Thursday, September 19, 2013

Kylie the lonely dolphin: a tale of anthropomorphism and anthropology at Ardlamont and the West Kyle buoy.

We had paddled from Ardlamont Point out into the entrance of the West Kyle of Bute, when we were stopped in our tracks. Both Mike...

...and Jennifer (not to mention Phil and myself) could hardly believe their eyes.

A solitary common dolphin was circling the navigation buoy. Mike and I had seen her exactly a year previously at the...

...same buoy but then she was accompanied by a calf. Common dolphins are summer visitors to the West coast of Scotland and are usually seen in  large pods of 10 to 30 but...

...sometimes they congregate in super pods of several hundred to 1,000. I saw this pod of about 50 that were riding the wake of the Skye to Harris ferry in June 2011.

I don't know why Kylie has chosen a solitary life. Clearly she can't be completely alone, since she has recently had a calf, but she does seem to prefer the company of this buoy to a pod. Given the intelligence of dolphins, I assume she has made a choice, if that is not being too anthropomorphic.

She has been seen here since at least the summer of 2011 and it was a real thrill to come across her again as she toyed with us, circling and diving beneath us then reappearing where we least expected her.

If we tried to paddle away from her buoy she would catch us up swim along side us, easily keeping up no matter how fast we paddled then with a flick of her tail she would streak ahead of us.

Kylie clearly enjoys interacting with visitors to her buoy and she has become a tourist attraction. Many kayakers, boaters, yachtsmen and hundreds of tourists from around the World on the Paddle Steamer Waverley have been fortunate to see her here.

In some countries people like to eat dolphins (not to mention killing them first). Well I am not a hypocrite, I swat flies, I eat cows, I catch fish, kill them then eat them and my ancestors were whalers. However, I could not eat a dolphin, a creature which, due to its degree of intelligence, can interact with other dolphins (and humans) at a much higher level than cows can. In some countries they eat chimpanzees, in others dogs and in some places cannibalism is also traditional. I do not eat chimps, dogs or my neighbours either. It is up to each of us to draw our own line at what we choose to eat but I am glad that in the UK dolphins are protected and that Kylie will not end up barbequed on a British beach. Chacun à son goût.

As a Briton I am aware that there are many things that are not right in British society and we need to listen to and learn from others' criticism to make our society better. However, because Britain is so multicultural  it is a factor that makes it one of the more progressive societies to live in today. We are all learning from one another and as a result respecting and increasingly adopting what is good about each others' cultures. We also need to respect other countries'  rights to determine what is acceptable and legal for their people but that does not mean we need to agree with others' practices just because they are traditional. Other human traditions include burning witches, child sacrifice, incest, childhood female circumcision and on a bigger scale, slavery and genocide. I don't agree much with them either, no matter how much their proponents may argue for their continuation on cultural and traditional grounds or accuse their critics of cultural imperialism.

So there you have it, it's a free World (for humans). If you want to see dolphins come to Scotland, if you want to eat dolphins, you are free to go somewhere else. It's your choice. As humans we are fortunate that we are often able to make choices.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Between a rock and a contrail on Ardlamont.

I got up on the sixth day of our expedition after having slept very little. The pain in my injured shoulder had steadily worsened making sleep all but impossible. To make matters worse I had finished all my painkillers. Our plan  had been to spend a further two days exploring the Kyles of Bute before returning to Ardrossan on the Ayrshire coast. However, I could not face a further miserable night so I explained the situation to the others and we decided to head directly to Ardrossan some 42km distant. We did consider whether to paddle 33km to Brodick on Arran and then get the ferry to Ardrossan  but it would have put my injured shoulder under too much pressure to get the last ferry.

 The beaches at Ardlamont point are composed of steeply sloping rock shelves. The rock is 600 million years old and is made of sediments which been subjected to considerable metamorphic changes. The great pressures, folding and heat have produced some beautiful patterns in the rock.

In places the rock shelf is covered by beaches of cobbles. Mostly these are of the same metamorphic rock but there are also some sandstone, quartz and granite cobbles mixed in.

 The water looked very inviting for a swim but as my shoulder was so sore I decided not to risk it. Only Jennifer was brave enough to go in as the water in early June was still only 11 degrees Celsius.

We slowly packed the kayaks as the heat of the day began to build. Thankfully there were far fewer midges than the previous evening.

