North American residents on Oronsay.

After rounding the southern skerries of Oronsay we entered a great bay with some prominent buildings at its head.


In a little cove, a small flock of Canada geese were milling round. These were introduced to the UK from North America over 300 years ago and they since have spread over most of the UK.


We arrived on another huge sandy beach.


It was protected from the swell by a ring of skerries.


We made our way over the machair behind the beach and met a very nice lady with an American accent. She had been picking plastic litter off the beach. We got chatting as we helped her carry bags of litter up to the farm.

"Are you on holiday here?" I asked, spotting her accent.

"Actually, I own the island." she replied quietly.

The shell mounds, skerries and swells of SE Oronsay

From the sea we got a fine view of the coast of Oronsay with the cliffs of Colonsay behind. We spotted an occasional mound, covered with lush green grass. Remarkably, these are the rubbish tips of our ancestors. They date from prior to 4000BC in the Mesolithic period. The sandy beaches, exposed at low tide, were full of shell fish and our ancestors had crossed to these isles in search of food 6,000 years ago! It kind of put our "crossing" into some perspective.


Away to the south, the Paps of Jura were still wreathed in mist but the sun was beginning to break through on the northern slopes of Islay.


We now entered the incredible channels within the skerries of Oronsay. In the distance, we could just see the mountains of Donegal.


Depending on the state of the tide, you might end up in a dead end but...


...we broke out of the shelter of the skerries and felt the gentle...


...lift of Atlantic swells, before they ended their long journey on the skerries of Oronsay.

A pineapple and a bottle of malt, on Oronsay!

David had been working right up until 7pm on the evening before we left for this trip. He had shopped, packed and arrived at my house at 630am the next morning, such is his dedication in attending Seakayakphoto.com outings. On top of that lack of sleep, his night on Oronsay had not been good either. So it was no surprise that he was last to rise. Being a habitual slow packer myself, it was with some smugness that I now leisurely watched him pack.


His varied rations included: lo sugar beans, fresh raspberries, smoked salmon slices, an exceedingly ripe Brie (that just about packed itself), a pineapple and finally, a bottle of a particularly fine malt whisky, a 12 year old Highland Park from Orkney.


Finally, we were all packed and shipshape. We were now ready for an exploration of the seas surrounding Oronsay!

The Seakayakphoto.com First Breakfast ®

After the Luing cattle moved on, the sun broke through and we had the little beach on Oronsay to ourselves. Behind the dunes, the higher ground of Beinn Eibhne on nearby Colonsay was still in the shade.


It was now time for first breakfast.

The staff, here at Seakayakphoto.com, are often asked what sustains us on our long and prodigious voyages amongst the far flung isles of the Hebrides. Obviously Guinness and malt whisky form an important part of our rations but our staple is the Seakayakphoto.com First Breakfast ®.


Let's take a closer look.

For this tasty little morsel you will need:

- 1 tortilla wrap (this form of bread is long lasting and all but uncrushable)
- 2 rashers of traditionally dry cured bacon (preferably from Little's, the specialist pork butcher)
- 6 cherry tomatoes, preferably home grown
- 1 potato scone (previously bought or made)
- 1 thin slice of Gruyere cheese
- a little olive oil

Fry the bacon, tomatoes and potato scone in a little olive oil. Once cooked, transfer to a plate and put the tortilla wrap in the bottom of the frying pan, then place the bacon, tomatoes and potato scone in the middle of the wrap. Top with the slice of Gruyere cheese and heat gently, gradually fold the edges of the wrap over to close over the melting cheese. Flip it over and continue heating for a moment. This will leave the pan remarkably clean. Now eat!


Although I am no expert on nutrition or calories, I do know that the Seakayakphoto.com First Breakfast ® has enough goodness in it to keep even a Hobbit going, at least till second breakfast*.


*Second breakfast:
Aragorn: Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall.
Pippin: What about breakfast?
Aragorn: You've already had it.
Pippin: We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?
[Aragorn turns and walks off in disgust]
Merry: I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.
Pippin: What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?
Merry: I wouldn't count on it.

Enough crank to give flexible action!

On our first morning on Oronsay, we were awoken by the lowing of Luing cattle as they ambled along the strand, picking at tasty morsels of sea weed. In the distance we could just make out the distant hills of Donegal in Ireland.


One by one the whole herd, including the bull and the calves, scratched their heads on the bows and sterns of our kayaks. The breed guidelines have some interesting criteria. Bulls should have a "minimum 38cm scrotal circumference" and "enough crank to give flexible action". I decided not to investigate if this bull was a prime example of the breed and kept a very respectable distance! David, despite his professional interest as seakayakphoto.com's staff vet, stayed firmly in his sleeping bag.


It was not just the fine red Luing cattle that gave the beach a reddish tinge...


... it was covered in red periwinkles, which despite their lack of girth, seemed to have enjoyed considerable breeding success.

To Oronsay in the sunset.

It was hard to leave, but we now turned our backs to Islay...


...and set off to distant Oronsay, which lay to the north west. Fishing boat CN7 was lifting her pots. We had seen her earlier in Port Askaig harbour.


We were soon leaving Ruvall lighthouse and the distant Paps of Jura far behind.


We felt very small out on the open Atlantic as the darkness slowly gathered round us. To our port side, there was no landfall until distant Newfoundland. It was humbling to think that our ancestors had been making this crossing for over 7,000 years! Very slowly the hills and dunes of Oronsay and Colonsay began to take shape.


The sun was setting as we made our final approach to Oronsay. We slipped into a little bay, which seemed to be entirely composed of pink periwinkle shells. It was dark by the time we unloaded the boats and we put the tents up with the aid of head torches. The tussocky dunes were full of humps and it was nearly impossible to find a flat spot. Poor David had a very disturbed sleep as he was struggling with a hump all night.

End of the day on Islay.

From the cave system, we made our way back down to the sands of the great Bagh an Da Dhoruis on the north shore of Islay. The islands of Oronsay and Colonsay beckoned on the horizon.


The feelings of space, wildness and isolation washed over us as the sun...


...steadily dipped towards the horizon and the rocks of the cliffs began to redden.



Although the day was now slipping away, we decided to relaunch the kayaks. Oronsay, here we come!