A feast on Gigha.

Once we had got our tents up it was time to start unloading the boats for our evening meal. We had chicken tikka bhuna, parathas, two mackerel and some beef burgers to prepare.


The evening ferry to Port Ellen was the MV Isle of Arran. I did think of the fish and chips or chicken curry that Phil and I enjoyed on our last trip to Islay as she steamed past Gigha. On that occasion I had pointed out this very beach to Phil.


The sun now began to set...


..and this mayweed (thanks Vince!) looked lovely in the low saturated light. I thought to myself, "how wonderful nature is" until...


..I noticed Phil. To the uninitiated, it may look as though he has pulled a woman's stocking over his head as a disguise, while robbing the island's only shop of a pack of super noodles. However, look more closely...


...and you will see that Phil is a victim of an appallingly ferocious attack by some of nature's most efficient predators... the Scottish midge!

In Scotland, humans are not top of the food chain and a midge hood is a necessity.

Two resting places on Gigha.

It was early evening when we came across the wreck of the Kartli.


It was humbling being so close to the final resting place of the wreck of this great ship and it served as a reminder of the power of the sea.


This quartz, on a rock nearby, seemed to have taken its hue in sympathy from the rusting remains of the Kartli.


The sun was nearly setting...


...by the time we had explored potential camping spots.


We finally found this one, with a view of Islay and Jura over the Sound of Jura. We looked forward to resting our limbs after a long day. (Donald's outboard motor "throttle hand" was quite fatigued!) We anticipated sampling a little of the produce of the fine isle of Islay. Specifically we had in mind an 18 year old Caol Isla malt whisky. According to the label on the box, this rarely available bottling has the spicy, sea-air aromas and smoky-dry, peppery flavours of a mature expressive Islay malt. I was certainly not going to argue with that as we could almost see the distillery! Yum!

Midges at the mill, on Gigha.

We now turned our bows to the north and up the exposed west coast of Gigha. It was a wonderful day with light winds and only a little swell coming in from the Atlantic. I soon had the sail up.


We passed to the inside of the little island of Craro. Though it might appear to give some shelter on this wild coast, it has been the graveyard of many shipwrecks.


As we made our way along the coast...


...the Paps of Jura dominated the horizon to the NW. Donald started trawling for fish in the deeper water...


...and it was not too long until he stopped to reel in a couple of mackerel. On the horizon a couple of fishing boats were also hard at work with their trawls. Islay's Mull of Oa lay on the horizon to the WSW. Many people think the Mull of Cara is the most southerly point in the Hebrides but it is actually the Mull of Oa.


Despite the exposure of the west coast of Gigha, there is a sheltered inlet called Port an Duin, (port of the castle). There is indeed an iron age dun nearby and Donald manoeuvred his inflatable below it to get in position to...


...photograph Phil who had...


...paddled right up to the old water mill. It is nearly 200 years old, dating from the early 19th century. The cast iron water wheel and lade are still complete. Donald and I did not venture close as a huge cloud of voracious midges descended on Phil, leaving only a fuzzy grey outline above his cockpit. By the time Phil had paddled clear, he looked quite anaemic. This trouble at the mill did not bode well for the evening's camp!

Paying our respects to the Brownie on Cara.

On landing on Cara, Phil and I doffed our caps to the resident spirit, the Brownie. We both said "Good afternoon Mr Brownie, I trust you are well." Note a hatless Phil and a hatted Donald!


Phil helped Donald up the beach with his boat and explained Cara diplomatic protocol. Donald said, "I'm not taking my hat off for any wee man in a brown coat!" Phil and I were quite unconcerned about Donald, as he had unwittingly already taken his hat off!


Leaving the boats on the beach...


...we made our way up to the rocks at the top of the beach for lunch where we were undisturbed by any of the Brownie's pranks. In particular, our boats did not drift away in the offshore wind and flooding tide!


Back on the water, we passed Cara House. Legend has it that the Brownie is the spirit of a MacDonald who was murdered by a Campbell and to this day he resides in one of the attic rooms of the house.


