Red rock sunset on Erraid

As the sun slowly moved towards the northwest, the granite rocks of Erraid glowed red above the white shell sand beaches.


Finally the sun sank behind the grey gneiss of Iona and the sky above turned to fire. Far below, in the gathering darkness, our boats gently kissed the sands of Fidden and the Ross of Mull.

David Balfour's Bay Erraid

We set off from Fidden on the Ross of Mull to circumnavigate the island of Erraid. It was late evening in July and the thunder clouds of earlier in the day had moved SW over the distant Scottish mainland. After the rain, the sky was clear and bright as we wended our way through the skerries.


We stopped at Traigh Gheal on the island's SW coast. The white shell sand and red granite contrasted with the turquoise of the shallow waters. Robert Louis Stevenson, the author, spent time here while his father was constructing the remote lighthouses at Skerryvore and Dubh Artach (which lie far to the west and south west). In his novel "Kidnapped" the hero, David Balfour, was shipwrecked on this beach.

The Ross of Mull

On leaving Ulva Ferry, we drove to Fidden at the end of the Ross of Mull. Unlike the dark volcanic basalt found round Loch na Keal, the rock here was a red granite.


This beautiful red rock has been quarried for building such structures as the Skerryvore lighthouse, Iona Cathedral and further afield, Blackfriars Bridge, Holburn Viaduct and the Albert Memorial in London.

The leaving of Inch Kenneth

When the tide finally reached our boats, we reluctantly left the peace of Inch Kenneth. We followed its western shore under weathered conglomerate cliffs. In places they were undercut or penetrated by caves. Elsewhere, the elements had sculptured weird shapes from the rock. A great face of stone looked out over the calm waters of Loch na Keal


As we paddled past little Eorsa, the thunder clouds gathered again. They towered high over the foothills of Ben More on Mull, much as clouds of ash would have done when it was last an active volcano. We were soaked in a torrential downpour before we got back to the cars at Ulva Ferry.


This brought the first chapter of our seakayking trip on Mull's west coast to a close. We may only have paddled 85km over 3 full days but what sights we had seen. We would now follow Johnson and Boswell on to Iona and the Ross of Mull.

Postscript added 14/09/07.

Rob asked about the Grey Man of the Merrick. Here it is:

Rock "faces" such as these are called mimetoliths.

Waiting for the tide on Inch Kenneth.

At spring low water, shallow reefs extend far from the east shore of Inch Kenneth. Some say there is a hidden, submerged path from the mainland of Mull to the island.


Our boats were some distance from the tide. We saw no point in straining our limbs, by carrying such heavy boats, when the exercise of some little patience would bring the tide to us. We decided to explore Inch Kenneth on foot.


The fertile ground of Inch Kenneth contrasts with the rough, thin soil of distant Ulva.


This view, from near the graveyard, is looking southwest from Inch Kenneth to the Wilderness and distant Ross of Mull peninsula (at the end of which lies Iona). In the middle distance is the little rocky islet of Erisgeir. This had just enough pasture for 6 sheep!

In the graveyard we also found the burial place of Lachlan MacQuarrie, the last chieftain of his clan, who died on 14/1/1818 at the age of 103. Johnson and Boswell had been entertained by MacQuarrie when they visited Ulva. They were unimpressed with his mean dwelling but Boswell found their host to be “intelligent, polite and much a man of the world.” Sadly MacQuarrie had to sell his ancestral lands shortly afterwards. Even his dying wish, to be interred among his ancestors on the Holy isle of Iona, was confounded by bad weather. He was laid to rest on this sheltered isle instead. For MacQuarrie the tide came in for the last time on Inch Kenneth. Looking around, we saw that there were much worse places to spend eternity.

We did not have eternity on our side but were able to leave with the flood tide.

The leaning chapel of Inch Kenneth.

The little chapel on Inch Kenneth dates from the 13th century. Its leaning east wall was supported by buttresses added in the 16th or 17th centuries. Inch Kenneth had been an important ecclesiastical site since St Cainnech, who was a friend of St Columba, established a outpost from Iona here in the 6th century.


The chapel must have been a site of some importance. Its 700 year old windows, which face to the east, are really rather fine.


Nowadays the interior of the west wall supports 8 upended mediaeval family grave slabs which are from the Iona school of sculpture which existed in the 13th and 14th centuries.

The chapel was roofless even in Johnson and Boswell’s time and the open interior has long been used as a burial place. On a similar morning to ours, Boswell discovered several human bones within its walls. “I this morning got a spade and dug a little grave in the floor of the chapel, in which I buried what loose bones were there.” He must have done a thorough job as we found none, not even a metatarsal.

The graveyard on Inch Kenneth

As we roved among the isles of Mull's west coast, we found ourselves following in the wake of Johnson and Boswell. Like them, we ended up on the idyllic isle of Inch Kenneth. Unlike the other isles in this area, which have thin poor soils over basalt, Inch Kenneth is fertile as a result of differing geology. The cliffs on its western edge are composed of conglomerate but there is a dip in the land towards the east and the rocks here seem to be limestone (I hope Clark will be able to correct this). Whatever, the result is that the island is covered with deep fertile soil. In the past this island exported food to Iona. It is named after Kenneth who was one of St Columba's followers.


The depth of the soil also meant that it made a suitable burial ground. Like Johnson and Boswell we wandered through the gravestones enjoying a sense of peace and timelessness.


They had admired this beautiful 15th century Celtic cross and our hands felt the warmth of its stone in just the same way as theirs.


Since there time there have been further internments. This is the grave of Margaret Boulton, who died in 1938. She was the widow of Sir Harold Boulton who owned Inch Kenneth and who wrote "The Skye Boat Song"