Mid winter dawn over Portencross.

On Sunday 28th December a brief ridge of high pressure appeared over the west coast of Scotland. We decided to make the most of the short winter day and paddle the 30km over to Arran then get the ferry back. We met before dawn at Ardrossan ferry terminal  where we left a shuttle car.

 In the pre-dawn light, we could see the snowy summits of the Arran mountains over the harbour wall.

 It did not take long to load Maurice's and Phil's kayaks onto my trailer and we then drove with Tony to...

 ...Portencross, where we got ready in the freezing...

 ...cold.

 Across the Firth of Clyde a lovely pink glow appeared in the clouds above the Arran mountains.

As it was low tide and the rocks below the car park are covered in slippery green slime, we trolleyed the kayaks 250m round to the little bay by the castle. We were on the water by 9am and slipped out of the narrow...

 ...channel below the dark walls of  Portencross castle.

 As the sun rose, the summits of the mountains caught the sun while we...

 ...were still in deep shade but then...

 ...the sun literally exploded above the horizon.

Despite the cold, it looked like we would have a good day.

Even the Garnock gulls seemed less ordinary.

We suddenly became aware that we were not alone in the Garnock estuary. Everywhere we looked there was teeming bird life seeking shelter for the winter.

 Turnstones were dozing on...

 ...the rocks and...

...oyster catchers were probing the mudflats exposed by the receding tide.

 Even the Garnock gulls seemed less ordinary.

Flocks of widgeon flew backwards and forwards across the estuary as each mud banks was exposed revealing fresh pickings.

As the estuary emptied a whooper swan decided there was not enough room in the narrowing channel and flew off towards more open water as...

 ...did we before being caught high and dry. We paddled out of the mouth of the river and over...

 ...the bar into...

...the open Firth of Clyde beyond.

Who would have thought that this waterway behind the industrial decay of the former Nobel explosives works would have been such a natural wonder?

Amid the decay, something brought a smile to our faces.

 A few weeks ago, David, Mike, Phil and myself set off from the open Firth of Clyde up the confluence of the Irvine and Garnock estuaries.

At first things did not look too promising. This old boat had clearly seen better days and decay seemed to be...

...the order of the day as we passed long abandoned jetties.

 Then as we...

...passed under an old bridge in the Garnock estuary ...

 ...our mood lightened and...

...something brought a smile to our faces.

Evolution of a Clyde sunset.

As we packed our gear away the sunset just kept getting better and...

 ...

...

 ...

 ...

 ...

..

...

...

...

...better.

The history of sea kayaking at sunset.

It had been a marvellous day on the water and I thought it was nearly over. We were heading back to our launch site at Largs when I noticed someone paddling fast in our direction from Fairlie. It turned out to be a long time friend Duncan Winning.

 Duncan is one of the worthies of the Scottish sea kayaking scene. It was Duncan who in 1965 made the drawings of the Inuit kayak that Ken Taylor brought back from  Illorsuit, Greenland. These drawings formed the basis of the Valley Anas Acuta and influenced the subsequent design of many British style sea kayaks.

 We chatted long about the history of sea kayaking as the sun went down...

 ...over the Firth of Clyde.

All too soon it was time to part our ways and Duncan returned to Fairlie as I continued to Largs.

It was not so much elbow grease that was required... more a dose of rollock grease.

We regrouped for third luncheon in the shelter of the Eileans in the middle of Millport Bay. We were joined by Matt from the east coast. He had spent the day on a solo exploration of Wee Cumbrae and its three lighthouses.

 As we enjoyed a convivial chat, our attention was drawn to the loud creak of oars. It was the Cumbrae coastal rowing club out in their beautiful St Ayles skiff "Cumbrae"

As they creaked off round the Eileans it occurred to me that it was not so much elbow grease that was required... more a dose of rollock grease.

 We set off again from the Eileans round...

 ...Farland Point at the south end of Great Cumbrae and entered...

 ...the Hunterston Channel where we passed the 292m bulk carrier Genco London. She was offloading a cargo of coal and making almost as much noise as the skiffie "Cumbrae's" creacky rowlocks.. When empty, she was due to travel to Narvick to load a cargo of Swedish iron ore.

Andrew stopped to look back and this...

 was what he saw. The sun was setting over the Little and Great Cumbraes and the mountains of Arran beyond.

A marvellous winter crossing in the Firth of Clyde.

We set off from the south end of Bute with the towering mountains of Arran rising through the sea mist beyond.

Amazingly the ebb was still running despite being 2 hours after "slack" at low water. Run off from heavy rainfall in the extensive mountainous catchment area of the Firth of Clyde can overcome the flood tide.

A little breeze got up and...

...Phil and I quickly hoisted the sails.

It was a beautiful day to be on the water so late in the year. We slipped into the Tan which separates the Great and the Little Cumbraes then...

...entered the confines of Millport Bay. It was time for third luncheon.