Port Mor, Muck, by the back door.

 Ian and I were now paddling NE and were sheltered from the swell. We passed the restored fisherman's bothy at Port an t-Seilich.

 The east of Muck is so low lying that the skyline is dominated by the distant Sgurr of Eigg.

 The mouth of Port Mor is partially obstructed by a large reef system called the Dubh Sgeir. The channels on either side are called Dorus Beg and Dorus Mor: the Little Door and the Big Door. Despite the low tide we managed to get through the gap this time (unlike the gap on the map at the north end of Muck).

 Port Mor is a delightful anchorage surrounded by whitewashed cottages and the swooping...

 ...Cuillin ridge of Rum makes a wonderful backdrop.

 We paddled past MV Wave which was the Muck flit boat for many years until the new slipway and pier were built in 2004.

 A flit boat ferries passengers and goods too and from a ferry that is unable to approach land.

The MV Lo0ch Nevis (the Small Isles ferry) was not in port so we landed on the slipway and pulled our kayaks out of the water for the last time on this trip. That morning on Eigg (it seemed a week ago at least!) we had arranged to stay the night in the Muck bunkhouse. The pierhead is one of the few places on the Small Isles with a mobile phone signal, so we were able to phone Rosie, who runs the bunkhouse, to warn her of our arrival.

Ian and I were so pleased to have got to Muck. In the middle of winter, we had managed to visit all four Small Isles and shortly we would have spent the night on each, Not only that, each night's accommodation had been very different....

Exploring the "wall of the tombstones" and "the den of the black revenge" on Muck.

At the far side of Camus Mor (on Muck's south coast) we came to the impenetrable barrier of the cliff  face of An Leachdach, which roughly translated means "wall of the tombstones".

 There are a number of caves in this otherwise sheer rock face. We chose not to explore them but due to the sheer nature of the rock it was possible to paddle very close to the cliffs....

 ...despite the size of the swell.

 At the south end of the cliffs there is a collapsed cave system, which is now an inlet called...

 ...Sloc na Dubhaich. A loose translation might be "Den of the Black Revenge" though it is currently known as  "The Witch's Cauldron" Whatever it might be called, we only took a sideways look into the foam filled gully and pressed on towards...

...the reef of Bogha na Fionn-aird. Despite the black rocks, we could see why this was called "reef of the white point". For all their poetic sounds, Gaelic names are usually pretty literal  Our paddle was nearly over and as Ian and I surfed some swells through the gap, we considered that we had just paddled one of the finest parts of coastline in the west of Scotland.

The highs and lows of life in Camas Mor, Muck.

We had now started the final stage of our Small Isles adventure. As we rounded the SW point of Muck we started to paddle east again.

 Muck is generally low lying but the ground rises in the SW towards the summit of...

...Beinn Airein. It may only be 137m high but it is a proper little mountain nonetheless. It falls steeply into the sea at the headland called Sron na Teiste. The roots of this name are both Gaelic and Norse. Sron is Gaelic for headland and Teiste is Norse for black guillemot. The Norse name is a reflection of the Viking influence in the Hebrides' past. Sadly we saw only one black Guillemot in the bay, it was just changing from winter to breeding plumage.

The swell was washing the rocks at the foot of Sron na Teiste and the shores of Camas Mor beyond, so there was no prospect of a stop.

 We set off across the great sweep of Camas Mor towards  the wall of cliffs on its far side.

In the middle of the bay, we became the focus of attention of the local fulmar colony.

 They amazed us with the skill and beauty of their flight..

 ..which we tried to capture on our cameras.

One minute they would rise high in the air with scarcely a  wing beat before swooping...

...down and skimming the swell with their wing tips. Unlike the black guillemot  the fulmar population has grown spectacularly. In the late 19th century there was only one British breeding colony on St Kilda. Now they are widespread. Perhaps Sron na Teiste should be renamed Sron na Havhest?

"Breaks", "breaks heavily" and "breaks very heavily" on the west coast of Muck.

Although it was only the first of March, Fulmars were already pairing up for the breeding season on the NE cliffs of Eilean nan Each (Horse Isle) which lies off the north west coast of Muck. The calm seas and almost complete lack of wind could easily have lulled us into a false sense of security but I had in mind the Magicseaweed surf forecast for nearby Tiree...2.5m SW!

 Whoohoo we had just turned the north end of Eilean nan Each when the swell hit us. Fortunately...

 ...it passed under us and it was actually the rocks it hit! Spray was thrown high in the air and we felt a near continuous rumbling in our chests.

We needed to wait a while before we entered the gap between Eagamol and Eilean nan Each as the bigger sets surged through with some degree of vigour.

However, patience was rewarded and soon we were in the sheltered lee of Eagamol.

