The Grey Dogs were salivating, while awaiting our arrival.

It was a cold, grey, January day but the promise of spring tides took us to Ellenabeich on the Island of Seil. David, Jennifer, Jim, Phil and I launched our kayaks in the little harbour of this former slate mining centre.

The harbour at Ellenabeich is sheltered from the open Firth of Lorn by the island of Easdale which lies just over 100m across the Sound of Easdale. A little passenger ferry runs back and forwards for most of the day to serve the community that has grown up in the former quarrymens' cottages on the island.

Setting off down the Sound of Luing with Luing and Scarba on the horizon.

Our plan was to circumnavigate Luing using the ebb in the Sound of Luing then the flood in the Cuan Sound. It was spring tides with HW Oban at 0749 and 2011. Peak rate in the channels would be 9knots. So I calculated that in the significant channels the ebb (S and E going) would run until 1225 when the flood would start. Sunset was 1633. I wanted to get to the Grey Dogs for about 1130, which would allow for an hour's play before slack water. Because we were finishing in the Cuan Sound, I wanted to get back to Seil by dark (I also wanted to hit the Cuan at full belt at about 1530!) That meant leaving Seil at 1000. David and Phil arrived at my house in Glasgow bang on time at 0600 and we were on the water by 1000 sharp!

 It did not take long to reach the tiny island of Fladda, which sits right in the middle of the fairway of the Sound of Luing. Beyond Fladda, the bold outline of Scarba rose above Lunga and distant Jura.

Fladda lighthouse was built in 1860 by David and Thomas Stevenson. The wall surrounding the raised part of the island was built to give shelter to the keepers' vegetable garden!

We hardly had time to look at Fladda before the tides whisked us away at  15km/hr!

We continued at this rate down the Sound of Luing, towards the great bulk of Scarba under which the Grey Dogs were salivating, while awaiting our arrival......!

Sea kayaking round Morvern

A three day, 114km paddle round the Morvern peninsula via Loch Linnhe, the Sound of Mull and Loch Sunart.

Sunset in Loch Drumbuie, an offshoot of Loch Sunart.

Tides:

Lynn of Morvern/Loch Linnhe
NE flood -0545 HW Oban ((+0110 HW Dover)
SW ebb +0025 Oban (-0505 HW Dover)

There are some peculiarities in the tides here.

A narrow stream of the flood tide entering the Lynn of Morvern hits the Morvern coast and then runs NE to Camas Chronaig where it continues to a point about 1.5km NW of Sgeir nam Tom. This stream runs at about 2.5 knots but elsewhere in the Lynn, the flood runs about one knot..

In the Lynn of Morvern, for the first 3-4 hours of a spring ebb, a SE going stream runs at about 4 knots (with a line of overfalls) from about 220m E off Rubha a'Mothair on the Morvern coast NM759411 to about 1100m NW of the SW tip of Bernera NM778392. Elsewhere in the Lynn the ebb runs about one knot.

Sound of Mull.
The flood tide goes NW and the ebb tide goes SE through the Sound.
At the NW end the flood runs for 7.5 hours and the ebb for 5 hours.
At the SW end the flood runs for 5.25 hours and the ebb runs for  7.25 hours.
The streams turn later and are stronger at the SE end.
Streams by the shores of the Sound turn 30mins earlier than in mid channel.

Throughout the Sound, by the shore,  the SE going ebb starts at approximately -0045 HW Oban (+0615 HW Dover)

The  NW going flood starts by the shore as follows working from NW to SE down the Sound:
Off Rubha nan Gall                 +0400 HW Oban (-0130 HW Dover)
Off Rubh' an t-Sean Chaisteil  +0500 HW Oban (-0030 HW Dover)
Opposite Eilean Glasa            +0600 HW Oban (+0030 HW Dover)
Off Rubha an Ridire               -0600 HW Oban (+0055 HW Dover)

At the SE of the Sound spring rates run up to 2 knots, elsewhere rates are about 1 knot with a bit more round headlands.

