Hebridean boules on the machair of Jura.

We got our camp set up on Shian Bay on the west coast of Jura in plenty of time before darkness. In the distance, you can just see Oronsay and Colonsay where we had camped the previous night. We swam in the sea (cold) or the river (warm) behind the machair to freshen up after the long crossing.

We had plenty of time to scour the beach for driftwood of which there was an abundance. There was a solitary fire ring on the huge expanse of machair backing the bay. We do not normally have fires on the machair but there was a pre-existing fire ring with some large logs and planks arranged as seating. As the damage had already been done (apparently it was built by a recent party organised by the estate owners) we decided, on this occasion, to use the local facilities.  We were careful not to move the stones in case the damage got larger.

 I used my exceedingly sharp Japanese folding saw to make a  woodpile from the logs and posts we had gathered on the beach. Some of the logs had been bored by some sort of marine worm and they smelled absolutely disgusting. Camp chores completed, it was now...

...recreation time! We gathered some fishing floats from the beach and started our game of Hebridean boules.

 As you see, we are quite good at it!

The sun setting slowly into the haze over Colonsay to the west finally brought the games to a close.

Read Ian's account here.

Two schools of seakayaking campers, a tattie howkin' stick and a Colonsay sunset.

Once we had revived ourselves with some well earned sports recovery drinks we set about getting...

...our tents up and cooking our evening meal...

...before sunset. David had forgotten a bottle of locally distilled elixir, which  was stuffed up the side of his kayak skeg box but...

 ..a shout of glee announced its discovery and...

 ...he returned from the beach with a youthful spring in his step just before sunset.

At this point it is worth mentioning the two schools of kayak campers. The first carry their kayaks right up the beach and deposit them beside their tents. The second pull them up the beach just enough to avoid the tide carrying them away in the night. As you can see, we belong to the second school!

So just as the sun kissed...

 ...the western horizon we left the beach to the kayaks. We were pretty confident that not even the Hag of Colonsay would bother them.

While David had recovered his elixir, Ian, Maurice, Sam and myself had scoured the beach for drift wood. We set our fire on the sand below the high water spring mark so that no trace of our passing would remain. I have never understood why people drag stones from the beach to build a fire ring on the machair then leave a permanently charred hole as a mark of their passage.

Gradually we reconvened with our piles of wood round the fire where...

 ...we spent a most convivial evening recounting stories and setting the world to rights. Note the tattie howkin' stick to the right of this photo.

This is never burned until the baked potatoes (and Ian's recent introduction baked Bramley apples with clotted cream) are ready  and require howkin' from the fire. Only when all consumables have been recovered from the embers may the tattie howkin' stick be sent to its fate.

It was now 10:30 but the full moon was up and...

 ...the sky to the west still glowed red.

Gradually the sky darkened and we got on with the serious business of a comparative tasting of several Islay, Jura and Speyside malt whiskies.

I am sure we reached a consensus but for the life of me I can't remember what we decided. We will just need to reconvene, hopefully with friends who could not join us on this occasion, and repeat our deliberations. Sea kayaking really does not get much better than this.

Read Ian's account here.

Enchanted again by the remote west coast of Jura.

The sudden feeling of remoteness when you enter West Loch Tarbert on Jura never ceases to surprise.

 Gradually the inner loch narrowed until it looked like we were heading into a dead end...

 ... however a hidden right angled bend took us through the constriction at Cumnann Beag. The tide runs through here at a peak of 8 knots springs.

Once through into the middle part of West Loch Tarbert, the easy option would to have been to stop at the comfortable bothy of Cruib Lodge. However, by doing so we would have committed to a 50+ km following day, if we wanted to get round Colonsay. So we pressed on but...

...once we passed the second narrows at  Cumhann Mor we could not resist stopping at...

...the magnificent raised beach at the entrance to the outer loch. These sparkling clean cobbles are nearly 20m above sea level and though the tide last uncovered them 10,000 years ago, it looks like it just went out yesterday.

It was now getting late and we pressed on down the southern shore of outer West Loch Tarbert.

Seven years previously, Phil and I had scouted out a campsite near Glenbatrick so we decided to check it  out.

It proveed to be a fantastic location for both tents and a view to the west.  We unloaded the boats and set up the tents just as...

 ...a magnificent sun sank below...

...the distant silhouettes of Oronsay and Colonsay on the western horizon.

 After sunset, we prepared our evening meals under the light of a near full moon before...

...washing our things in a nearby river which flowed down from the summit of Beinn Shiantaidh (the Enchanted Mountain) which at 757m is the second highest of the Paps of Jura.

Well over an hour and a half after sunset there remained a deep glow in the west from the departed sun. It was too late to light a fire but we sat round the tents and cracked open flasks of Jura Origin and Caol Ila malt whiskies, which were distilled just 13 and 14 km away on Jura and on the neighbouring isle of Islay respectively. We talked long into darkness, planning for the following day and reminiscing about past expeditions together.

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

A celestial fire in the sky over Ardnamurchan

Once we got the tents up there was not much time till dark but Ian and I went back out on the water. Ian had been here about three weeks previously and seen a decent sized deciduous tree washed up on the rocks. Armed with a Silky Supper Accel folding saw we soon cut it to pieces.  We filled our hatches and tied the bigger bits onto the back decks.

 We returned to the sea just as the sun was setting.

 You really can't beat a sunset on the west coast of Scotland. We are far enough away from the Equator for it to be a long drawn out affair.

The crags above the mirror flat sera turned a wonderful orange colour. If you look carefully at this photo, Ian appears to have a 5 o'clock shadow and be unshaven but that is actually the shadow of my head!

 This was truly sublime paddling as the sun sank slowly between Ardnamurchan peninsula and the isle of Muck.

To the south of the sunset, Ardnamurchan is the most westerly point on the British mainland. To the north of Muck the sunset was framed by the Sgurr of Eigg with the...

 ...Cuillin of Rum beyond.

 This proved to be a spectacular sunset, as the sun started to dip below the horizon it illuminated the undersides of the clouds with a fiery glow.

 The temperature plummeted after sunset and the Cuillin of Skye appeared as we paddled north.

 We paddled inshore of some skerries then Ian and...

 ...I rejoined Mike and Lorna back at the camp site. Just as we landed the embers of the sunset reignited as...

...although the sun was by now well below the horizon its rays were reflecting off the undersides of the clouds.

 ...and it did not stop there, this equinoctial northern sunset just went on and...

 ...on. This was taken an hour after sunset when the glow of the dying sun had now moved north to between Rum and Skye.

 What a view to enjoy our dinner bay. Unlike the previous evening when we dined together, we just sat silently appreciating the incredible...

 ...view of a celestial fire over Ardnamurchan.

As the darkness gathered we brought the wood up from the boats by the light of our head torches and lit the fire. As we had plenty of wood we were set for a comfortable night of convivial conversation and baked potatoes. It was an hour and a half after sundown and there was still an ember of the sunset in the sky. However, the embers of our fire were still going well 6 hours after sundown!

For the full stereovision experience of this amazing sunset, join Iain on his blog here.