Clyde Bananas

The cold sea air and early morning start had given us an appetite so we decided to make Glencallum Bay on the south end of Bute our first landfall. As the ebb had already started we had to cross the channel at a surprisingly high ferry angle. In southerly winds a surprisingly heavy race develops off nearby Garroch Head.

Until relatively recently, Glasgow’s sewage sludge boat the SS Shieldhall (or SS Gardy Loo as she was known to the hoi poloi) used to make her way here from the Shieldhall sewage works in the river Clyde. She would proceed to dump her load in the ebb tide. Glaswegians were so partial to little trips “doon the water” that it was possible to buy tickets for a sailing on the SS Gardy Loo to witness the spectacle of their fellow citizens’ keech spilling out on this beautiful sea. She was one of a succession of “Clyde Banana Boats” It has to be said a Clyde Banana was far from yellow.

Fortunately we live in slightly more enlightened times and our appetites and lunch were not spoiled by the appearance of any Clyde Bananas on this now delightful shore.



In the days of sailing ships Glencallum Bay offered shelter from northerly winds and the bay was often filled with anchored vessels waiting for better conditions. These few stones are all that remains of a popular drinking establishment which served their needs. We too enjoyed the shelter of the bay. We took in the view to the southwest over the Rubh an Eun light to the Little Cumbrae and the distant Ayrshire coast beyond but it would be much later before we could slake our thirsts.

18/03/2008

The freedom of sea kayaking

We continued on our 20 km crossing to the island of Arran. As the clouds to the south slipped away, the soaring ridges of the Glen Sannox mountains were illuminated by the late winter sunshine and stood out boldly as they reached for the sky. The cold north wind had brought crystal clear air from the Arctic and the distant snow dusted summits seemed so close.

As our bows rose and fell to the rhythm of the dark backed waves, this song came into my head:

I'll sing my song to the
wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to
the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the
sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the
free, to the free

Pete Townshend, The Who

We had never felt so free.

Between sunshine and shadow on the Clyde

From Little Cumbrae we paddled for Glencallum Bay at the south end of the island of Bute. The hills on the island were dappled with sunshine.


Far away, to the south west, the higher Arran hills were still wreathed in cloud. Fresh snow could be seen highlighting the rocky ridges of north Glen Sannox.

18/03/2008

"Doon the Watter" on the Clyde

As the Ayrshire coast slipped away behind us, the weather front that had come in during the night moved away south. We were left in a cold, clear northerly airstream.


We passed the south end of Little Cumbrae Island and looking north we could see the distant mountains of Argyll behind the magnificent Stevenson lighthouse with its copper dome.


We continued on a north westerly course for the island of Bute. As we cleared Little Cumbrae we could see into Millport Bay on Great Cumbrae island. At one time this was a premier holiday destination for thousands of Glasgwegian workers. Steamers raced each other from the Broomielaw wharf in the heart of Glasgow to the piers on the Clyde resorts. It was known as going "doon the watter". The holidaymakers moved on to Blackpool, then the Costas and Florida leaving Millport as a sleepy little place, even in the height of summer.

18/03/2008

Portencross Castle

We left from beneath the ancient walls of Portencross castle.


The first leg of our trip involved crossing to the Little Cumbrae island.

18/03/2008

Winter Sannox sojurn

It was not a very promising start. Snow showers were rattling through the Glen Sannox Hills on Arran.


Sometimes it pays to keep going. It was still bitterly cold but the sun came out. We enjoyed one of the the most scenic paddles the Earth has to offer. The launch spot was less than an hour's drive from Glasgow. I have said it before....we live in sea kayaking heaven.


A jolly little 32km winter warm up then the ferry home. We went straight to the restaurant and had chicken curry rice and chips. Well I did say it was Scotland!

18/04/2008

An unexpected swim.

A force 6 NE wind was blowing down the loch and whipping a frenzy of white horses over its dark cold waters. It is the end of the Scottish winter but the summits of the mountains on Arran and the Galloway hills were still shrouded in a white covering of snow.

Despite the cold we were sweating in our high tech clothing as we battled into the teeth of the wind. All three of us were wearing helmets which shows how seriously we were taking the conditions. We were making slow but steady progress when all of a sudden Tony went over.

He disappeared from sight under the dark water. He had instinctively gone into the roll position but it failed and he was unseated. After what seemed like an age, he eventually surfaced. He was gasping with the cold cold and he couldn't get out of the water. Mike and I manouvered into position on either side of him and we each grabbed a shoulder strap and hauled him out like a fish. Water spewed from his nose, his mouth and his helmet but thank God he was still breathing, though he had completely lost the power of speech.

All the high tech windproof clothing and fleece was completely saturated with icy water. The NE wind chilled him to the marrow. It was a serious situation. Tony was already hypothermic and we were 28km from the nearest shore at Lendalfoot on the Firth of Clyde.

How did we get out of this mess and get ourselves home from this Scottish version of Deep Trouble?

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