Imagine you are at the edge of the sea on a day when it is difficult to say where the land ends and the sea begins and where the sea ends and the sky begins. Sea kayaking lets you explore these and your own boundaries and broadens your horizons. Sea kayaking is the new mountaineering.
Once through the narrows, we found ourselves in Loch Leven (Loch Leamhain or Loch of the elms).
As we paddled on we approached little Eilean Munde which nestled in a corner of the loch under the Stygian heights and recesses of Glen Coe.
Eilean Munde is named after St Fintan Mundus who founded an abbey here in the seventh century.
The island is also known as Eilean Nam Mairbh (Isle of the Dead). It has been used as a burial ground for centuries, the dead are carried over in a small boat.
As we approached, all was quiet and peaceful and even the wind died away.
The narrows are now crossed by the Ballachulish Bridge which has been described as the most brutal bridge design in Scotland. Over the years I have grown to quite like it, here its girders contrast with the beauty of Sgurr na Ciche.
The bridge was completed at the end of 1975 but, before that, a vehicle ferry ran across the narrows from 1903. These were flat bottomed turntable ferries and used the slipways in the shallow water at either side of the narrows. One of the last of these ferries was the Glenachulish. She was built in 1969 at the Ailsa yard at Troon on the Firth of Clyde. She served the Ballachulish crossing until the bridge opened, then she was moved to Kessock and then Kylsku to serve as the relief ferry until those crossings were replaced by bridges in 1982 and 1984. After this she moved to Glenelg for the Skye crossing where she still serves today. The crossing at the peak of a spring tide always provided an entertaining ferry glide.
Not all crossings were entertaining. In 2003, Maureen Macmillan MSP recounted the following in a debate on the Scottish Railways and Transport Safety Bill: "The bill reminds me of an incident from my past involving the Ballachulish ferry on New Year's Day, a bottle of Chivas Regal drunk on the north side and a ferry that could not dock on the south side. The ferry went up Loch Leven and anchored and there was a stand-off with the police. Later, the Oban Times reported that someone had been charged with being drunk in charge of a ferry. The experience was frightening for everyone on board. "
I took this photo at Easter 1975, just as the last section was being lowered into place. You can just see the Glenachulish leaving South Ballachulish. She took 6 cars on her turntable which allowed a fast roll on roll off service. At peak periods two ferries served the crossing and the rule of thumb was, if there were more than 36 cars in front of you in the queue, it would be faster, but less fun to drive the 31km (19 miles) round the twisting, narrow road to Kinlochleven at the head of the loch and back down the other side.
Most of my generation, who spent time waiting for the ferry, appreciate the hidden beauty of this brutal bridge.
We landed on an inlet on the west side of Eilean Balnagowan in Loch Linnhe to take advantage of a break in the rain. After an excellent luncheon, we set off to explore the island. A great deal of the hillside was covered by dense growths of brambles, which we thought would puncture our dry suits.
It was easy enough to cross the little isthmus that joins the two halves of the island. We emerged on a grassy bank behind the east beach. It Seems that the east beach belongs to the geese and the west to the gulls. The two species seemed to respect a line of demarcation that ran through the spine of the island. We saw no border disputes.
I have searched the Internet and a library of books but there is little mention of Balnagowan. Even the usually reliable Hamish Haswell-Smith dismisses it with a single mention in a sentence about a view to Ben Nevis. The only sign of antiquity was a low circle of moss and grass covered stones. It seem that poor wee Balnagowan was one of the few Scottish islands not to have been blessed by the presence of a resident Saint. Still, the staff of seakayakphoto.com have now enjoyed an excellent luncheon there!
With a following wind and gentle seas we made speedy progress across the mouth of Cuil Bay and up the coast of Appin.
Rounding a low point near Back Settlement, we gazed across the Loch to the shore side settlement of Onich and the mountains of Lochaber behind. In the distance the foothills of the Mamores were streaked with snow and disappeared into the clouds. Above their summits, lay the unseen roof of Scotland, Ben Nevis 1343m.
All the while our course was gradually bearing eastwards and as we approached Rubha nam Moine (Point of the Morass) more heavy rain showers came our way.
We were well past Rhuba Moine before the skies cleared again. I always think it is worth bringing a camera, even in bad weather. Clouds are very photogenic.
Heavy squalls of rain were driving up Loch Linnhe and hiding the mountains of Appin.
