You shouldn't otter camp here.

It was quite busy at the Boathouse so we set off down the coast of Gigha to the apparently deserted Port an Sgiathain for a peaceful lunch.


This one of the loveliest spots on Gigha.


The clear waters lapping the shell sand beach beach lay below a line of low, rocky cliffs.


Drifts of wild flowers...


...grew in profusion on the meadow between the shore and the cliffs.


A little burn ran down through the meadow and trickled onto the sands. An animal had recently cleaned itself here, then marked the sand with its claws.


I knew straight away whose territory this was. The last time we were here, we came across Sammy otter who was out and about, bold as brass, at midday despite having a reputation as being a nocturnal recluse!


A quick scout round revealed what Sammy liked to eat.


It took slightly longer to find where he had left his spraint (poo). This one was left on top of a little rocky mound at the edge of the beach. It had dried out in the hot sun but still had a musty smell and had fragments of crab shell and fish bones in it.

Although otters hunt in the sea, they need a supply of fresh water to wash their fur afterwards. They are very territorial over favoured spots and mark with scratching and leaving spraint in prominent positions round their territory.

Although this would have been a lovely spot to camp it would have been be very selfish to do so. Sea kayakers should learn to read otter territorial markings. We left Sammy in peace.

Barnacles and ice creams on the east coast of Gigha.

After launching we made our way down through the reefs and skerries on Gigha's east coast.


Donald in his little inflatable had to keep further offshore but was rewarded with the sight of an otter on an outlying reef.


The east coast of Gigha is much more gentle than the exposed west and has rich farm land rising towards the summit slopes of Creag Bhan, 100m, which is the island's highest point.


It is not just on land that there are farms. The island has several fish farms which are among the most productive in Scotland.


Not all the east coast is arable land. Rock dominates the scene at Rubh'an Sternail.


Away to the east clouds towered into the sky but we enjoyed full sun on Gigha.


A light northerly breeze carried us across Druimyean Bay towards Ardminish Point.


Above the barnacle line, this headland is just bare polished rock...


...very much how it would have been cut by the glacier, which once slid down the Sound of Gigha.


After crossing Ardminish Bay it was time to stop at the Boathouse again. My thermometer was showing 25 degrees, the hottest day of the year so this time we ordered ice creams!

Views from the north of Gigha.

The north end of Gigha is a wonderful wild place. Its highest hill is only 56m high but from its summit this lovely isle can be seen stretching away to the south with the Mull of Kintyre and even Ireland beyond.


To the west, over the peninsula of Eilean Garbh, Islay stretches away to the Mull of Oa.


To the east, the mountains of Arran rise above the Kintyre peninsula and the Sound of Gigha.


Back at sea level, the Paps of Jura...


lie above the enchanting beach of white shell sand...


...which links Eilean Garbh to Gigha.


We hiked back over the rough country of north Gigha to our camp.


As we broke camp and loaded the boats, the MV Isle of Arran...


...was already well on her way back to Islay.

It was time for us to go.

Two sisters of Islay.

The next morning, the 7am ferry from Kennacraig to Islay sailed past Gigha under the magnificent Paps of Jura. She was the MV Hebridean Isles, built in 1985. As her name suggests, she served the Skye, North Uist and Harris triangle until 2001 when she moved south to the Islay run. The white pillars at the rear is a large lifting car ramp which was used until all her ports were fitted with linkspans for a full RORO, roll on roll off, service.


A little later her sister ship the MV Isle of Arran made the early crossing from Islay to Kennacraig. She was built in 1983 for the Arran route but was moved to the Islay run in 1993. We followed the course of her voyage as she rounded the north end of Gigha. At first she was backed by the distant hills of Islay...


...with Gigha's Eilean Garbh in the foreground.


Then she passed below the mountains of Jura...


...before passing Ardpatrick Point...


...on her way into West Loch Tarbert and her home port of Kennacraig.

A sack of logs and a space for the Brownie.

Fortunately when the sun went down, the temperature dropped like a stone and the midges disappeared.


Gradually the light faded until...


...there was only a red glow behind the Paps of Jura.


We sat round a fire of crackling logs, leaving a space for the Brownie. It was just as well we had picked up a sack of logs at a petrol station on the way up as there was little driftwood on the beach.

Phil and I enjoyed a dram of the 18y old Caol Ila whisky and we swapped tales till the sky grew dark and the embers faded.

A feast on Gigha.

Once we had got our tents up it was time to start unloading the boats for our evening meal. We had chicken tikka bhuna, parathas, two mackerel and some beef burgers to prepare.


The evening ferry to Port Ellen was the MV Isle of Arran. I did think of the fish and chips or chicken curry that Phil and I enjoyed on our last trip to Islay as she steamed past Gigha. On that occasion I had pointed out this very beach to Phil.


The sun now began to set...


..and this mayweed (thanks Vince!) looked lovely in the low saturated light. I thought to myself, "how wonderful nature is" until...


..I noticed Phil. To the uninitiated, it may look as though he has pulled a woman's stocking over his head as a disguise, while robbing the island's only shop of a pack of super noodles. However, look more closely...


...and you will see that Phil is a victim of an appallingly ferocious attack by some of nature's most efficient predators... the Scottish midge!

In Scotland, humans are not top of the food chain and a midge hood is a necessity.

Two resting places on Gigha.

It was early evening when we came across the wreck of the Kartli.


It was humbling being so close to the final resting place of the wreck of this great ship and it served as a reminder of the power of the sea.


This quartz, on a rock nearby, seemed to have taken its hue in sympathy from the rusting remains of the Kartli.


The sun was nearly setting...


...by the time we had explored potential camping spots.


We finally found this one, with a view of Islay and Jura over the Sound of Jura. We looked forward to resting our limbs after a long day. (Donald's outboard motor "throttle hand" was quite fatigued!) We anticipated sampling a little of the produce of the fine isle of Islay. Specifically we had in mind an 18 year old Caol Isla malt whisky. According to the label on the box, this rarely available bottling has the spicy, sea-air aromas and smoky-dry, peppery flavours of a mature expressive Islay malt. I was certainly not going to argue with that as we could almost see the distillery! Yum!

Midges at the mill, on Gigha.

We now turned our bows to the north and up the exposed west coast of Gigha. It was a wonderful day with light winds and only a little swell coming in from the Atlantic. I soon had the sail up.


We passed to the inside of the little island of Craro. Though it might appear to give some shelter on this wild coast, it has been the graveyard of many shipwrecks.


As we made our way along the coast...


...the Paps of Jura dominated the horizon to the NW. Donald started trawling for fish in the deeper water...


...and it was not too long until he stopped to reel in a couple of mackerel. On the horizon a couple of fishing boats were also hard at work with their trawls. Islay's Mull of Oa lay on the horizon to the WSW. Many people think the Mull of Cara is the most southerly point in the Hebrides but it is actually the Mull of Oa.


Despite the exposure of the west coast of Gigha, there is a sheltered inlet called Port an Duin, (port of the castle). There is indeed an iron age dun nearby and Donald manoeuvred his inflatable below it to get in position to...


...photograph Phil who had...


...paddled right up to the old water mill. It is nearly 200 years old, dating from the early 19th century. The cast iron water wheel and lade are still complete. Donald and I did not venture close as a huge cloud of voracious midges descended on Phil, leaving only a fuzzy grey outline above his cockpit. By the time Phil had paddled clear, he looked quite anaemic. This trouble at the mill did not bode well for the evening's camp!