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.

Our sea kayaking pilgrimage comes to a peaceful end in Oronsay Priory

As we made our way up from the beach  David had a spring in his step which was quite unlike thast of his first visit some years ago. I had told him that we were going to visit the Priory. He visibly paled before he said "Is that wise? They'll never let us out, we'll need to go into rehab and walk the twelve steps!"

As we made our way over the machair towards...

...Oronsay House we were intercepted by the RSPB warden. Straight away I asked how his nettle patches were growing? He then knew that we were aware that Oronsay was an important reserve for corncrakes. He told us that there were presently three calling males on the island but unfortunately we did not hear them on our visit. Another reason the wardens rush up to meet visiting sea kayakers is that they do not want you to camp on the island. My friend Tony stood his ground when approached by a previous warden several years ago. He was camped on the east of the island well away from areas used by corncrakes and choughs, which are the species the RSPB is most interested in.

Under the terms of the Land Reform Act (Scotland) you can visit and camp on Oronsay provided you avoid disturbing the birds (or other wildlife). The RSPB website still encourages visitors to visit their other reserve Loch Gruinart on Islay instead: "This site is one of several that due to its size, location and/or conservation sensitivity is not capable of accommodating large numbers of visitors (unless stated). Where possible, we have indicated the nearest equivalent RSPB nature reserve (Loch Gruinart) suitable for visiting."

Fortunately, they now have a rider at the bottom of the page which recognises your legal right to access the island: "This does not affect any statutory rights of access under the Countryside and Rights of Way Act or Land Reform (Scotland) Act legislation".

I joined the RSPB in 1973 when I started work as a ranger/naturalist with the National Trust for Scotland. Although I was a member for several decades, I left when it became clear their aim was to restrict public access to their reserve land.

Anyway the RSPB do not own Oronsay. The island belongs to a delightful American lady, Mrs Colburn, who we have found to be most welcoming of visitors. Indeed on our last visit we met her on the beach and helped her clear up plastic flotsam and jetsam.

As we passed her lovely house on the way to the Priory she waved to us from the window.

Oronsay Priory is situated where the machair abuts the foot of a rocky crag (where you maybe lucky and see choughs). A deep sense of peace pervades this place and it is no wonder that a religious settlement was set up here, far from the turmoil, violence, warfare and lawlessness that plagued most of Scotland throughout the Dark Ages and Mediaeval Times.  These buildings date from the mid 1300's but there may have been a chapel here since St Columba's time. The Priory was founded by the Lords of the Isles and became a centre for religious sculpture until about 1500.

The sandy machair soil of Oronsay lent itself to easy grave digging and there were no wolves on Oronsay to dig up recently buried corpses. So Oronsay became both a place of religious pilgrimage and a final resting place.  Many of those interred here were former pilgrims or residents of Argyll on the mainland or like this recent grave, drowned sailors whose bodies were washed ashore. You can read more about some interesting graves on Oronsay in this post from our previous visit.

Some say St Oran gave his name to Oronsay but I rather doubt this as Oronsay is quite a common name for tidal islands on the west coast. It comes from the Old Norse and means "island of the ebb tide" which is exactly what Oronsay is. You can walk to it from neighbouring Colonsay at low tide.

Undoubtedly the most impressive features of the graveyard are its two standing crosses. This is the Great Cross of Oronsay, which stands inconspicuously against the farm buildings at the back of the Priory graveyard. It is finely carved on both sides and is thought to have come from Iona.

Although it has withstood over 5 centuries of weathering, you can still see how finely the east face of the cross was carved.

The west face of the cross is also finely carved and at...

...its base is a Latin inscription. It was carved for Malcolm MacDuffie, the Lord of Colonsay, some time after 1472 and erected before 1500.

+HEC EST CR/UX COLINI F/ILII CRISTI/NI M(EIC)DUFACI

'This is the cross of Colinus (Malcolm), son of Christinus MacDuffie

Another interesting, but older, cross stands on a little knoll to the east of the Priory. In 1881 just the shaft was standing and the present head of the cross lay on the ground beside it.

There is some doubt as to whether this is the original head of the cross but it has now been replaced atop the shaft.

It is decorated by a rather portly and smiling figure. Perhaps life was good here when the cross was carved.

The Priory is one of the best preserved medieval religious buildings in Scotland. It was too remote to be destroyed in the Reformation, as were many of its more accessible, contemporary religious buildings. We entered the interior of the Priory to find ourselves in a...

...cloistered courtyard. Someone was lying in peaceful contemplation...

...it turned out to be Sam who, without a sail, must have been quite exhausted keeping up with the paddle sailors who had enjoyed a fair wind on the long crossing from Jura.