Loch AlineIn the entrance:
The in going flood -0525 HW Oban (+0135 HW Dover) 2.5 knots at springs.
The outgoing ebb +0040 HW Oban (-0450 HW Dover) 2.5 knots at springs

Loch Sunart
At the mouth of Loch Sunart the tide rotates through 360 degrees clockwise over 12.5 hours at generally less than one knot.
Within the loch the ingoing flood starts at -0500 HW Oban (+0200 HW Dover).
The outgoing ebb starts at +0130 HW Oban (-0400 HW Dover)
Spring rate is one knot except north of Carna and the entrances to Loch Teacuis 2.5 knots. At Laudale narrows the ingoing spring rate is 3 knots and the outgoing rate is 3.5 knots.

Day one.

Seakayakers, gypsies and bothy dwellers on Morvern.
A missed luncheon after a detour to Kingairloch?
The Boathouse, Kingairloch, Morvern
Between a rock and a hard place at Glensanda.
A bed of bluebells in the Sound of Mull.

Day two.

Trouble in the Isles
Taking the Sound of Mull to the Next World.
Mines a bacon butty in Lochaline!
A series of juxtapositions in the Sound of Mull.
Tobermory, what's the story?
Sardines and showers in Tobermory.
A barren point and fateful decision.
A banquet in Loch Drumbuie!

Day three.

Misty Morven morning.
Three jewels of Loch Sunart: Oronsay, Loch Teacuis and a buried diamond!
A post prandial doze under the ancient oak woods of Ardnamurchan.
Umbrellas in a sunny Loch Sunart.
All the essential sea kayaking elements round Morvern.















 

All the essential sea kayaking elements round Morvern.

As we approached the head of Loch Sunart we came to the Liddesdale narrows. It was spring tides and the ebb rate runs out at 3.5 knots. We arrived at slack HW and negotiated entrance to the inner loch with minimal effort.

Garbh Bheinn (Garven) 885m dominated the view to the head of the loch. It is one of the highest mountains in Ardgour which borders the Morvern peninsula to the north.

The wind freshened in the inner loch and David and I made full use of it.

We soon left Phil in our wakes but as he is such a fast paddler we felt little sympathy for his exertions.

Our voyage was nearly coming to an end and we drifted in the wind while Phil caught up. High up in the hills, a pair of golden eagles soared in the updraught from the summit crags.

 We were now nearing the end at the public slipway at Strontian. The surrounding hills contain lead and other minerals. An ore was discovered here in 1790 from which the rare element Strontium was extracted and identified in 1808. However, we were about to discover a local compound, which was present in some abundance. The heavens opened in a torrential rainstorm. Thank goodness it finished as we landed. We were able to load the trailer and run the shuttle in the dry. What a wonderful paddle the Morvern circumnavigation had proved to be. All the essential elements were there, a wild landscape, tides, mountains, castles, wild camping, great beaches, islands, hidden lochs, wildlife, waterside restaurants, picturesque villages and even hot showers! Oh and we had great company!

Umbrellas in a sunny Loch Sunart.

After lunch we continued westwards, deep into Loch Sunart. As we passed  Rubha Aird Earnaich we were passed...

...by the Ronja Pioneer, a live fish carrier, which was making her way up the Loch to a fish farm. Once she had loaded with fish she would make for the fish processing plant in Loch Creran.

A nice westerly breeze got up and I soon hoisted my Flat Earth sail.

Not to be outdone, David put his trusty brolly up.

It was a very pleasant cruise in the summer sunshine to another beach...

...on the Ardnamurchan shore.

We could hardly drag ourselves away from this lovely spot.

A post prandial doze under the ancient oak woods of Ardnamurchan.

From Loch Teacuis we crossed to the north shore of Loch Sunart...

...and landed at a lovely little beach under the ancient oak woods of Ardnamurchan.

David was a little too keen to land and he fell out of his cockpit, getting soaked in the process!

While David got changed, Phil and I started our luncheon. Out came oatcakes and a selection of fine mature cheeses, though we left the runnier French ones to David. All this was washed down with a variety of excellent malt whiskies.

After lunch we enjoyed a well deserved post prandial dose in the sun. We were disturbed only by the gentle lapping of the waves, some buzzing bees and David's snoring! Then the tide came in...

