A Bhacsaigh moment

Barry Shaw emerges from the white stuff on the north coast of Bhacsaigh at the Lewis Storm Gathering

Storm Gathering, Lewis 2007

Traditional clinker built wooden fishing boats hauled up on the beach for the winter. Kyle of Scarp, Harris.

Just arrived on the blustery isles of Harris and Lewis. Stornoway Canoe Club are hosting the second UK Storm Gathering. I am just heading for the first evening events and looking forward to some fine sea kayaking over the next few days.

Adventure begins at home!

At the weekend I got thinking about adventure on the water. In Scotland we have what must be some of the best paddling in the world, mostly within a day's drive/ferry trip from the main cities.

On Sunday we paddled past three ancient castles, old harbours, small coves, wide surf beaches, caves, stacks, headlands and waterfalls plunging off cliffs into the sea. We had great views of an ancient volcanic island rising sheer out of the sea and the western horizon was filled with another island's lofty granite ridges disappearing into the clouds. Seals followed us while the air was filled with flocks of oyster catchers and sandpipers. Curlews, herons, geese, mallard ducks and swans were feeding round the shoreline and rafts of eider duck were forming offshore.

The waters ranged from flat calm (where we were sheltered from the southerly winds of up to force 5) to quite interesting round the headlands. There was even a pub that serves dry suited thirsty paddlers at the half way point! All in all just about a perfect days paddling. Had we driven far? Had we flown to another land? Had we burned large amounts of precious hydrocarbons getting to this exotic location? Well the photo above is just 50km from my front door and our landing spot was 30 minutes drive from home.

I guess the message is that we do not always have to traverse the planet to look for adventure, sometimes its on your own doorstep. The other side of this coin is that you should never become complacent sea kayaking on your home waters. As soon as you leave the beach you enter another world and you should be prepared for adventure. All my unexpected "epics" have been on home waters on the Firth of Clyde.

Cailean and Michael have also written (more timely posts) on environmental themes, I meant to post this yesterday but was up all night preparing documents for work.

Blog Action Day was yesterday!

Introduce a friend to sea kayaking week.

Just in case you did not know, it is "introduce a friend to sea kayaking week"! David and I took Keith out. The first section of our favoured "Three Castles" route was from Maidens to Culzean Castle and was suitably flat to learn about paddling.


After a lunch stop in Croy Bay (with a wet relaunch in the surf) the section up to Dunure Castle was thirst inducingly bumpy. So we stopped for a pint at the Anchorage Bar in Dunure. Keith was beginning to like this sort of exercise.


In fact by the time we reached our last landfall at Bracken Bay, under the Heads of Ayr, he did not want to stop. Unfortunately after passing Greenan Castle, we were soon back at Ayr just as darkness began to fall. I hope he will come again.

14/10/2007

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