of the liquid contained therein.

David disappeared down to the kayaks to look for a device called a bottle opener (muttering a veterinary expression under his breath.... something about gift horses). He came back empty handed, with his hang dog, thirsty expression. Things might have got desperate...

...but I managed to find an old fence post with a metal staple. Rested in the crook of an old branch it made a very passable bottle opener...

...et voila... opened bottles for...

...thirsty paddlers.

Jim asked "What's the difference between a sea kayak and a bottle of American Budweiser?....Well, a sea kayak floats on water...Budweiser tas...."

Fortunately we had also brought some 10 year old Jura and a very passable 15 year old Dalwhinnie  to properly toast first luncheon. David now looked a good deal happier.

Full flood puts feathered friends to flight.

I had originally intended landing at the south end of Ballantrae beach, where it is more sheltered from the surf. The last time Tony and I had surfed in over the bar at the mouth of the River Stinchar but David didn't fancy it and stayed out. So I was quite surprised when David nipped in, but the rising big spring tide meant there was more water over the bar and the swell wasn't breaking. I followed David in with Andrew, leaving Jim to gather Phil in.

Once inside, we were paddling up the River Stinchar but on the map we were on dry ground! The estuary of the Stinchar is very active and a combination of flood and storm causes the mouth to alternately move north then south over time. You can see the amount of erosion caused by our recent winter storms in the top photo. The hill in the distance is Knockdolian 265m. Like Ailsa Craig, it is a volcanic plug and as it was sometimes mistaken for Ailsa Craig in poor visibility, mariners of the time called it "the False Craig". The Clyde Cruising Club Sailing Directions still warn about it.

 As the river meanders beneath the slopes of Knockdolian, it leaves isolated lagoons which...

...flood in spring tides...

...creating a very rich habitat for bird life and is the reason this area is a Nature Reserve.

Despite this protection, the birds still had to take flight as the gravel beds and lagoons flooded with the rising  spring tide. First the whaups (curlews)...

 ...then the geese and finally...

...the peewits (lapwings) took flight and filled the air above us.