Another interlude at Dunure...

 When we arrived at Dunure it was high water and...

 ...we made our way round the almost empty harbour...

...to the pub where fortunately the Guinness tank was far from empty (when we arrived).

 Whoops the tide has gone out awfully quickly!

 It was still along way to Maidens so it was time to paddle on.

 To the west, the air was so clear that we could see fields and even houses but we were heading south...

...past the walls of Dunure Castle and on towards Ailsa Craig.

Rockpool Taran 16 as a tourer, review update.

Up until now we had looked at the Taran 16's performance from the point of view of travelling as fast as possible both with and without a sail. For this next  part of the test, we wanted to assess the Taran's practicality and suitability as a general day touring kayak. Two of us set off at dawn (one in the Taran 16 and one in a Cetus MV) and paddled south until the sun was at is peak in the sky. Then we switched kayaks and turned back arriving at our launch spot at nightfall. 

You can read our findings at the original review page which has been updated. Discussing the day, Phil said the Taran 16 is faster than my Quest, more manoeuvrable than the Quest and more ergonomic than the Quest. It also has just as much space (more when you consider it has no skeg box). It was also significantly faster than the Cetus MV (my current favourite all round kayak). I think anyone in the market for a composite touring kayak should test paddle a Taran 16, with an open mind. Don't view it as a simple speed machine, don't think that a touring kayak has to vaguely resemble a traditional Greenland kayak to be any good... just go out and paddle it. You will find that it does not just go fast, it is also manoeuvrable and comfortable and no more difficult to paddle than any other kayak. Whatever else it is, the Taran 16 is also an ideal touring kayak.

Cloudscapes of Carrick.

 As we left Bracken Bay the sky to the north was crystal clear but...

 ...clouds were bubbling over the cliffs to the south. Waterfalls tumbled down steep cliffs...

...before their waters mingled with the sea below.

 As we paddled along Ayrshire's Carrick coast...

 ...the great monolith of Ailsa Craig began to dominate the southern horizon.

 Each spit of rock seemed...

 ...to have at least two herons, hunched against the cold wind.

 We could not help our...

 ...eyes being dragged skywards...

 ...as the ever changing cloudscapes...

 ...flitted above the dark rocks and...

 ...castles of Carrick such as...

 ...this one at Dunure.

 We slipped into Dunure harbour for...

...a well deserved break

Too much swally at Bracken Bay.

 The Firth of Clyde was looking lovely...

 ...as we set off from Seafield for Maidens, somewhat later than usual.

Once again we were bound for the Heads of Ayr. Both my mobility problem and illness in the family have restricted where I paddle but given this wonderful local coastline I am not looking for any sympathy.

 A fair easterly breeze carried us quickly across Ayr Bay towards...

...the dark volcanic rocks of this great headland.

 Soon we lost the low winter sun and paddled in the chilly shade of the cliffs until...

 ...we approached a natural breach in their ramparts at Bracken Bay.

High above the bay, the outline of a semi recumbent Tam o'Shanter seemed to be still sleeping. Perhaps he had had too much swally the night before.

David wanted to stop so we pulled into Bracken Bay.  It had been difficult getting him going this morning... (he muttered something about "working late")...anyway...

...it was time first luncheon and a large cup of black coffee for David.

Nae man can tether time or tide...

While we sit bousing at the nappy,

And getting fou and unco happy,

We think na on the lang Scots miles,

The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles,

That lie between us and our hame,

Where sits our sulky sullen dame.

As we savoured a final taste of The Singleton, the sky was darkening and the cliffs of Carlandcheek were already in near darkness.

Nae man can tether time or tide; 

The hour approaches Tam maun ride; 

 It was time to make our way back down the beach to the kayaks.

Once afloat we left the shade of the cliffs and entered...

 ...a brief but golden glow from the last light of the setting sun.

The temperature dropped rapidly as we started to cross Ayr Bay. At first the only sound was the gentle splash of our paddles but...

Wi' mony an eldritch skriech and hollo.

 ...as we approached Seafield, there was a huge commotion from the mouth of the River Doon (about 1km away). The thirty or so whooper swans (winter visitors from Iceland) were disturbed by something and took off en masse. What a racket! They had barely managed to get into the air before they came in to land round about us. I do not know who was more surprised...us or them. This one kept a little distant from the others. It is a black swan (Cygnus atratus), a native of Australia, it seems to be somewhat lost but settling in.

Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,

For honest men and bonnie lasses

Leaving the commotion of the honking swans behind, we slipped unseen across the calm waters of the bay, hardly even disturbing the reflections of the lights of Ayr.

Another day (and bit of a night) in paradise.

Getting the hang of seakayaking.

 As we slipped out of Dunure harbour...

...under snow capped mountains...

 ...the sun was already sinking.

Ailsa Craig slipped over the horizon behind us as we paddled...

 ...north towards...

 ...the Heads of Ayr where it was time for...

...another diversion...

...into Bracken Bay at the foot...

...of the dark volcanic cliffs for third luncheon in...

 ...the sunset.

Photo by Philip Toman.

By now Katie, our newest recruit, was beginning to get the hang of the degree of determination, stamina and sheer physical endurance required to join such a team of elite seakayaking sportspersons.