Then a chink appeared in the grey clouds...
... and a beam of sunlight fell on Eilean Balnagowan. A flock of black headed gulls wheeled in the sky round the isle. Their wheeling wings flashed white against the gloomy grey of the mist shrouded mountains.
The distant mountains of Lochaber and the Corran Narrows were calling us on to the NE but first it was time to take luncheon on this lovely isle.
North of Lismore, Loch Linnhe stretches away to the NE. It forms part of the Great Glen fault that bisects the Highlands of Scotland.
We paddled NE past Eilean nan Caorach on our way to Shuna on which the crumbling remains of Castle Shuna stand at the edge of woods by the shore.
To our east, the much better preserved Castle Stalker stands on a small island at the entrance to Loch Laich.
Castle Stalker was built by the Stewarts of Appin in the 1440s. Over the years it changed hands with the Campbells several times on one occasion as a result of a bet. It was restored by a descendant of the Stewarts between 1965 and 1975. It achieved more recent fame as "Castle Aargh" in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
Having visited these castles before, we made our way up the west coast of Shuna. Her lower slopes were hidden by the bare boughs of birch and alder.
If you are a UK resident and think we should share the planet with the likes of Sammy Seal, please sign this petition which has been raised by Mark Carter.
Saturday morning on the 28th of February saw us driving from Ballachulish SW for the lovely little Port Appin. A nice friendly standing wave or two develops as the tide runs south between Appin and the island of Lismore especially if there is a southerly wind.
After a good winter morning workout we broke out behind Lismore to catch our breath.
We then headed north up the east coast of Shuna. Jennifer Tony and I were joined by...
...Harvey. We don't get out with Harvey so much these days, since he discovered river kayaking in a big way.
Our route was to take us NE up Loch Linnhe and then in through the tidal narrows of Loch Leven.
Back at the end of February, when I was still able to walk, Tony and I drove with our families to the excellent Isles of Glencoe hotel on the shores of Loch Leven. We were bound for the Scottish Canoe Association, luxury weekend.
The hotel is most conveniently situated on a little peninsula that juts into Loch Leven and was once the spoil tip of the Ballachulish slate quarries. A railway from Oban was constructed in 1903 and terminated here at the quarries. In the 1950's I remember seeing steam engines on this line but it closed in 1966 and all that remains is a solitary signal. The line of the railway is being used to create a new coastal cycle and walk way.
I am always on the lookout for boats that have seen better days and this one is an absolute cracker! Clearly, although the owner may not have been very good at parking the thing, he (and I assume it was a he) was quite handy with a welding torch!
David, my regular paddling buddy, used to paddle off the Ayrshire coast with John Young in the Kyle Canoe Club (now KKC). John designed and built his own Kyle, skin on frame, sea touring canoe. It was a fast boat as he was interested in speed and trained with Alistair Wilson of Lendal paddles, who competed in kayak sprints in both the 1964 and 1968 Olympics. John also introduced his son Jock to kayaking at the tender age of two. Jock went on to develop an interest in surf kayaking and was Master Longboat Champion at the 2008 British Surf Open.
Back in 1976, Jock took part in a film of a "coastal journey" from Glenfinnan down Loch Sheil, down the River Sheil and falls, into Loch Moidart, then round the Ardnamurchan peninsula and into Loch Sunart. John paddled his father's Kyle kayak. His three companions, Rusty Baillie, Sue Edwards and Liz Elliot paddled composite Valley Anas Acutas which were the latest development at the time, though they did not have either bulkheads or hatches.
The film is beautifully shot and features a great scene where they ask the Ardnamurchan lighthouse keeper (think Peter Sellers does Thunderbirds)for a weather forecast.
The closing seconds of the film feature Jock and Rusty paddling along the dark rocks of Ardnamurchan in a huge swell. Jock turns just in time to meet a monster wave and his sea canoe gets tossed high into the sky, with big air below his keel. As the film fades he is heard to say "I don't feel safe in a dinghy."
When you see this clip you will know what it takes to be a Master Surf champion!
I would love to track down the original of this wonderful film. It deserves to be shown again, perhaps at the Perth Canoe show. Simon Willis was not aware of this film but has kindly agreed to use his professional contacts to try and track the original down.