We now came to the exposed west coast of Muck.

We were glad there was no wind as the chart warns of...

"Breaks"

"Breaks Heavily"

and "Breaks Very Heavily". We felt very lucky to experience the pounding surf in such a remote place but in such benign conditions. Even, so neither of us suggested putting in a little rescue practice.

There now followed a gap with no photography as the many basalt dykes that radiate out from Muck threw up many unexpected boomers. But once we approached the SW corner of Muck the swell seemed to die as the north going tide  increased.

We now enjoyed a distant view of Coll and looking back, we could see...

.... the outline of Rum through the gap between Eagamol and Eilean nan Each. Eigg, where we had spent the previous night, rose high above the low lying northern rocks of Muck.

Taking a gander along the north coast of Muck

As we left Camas na Cairidh on the north coast of Muck the Sea of the Hebrides was glassy calm and in the clear air the mountains of Rum were dappled by broken sunlight which broke through the low clouds.

 We left Eigg far in our wakes as we paddled along the north shore of Muck.

We arrived at Gallanach Bay where a significant new building is taking place. It is Gallanach Lodge and will replace the island's existing hotel at Port Mor when it opens on 27th May 2013.

A little further west and we arrived at Gallanach Farm. The four Small Isles have very different ownership arrangements. Canna is owned by the National Trust for Scotland (a charity), Rum by Scottish Natural Heritage (government funded agency), Eigg by a community buyout and Muck is currently privately owned by the MacEwen family whose predecessors have owned it since 1897.

It is very interesting to compare how these very different owners have managed the development of each island.

 As we left the bay in front of the farm, the clouds cleared but the air filled with hundreds of...

 ...geese which flew off in...

 ...the direction of Rum. This is the lovely view which will be enjoyed by visitors to the new Gallanach Lodge.

Ian and I had booked a couple of rooms in the somewhat less grand Muck Bunkhouse so we still had some way to go. As we looked for a gap between Muck and the island of Eilean nan Each the clouds opened a a front stretched away as far as the eye could see.

Unfortunately the gap shown on the ordnance survey 1:50,000 and 1:25,000 maps is no longer present at low tide. It is filled by a great bank of cobbles washed up by storms. We now set off to add a Eilean nan Each to our circumnavigation of Muck.

Mucked about by the tidal information in the Sound of Eigg.

As Ian and I set across the Sound of Eigg towards Muck the ebb tide was already running like a river in the channel between between Eigg and Eilean Chathastail. We knew (from the Admiralty West Coast Pilot) that we would be in mid channel at the peak of a big spring tide that would be travelling at 3 knots to the SE, increasing to 4 knots as we approached the west coast of Muck. As a result we set off on a high ferry angle to the north but when we stopped in mid channel, the tide was only running at 0.6 knots!

 The marbled sky was reflected in a mirror sea. Between the two the Ardnamurchan peninsula stretched away as far as the eye could see. It was only 12 days previously that we had paddled that coast with Mike but it seemed such a long time ago.

 Gradually we cleared Eigg and the Rum Cuillin were revealed.

 In the distance Canna could be seen to the lefdt of Rum, some 30km to the NW.

 As we crossed the Sound of Eigg we slowly began to make out the Arnamurchan lighthouse at the end of the peninsula. It was silhouetted against Mull by a fog bank which was lying in the Sound of Mull.

 To port, Ben More on Mull rose above the lower Ardnamurchan Hills.

 To starboard the complete profile of Rum could be seen as we left Eigg behind.

 As we approached the west coast of Muck, we still expected to meet a significant tide but it never materialised. To the south the MV Loch Nevis was heading for the jetty at Port Mor on the south side of Muck.

 Given the highly favourable conditions (it was winter!) we decided to leave Port Mor till later and circumnavigate Muck in an anti clockwise direction..

...but first it was time to take first luncheon in the delightful bay of Camas na Cairidh, we had arrived on Muck. The machair to the right of the beach has a permanent composting toilet and in summer a yurt is erected, which can be rented from Isle of Muck farms. The tide was still ebbing and as it fell (leaving our kayaks high and dry) it revealed an old fish trap that had been built from a stone wall between rocky outcrops. Camas na Cairidh in Gaelic means "bay of the weir".

We enjoyed a superb view of Rum from our chosen luncheon spot. After warming homemade soup and bread, washed down by some 10 year old Jura or 12 year old The Singleton (I can't remember which, maybe it was both) it was time to make our way back down the rocks. There was just time to float the kayaks over the fish trap. As we waded through the pool behind the wall it was obvious that there was not a single trapped fish. Maybe it was because it was winter, maybe the seas are empty. Fish traps like this have been used for thousands of of years and in the past the seas were full of shoals of herring.