Too much swally at Bracken Bay.

 The Firth of Clyde was looking lovely...

 ...as we set off from Seafield for Maidens, somewhat later than usual.

Once again we were bound for the Heads of Ayr. Both my mobility problem and illness in the family have restricted where I paddle but given this wonderful local coastline I am not looking for any sympathy.

 A fair easterly breeze carried us quickly across Ayr Bay towards...

...the dark volcanic rocks of this great headland.

 Soon we lost the low winter sun and paddled in the chilly shade of the cliffs until...

 ...we approached a natural breach in their ramparts at Bracken Bay.

High above the bay, the outline of a semi recumbent Tam o'Shanter seemed to be still sleeping. Perhaps he had had too much swally the night before.

David wanted to stop so we pulled into Bracken Bay.  It had been difficult getting him going this morning... (he muttered something about "working late")...anyway...

...it was time first luncheon and a large cup of black coffee for David.

Nae man can tether time or tide...

While we sit bousing at the nappy,

And getting fou and unco happy,

We think na on the lang Scots miles,

The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles,

That lie between us and our hame,

Where sits our sulky sullen dame.

As we savoured a final taste of The Singleton, the sky was darkening and the cliffs of Carlandcheek were already in near darkness.

Nae man can tether time or tide; 

The hour approaches Tam maun ride; 

 It was time to make our way back down the beach to the kayaks.

Once afloat we left the shade of the cliffs and entered...

 ...a brief but golden glow from the last light of the setting sun.

The temperature dropped rapidly as we started to cross Ayr Bay. At first the only sound was the gentle splash of our paddles but...

Wi' mony an eldritch skriech and hollo.

 ...as we approached Seafield, there was a huge commotion from the mouth of the River Doon (about 1km away). The thirty or so whooper swans (winter visitors from Iceland) were disturbed by something and took off en masse. What a racket! They had barely managed to get into the air before they came in to land round about us. I do not know who was more surprised...us or them. This one kept a little distant from the others. It is a black swan (Cygnus atratus), a native of Australia, it seems to be somewhat lost but settling in.

Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,

For honest men and bonnie lasses

Leaving the commotion of the honking swans behind, we slipped unseen across the calm waters of the bay, hardly even disturbing the reflections of the lights of Ayr.

Another day (and bit of a night) in paradise.

Getting the hang of seakayaking.

 As we slipped out of Dunure harbour...

...under snow capped mountains...

 ...the sun was already sinking.

Ailsa Craig slipped over the horizon behind us as we paddled...

 ...north towards...

 ...the Heads of Ayr where it was time for...

...another diversion...

...into Bracken Bay at the foot...

...of the dark volcanic cliffs for third luncheon in...

 ...the sunset.

Photo by Philip Toman.

By now Katie, our newest recruit, was beginning to get the hang of the degree of determination, stamina and sheer physical endurance required to join such a team of elite seakayaking sportspersons.

Pacing ourselves at Dunure.

 From Bracken Bay we paddled south past tumbling waterfalls then we caught...

 ...sight of Ailsa Craig.

 The sea was completely calm and we made good progress...

 ....until we caught sight of the distant Turnberry lighthouse when it was time to take a...

 ....sharp left into Dunure harbour.

 As we enjoyed our second luncheon, we watched as...

 ...first Phil then...

...David put the Taran 16 through its paces.

Then it was time to visit the pub, where we must have paced ourselves quite well...

 ...as the tide had gone out and...

...the sun had begun to set behind the ancient walls of Dunure Castle.

A nip in the air.

There was a bit of a nip in the air and...

 ...the summits of the Arran mountains were covered in snow when we left Seafield...

...bound for the Heads of Ayr.

We were joined by Katie who was on her first sea kayaking outing. We hoped that she would enjoy her introduction to this wholesome, energetic and athletic activity.

Arriving at Bracken Bay we sat on an old log amongst the frost covered marram grass. David produced a flask of hot mulled wine....

 ...quickly followed by some piping hot Christmas pudding and some Singleton malt whisky to pour over the top of the pudding.

Despite searching right to the bottom of his bag, David couldn't find the matches to light the whisky so we just had to drink it instead. As we gazed over the Clyde to the snowy Arran mountains, we hoped that Katie wasn't suffering to much hardship on her "in at the deep end" introduction to sea kayaking.

Taran 16 review update.

I have updated the Rockpool Taran 16 review after subsequent testing in flat calm to F2-3 conditions.

The power of kayak sailing.

When we finally emerged from the pub at Dunure, the sun had finally put in an appearance and the strong May light was quite dazzling.

 As the coast veered round to the NE, we entered the lee of the land and...

 ...the seas flattened off allowing...

 ...us to press on...

 ...at maximum speed.

 We took a break to pump out our bladd... I mean cockpits under...

 ...the appropriately named Heads of Ayr.

We literally touched down at Seafield having completed the 19km from Maidens 90 minutes faster than our best paddling only time. Such is the power and fun of kayak sailing.