I had decided to look for the lost cave of Knockbrex, not at the current shoreline but at the back of the ancient shoreline of the raised beach. I found the cave almost straight away, though I had passed this spot many times before. Ivy draped itself over the rocks round the cave. An ancient bough, above the mouth, had recently broken thus possibly exposing the cave for the first time in many years.
Inside it was one of the driest caves I have ever been in, the floor was so perfectly level, I suspect it had been made by the hand of man. The beaches in these parts were frequented by the Solway smugglers and almost certainly this one would have been piled high with casks of claret and rolls of tobacco from the Isle of Man. There were even flat rocky ledges to store a bottle or two! It may well be that the covering ivy had been "planted" by the smugglers for the purposes of concealment.
I paddled home with a sense of satisfaction that my short 9km pasddle had solved a long standing mystery. I think Lucy Walford would have written another novel about it.
I paddled across Fleet Bay and took a break at the sandy cove of Knockbrex. Not far from the beach is a fine large mansion which was built by a Manchester businessman Mr James Brown in 1895. It was built on the site of an older mansion, which was part of the Selkirk estate but Knockbrex dates back to at least the 1650's when it belonged to the Gordon family.
The Scottish novelist, Lucy Bethia Walford (1845-1919), lived here for three years when her father took a tenancy from the Selkirks. She described Knockbrex (which was one of the the finest mansions in these parts): "though unpretending, was very much the kind of house we liked. Every window had a view : on the one hand, of a wild and storm-beaten district, wooded after a fashion on the hillsides, with the hills rising into mountains beyond ; while on the other was the famed Solway Firth, across which we could at times distinguish on the far horizon the faint outlines of the Isle of Man."
She and her brothers had "arrived at Knockbrex full of the wonders of a sea cave containing fossil remains said to be of great antiquity, of which he had heard as being in the neighbourhood." Despite much searching, she never discovered it. In her book, Recollections of a Scottish Novelist (1910), she recounts an amusing (though a century has not been kind to the humour) story of how she attempted to find it.
She and her family were all dressed in their finery on their way to a gala when they heard they were passing the house of the elderly man who owned the cave and looked after the fossils. There was a large number of carriages outside the man's house and they thought the fossil museum must be very popular. The house was crowded with men in black clothes and she thought they must be a gathering of ministers, though some looked very young. She became annoyed when her requests to be taken to the owner of the cave were ignored. Finally a young man ushered her in to a darkened room and said "This is the owner of the cave!"
The man was dressed in his Sunday best but was clearly well past his own best as he lay quite dead in his coffin. She recounts "We fled indignantly and precipitately ; nor did we once give way to mirth till far away and out of sight. But we never saw the cave, then or thereafter."
Well Lucy sounds very much like the kind of gal that describes a mansion as "unpretending"!
I have been visiting the Knockbrex shore regularly over the last 40 years and I have never found the cave either. It was a quite lovely afternoon so I decided to take another look for the wondrous cave....
Regular visitors to these pages will know that our local, and most frequently paddled waters, are those of Ayrshire's Carrick coast. Well last weekend, Tony, David and Phil went for one of our usual outings on the coast between Dunure and Turnberry.
No sooner had they rounded the Point than an all black RIB roared up at high speed. It was manned by big blokes in all black drysuits with dark glasses and black berets with big, black automatic guns.
"What do you think you're doing?" the leading maritime, anti-terrorist officer asked politely.
Tony looked at the kayaks and then at the sea before giving a considered and equally polite reply, "We're paddling."
Never taking his eye off Tony's paddling knife, the man in black replied (even more politely this time) "Well you're not paddling down here son."
Obviously outgunned, Tony, David and Phil turned their bows and made their way reluctantly back to the pub at Dunure.
With good excuse, David and Phil spent some time appreciating the Guinness in a very crowded Dunure Inn. They were soon perspiring in their brightly coloured dry suits, (Phil in red and David in plum). After a time, their mood was lifted when a female American golf journalist asked for their autographs!
It was a full moon when we arrived at Fleet bay on the Solway Firth. That meant a spring tide and that gives access to all sorts of interesting places at high water!
My destination was "rumblekirn", an amazing rock formation, which I recently found. Here the vertically aligned strata of sedimentary greywacke (Hawick rocks) tell of enormous forces that compressed and distorted the Earth's crust in these parts. The name "rumblekirn" means "rumble churn" in Scots. I would certainly not relish being churned round in here at the height of a storm. Waves smash through the back of rumblekirn creating an enormous blowhole.
