Like a bat out of hell on the Clyde.

 We left Glencallum Bay on Bute with a view of four lighthouses. The nearest was Rubh' an Eun but we could also see three lighthouses on Little Cumbrae on the other side of the channel. The one on the summit is the oldest. Lower down, the one which is immediately to the right of the sail, is the eighteenth century Stevenson light and the one further to the right is the current 20th century light.

 Rubh' an Eun is effectively the Garroch Head lighthouse which guards the entrance to...

... the inner Firth of Clyde which stretched away northwards to the Arrochar Alps on the horizon.

On the crossing we kept clear of the prawn trawler Eilidh Ann GK2 was chugging down the channel while towing her trawl.

 Soon Garroch Head on Bute lay far behind us as we approached...

 ...the west coast of the Great Cumbrae. We were pleased to get across the main channel  before this...

 ...submarine and her three escort vessels came down the Clyde from the nuclear submarine base at Faslane. I think she is a Trafalgar class attack submarine.

Their escort duties over, the two RHIB's raced back to Faslane with Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell" blaring from their Tannoy system.

After all the excitement, it was a relief to land on Fintray Bay on the Great Cumbrae for a leisurely second luncheon.

The last train to Ardlamont on Argyll's Secret Coast.

 We woke on the shores of Ardlamont to discover that the wind had dropped overnight and the midges were all round the tents. They were not too bad on the beach so that is where we set up our breakfast things.

 We were not the only ones to be up early. The crane barge Forth Constructor was making her way down the Sound of Bute.

 We were on the water by 08:30 and paddled from Ardlamont Bay round to Kilbride Bay. Three eagles were soaring high overhead but that was not the only thing that caught our attention.

We came across this standard gauge railway track that curved gracefully into the waters of Kilbride Bay.

 We decided to land and investigate.

I had first heard about this railway to nowhere in Kilbride Bay back in the 1970's but had only found it a few years ago. I had heard about it from an old man in the bar at the Colintraive Hotel while I was on a yacht trip. The skipper of the yacht I had been crewing in had been in the Army and ended up as a prisoner of war in a Japanese camp. The old man had been a in the Royal Navy and had been involved with WW2 naval training exercises in the Cowal area prior to the D day landings. So it wasn't long before the pair of them were swapping yarns.

He told us the the railway was for launching  and recovering midget submarines on a wheeled trolley. Elsewhere on the internet you will find some who believe it was used to deploy an anti-submarine boom across Loch Fyne. However, this would not be a sensible place to run a boom across as the mouth of Loch Fyne is 4km to the west and then the loch is a further 3km wide at that point. The submarine boom was actually deployed 22km further up Loch Fyne, where the spit at Otter Ferry narrows the loch to 1km. The shore structure identified with the Otter Ferry boom is listed on the Canmore website site 205007.

Nowadays, this area is marketed to tourists as Argyll's Secret Coast. In the dark days of WW2 it really was a secret coast. Ardlamont Estate (and much of the Cowal peninsula) was requisitioned for Combined Operations training in Naval and amphibious landing warfare. About a quarter of a million troops were trained here and Lord Louis Mountbatten, the head of Combined Ops even stayed in the nearby Kilfinan Hotel.

Whatever, if you find yourself on the last train to Ardlamont, I suggest you get off at the stop before Kilbride Bay. It is a pretty wet journey after that.

We paddled steadily on but with a readiness to duck.

After our wonderful meeting with Alistair Wilson, founder of Lendal Paddles, Phil, Jennifer, Donald and myself set off across a glassy sea in our respective craft and...

 ...soon left the Ayrshire coast behind.

Jennifer was enjoying the Cetus MV and was just about to streak ahead when all of a sudden, the VHF burst into life on Channel 16:

"Sécurité, sécurité, sécurité. All vessels, all vessels, all vessels, this is the Royal Navy. Live firing will commence at 0900 BST until 1100 BST in exercise area 73, Ailsa."

This generated some alarm but I knew that "Area 73 Ailsa" lay to the SW of Ailsa Craig and we were approaching the isle from the SE. However, a bank of sea fog rolled in, blotting out Ailsa Craig from view. We paddled steadily on but with a readiness to duck. All of a sudden, rounds of heavy automatic fire echoed out of the fog, Yikes!

Then at 1100 the firing stopped and HMS Mersey emerged from the mist to pass behind...

...Ailsa Craig where she reappeared with a surfaced submarine alongside. We continued on our way undisturbed by further shell fire.

The sound of silence shattered by Sannox submarine.

We looked wistfully back at the beauty of Glen Sannox and Sannox Bay and...

...continued north in near silence until we emerged...

...from the shade of the mountains into the last of the day's sun at North Glen Sannox.

Then the peace of the beautiful evening was shattered by a loud, low pitched throbbing, vibrating sound that was coming from this surfaced nuclear submarine out in the Sound of Bute (a recognised submarine training area). At first I thought the noise sounded like a heavy twin rotor helicopter like a Chinook but the arrival of a Sea King helicopter showed that the noise was much louder and lower than helicopter noise. It lasted for over an hour and did not stop till well after darkness had fallen. I have no idea what the noise was. As far as I know nuclear power submarines' engines have no reciprocating parts and they are designed to operate as silently as possible. Perhaps they were testing some sonar warfare device?

Whatever, we did not expect to see any ceteceans on this evening, they are easily disturbed by noise in the water.