By paddle, sail and oar across Whiting Bay.

We now entered Whiting Bay and caught our first sign of the eponymous village, below the heights of Goatfell.

A large sea wall protects the attractive villas and just before we arrived it had been put to good use. The wake of the Troon to Larne had been crashing into it.

We continued to speed on our way under sail and..

...landed near Kingscross Point at the north end of Whiting Bay for...

...a spot of lunch while...

...we were entertained by these two. It appeared that the younger lad had been blown away by the fresh wind. He did not seem to have oars and the older lad went to his aid and towed him (with some effort) back to shore.

Running before the wind, below the sill.

Leaving Kildonan on the fourth day of our trip round Arran we hoisted our sails then paddled along a wild coastline. The scenery was dominated by an extensive tertiary sill, which extended...

...all the way to Dippen Head where we were...

...dwarfed by the scale of the cliffs.

Once round Dippen Head, we caught our first sight of Holy Island since the first day of our trip. We continued to sail all the way, mostly running before a southerly wind. The gusts round the headlands gave some exciting bursts of speed.

From Dippen Head we literally flew before the wind to Larybeg Point. Beyond the point we looked over Whiting Bay to Holy Island.

It was almost a relief to break out behind Lagybeg and take a last view of Ailsa Craig before continuing on our downwind blast.

A big cave and big appetites at Kildonan, Arran

From the sadly deserted beach at Cleit Shore we sped past huge boulder beaches until a dramatic change in the landscape announced our arrival at Bennan Head, which marks the southern tip of Arran.

Just offshore lies Pladda which is the second biggest of Arran's three satellite isles: Holy Island, then Pladda, then tiny Hamilton Isle.

We were sailing and paddling  at 9-10km per hour and David spotted the Kildonan Hotel in the distance. We might make the 3:30 Race after all! Bennan Head is composed of a sill of hard igneous rock. The original softer rocks, through which it intruded, have weathered away leaving it standing exposed. A waterfall cascades down its west (left) side.

A huge cave, the  Black Cave, cuts right into the head and...

...emerges through a high window into the gully on its west side.

We sped on to Kildonan, David made straight for the Kildonan Hotel to catch the Scottish Grand National at Ayr on the television in the residents' lounge. He looked very dapper in his plum suit with cummerbund!

Meanwhile I set my tent up in the Seal Shore commercial camp site. (There is plenty of wild camping about 2-3km away but we fancied a hot shower!)

As the flood tide began to pour between Kildonan and Pladda, we made our way to...

..the truly excellent Kildonan Hotel. The owners, Rodrigo and Anne had just by chance arranged a Mediterranean buffet night for a very reasonable £15 per head. Needless to say, we signed up on the spot. We were not disappointed, neither were the many locals, who had clearly enjoyed previous buffets. After our meal David and I retired to the bar for a Guinness, where we had a very pleasant chat with the amiable Rodrigo. We will definitely return and so should you. I just hope that our appetites have not caused a seakayakers' levy to be added to the buffet bill!

A distinct lack of nudists at Cleits Shore.

The SW shore of Arran is  superficially less dramatic than its neighbours. A boulder beach is backed by a raised beach which in turn is backed by a line of now dry wave cut cliffs. However, a series of basalt dykes run out to sea for distances of up to a kilometre from the shore.

They are particularly prominent in the region of the Cleits Shore, where they extend for a considerable distance, just under the surface of the water.  You need to give them a wide berth, especially when kayak sailing at speed, with laden kayaks!

I mentioned to David that this shore was a nudist beach, the only legal one in Scotland. Despite David being anxious to get to Kildonan in time for the 3:30 in the Scottish Grand National horse race at Ayr, he now seemed keen to take a break on the shore.

Despite it being legal, there was not a single nudist in sight and neither of us felt like disrobing from the warmth of our dry suits, just to exercise our legal rights.

From the sands at the south end of Arran, we had a fine view of Ailsa Craig, some 22km away to the SSE. We had done this crossing from Ailsa to Arran exactly two years previously.

