Menace hung in the windless air, even for the most daring and venturesome.

Common sense would suggest that we should have relaxed on the beach on Scarba's NW coast until near slack water in the Corryvreckan.


We were not having any of that, we wanted to see the whirlpool in action!


As we paddled down the west coast of Scarba, with Colonsay on the horizon, it gradually dawned on Phil that the only way back, was through the Corryvreckan!


As we worked our way down the coast...


...Jura began to appear...


...above the raised beaches of Scarba's wild SW corner.


The rule of thirds does not apply to the Corryvreckan. The spring tidal flow remains at a full 18km/hr almost until slack water, which at springs only last a few minutes. This was the situation as we rounded the SW tip of Scarba with an hour and 10 minutes before slack water.

We were going to use a counter eddy along the south Scarba shore, which the Clyde Cruising Club describes thus: "There is a ribbon of comparatively smooth water within 10m of the whole of the S Scarba shore, but this passage is not recommended, even for the most daring and venturesome."


As we approached the entrance to the Corryvreckan, a fine mist hung in the windless air, which betrayed the menace of the seething currents below.

Free fall on Scarba

Tony and Phil carried the boats well above the tide line as we know that there is the possibility of tidal surges here. A tourist RIB roared round the bay en route from the Corryvreckan to the Grey Dogs. These trips bring much needed visitors and money to the local economy.


This was a marvellous spot to relax and have lunch.


We had a terrific view over the Firth of Lorn to Ben More on Mull.


The cliffs that surrounded our little beach formed a natural amphitheatre with walls over 100m high.


This waterfall cascades over the full height of the cliffs. In wet weather it forms an impressive spout.

We enjoyed our view of the mountains and the waterfall for free!

Friends to watch over you

Looking back at the Grey Dogs, from a distance of over 2km, it all seemed so calm and innocent.


To the north the mountains of Mull dominated the distant horizon. The long necklace of islands that make up the Garvellachs and the Black Islands lay in the middle distance and little Guirasdeal and Lunga were in the foreground. What a magnificent playground.


We paddled below the dark cliffs of the north shore of Scarba.


We were watched from upon high.


Rounding the NW corner of Scarba, distant Islay and Jura came into sight. We were now paddling on the open Atlantic and the swell increased.


We found a little scrap of beach with some shelter from a reef. Tony and Phil went in first. I made a very awkward landing. Then Tony got a good hold of my boat and Phil lifted me right out and up onto my feet. They then carried my boat well above the surge line. I had been fine when paddling, with my injured knee in its brace under my dry trousers, but I now realised how dependent I was on the others for landings.

Thanks guys, I could not have managed this trip without you!

:o)

Sleeping Grey Dogs

Leaving the Pool of the Song, we felt another pull. This time it was the pull of the Grey Dogs tidal race. It was spring tides maximum flow and there was not a breath of wind so we could hear the Dogs growling from some way off. Phil said "We are not going through there are we?"

"Oh no!" said Tony, quite truthfully, as we carefully vetted the Dogs' condition through the south channel before...


...turning in to the straighter north channel. Just as we passed the point of no return, Tony quietly said "Phil, see when we turn the corner, just after this wee island? Just keep paddling".


Tony led the way down the inverted "V" between the worst of the eddylines as the water sloped downhill between the gap. Phil stuck to his stern. I brought up the rear, ready to pick up any pieces.


There was ony about 4 or 5 standing waves and then we were through onto flat, boily water at 18km/hour.


The stirred up water extends...


...well to the west of the Dogs.


But at last we hit calm water again. Phil was noticably moved by his recent experience. "Was that like a grade 4 river?" he asked. We hadn't the heart to tell him it was only grade 2!


By now Phil had regained his composure: "What an experience !.. Only one thing guys... Where is my badge ?"

"Now, now, Phil, if it's wee bajes yer efter, ye'll jus' need tae jine a club!"

We were very lucky to hit the Grey Dogs when they were sleeping. If there is any westerly wind or swell then they can be rather different.


We would not have taken Phil through the Grey Dogs...


...if we had found conditions to be like these two recent trips.

Pool of the Song in the Sound of Luing

We broke out of the tide towards the Corryvreckan and entered the Sound of Luing between Scarba and Luing. Kilmory Lodge, which is one of the few houses on Scarba, stood high on the hill side above us.


On the other side of the Sound, low lying Luing presents a gentler contrast to the steep hills of Scarba. In the distance, we were preceeded up the Sound by a pod of about 30 bottlenose dolphins, which were thrashing the surface of the water in a long line and some were leaping clean into the air.


We had seen them here before, in February 2004, but at much closer range.


We stopped for second breakfast below the Lodge on the wooded shores of Scarba, at the delightfully named Poll n h-Ealaid, "pool of the song" . Phil noticed the strength of the tide, which nearly swept him past this little harbour...

A whiter shade of pale in the Sound of Jura

Once ejected from the Dorus Mor, we had to avoid the eddy, which at the the beginning of the flood runs south down the west side of Garbh Reisa.


We were not the only ones watching out for eddies. We came across the MV Margaret Sinclair heading in the opposite direction to ourselves. Her twin engines put out 640HP but even so, she did not attempt to run through the Dorus Mor against the full force of the flood tide. Instead, she stood in close to the north shore, where a counter eddy helped her through.

The MV Margaret Sinclair is a 60 gross ton fish farm work boat and landing craft. She was built for the Inverlussa Shellfish Co Ltd. by Nobles of Girvan in 2006. She also does charter work as relief ferry for islands such as Jura and Rathlin.


By now the tide was carrying us straight towards the Corryvreckan. On the horizon we could see the distant isle of Colonsay. Recently we had gazed from Colonsay through the Corryvreckan in the other direction.


I could see that Phil had turned several whiter shades of pale as we drew closer to the Corryvrecka. Indeed we were now so close we could see the standing waves of the whirlpool on the horizon. Clearly he did not wish to reacquaint himself with Colonsay, possibly in an inverted position.

"You didn't say anything about going through there!!!" said Phil, with not a little desperation, and even a hint of accusation, in his voice.

"Relax Phil, of course we are not going through there" and, somewhat under my breath, "yet."

Tony chipped in, "So let's paddle quite hard and see if we can break out of this current and make it up the east side of Scarba!"

Phil was only too happy to oblige and for the next little while, we PLFed.

Crossing the Rubicon in the Dorus Mor

We paddled out of the shady confines of the hills surrounding Loch Crinan and emerged into a sunlit Sound of Jura.


The unmistakable outline of the Paps of Jura defined the horizon to the south west.


We were now in the narrowing northern reaches of the Sound of Jura and the full force of the spring tide was accelerating us towards the tidal channel called the Dorus Mor (the Big Door).


We were harnessing the gravitational energy of the solar system. We were were set on a voyage, like an interplanetary probe that uses the gravitational pull of one planet to accelerate past and slingshot on to the pull of another. But in our case, islands replaced the planets.


As we approached Garbh Reisa, we were about to cross the Rubicon point, beyond which it was not possible to break out of the current. After that point we would be at the mercy of the tides and could only go where they wished to take us!


We were now in the grip of tidal forces that propelled us through the Dorus Mor at 18km/hr.


Once through the Dorus Mor, the tide floods past the little island of Reisa an t-Struith before its headlong dash towards the jaws of the great Gulf of Corryvreckan and its waiting whirlpool...