Between sunshine and shadow on the Clyde

From Little Cumbrae we paddled for Glencallum Bay at the south end of the island of Bute. The hills on the island were dappled with sunshine.


Far away, to the south west, the higher Arran hills were still wreathed in cloud. Fresh snow could be seen highlighting the rocky ridges of north Glen Sannox.

18/03/2008

"Doon the Watter" on the Clyde

As the Ayrshire coast slipped away behind us, the weather front that had come in during the night moved away south. We were left in a cold, clear northerly airstream.


We passed the south end of Little Cumbrae Island and looking north we could see the distant mountains of Argyll behind the magnificent Stevenson lighthouse with its copper dome.


We continued on a north westerly course for the island of Bute. As we cleared Little Cumbrae we could see into Millport Bay on Great Cumbrae island. At one time this was a premier holiday destination for thousands of Glasgwegian workers. Steamers raced each other from the Broomielaw wharf in the heart of Glasgow to the piers on the Clyde resorts. It was known as going "doon the watter". The holidaymakers moved on to Blackpool, then the Costas and Florida leaving Millport as a sleepy little place, even in the height of summer.

18/03/2008

Portencross Castle

We left from beneath the ancient walls of Portencross castle.


The first leg of our trip involved crossing to the Little Cumbrae island.

18/03/2008

Winter Sannox sojurn

It was not a very promising start. Snow showers were rattling through the Glen Sannox Hills on Arran.


Sometimes it pays to keep going. It was still bitterly cold but the sun came out. We enjoyed one of the the most scenic paddles the Earth has to offer. The launch spot was less than an hour's drive from Glasgow. I have said it before....we live in sea kayaking heaven.


A jolly little 32km winter warm up then the ferry home. We went straight to the restaurant and had chicken curry rice and chips. Well I did say it was Scotland!

18/04/2008

An unexpected swim.

A force 6 NE wind was blowing down the loch and whipping a frenzy of white horses over its dark cold waters. It is the end of the Scottish winter but the summits of the mountains on Arran and the Galloway hills were still shrouded in a white covering of snow.

Despite the cold we were sweating in our high tech clothing as we battled into the teeth of the wind. All three of us were wearing helmets which shows how seriously we were taking the conditions. We were making slow but steady progress when all of a sudden Tony went over.

He disappeared from sight under the dark water. He had instinctively gone into the roll position but it failed and he was unseated. After what seemed like an age, he eventually surfaced. He was gasping with the cold cold and he couldn't get out of the water. Mike and I manouvered into position on either side of him and we each grabbed a shoulder strap and hauled him out like a fish. Water spewed from his nose, his mouth and his helmet but thank God he was still breathing, though he had completely lost the power of speech.

All the high tech windproof clothing and fleece was completely saturated with icy water. The NE wind chilled him to the marrow. It was a serious situation. Tony was already hypothermic and we were 28km from the nearest shore at Lendalfoot on the Firth of Clyde.

How did we get out of this mess and get ourselves home from this Scottish version of Deep Trouble?

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Better Days #3

This old fishing boat has seen better days, her still stout timbers are now part of the sea.

In the county of Argyll, on Scotland's west coast, Loch Sween cuts deep inland from the tidal waters of the Sound of Jura. At its head, a dog leg leads into the hidden recesses of Caol Scotnish, a thin ribbon of the sea which penetrates deep into a land shrouded in mosses and oaks.


The shores are steep and rocky and the oaks lean over the sea dipping their leaves in salt water at high tide. We visited on a typical west coast day, the rain was running from leaf to leaf with the drips gathering in size as they went.


Wending our way under dipping and dripping branches we came across this forlorn old fishing boat.


She was just about as far from her old fishing grounds as was possible to get and still be in the realm of the sea. Now instead of her hull rising and falling over ocean swells, the tides rise and fall over her planking. Strands of bladder wrack are left hanging from her hull as the tide recedes.

Go on, get out there, enjoy your better days while you are able.

19/09/2004

Better Days #2

Maidens Harbour is protected from the sea by the rocky Maidens reef. In summer it is full of recreational boats but when a chill eastern wind blows in winter, only this old work boat lists and strains at her moorings. She is tethered with knotted scraps of rope and she is lying low in the water as her hull is flooded with rain and sea spray.

Despite her neglect she still floats, carrying the pride of the craftsmen who sweated her fine curves and lines from planks of stout wood and the men who fished her on stormy waters.

Those were better days, they were proud days.

09/02/2008