Twenty eight km to the SW we saw Sanda, with Rathlin Island in the distance to the SSW. There was also a decent wind, which held the promise of a quick sail to Kildonan.

False impressions at Blackwaterfoot.

Back on the water, we set off on the third day of our circumnavigation of Arran. We caught our first glimpse of Ailsa Craig as we rounded Drumadoon Point. Mist was curling off the Craig's summit, giving the impression that it was still an active volcano.

The point was also a turning point as far as our sailing was concerned. We set off for Blackwaterfoot on a beam reach and were to continue sailing for the next 37km, all the way round to the north end of Holy Island!

We took a brief diversion into Blackwaterfoot's little harbour.  Our sailing rigs stopped dog walkers in their tracks, and even delivery van drivers waved! At high water you can enter the harbour's inner basin...

...and paddle right up under the bridge over the Black Water burn. It all looks very impressive...

...until you see it with the tide out, like this view from our visit in January 2010. The harbour is little more than a river channel.

It was still early morning and the adjacent Kinloch Hotel was not yet serving so...

...we hoisted the sails again and set off from the harbour towards Brown Head. As we rounded each headland on the southern end of Arran, the wind freed and strengthened and we sailed on an increasingly fast broad reach.

Up and doon the Doon, before breakfast!

The third day of our round Arran trip dawned grey but dry. We had camped beneath a dramatic tertiary sill called the Doon.

Over a cup of fresh brewed coffee...

...David suggested trying to get to the top. The volcanic sill had been used as an Iron Age fort more than 2,000 years ago. Today its only inhabitants were fulmars, which were nesting high on its inaccessible ledges.

We cut across lichen covered rocks to get to the foot of the sill.

A steep path wound its way up through a series of ledges and rocky pinnacles. As we caught our breath, we looked over the Kilbrannan Sound to Kintyre beyond.

The top was almost flat and walking across it we enjoyed magnificent views to the mountains of North Arran. However, there was no suggestion that we were surrounded by precipitous cliffs.

This was the view from the north edge of the Doon and shows Imachar Point in the distance.

If it was good enough for a Royal to kip down, it'll be good enough for us!

By the time we arrived at Dougarie estate boathouse, it was 18:25 and pouring with rain.

 We continued south and thankfully the rain stopped an hour later.

We now set across the broad expanse of Machrie Bay. We were bound for the headland below Torr Righ Mor, still some 6km distant.

As we approached the headland, the setting sun lit it in a last blaze of sunshine.

From the rocks below Torr Righ Mor, we saw the next headland of Drumadoon Point, some 2km further south.  W knew we would need to find shelter for the night somewhere between these two points as the sun had now set. If unsuccessful, our credit cards would take a hit at the Kinloch Hotel which is conveniently situated on the shore 1.5km further on than Drumadoon Point. Such are the hardships to be endured by those who kayak in the wilderness!

But first we came to a place that has enjoyed even Royal patronage. At the foot of some old red sandstone cliffs, above a raised beach...

...we passed a series of large caverns. The left hand one is called King's Cave. It was in this very cave that Robert the Bruce got inspiration from a spider. He was on the run for the murder of another Scottish  noble, John the Red Comyn. Like  "de Bruce" himself, he was also of Norman descent and was a rival for the Scottish throne.

David and I didn't fancy the rocky landing below the caves and as both of us have an aversion to arachnids, we pressed on into the gathering night.

I knew of a small break in the rocks to the south of King's Cave with good camping nearby but when we arrived we discovered that a lone female walker had already set up camp there. Rather than cause alarm by emerging from the dark sea, David and I paddled on into the gloom like perfect gentlemen.

Fortunately we found a narrow slit in the rocks before Drumadoon Point. It had some rather smelly sea weed at its head but at least it was a soft landing.

We set up the tents by torch light. It was too late to forage for firewood but we had brought a bag of barbecue charcoal and some kiln dried logs! Our small but effective fire lasted for some four hours, until we had partly drained the contents of a couple of bottles of Glenfiddich! We felt like Kings, as we regaled each other with increasingly unlikely tales of past sea kayaking exploits.