Paddle Orkney 09

Photo by Johnny, OSKA

Mary Saunders, from those friendly folk at the Orkney Sea Kayaking Association, has just been in touch with details about their Paddle Orkney 09 weekend on 14th to 16th August.

I would love to go to Orkney but with my bust knee, it will need to be next year. If you fancy going, get in touch with Mary quickly as numbers are limited to 30. You can download an application form here.

I hope it is a great event.

Seven years to Coll but it's too late to call

Our trip to Coll had been seven years in gestation. When I first thought of taking up sea kayaking, in the summer of 2002, I gave the late Mike Thomson of Scottish Paddler Supplies a phone call. He sent me his catalogue and on the front cover there was a wonderful photo, by Ronnie Weir, of a white shell sand cove with azure blue water backed by hills of grey gneiss and green grass. Three kayaks lay on the beach ready to take their owners on to the next piece of paradise. Mike is walking purposely towards his kayak, pipe clamped firmly between his teeth.

I soon called Mike back. “Where is that?” I asked him. “Oh that’s the west coast of Coll”, said Mike in his deep gravelly voice, "you will need good weather and a great deal of luck to get out there!”

Each year since then, I have tried to get to Coll but the weather and or surf always broke before we went. Each year, Mike would ask, "Well have you got to Coll yet?" That was how he started our last phone conversation in about May 2008, just before he died. I always answered "Not yet Mike, but soon!" Mike always said, "Give me a call as soon as you get there". Well we finally made it out to Coll on this year's second attempt and it was everything Mike said it would be.

Mike, I am sorry it's too late to call, but thanks for the inspiration.

Douglas

15/06/2009

Storm clouds lift over Portuairk, Ardnamurchan

After the apparent calm of the open crossing it was good to be paddling along a shore again but it was surprising how much swell there actually was.


Soon we entered the long channel to the sheltered anchorage of Portuairk. Dark clouds were gathering overhead.


We waited for a downpour as we made our way through the moored fishing boats.


We arrived just after high water so there was not too much of a carry. I limped up to the grass and cracked open a Guinness as I watched the ground support team carry the boats up to the road. The storm clouds lifted and the sun came out giving a marvelous view of Muck, Rum and distant Canna. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch and felt very satisfied at the completion of a fantastic trip despite the problems caused by injury.

15/06/2009

Dark skies over Ardnamurchan

We crossed the Sound of Coll slowly but steadily. At last, the tower of Ardnamurchan lighthouse could be made out against the background of the hills and mountains behind. Above the land, dark clouds began to tower into the sky.


Ben Hiant (528m) is the distant hill to the left while the ridge to the right rises to Beinn na Seilg (344m)


As we approached the lighthouse the tidal current increased and our transit between the lighthouse...


...and the hills behind was soon lost. It did not really matter as we were aiming for the next headland to the north. We were nearly home!

15/06/2009

Coll, calm and collected; crossing the Sound

By now my dislocated knee had swollen to the size of a melon and the pain was nearly unbearable. David, Jennifer and Jim carried my kayak to the water's edge and carefully lifted me in. I had a full ten litre water bag on the cockpit floor, which I used to support my knee. The others then carried their own boats through the narrow slot in the rocks of Coll. I am pleased to say that the ringed plovers and their chick were now ignoring us and we left them in to have their beach in peace. We now call this place Plover Beach!


It would take us about 3 hours to make the crossing so our initial vector had to take account of the average about 3km/hr tidal flow to our left (north). We set off towards the Sound of Mull which is some 6km up tide from Ardnamurchan point.


I did not feel like taking many photos on the crossing but I could not resist this shot of the P&H Cetus's fine bow lines. The colour of the boat also matched the conditions perfectly!


As we progressed across the Sound of Coll, the wind dropped and the skies cleared. Our passage was enlivened by flocks of swirling shearwaters that wheeled round and round us.


Despite being distracted by the pain in my knee, I was quite pleased with our ferry angle across the Sound. You can see places where we stopped for a rest and the tide carried us northwards at 3km/hr. We hit a stronger current as we approached Ardnamurchan Point.

15/06/2009

Praise the dawn of a new day on Coll

This had been the second sleepless night since I had dislocated my knee. I had run out of the various supplies of ibuprofen, diclofenac, asprin and paracetamol in our first aid kits. The pain was nearly unbearable and it was a relief to stagger to my feet (using Jim's walking pole) to greet the dawn of a new day.


In the distance Ardnamurchan could just be seen on the horizon. In my present state it seemed such a far way off.


The others were still sound asleep and I was mighty relieved to see that the ringed plovers had managed to move their chick onto the rocks to the side of the beach. The tide goes out a very long way at our destination Portuairk. The sand is very soft so I dreaded walking up to the car. I planned to arrive as close as possible to high tide but this would involve leaving by 08:30 and paddling much of the crossing of 15km at peak tidal flow.


Fortunately the others appreciated the situation and we had had breakfast and loaded the boats by 08:00. Getting into my paddling gear proved a bit of an effort but then I was ready to face the day...

15/06/2009

The guiding light of Ardnamurchan as seen from Coll.

It was nearly 22:30 by the time we found a suitable breach in Coll's impregnable NE coast. A narrow gully led to a shell sand beach with level machair beyond. In conditions of a northerly swell it would have been a trap but the weather was forecast to be fair the following day.


As darkness was falling, we put our tents up on the perfectly level machair above the beach.


Unfortunately, any time we approached the boats, we heard the alarm calls and saw the fluttering flight of a pair of ringed plovers. Then we saw their tiny black and white chick, camouflaged on some dried black seaweed in a hollow in the white sand. We wondered about moving on but it was nearly dark, so we moved the kayaks away from the chick and took our cooking stuff over the rocky headland, well out of its way.


The sky to the north glowed red well after midnight, until the distant hills of Rum became confused with the outlines of the nearby Cairns of Coll.


We lit a small fire with the logs we had bought in the Tiree Co-op shop and were soon tucking into a supper of hot-dogs with mustard and rolls, courtesy of Jim. We felt replete. Despite all the paddling, we had still managed to squeeze an appropriate number of meals into what had been rather a long day.


A peaty Islay malt was the perfect companion to the warmth and smoke of the fire. As we chatted away, every 20 seconds, the steady double flash of Ardnamurchan lighthouse reminded us that tomorrow would be our last day. The lighthouse lay 15km away to the west and Ardnamurchan is the most westerly point in the British mainland. It felt very satisfying to have been able to explore these western isles of Coll, Gunna, and Tiree by this route.

14/06/2009