A washed up whale and an adequate supply of washed up wood on the machair of north Colonsay.

On the third day of our Colonsay adventure we woke early due to beautiful sunshine which had warmed the tent as soon as the sun rose over the low hills to the east.

It is always easier to pack on the third morning. We had burned logs and barbecue coals which we had brought and eaten and drunk quite a few of our consumables. On a sea kayak camping trip we burn about 5,500 Calories a day!

 It was most gratifying to see how flat our launch would be.

In contrast, this is what our last visit to Kiloran Bay was like. We got our faces wet on that launch!

The feeling of lightness once on the water is always a joy after the effort of humphing the camping gear and loaded boats to the water.

We set off on a very flat sea and hoped to do some close quarter coastal exploring which had not been possible on our previous visit. We hoped to find a one kayak wide rocky channel that leads into a hidden sandy lagoon near the north end of Colonsay.

At first things looked pretty promising but...

...we had not gone far when we were reminded that the Atlantic is never flat for long. Look at David, to the right of Sam, to get some idea of the scale of this growler.

Fortunately the swell did not increase too much and it was very...

...exhilarating paddling along this remote coast with...

...the sun sparkling and the roar of the surf washing the dark rocks.

Unfortunately there was too much swell to land at Port Sgibinis and inspect the Balnahard Whale, which can be easily seen in this remarkable image from Bing Maps. It is a huge artwork by Julian Meredith who has invited visitors to fill in the outline of the whale with cobbles from the raised beach.

Any disappointment was short lived when we arrived at Pol Ban, a lagoon hidden behind some offshore islets and skerries. A combination of the direction of the swell and low water meant the lagoon was protected. We paddled into several of its recesses until we found...

...the narrow channel which led to...

...the sands backed by machair beyond.

One by one we wended our way into this remote part of Colonsay.  No road reaches this far...

..as a steep line of  cliffs cut this tiny northern part of Colonsay from the rest of the island to the south. On our last visit these cliffs were home to many red billed choughs but there were none on this day.

We left the boats in the creek and...

...made our way up to the machair where we discovered...

...a great many huge weathered logs. Colonsay has no trees of this size so where had they come from? Almost certainly...

...these trees grew in North America and had entered the Atlantic via the St Lawrence river before the long crossing to the Hebrides on the North Atlantic Drift. If logs like this are washed up on an inhabited part then they do not last long as they are a coveted source of fuel, which helps see islanders through the long Scottish winter. These trunks have survived as they are just too large and too difficult to get to. We must come back and camp here sometime. The wood supply looks adequate even for our pyrotechnic needs.

On the east side of this isthmus of machair another inlet offers the possibility of landing in calm weather above half tide. The sun was now high in the sky and it was getting hot. Maurcice said he was dying for a drink but was a bit short of water. Sam said he still had some in his water bottle back at the kayak. Mention of a libation brought a twinkle to...

...David's eye. "Isn't Colonsay the island with a brewery?"

Without further ado, we made our way back to the boats!

Two schools of seakayaking campers, a tattie howkin' stick and a Colonsay sunset.

Once we had revived ourselves with some well earned sports recovery drinks we set about getting...

...our tents up and cooking our evening meal...

...before sunset. David had forgotten a bottle of locally distilled elixir, which  was stuffed up the side of his kayak skeg box but...

 ..a shout of glee announced its discovery and...

 ...he returned from the beach with a youthful spring in his step just before sunset.

At this point it is worth mentioning the two schools of kayak campers. The first carry their kayaks right up the beach and deposit them beside their tents. The second pull them up the beach just enough to avoid the tide carrying them away in the night. As you can see, we belong to the second school!

So just as the sun kissed...

 ...the western horizon we left the beach to the kayaks. We were pretty confident that not even the Hag of Colonsay would bother them.

While David had recovered his elixir, Ian, Maurice, Sam and myself had scoured the beach for drift wood. We set our fire on the sand below the high water spring mark so that no trace of our passing would remain. I have never understood why people drag stones from the beach to build a fire ring on the machair then leave a permanently charred hole as a mark of their passage.

Gradually we reconvened with our piles of wood round the fire where...

