A day at the races, continued...

After we slipped through the gap to the north end of Lunga we turned north past the islets of Fiola Meadhonhach and Rubha Fiola. The spring ebb tide was running strongly south but we found ourselves in a counter eddy which propelled us northwards to Sgeir nan Gabhar. This is the sight that awaited us.... a harmless little tide rip.


The little loop on the map at the top end of Sgeir nan Gabhar must look so insignificant to you, the dear reader. However, to Tony and I it represents a mountain we could not climb, a torrent of defeat, the ebb of our dignity and a flood of retreat.

We left the shelter of the eddy and immediately were in the full force of the rip. Another big eddy was coming up the west side of Rhubha Fiola and curling round to join the main stream that was running to the SE. It prevented us finding an inside route and a wall of water pushed us further out. I was paddling as hard as I could, my paddles were flashing in the sunlight, my lungs were bursting, I seemed to be making progress. Tony came alongside and as I glanced towards him I saw we had made no forward progress at all! Teeth gritted, I started panting as I tried to increase my stoke rate. "I'm not going to last much longer!" The sparkling waves were speeding past faster than I had ever paddled before and my chest was bursting. A fulmar swept effortlessly into view, its teasing wing tip clipping the wave that was just about to pile into me and sap my last reserve. I could resist the streaming tide no longer. "Tony I've had it!"

I broke off and relief and spray swept over me as I bounced downstream at high speed through the wave chain. It seemed like an eternity of effort but the GPS later revealed that our premature ejection from the race had occured after a mere two minutes.


We now had a problem. We had set up camp on Lunga's west coast and now the powerful tides of the Firth of Lorn had cut us off. Our only chance was to try and return through the gap we had been playing in. Unfortunately the tide had dropped and a steep wall of rushing water lay ahead. Tony managed to get through at his second attempt. I made three unsuccessful attempts but was by now completely exhausted. We tried to set up my tow rope for Tony to pull me through but there was nowhere for him to stand far enough upstream and he lost leverage just as I approached the fastest section of the chute. Beaten back by the force of nature, I retired to lick my wounds and look for my split paddle that had come off in the struggle with the tow line.

A few minutes later Tony appeared on foot, over the rocks and kindly paddled my boat speedily up the chute. That's what younger, fitter friends are for!


We returned to our camp on Lunga's west coast. The golden eagle was circling overhead. It was great to rest our weary bones round the camp fire and slake our substantial thirst as the sun went down behind the mountains of Mull.

What would the morning hold? Before then, the eagle's hungry chick squawked all night.

25/08/2007

A day at the races

After a pleasant second luncheon, we paddled round the SW corner of Lunga. The tide and swell made for great paddling conditions.


We continued up the west coast of Lunga looking for the entrance to the channel between the maze of islands at its north end.


There was about a metre diffence in level in the channel and the ebb tide was now running strongly.


So we stopped for a play.

25/08/2007

Peak of the Eagles, Lunga

After passing through the Grey Dogs tidal race, which lies to the south of Lunga, the skies cleared. We took a break in the magnificent bay of Camas a'Mhor-Fhir which nestles under Bidean na h-Iolaire or peak of the eagles.


What a great place to go sea kayaking!

25/08/2007

Clauchland's peninsula, Arran

Clauchlands Point, Arran.


After we left Holy Island, we headed north across Lamlash bay to Clauchlands Point on Arran. This is the view from the point back towards Holy Island and the distant Ayrshire coast on the other side of the Firth of Clyde.


This is the final headland before the return to Brodick. It is known as Corriegills Point. The rain clouds are gathering over the hills on the west side of Glen Rosa. Cir Mhor is the peak on the right. Brodick Castle can just be seen in the trees at the right of the picture.

It started to rain as I was waiting for the ferry back to the mainland. (Thirsty) Tony went off to the Co-op shop and came back with two ice cold cans of Guinness. We had come a long way from our last refreshment at the Kildonnan Hotel and the drought on Holy Island. The dark brew was like nectar as it slid down our throats and the soft summer rain dripped from our noses. MV Caledonian Isles' approaching horn sounded in the gathering mist and signalled the end of our Arran adventure.

17/08/2007

East Holy Island: a geologist's paradise.

Paddling north we passed old red sandstone cliffs capped by tertiary lava floes. Nimble wild goats were cropping grass right at the edge of the cliff.


Further north we looked back to the south. The rock here was a lighter and younger sandstone.


Arriving at the north end of Holy Island, the rocky granite ridges of Arran came into view.

17/08/2007

The Outer Light of Holy Island: Scotland's Forbidden Island.

The Outer Light of Holy Island was built by David A and Charles Stevenson in 1905. Its white light flashes twice every 20 seconds and was a familiar night time sight to me some 50 years ago when I grew up in Ayrshire, on the other side of the Firth of Clyde. However, its apparent constancy is but a transient flash compared to the ancient rocks upon which it is built.


This view of the lighthouse is one the monks at the Samye Ling Buddhist community on the island would prefer pelagic sea kayakers not to see. They post NO LANDING signs and expect you to to report to them at one landing spot on the north of the island so that you can be instructed on how to behave on your visit.

Tony and I were fortunate to meet no monks and went on our way undisturbed. We paddled on below the eastern cliffs of Holy Island, which bear witness to the geological forces that created the Earth. The old red sandstone at the base of the cliffs is 400 million years old and was formed when Holy Island was part of the Old Red continent, which was then situated on the equator. In comparison our own species is a mere 200,000 years old yet we think we own the Earth. We pondered on the nature of it all. We wondered why the monks seem so possessive of this wonderful island, which was a Holy Island to Christians for 1200 years before they bought it. What is their intention or motivation for wishing to close the island? What is the nature of their attachment to the land? Are they aware that whatever their motive they are not above the Scottish Land Reform Act?

Whatever, Tony and I concluded that the way to enlightenment through sea kayaking was for us closer to the truth than the way of any organised religion that seeks ownership and control. The ancient rocks of Holy Island will outlast mankind and then all of human enlightenment will be less substantive than a single grain of old red sandstone.

We paddled on and for the rest of our trip observed Scotland's Forbidden Island of Holy Island only from the sanctuary of the sea. This blog is the only (transient) evidence of our visit and passing.

17/08/2007

Solway sea fog and sunshine

We were right on the edge of Solway sea fog and sunshine on Saturday.


We headed west from Fleet Bay towards Ravenshall point.


There was an amazing orange glow on the horizon.


We decided to turn back at Ravenshall arch as the tide was getting low and we did not fancy a 3km carry back over the Solway sands!


We returned via Murray's Isles where we stopped for lunch and to compare notes about the Rockpool Menai 18 and the Valley Nordkapp LV.

06/10/2007