Eyes left and right for Garroch Head.

We set off in the sunshine towards Gull Point at the south end of Little Cumbrae and Garroch Head on Bute beyond but...

 ...our eyes kept being drawn every way except straight ahead. Towards the SW and Arran, which was our...

 ...ultimate destination of the day.

Away to the SE, a glimpse of Ailsa Craig some 50 odd kilometres away over the open sea brought back memories of visits to that glorious granite rock opf the gannets last spring.

When we approached Little Cumbrae,  the house, castle and...

 ...cliffs of Gull Point were all illuminated in the reddish glow of the dawn.

 As we crossed from Little Cumbrae the sun rose, the light turned bluer and a...

 ...delightdful Little breeze picked up but...

 ...it did not last long. By now we had paddled far enough to enjoy the view straight up Glen Sannox to the perfect pyramid of Cir Mhor at its head but...

 ...the view to our right was also a stoater. The snow covered peaks of the Arrochar Alps, some 60 km to the north.

After a surprisingly high ferry angle across the last of the neap ebb, we arrived under St Blane's Hill on Garroch Head. Our destination was Port Leithne but the tide was...

...out just revealing a jumble of submerged boulders in the  landing zone. Maurice was able to test his dry suit when he fell into a deep hole less than half a boat length from the shore.

Despite the sun it was so cold we kept our buoyancy aids on while we enjoyed a first winter luncheon on the rocks of Garroch Head.

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.