 ...we spent a most convivial evening recounting stories and setting the world to rights. Note the tattie howkin' stick to the right of this photo.

This is never burned until the baked potatoes (and Ian's recent introduction baked Bramley apples with clotted cream) are ready  and require howkin' from the fire. Only when all consumables have been recovered from the embers may the tattie howkin' stick be sent to its fate.

It was now 10:30 but the full moon was up and...

 ...the sky to the west still glowed red.

Gradually the sky darkened and we got on with the serious business of a comparative tasting of several Islay, Jura and Speyside malt whiskies.

I am sure we reached a consensus but for the life of me I can't remember what we decided. We will just need to reconvene, hopefully with friends who could not join us on this occasion, and repeat our deliberations. Sea kayaking really does not get much better than this.

Read Ian's account here.

Breaking the spell of the Cailleach Uragaig on the NW coast of Colonsay.

The only break in the rocky ramparts of the NW coast of Colonsay was at Port Ban but reefs at low tide prevent landing much of the time. Even if the swell allowed you land at HW, you would find yourself trapped by the surrounding cliffs. So we paddled on without a sideways glance.

W reserved our sidways glances for the amazing bird colonies which cover these inaccessible cliffs.

Predominantly the species were razorbills and guillemots but there were also plenty of puffins. The air above us was full of whirring wings and...

 ...the sea was covered with rafts of resting birds. Fulmars and kittiwakes were also nesting at the edges of the main colonies and the mournful but atmospheric cries of the kittiwakes echoed round the geos.

The incessant noise of the birds and the smell of the white guano deposits which contrasted with the yellow lichen on the steeper parts of the cliffs left us in no doubt that we were in the environment of the birds. There was no sign of the hand of man, not even a lobster pot.

 We were dwarfed by the scale of the place. It was very reminiscent of paddling round St Kilda. I have been on two boat supported paddling trips there and Ian has been on one. In many ways this was a more intense and close up experience as we had got here from the mainland (some 70km in our wakes) by ourselves.

We were well tired by the time we approached the bold headland of Cailleach Uragaig. Atop the headland rests the grim, grey visage of the Cailleach herself. The Cailleach Uragaig (The Hag of Colonsay) is a Celtic Goddess who has powers to shape shift herself so that she can appear as a hag, a mother or a virgin. She is a winter spirit who ushers in winter by washing her plaid in the Corryvreckan and she can often keep the arrival of spring at bay. On Colonsay she kept a young girl captive to steal her youth. She hid herself from the girl's angry lover by transforming herself into this rocky headland.

Tired sea kayakers always hope that the sands of Kiloran Bay will be just round the corner from the hag but they...

..are still  2km further on.

David was now getting very tired. It was 7pm and we had been paddling all day. David is well into his eighth decade and it is quite remarkable that he still has the stamina for such long trips.  He thought I was being very gentlemanly waiting behind with him but in truth I was not well and having difficulty keeping up with him!

 It really was a relief to paddle into Kiloran Bay where we intended to camp.

As soon as he got out of his kayaking gear David laid himself down on the machair and fell into such a deep sleep that we feared the Cailleach herself had enchanted him and that he might not awake for years! Fortunately we broke the Cailleach's spell, by opening a can of Guinness. The PSSSHT soon had David awake!

Read Ian's account here.

Between a rock and a hard place on the wild west cost of Colonsay.

We set off from Oronsay up the west coast of Colonsay with Ben More on Mull away to the north.

On our previous visit in 2010 there had been a bit of a swell running and we had to keep well out beyond the skerries.

This time it was a joy to wend our way through rocky channels and past white sand beaches. Sometimes we had to reverse out of blind channels which was all part of the fun.

A week of NE winds had flattened the Atlantic swell.

Soon we were passing beneath the rocky ramparts of Dun Ghallain on the summit of which an Iron Age hill fort once stood.

Beyond Dun Ghallain we left the last of the sandy bays behind...

..and entered a more committing part of the coastline.

Far beyond these rocky reefs...

...to the west, Labrador was the next landfall.

To the east the coastline of Colonsay had become an unbroken and unyielding wall of rock. We still had a long way to go.

Read Ian's account here.