Like pilgrims of old, I think all of us particularly appreciated our visit to this special place because of the effort it had taken to get here. We left Sam to his well deserved rest and made our way to the back door of the Priory which...

...to David's great relief was not locked.

As we made our way back into the graveyard we passed below...

..the great east window of the chapel which must have been magnificent when it was filled with stained glass.

As we took our final steps at the end of our personal pilgrimage to the Priory on Oronsay we reflected on those who had led their lives here and kept human decency, hope and faith alive through the darkest centuries of Scotland's bloody past. Whether or not you are Christian, or even of any religious persuasion, I suspect that if you ever visit this place, you would set off on your road home inspired to help in your own way to make the World a better and more peaceful place for all its inhabitants.

Far from the Peace of Oronsay and away to the east, beyond the Paps of Jura, lie the lands that inspired Christianity, Judaism and Islam. It is a sad paradox that many lives in those lands that were at one time the cradle of civilisation are currently blighted by senseless violence and destruction.

You can read Ian's account here.

Why sea kayakers should consider carrying a PLB, unless they are full sibling to an ostrich.

Our journey from Carsaig Bay to Oronsay and Colonsay back in May 2017 continued after a long luncheon break on the sands of Oronsay. The break in blogging has been somewhat longer than that as I have been feeling a bit under par recently. At this, point I should say a very big thank you to Duncan for so generously lending me Sith for this trip. It is just a pity that neither Duncan nor Joan could make this paddling adventure as they had recently returned to Vancouver Island.

We set off anticlockwise round Oronsay with...

...the distant Paps of Jura and the northern entrance of the Sound of Islay on our port side.

We entered a maze of rocky channels at the SW tip of Oronsay We were making slow progress against the incoming tide when a "whoppa whoppa whoppa" from behind announced the arrival of...

...G-MCGG, the coastguard search and rescue (SAR) helicopter from Prestwick, some 120km away to the SE. We heard from Belfast Coastguard VHF transmissions that she was on her way to assist a party of sea kayakers in trouble off the Ross of Mull, some 30km to the north. She tipped over slightly as she passed and we could see the crew looking down at us but presumably we did not look like we were in distress and were too far from their search zone.

This was a Sikorsky S92 helicopter but two months later it was replaced at Prestwick by a Leonardo (formerly AgustaWestland) AW189.  Bristows have operated these SAR helicopters from Prestwick on behalf of the Marine and Coastguard Agency since the previous Royal Navy Sea King SAR  helicopters were retired on 1/1/2016.

Just a few days previous to our sighting, a MCA helicopter from Prestwick had rescued a surfer from the middle of the North Channel between Scotland and Ireland. The surfer had been adrift after setting off surfing from Westport beach on Kintyre. The tide and an offshore wind carried him off without any means of attracting attention.  The search lasted for 32 hours and involved several MCA helicopters from Prestwick, 3 RNLI Lifeboats and 5 shore based coastguard teams. It is quite remarkable that he was discovered. He was found 26km from Kintyre and 21km from Ireland in a search area of nearly 500 square kilometers. 

After the rescue, one of the crew, Andy Pilliner, said: “Looking out at endless water, you just see something that’s slightly different in the water, from where we looked, it looked perhaps like a buoy, but it warranted further investigation so we dropped in height a bit and came in and it was that moment, oh it is actually a surfboard and there’s someone on it waving. It's just a great feeling, it’s just what you’re hoping for."

The rescued surfer said "I cannot thank those enough who rescued and cared for me, they are all heroes."

This remarkable rescue is a very good reason for water users, such as sea kayakers, to carry personal locator beacons (PLBs). By setting one off, if you are ever in a life threatening situation, you can help the rescuers find you quickly. This not only saves the rescue services considerable effort but it also reduces the time their personnel are exposed to danger. I have been carrying a PLB while windsurfing and sea kayaking for the last 12 years. My first PLB cost nearly £600 but the Ocean Signal rescueMe PLB1, which I now carry, is currently only £200. Given the overall cost of sea kayaking gear and transport this is a minor expense. (I burned £40 of fuel getting to our launch point for this trip and I live closest!) So I can't think of any good reason why a responsible sea kayaker would not nowadays consider carrying a PLB unless, perhaps, they are full sibling to an ostrich.

Fortunately we were in no difficulty and C-MCGG flew on and successfully assisted the kayakers in trouble while we landed on Oronsay. As we made our way up the beach at the head of the long inlet of Port na Luinge (long port!), we were following in the footsteps of our ancestors and our own pilgrimage to the Isles had nearly come to an end.

You can read Ian's account here.