Keeping critters out of the cockpit.

When I started sea kayaking I got fitted out by the late Mike Thomson of Scottish Paddler supplies. He advised me to invest in a cockpit cover because: 

"All that wet, sandy, salty gear we inevitably accumulate on a trip. Don't chuck it all in the boot where it immediately sets about rotting your car away. Heave it all in the cockpit and bang on one of these covers.

They also keep the lovely British climate out of your cockpit in transit or on the beach. The Americans add that they "keep dirt and CRITTERS out of the cockpit". Come to think of it, finding a critter crawling up your leg while out at sea would not be the happiest of experiences!!

Until recently I had used the cockpit cover only when the kayak was on the car roof rack to keep fuel consumption down, my kayaks were always well protected from weather and critters in my garage. Unfortunately my knees have not been so good recently and I have been having trouble getting a kayak on and off the car roof. So I have started leaving a kayak down at our weekend retreat on the Solway.

 

I leave it just above the springs high watermark, under the shade of a sessile oak that hangs down over a little beach in Smugglers' Cove. You can see the oak at the right of this photo.

Winter storms had undermined the bank of earth at the back of the beach. I was just pulling my kayak out onto this beach when I spotted this critter among the roots of the tree.

 It is an adder. They have a venomous bite but are usually very retiring in the heat of the day.

This one was trying to warm itself so it wasn't going anywhere fast. I left it well alone, they are a protected species.

We often see adders sunning themselves on the rocks around the Solway shore. Even more common are slow worms, which are not snakes but legless lizards. Slow worms are non venomous and can be distinguished from adders as they are a uniform brown colour with no obvious neck.

In contrast, the adder has an unmistakable diamond pattern and a distinct narrowing at the neck. Adders are widely distributed on the British mainland, and the Inner Hebrides (especially Jura but not Colonsay). They are not found on the Isle of Man, Ireland, the Outer Hebrides, Orkney or Shetland.

I was really pleased my cockpit cover was firmly in place, I shudder to think what might happened if it was sitting in the cockpit when I set off.

Farewell to Ailsa.

 As we left Ailsa Craig, a light wind helped our progress back to the Ayrshire coast.

 By the time we were half way across the wind had begun to drop and...

 ...we completed the crossing in flat calm conditions. Donald had motored on ahead of us as he faced a long slog up the beach with his boat.

 All too soon we were weaving our way through the Lendalfoot skerries...

...and made landfall at the end of another fantastic voyage to Ailsa Craig.

As we completed our packing, we left Ailsa Craig floating on a dreamy sea, with the cries of the birds still ringing in our ears.

Seaside rock: columns of granite at the Trammins, Ailsa Craig.

We had nearly completed our circumnavigation of Ailsa Craig. We passed under the great rock columns of the cliffs called Trammins and arrived...

...below the South Foghorn.

Soon we were back at the eastern spit...

...on which the lighthouse stands.

A farewell look over our shoulders, then we set off on the 15km crossing back to the mainland.

Exploration of the Water Cave, Kennedy's Nags and Little Ailsa.

 We paddled in wonder under wheeling gannets along the west coast of Ailsa Craig towards Stranny Point...

 ...where we came to the Water Cave, which was guarded by nesting fulmars.

 Rounding Stranny Point we came to the magnificent SW cliffs, which are called Kennedy's Nags.

 Phil decided to paddle in closer but...

 ...both he and...

...Little Ailsa were dwarfed by the scale of the cliffs.

A whirling halo of gannets.

Once we paddled round to the NW side of Ailsa Craig we entered the sunshine of the spring afternoon. The West Craigs are home to thousands of pairs of birds. The air was full of the "kittiwake kittiwake" calls of the kittiwakes and the continuous croaking of the gannets. Fulmars swooped down from their ledges in graceful, stiff winged flight and...

...guilliemots and razorbills flopped onto the water, where they congregated in rafts. It was a delight to see puffins whirring through the air with their rapid wing beats.

I decided to paddle out for 500m to get a better view of the NW side of the Craig. I was followed by a crowd of inquisitive wheeling gannets.
  

I was rewarded by a stunning view of Ailsa Craig, complete with a whirling halo of gannets. To give a sense of scale...

...Phil can be seen (just) in the middle of this telephoto photograph.

Cliffs so vertical that the bottom overhangs.

 We were sorry to leave this glorious spit of sun bleached rocks below the lighthouse at Ailsa Craig.

 The tourists that arrived aboard MFV Glorious soon got bored and she set off again.

As we rounded the north end of Ailsa Craig, we saw the 500 ton STS Stavros Niarchos, a British sail training brig. She carries up to 18 sails on two masts. She was launched in Devon in 2001.

We passed the elevated railway and pipeline that carried granite from the blue one granite quarry and compressed air to the foghorn.

 As we turned the north end, we found ourselves under the dark vertiginous walls of Bare Stack.

 It is so vertical that the bottom overhangs.

This huge cave at the base of the cliffs is called Swine Cave. It is very difficult to get the whole rock face in a photo and to appreciate...

...the huge scale of these granite cliffs. The tiny blip on the shore at the horizon is Ashydoo Kirk, a group of fallen rocks as big as a house.

Gas powered foghorns and a racket on Ailsa Craig.

 It was a relief when Donald wanted to photograph from the summit of Ailsa Craig. I had hurt both knees on the way up and wanted to rest before starting the gruelling, knee jarring descent.

I enjoyed the view over the Firth of Clyde to Pladda with its lighthouse, Arran and Holy Island before we started...

 ...our descent. We followed the same route as the ascent but from above, what had appeared as a pile of stones on the ascent was actually the remains of the summer shieling.

Gradually I descended to sea level. Thank goodness for walking poles. Coming down is always harder on the knees than going up.

 We got a bird's eye view of the old gas works. The coal gas was used to run an engine that compressed the air to drive...

...two giant foghorns that are situated at the north and south of the island.

Then a great noise, worse than any foghorn, disturbed the calm, spring afternoon. It was the MFV Glorious with 12 very loud passengers. Usually Glorious carries birdwatchers, hill walkers and quiet outdoors folk but not on this sunny day...

Once they had landed, the peace was shattered. I hoped the nest and egg (we had carefully avoided) were not trampled underfoot. It was time to leave.

A saltire of colour on the slopes of Ailsa.

The upper slopes of Ailsa Craig were covered with a profusion of bluebells and sea campion.

The dazzling display of blue and white matched the colours of the Saltire, the Scottish flag.

Continuing upwards we came to the source of the castle well. Traditionally, it is called the Garry Loch (though the OS map calls it Garra Loch). It had nearly dried out and was surrounded by a profusion of marsh marigold flowers.

Above the Garry Loch we came to a bluebell covered slope that I found one of the toughest on the ascent. The bluebells hid a maze of rabbit burrows, many of which had collapsed. My walking poles not only provided stability they were excellent probes.

As we perspired our way upwards we emerged onto the upper slopes which were covered with short grass. There were many rabbits which hopped away as we approached. My brother Donald and I had started our mountaineering days together in the 1970's so I was very pleased to accompany him on this return to a small hill after a break of 8 years.

As we ascended the sea fog began to lift revealing a clear view of the south end of Arran and its mountains beyond.                 

 Then at last, the trig point on the summit! I literally clutched it for support and...

...caught my breath enjoying the view of our landing spit some 340m below.

I felt elated at being on the summit.  Although I might not look too happy in the photo, that was because my right knee was by now rather sore. Donald's photo shows me standing with my weight over my "good" leg. I really must try to  improve my posture.

Now we just had to get back down!