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!

Paying our respects to the Brownie on Cara.

On landing on Cara, Phil and I doffed our caps to the resident spirit, the Brownie. We both said "Good afternoon Mr Brownie, I trust you are well." Note a hatless Phil and a hatted Donald!


Phil helped Donald up the beach with his boat and explained Cara diplomatic protocol. Donald said, "I'm not taking my hat off for any wee man in a brown coat!" Phil and I were quite unconcerned about Donald, as he had unwittingly already taken his hat off!


Leaving the boats on the beach...


...we made our way up to the rocks at the top of the beach for lunch where we were undisturbed by any of the Brownie's pranks. In particular, our boats did not drift away in the offshore wind and flooding tide!


Back on the water, we passed Cara House. Legend has it that the Brownie is the spirit of a MacDonald who was murdered by a Campbell and to this day he resides in one of the attic rooms of the house.


It was now time to leave Cara and return to Gigha. A southerly wind had got up and across the sound, the wind turbines on Gigha were busy generating electricity for the community.

Goat bhuna and the Mull of Cara

From the Boathouse on Gigha, we made our way south through a series of skerries. The Mull of Kintyre and the pointed summit of Cara lay beyond the skerries.


We soon picked up a convoy of curious common seals who followed us through the channels. (Thanks to Will for identification.)


Phil and I in the kayaks got through shallow gaps that Donald could not risk with his outboard motor.


After crossing from Gigha to Cara, we made our way down the west coast of Cara. The water became increasingly rough as we approached...


...the south end where the small tide race was flooding northwards at its height, as we were now 3 hours after slack water. There is a gap in photos as for about 400m, both hands were required to be on the paddle to maintain an upright posture. Donald's little boat managed remarkably well, despite the Mull of Kintyre disappearing from sight every so often.


The water flattened off once we had rounded Cara's SW point and we were able to photograph the Mull of Cara which is its most southerly point. It is only 49m high but it is a rather impressive sight from a small boat.


We now made our way up the east coast of Cara in sheltered water to this magnificent shell sand beach. The rocky shore to its south had some pretty smelly goats on it but they are far fewer in number since a Yorkshire gentleman, with a chain of Indian restaurants, brought a refrigerated lorry and some friends with rifles north to Kintyre. When I was in the Punjab, I developed a taste for goat bhuna, though I tended to leave the trotters at the side of the plate. I hope this gentleman returns soon, as there really are too many goats on Cara. After his last visit, the spring flowers were seen in profusion for the first time in many years.

Clear skies over Gigha.

The forecast for mainland Scotland was not looking good; with the possibility of torrential rain and thunderstorms but lightish winds. We looked west to Gigha, which is a beautiful low lying isle of the west coast of the Mull of Kintyre. I reckoned it would not have enough area to create a thermal uprising for a thunder cloud.

Donald had been going to head up to the far north west but had been equally dubious about the weather there. So we met up with Phil at Tayinloan pier.


Donald loves the sea but is not exactly a sea kayaker. He explores the west coast in a little inflatable boat powered by a 2.5hp outboard with another 2hp outboard as backup.


It was not long till we were afloat...


...and heading across the Sound of Gigha. The distant Paps of Jura heaved above the low hills of Gigha in the foreground.


At first, dark clouds rose above us but...


...we soon left the clouds above Kintyre behind and...


...by the time we had crossed the Sound of Gigha, the sky was clear. We landed on Gigha at Port na h-Atha near the Boathouse...


...with its little white sand beach, backing a bay of crystal clear water. Donald's little boat looked quite at home between the two kayaks.


It was still a little early for a cold drink but I noticed that since our last visit, the Boathouse Cafe Bar now serves draught beer. They have also installed a filter coffee machine, so we settled for some coffee, while we planned the rest of our itinerary...

You can follow Donald's view our trip to Gigha here.

A hell of a shuttle at Loch Fyne!

By the time we left Inver Cottage restaurant, the tide had come in.