 It felt great to be paddling down the Sound of Bute with Arran on one side and...

 ...the rocky shores and yellow gorse covered banks of Ardlamont on the other.

There was absolutely no wind so the sails remained furled on our decks. My friends accommodated my injury by paddling slowly, much more slowly than...

...the passengers on this Trans-Atlantic jet, which was the only other sign of human activity. Long after the jet had gone, the reflection of its contrail writhed like a snake in the water ahead of us.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Baked potatoes and bandits in Ardlamont.

As dusk fell the wind dropped and unfortunately that was the signal for the arrival of the midges. We soon had a fire going on the beach. We don't light fires on grass and we don't make fire rings with big stones. After the next high tide there is no sign of our passing.

 Baked potatoes in tin foil are an essential addition to any camp fire.

As we and the millions of midges enjoyed the ambience of the evening we were really surprised that we had the place to ourselves, with no other human company.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

A peaceful night alone on Ardlamont?

 At long last we arrived at our camp spot on the Ardlamont peninsula. We had travelled for 12 hours since we had left Gigha which lies off the exposed Atlantic west coast of Scotland. We now found ourselves deep within the Firth of Clyde, some 80km from the Mull of Kintyre at the mouth of the Firth.

We looked out over the Sound of Bute to low lying Inchmarnock and Arran. Between them, the distant south Ayrshire coast was out of sight below the horizon. Only the summits of the Galloway hills were just visible some 90km away to the SE.

The beach was backed by a raised beach of cobbles, a legacy of a rising landmass after the retreat of the Ice Age.

 The raised beach provided an ideal base to set up camp. From my tent door I spotted...

...this otter diving for crabs. We could quite clearly hear it crunching the shells. The only building visible on our entire horizon was the small white unoccupied cottage on the Arran shore at Laggan. Unfortunately we would not find ourselves alone for long, this evening...

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Saved by a sundowner in Kilbride Bay.

We had been travelling for 40km since we had left Gigha earlier in the day and there were still several kilometers to go. I had torn muscles in my left shoulder (which would require surgical repair) and it was hurting like hell. It was a great relief when a northerly sundowner wind got up and blew us straight out of Kilbride Bay. It is amazing how the Flat Earth sail can take the load of a heavily laden kayak off tired shoulders.

 We soon left the long strand in our wakes and...

...we made the most of the broad reach down the Ardlamont peninsula to our intended camp.

Monday, September 09, 2013

Tired kayakers and concrete sleepers at Kilbride Bay.

From Skate Island we enjoyed a fast reach eastwards along the Ardlamont peninsula, which divides Loch Fyne from the Kyles of Bute. The cool clear air of the north wind and the low evening sun made for a breathtaking view over the Sound of Bute to Arran. We passed dolphins, porpoises, otters, puffins and diving gannets. It was difficult to believe that this glorious wilderness was in the Firth of Clyde, in the catchment area of which, 3/5 of Scotland's population live.

Many sea kayaking visitors to Scotland (and also many Scottish sea kayakers) tend to shun the Firth of Clyde and head north to places like Arisaig and the Summer Isles. Maybe the above photos might cause some wilderness seekers to think again.

The Ardlamont peninsula holds a glorious little visited beach that you can only visit by walking in or by boat. It is Kilbride Bay. It has a huge crescent of sand backed by dunes and machair.

We landed at its western end and had a well earned break while enjoying the view. However, unspoiled though Kilbride Bay appears, it was heavily used in WW2 for army, air force naval training exercises.

                             
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At the east end of the beach, a railway line with concrete sleepers still  runs straight down into the sea...

Friday, September 06, 2013

Paddle sailing away in the clear air at the end of a long day.

Once we left the shelter of East Loch Tarbert we entered the wide mouth of Loch Fyne, which is the longest sea loch in the Firth of Clyde and indeed the whole of Scotland. The view out of the loch across the expanse of the Sound of Bute to the rocky ridges of the Arran mountains was stunning. As we entered open waters a breeze picked up and we hoisted our sails.

We were bound for Skate Island some 6km away across Loch Fyne.

After some exhilarating paddle sailing in the wonderful clear evening light we...

...reassembled by the Skate Island (Sgat Mor) lighthouse.

I think Phil's smile will save any lengthy further description of the crossing!