...reminding us we still had a fair distance to go!

Three jewels of Loch Sunart: Oronsay, Loch Teacuis and a buried diamond!

A little breeze soon cleared the mist from Loch Drumbuie as we headed off on the third and final day of our circumnavigation of Morvern.

We left Loch Drumbuie by its west entrance as it was still low water and the shallow eastern entrance was still dry.

We were now on a mini circumnavigation of the tidal island Oronsay which divides Loch Drumbuie from Loch Sunart. There are several Oronsays scattered round Scotland. In Old Norse it means tidal island.

We entered an inlet on the north side of Oronsay. Although Oronsay is now uninhabited, the shells of long abandoned cottages looked down on us from  a high ridge.

Back in Loch Sunart, the ice sculpted rocks of the north coast of Oronsay fall steeply into the sea. A rumble of engines behind....

...warned us of the approach of the cruise ship MV Lord of the Glens. Tobermory had clearly not detained her passengers for long and now they were going to do Loch Sunart including Glen Borrowdale Castle. Borrowdale was a Viking who settled here and built a castle to protect his new lands. The current castle was built in 1902 by Charles Rudd, a diamond mine owner. Reputedly, before he died, he buried  a large diamond somewhere in the grounds !

We had now completed our circumnavigation of Oronsay and entered...

...the narrow channel between Carna and the Morvern mainland. This led us through into a beautiful hidden loch, Loch Teacuis, which bites deep into the Morvern peninsula.

We were delighted to meet members of the Inverness Canoe Club, who were out on a day paddle from the Resipole camp site on the shore of Loch Sunart.

Misty Morven morning.

We awoke on a comfortable meadow of grass by the shores of Loch Drumbuie.

A light breeze meant that there was not a single midge to disturb the morning.

There are two kayaking schools. Those that carry their kayaks right up to the tent, regardless how far the tent is from the shore, and those that abandon their kayaks just above the high water mark. We are definitely in the second school.

I love misty mornings on the Scottish west coast...

...especially when the mist is moving and alternately hiding and revealing the mountains.

The mist alters the scale of the landscape and adds a sense of mystery.  Our route would take us through the narrow mouth of Loch Drumbuie and out into Loch Sunart under the summit of Ben Hiant which floated above a sea of mist.

A banquet in Loch Drumbuie!

We had now left the Sound of Mull and were paddling east into Loch Sunart. From a line between Ardnamurchan Point to Mull, Loch Sunart winds for 45 km, deep into the heart of the west coast of Scotland. It forms the northern boundary of the Morvern peninsula.

Mist was gathering over the Ardnamurchan hills at sunset.

We landed at several little bays on the south shore of Loch Sunart but all were backed by bog or great mounds of tussocky grass and entirely unsuitable for a comfortable night's sleep. In truth, I was not really expecting to be able to camp on the shore of Loch Sunart. I had explored it at leisure on previous visits and had indeed chosen not to camp at Auliston Point before. I also had the security of a midge jacket... I knew of a lovely flat grassy meadow deep within the confines of Loch na Droma Buidhe (Loch Drumbuie) which in Gaelic is Loch of the yellow ridge. There was some dissension in the ranks, as we still had about 5km paddling from Aulistion Point. However, since both David and Phil had been equally unwilling to stop at Auliston there was little more than some grumbling and that was mostly from our stomachs due to the inadequate size of our "large" fish suppers.

We entered the narrow channel at the west end  of Loch Drumbuie to find ourselves in a windless paradise at sunset.

A paradise for midges that is, and we were first second and third courses of their banquet! At least David and I had our midge jackets! Poor Phil fully suffered one of the most savage attacks I have ever encountered! Then I remembered I had a spare midge hood, stashed away at the bottom of my emergency bag. Phil's relief was wonderful. We pitched the tents in near darkness then a remarkable thing happened. The midges disappeared with the last light! We had brought a sack of logs and soon had a fire going on the beach. We cooked our evening meal by the crackling logs and under the twinkling stars. Paradise indeed.