Better days: the wreck of the Wasa

We spent some time exploring...


...the magnificent strand of Balnahard beach on Colonsay.


Below the high water mark we found the remains of a wooden steamship, the SS Wasa. In 1919 she caught fire and was being towed to safety when she stranded here and was lost.


In this view you can see Scarba on the left, the Gulf of Corryvreckan and Jura to the right. We would have liked to have stayed all day but we knew we had to get to the south end of Colonsay and cross the 15km to Jura before night fall. We prepared to put to sea again, unlike the Wasa, which has seen better days.

Balnahard beach, Colonsay

Balnahard beach at the north end of Colonsay...


...is quite simply...


...stunning!

Choughed to get round the top of Colonsay

The swell on the north west coast of Colonsay was about two metres and it pushed us steadily towards the north of the island. On the horizon, from the left we could see Mull, the entrance to Loch Linnhe, the Garvellachs, the rounded mass of Scarba then the north end of Jura. We felt very small and exposed out here.


We kept well out as many reefs extend out from the coast. Spray from the surf hung in the air below the dark cliffs. We decided not to take the inside channel behind little Eilean Dubh.


Finally we rounded the northernmost point of Colonsay...


...and entered another world of calm seas and sunshine.


As we passed below the northern cliffs we heard the high pitched cawing of the red billed chough, a rare member of the crow family. We watched their aerobatics as they soared in the updraught of the cliffs. All in all, we felt somewhat relieved and quite choughed to get round the top of Colonsay!

The seakayakphoto.com school of sea kayaking: lesson one, paddling in a current.

I have not been out for a while, since I dislocated my knee on Gunna. Four months of inactivity have left me pretty unfit. Phil, who has been paddling for less than a year, hadn't done any tidal paddling at all. So given it was a spring tide we thought it would do both of us some good to sample the tide races on the west coast. We set off from Crinan at the top end of the Sound of Jura.


We nipped through the Dorus Mor.Then we paddled quite hard to break out of the current that was heading straight out the Corryvreckan towards distant Colonsay. Next we paddled up the Sound of Luing where we saw a huge school of perhaps 30 or 40 bottlenose dolphins, leaping clean out the water.


After this we went through the Grey dogs at the peak flow of the spring tide, we bashed through the standing waves at 18km/hour. We had been pretty economical with the description of the Grey Dogs that we gave Phil. Just as we passed the point of no return on our approach, Tony quietly said "Phil, see when we turn the corner just after this wee island? Just keep paddling".


Next we paddled down the west side of Scarba and entered the Corryvreckan. The flood was still running out against us but we used an eddy on the Scarba shore to enter the Great Race. Spray from the agitated water hung in the windless air. The eddy ended at a small headland and swung out into the main flow where it joined the rotating mass of water which forms the whirlpool. I said “Phil you need to get round this headland so paddle quite hard and don’t look back.”


We got round the headland and landed in a little bay to wait for the flood to ease off. We had to drag the boats well up the beach as seething surges of water threatened to whisk them away into the jaws of the ‘vreckan. Slack water arrived suddenly and lasted all of five minutes.


We blasted through the Dorus Mor again. The Paps of Jura heaved above the SW horizon. The ebb from Loch Craignish now joined the fun. Even a large fishing boat got caught by the current and sidestepped several hundred metres.All too soon we were back in the shelter of Crinan, a mere 39km after we had left. Not bad after a four month lay off and for Phil’s first lesson in tidal paddling.

A little splash of water to wake you up in the morning

Fortunately our beach was protected by some offshore reefs...


... and so was protected from the shore break that was hitting nearby Kiloran Bay. We launched without much fuss...


...so why is David looking so concerned?


Well, we had to break through a narrow gap in the reef and every so often a little wave would make a wee splash.

Surf's up at Kiloran Bay, Colonsay

During the night, I heard the surf getting up. It sounded so close, I got up to check the kayaks but they were well above the tide line. Phil didn't hear any surf as he was deafened by David's snoring. Come to that, maybe it wasn't surf that I had heard either.


The great sweep of Kiloran Bay stretched away...


..as we strolled along the edge of the sea looking for shells.


By the time we had made our way back the tide had come up bringing with it the surf!


It might be an interesting launch.

Twilight, firelight and distant lantern light on Kiloran Bay.

The twilight stole round us...


as we gathered driftwood from the shore.


We soon had a fire going and it radiated a pool of warmth and light in which we stood. We greeted the gathering night with fine malt whisky. Then on the distant horizon (above the fire), a steady double flash announced the location of the Dubh Artach lighthouse.

It is situated on a lonely rock, some 29km WNW of Colonsay. It was completed in 1872 by David and Thomas Stevenson. They built the shore station on Erraid off the Ross of Mull. The light was automated in 1971 and its lantern flashes white, twice every 30 seconds.