It was now time to leave Cara and return to Gigha. A southerly wind had got up and across the sound, the wind turbines on Gigha were busy generating electricity for the community.

Goat bhuna and the Mull of Cara

From the Boathouse on Gigha, we made our way south through a series of skerries. The Mull of Kintyre and the pointed summit of Cara lay beyond the skerries.


We soon picked up a convoy of curious common seals who followed us through the channels. (Thanks to Will for identification.)


Phil and I in the kayaks got through shallow gaps that Donald could not risk with his outboard motor.


After crossing from Gigha to Cara, we made our way down the west coast of Cara. The water became increasingly rough as we approached...


...the south end where the small tide race was flooding northwards at its height, as we were now 3 hours after slack water. There is a gap in photos as for about 400m, both hands were required to be on the paddle to maintain an upright posture. Donald's little boat managed remarkably well, despite the Mull of Kintyre disappearing from sight every so often.


The water flattened off once we had rounded Cara's SW point and we were able to photograph the Mull of Cara which is its most southerly point. It is only 49m high but it is a rather impressive sight from a small boat.


We now made our way up the east coast of Cara in sheltered water to this magnificent shell sand beach. The rocky shore to its south had some pretty smelly goats on it but they are far fewer in number since a Yorkshire gentleman, with a chain of Indian restaurants, brought a refrigerated lorry and some friends with rifles north to Kintyre. When I was in the Punjab, I developed a taste for goat bhuna, though I tended to leave the trotters at the side of the plate. I hope this gentleman returns soon, as there really are too many goats on Cara. After his last visit, the spring flowers were seen in profusion for the first time in many years.

Clear skies over Gigha.

The forecast for mainland Scotland was not looking good; with the possibility of torrential rain and thunderstorms but lightish winds. We looked west to Gigha, which is a beautiful low lying isle of the west coast of the Mull of Kintyre. I reckoned it would not have enough area to create a thermal uprising for a thunder cloud.

Donald had been going to head up to the far north west but had been equally dubious about the weather there. So we met up with Phil at Tayinloan pier.


Donald loves the sea but is not exactly a sea kayaker. He explores the west coast in a little inflatable boat powered by a 2.5hp outboard with another 2hp outboard as backup.


It was not long till we were afloat...


...and heading across the Sound of Gigha. The distant Paps of Jura heaved above the low hills of Gigha in the foreground.


At first, dark clouds rose above us but...


...we soon left the clouds above Kintyre behind and...


...by the time we had crossed the Sound of Gigha, the sky was clear. We landed on Gigha at Port na h-Atha near the Boathouse...


...with its little white sand beach, backing a bay of crystal clear water. Donald's little boat looked quite at home between the two kayaks.


It was still a little early for a cold drink but I noticed that since our last visit, the Boathouse Cafe Bar now serves draught beer. They have also installed a filter coffee machine, so we settled for some coffee, while we planned the rest of our itinerary...

You can follow Donald's view our trip to Gigha here.

A hell of a shuttle at Loch Fyne!

By the time we left Inver Cottage restaurant, the tide had come in.


We still had an adverse breeze as the sun sank towards the horizon.


At Lephinmore we came across these proud parents with 5 Canada geese chicks.


When the sun dropped to the horizon the temperature plummeted beneath the clear skies.


We still had a considerable way to go and well after sunset...


...the western sky took on a beautiful pink glow until...


...darkness fell as we approached our destination; Otter Ferry. There was an enticing glow from the inns's windows but on this occasion we would have to forgo any temptation to enter. We had a hell of a shuttle ahead of us!

Phil's car could not take three kayaks, so we had to drive 32km north to St Catherine's to pick up David's car then drive 32km back to Otter Ferry to load up the kayaks. Our original intention had been to drive east from Otter Ferry for 32 km to Hunter's Quay and cross the Clyde to Gourock from there. Unfortunately we had missed the last ferry so we had to drive 32km north to St Catherine's again (the fourth time we had traversed this road since we started) and then take a a further 70km detour by Arrochar and cross the Clyde at the Erskine Bridge!

We got home late but happy!