We still had an adverse breeze as the sun sank towards the horizon.


At Lephinmore we came across these proud parents with 5 Canada geese chicks.


When the sun dropped to the horizon the temperature plummeted beneath the clear skies.


We still had a considerable way to go and well after sunset...


...the western sky took on a beautiful pink glow until...


...darkness fell as we approached our destination; Otter Ferry. There was an enticing glow from the inns's windows but on this occasion we would have to forgo any temptation to enter. We had a hell of a shuttle ahead of us!

Phil's car could not take three kayaks, so we had to drive 32km north to St Catherine's to pick up David's car then drive 32km back to Otter Ferry to load up the kayaks. Our original intention had been to drive east from Otter Ferry for 32 km to Hunter's Quay and cross the Clyde to Gourock from there. Unfortunately we had missed the last ferry so we had to drive 32km north to St Catherine's again (the fourth time we had traversed this road since we started) and then take a a further 70km detour by Arrochar and cross the Clyde at the Erskine Bridge!

We got home late but happy!

Sea kayaking hardship in Loch Fyne.

There is an excellent pub with fine food in Furnace but it was only 16:00hrs and so we decided to cross to east shore of Loch Fyne. David and I soon left Phil behind as we set off on a close reach across the loch.


Unfortunately we could not point as high as we would have liked so we dropped sails and prepared for a windward slog.


Phil was soon nowhere in sight, far behind and downwind of us. Away to the north, the windmills on the new wind farm at Clachan Flats at the head of the loch were billing round. Beinn Bhuidhe (the yellow mountain) 948m towered above the loch.


Phil was in David's kayak and had not realised that the hydroskeg/rudder does not work as a rudder when paddling at 45 degrees into a fresh wind. He ended up at least a kilometer downwind of us. To compound matters, David's "seat" had come adrift and Phil had developed David's famous sore back!.Phil was not happy when he came ashore and cursed David's boat (and all "fittings" therein) loudly. David was quite offended, as his own design flexible seating arrangements have some fame in the west coast sea kayaking world.


After a stop at Newton...


...we continued south down Loch Fyne past another roadless shore.


We were sweating a little due to the fresh head wind.


After a while we came to the ruins of 15th century Lachlan Castle, which was quite recently abondoned by its owners...


...in the 18th century, when the Lachlans moved just round the corner to the new Castle Lachlan.

The tide was out in Lachlan Bay but we made a long trek to its head. There we entered the precincts of...


Inver Cottage restaurant where we partook of some Guinness and an excellent evening meal. Phil soon recovered his composure, if not his sore back!

It's a tough place to paddle, Loch Fyne.

The forests of Loch Fyne.

From Kenmore south to Furnace we entered a wild paradise, a quite exceptional coast to explore by sea kayak.


Steep rocks plunged into the deep waters of Loch Fyne.


These rocks had been smoothed by the glacier that had created Loch Fyne, the longest sea loch in Britain.


Round every corner there were new vistas...


...which brought smiles to our faces. On the far side of the loch great swathes of commercial forest plantation have recently been harvested and transported by sea to Troon.


We had never seen such an abundance of mussels.


Great trees grew right beside the sea and ...


...their boughs stretched out over us, giving temporary shade from the sun.


This verdant coast line is not seen from a passing car and we relished it...


...particularly the maritime sessile oaks...


...until all too soon the trees petered out leaving a bare rocky peninsula announcing our imminent arrival at the village of Furnace. This was named after an iron furnace which was established here in 1755 taking advantage of the abundance of trees that could be used to make the charcoal for the smelting process. The furnace closed in 1813 but was replaced in 1841 by a powder works which also used charcoal from the trees to make gunpowder. This factory came to a very sudden end in 1883. Also in 1841, a granite quarry opened, which supplied cobbles for the streets of Glasgow. The quarry is still in production today.

I am pleasantly surprised that there are any natural trees left.