The Cannibal's Cave and Skippy the Bush Kangaroo!

From Whilk Isle, we paddled towards the cliffs of Balcreuchan Head. Almost immediately we came across this blow hole. Unfortunately the swell wasn't quite big enough for real explosions but it still made a satisfying "boom, whoosh!"

We now cut inshore of Balcreuchan Stack...

...on our way towards Sawney Bean's Cave in Balcreuchan Port when, all of a sudden, Phil gave a great shout. Half expecting to see the Great Cannibal himself, we looked up as Phil pointed high on the hill...

..."Look, it's a real, red kangaroo....why it's, it's... I think it's Skippy!". We all nearly fell out our kayaks with laughter, Phil had seen a roe deer leaping up the side of the hill on its rear legs. It seemed to have hurt one of its front legs, which it held close to its chest, while leaping away on the other three.  At first glance it might have looked, a....bit..., like a kangarooo. But...

Clearly Phil has been spending too much time watching "Skippy, the complete collection (vol 1)" DVD, which David had given him for Christmas.

As a somewhat red faced Phil paddled on, a chorus of "Skippy, Skippy,....Skippy the Bush Kangaroo" gently wafted after him. Clearly we were going to have a good day out and we had hardly started!

By the way, the entrance to the Bean's cave is in the middle of the above photo with Skippy. It is entered by traversing the horizontal groove above the sea, lower right, then climbing the slanting curved gully up to the cave.

A solitary perch on Whilk Isle.

There was almost no wind when we finally left the beach at Lendalfoot about 1045 and paddled out round Big Isle.

The visibility was rather poor and we could only just make out the outline of Ailsa Craig on the horizon.

To the SW we couldn't see where the sea ended and the sky began.

The reefs of Whilk Isle were submerging quickly as the flood spring tide flowed round...

...distant Bennane Head and threatened this gull's solitary perch.

A long shuttle to Loch Ryan...

Five of us convened at Lendalfoot (Lendal Paddles were named after this spot) in South Ayrshire at 9am. It was spring low water...

...but we only took the kayaks half way down the beach...

...as we had a long shuttle, to Loch Ryan, to run...

 ...before returning to the kayaks.

In the meantime, the tide had come in conveniently covering the rocks near the car park. We were now ready to paddle one of the west of Scotland's classic sea kayak runs: Ayrshire's Atlantic Coast. It is along a remote, committing, coast characterised by major headlands (one with a meaty tide race), steep surf beaches, a major river mouth, sheer cliffs, geos, caves, blowholes, some of the best rockhopping anywhere, abundant bird life and a population of red kangaroos that hop along cliff ledges...

Dreamtime ends on a cold, hard mainland jetty.

On the third and last day of our trip we rose before dawn and had the kayaks ready by first light. We removed several plastic and glass bottles, a number of dead batteries and a bag of ash from the bothy. The wind had been strong during the night but had been flat calm in the pre-dawn light. As we launched, the breeze had already picked up and out beyond the headland, dark squalls were already appearing on the surface of the sea.

Photo Ian Johnston.

Unfortunately my fingers were so cold that I broke the zip on my waterproof camera bag so I had to put my camera inside the kayak. When we got out beyond the headland the water was a bit lively for taking photographs anyway. However, by the time we were two thirds of the way across, we began to enter the wind shadow of the land and Ian took this atmospheric photo.

It was still early and bitterly cold when we landed on the jetty. As we pulled the kayaks...

...back up to where we had left the cars...

...we looked wistfully back over the sea, to the distant land of the bothy. Our time there had been too short and now it seems like a Dreamtime.

Postscript #1.

If you know where this bothy is, keep smugly quiet. If you don't know, look forward to discovering it for yourself one day! Or in the spirit of the bothy's owner's wishes, Ian or I might even take you there!

Postscript #2.

Ian's photo caught me limping up this beach. My knees were particularly painful on this trip, perhaps due to the cold weather. I would like to say thank you to Ian for his consideration in helping me launch and land and especially for carrying my gear up and down from the bothy.

Quiet as a bothy mouse in a stormy night.

 No sooner had we arrived back at the bothy than the sun began its exit from the day.

We stood and marvelled as the deepening reds of the last of the day's embers slowly faded. We were so grateful that the existence of this bothy allowed us to witness the beauty of this winter sunset on such a remote coast. All too soon, the plummeting temperature hastened us back indoors.

The bothy had warmed up with the stove glowing (and smoking) in the corner.

We prepared another fine feast and sipped Glenfiddich as we listened to the Radio Scotland Outdoor Conditions forecast for the following day: SE F4-5. The wind was to increase overnight to force 6 then ease in the early morning before picking up again. We decided to have an early night and get away first thing in the morning.

The bothy mice came out early and scuttled about in the flickering light of the fire. Unfortunately my knee was so sore I had to get up in the middle of the night for some painkillers that were somewhere at the bottom of one of the Ikea bags. We had hung them from the rafters to keep the mice away from our gear.

I fear I disturbed Ian more than the mice because I certainly wasn't as quiet as one. As I finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, I was dimly aware of the gusts of wind causing the bothy to shudder. The mice scurried round unnoticed for the rest of the night.

Battening down the hatches, for a long cold windy night.

 From the beach, we made our way along the narrow ridge...

...that leads to the bothy.

We had gathered wood (to augment our charcoal, logs and coal)...

...for the waiting stove.

Our simple accommodation had...

...that surprisingly upmarket flat screen TV, which was now showing the sunset channel.  We battened down the hatches in preparation for the forecast force 6 icy SE wind.

Of white caps, snow caps and night caps.

Ian and I could hardly drag ourselves away from Port Paradise and our second luncheon. However, we had a long crossing ahead of us and the MSI forecast from the coastguard had a strong wind warning for the area just to the north of us and for our area it was forecast to get up to Force 6. Close in to the lee of the land, I put the sail up and sailed as Ian paddled along.

At the point, Ian slowed to look, not at the snow capped mountains but at his eponymous inlet.

Once we left the land the SE wind increased to force 4, with whitecaps on the waves matching the snow caps on the mountains. I had to drop the sail as even without paddling I would have left Ian behind (and it was too cold not to paddle anyway). A swell from the SW was mixing entertainingly with the wind blown waves from the SE so there were no photos on the crossing but I can assure you that the bright sunlight, white caps with flying spray, dark blue sea and snow capped mountains are etched in our minds.

It was only when we got in the lee of the headlands near the bothy that we could relax and take photos again. My bad knees had taken a bit of a battering on the crossing with the continual bracing and it was with some great difficulty that I exited my kayak.

I made a detailed and very close inspection of these lovely pebbles, when I discovered that my legs were no longer working.

Fortunately Ian came to my rescue and assisted me into a vertical position! I was quite glad we had turned back when we did and had completed the crossing in daylight. We arrived safely, half an hour before sunset.

We changed out of our drysuits and wet boots and left our kayaking gear in this fascinating little cave. It was right at the top of the beach and must have been made when the sea levels were higher.

In preparation for the climb to the bothy I took a couple of very strong pain killers but they were not nearly so good as Ian's 18y old oak finished Glenfiddich. I was looking forward to a double dose of that to help me get to sleep that night... purely for its medicinal purposes you understand, trust me, I am (rather, was) a doctor!