The bright lights of Portpatrick

Arriving back at Portpatrick, we noticed an unusual thing about the lighthouse. All the panes in the lantern house towards the sea were blacked out by metal shutters, very strange....


...it turns out that after Portpatrick lighthouse was decommissioned in 1900, the villagers, who had no street lights, turned the lantern towards the shore (and the village) and then switched off the flashing mechanism so that the lamp shone continuously onto the village. This "street light" worked well until 1905 when the Lighthouse Board sold the lamp and its mechanism to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). I wonder if the Board only found out about the street light after 5 years of lighting bills?


The observant reader will note that between this photo and the last, some considerable time has passed. What was the the explanation? Had we been transfixed by the undoubted beauty of Portpartick's harbour?

Actually not....when we returned to Phil's car, we discovered that the injured pheasant had made itself quite at home. The once prim interior of Phil's Honda was now like an unkempt hen house. We were stunned that one bird could create so much mayem. Looking at the situation, I felt David's diagnosis of a RTA was wrong. This bird clearly had a severe bowel problem, there was not an inch of surface untouched by bird droppings. Not only that, it was obviously moulting in preparation for the breeding season, there were feathers everywhere. If this was not enough, the ungrateful bird had clearly taken a dislike to the scotch broth mix (the purchase of which had so delayed the morning's departure) and expressed its displeasure by emptying the entire contents of the packet and then scattering them throughout the interior of Phil's car.

Phil is not often given to alliteration but he said quite firmly "I want the ******* pheasant out my car!" There was only one thing for it, in order to placate Phil, David had to buy a round of Guinness over at the Crown Hotel. The pub was crammed but the service was quick and a roaring fire secured a 10/10 for this conveniently situated sea kayaking pub!

I am very grateful to Tom for kindly providing this link of what happened to the pheasant, once David got it back to his veterinary surgery.


When we emerged from the pub, the distant lights of Ireland were twinkling on the horizon. What a great way to end another fantastic outing!

Have you ever heard of Knockienausk Head?

The tide built up as the afternoon wore on...


...and we sped past Money Head.


To the west we could just make out the coast of Northern Ireland and to the east...


...we passed under the cliffs of Gull Rigging and indeed there were a few gulls getting ready to nest on its ledges.


From Knockienausk Head we looked back to headland after headland on the Rhins of Galloway coast. Thanks to tidal assistance, we had rounded quite a few of them on two occasions today!



The sun began to sink rapidly to the horizon above the distant hills surrounding Belfast Lough and we were nearly back in Portpatrick. We had so enjoyed paddling this remote coastline with so many strange names.

What happens after you test a P&H Cetus LV?

The P&H Cetus LV looked good on the sands of Ardwell Bay.


While we were engaged upon our luncheon, the tide race had built up off Money Head in the foreground. Portpatrick lay 12km away under the distant transmitter mast beyond Tandoo Point in the distance.


Several people have emailed asking when I am going to publish the results of our test of the P&H Cetus.


Tony really enjoyed paddling it...


...but the test has been published...


in issue 20 of Ocean Paddler magazine.


I will post a copy of the test here...


...once the next issue of OP is published in 2 month's time.


Until then you will just need to take our word for it that it is a damn fine sea kayak.


At the end of the test Tony ordered a Cetus, which is more appropriate to his weight than the LV.

We four represented the sum of human activity in these parts.

After dallying at the Devil's Bridge, it was now time to retrace our wakes and turn north. We were running with the tide again and were blasted through the narrow gap between Otter Rock and the Mull of Logan.


Incoming swells against the tide made for joyous paddling conditions in the February sunshine.


Once round the Mull, we were grateful for all the tidal assistance we could get. Our destination, Portpatrick, lay beyond the most distant headland. As far as the eye could see, not a single building broke the long line of headlands, bays and cliffs.


Out to sea the horizon was empty and devoid of ships of any size. We four represented the sum of human activity in these parts.


This was a heavy burden to bear and made us feel quite peckish. So we nipped into the shelter of...


...Ardwell Bay for a second luncheon and toast the adventure with the remainder of Phil's Glenlivet malt whisky!

The Old Man of the Mull of Logan.

We enjoyed fantastic sea kayaking through a maze of skerries as we paddled towards the still distant Mull of Logan.


The Mull itself looks rather uninteresting when approached from the north. Lurghie point just emerges gently from the sea.


However, turn the corner and its character changes. We found ourselves paddling against a stiff adverse current between Otter Rock and the Mull as the tide had turned almost an hour before.


Then we turned a corner and there was the Devil's Bridge, one of the finest but least known of Scotland's many rock arches.


In the lagoon behind the arch, the stony gaze of the Old Man of the Mull of Logan keeps a perpetual watch over those who pass the Mull...

Slack water in the North Channel.

We left Port Stilton in almost perfect conditions.


The North Channel coastline of the Rhins of Galloway is for the most part devoid of any sign of human activity.


Our only companions were fulmars which swooped round us with wing tips skimming the sea.


As our mission to the Mull of Logan progressed, the sun crossed the yardarm and the water went glassy calm. Slack water had arrived in the North Channel.

Where will we take luncheon today?

After paddling under dark breezy skies, we were relieved when the sun broke through again and the wind died to next to nothing.


We were getting hungry by now and we came upon the delightful Port of Spittal Bay.


Right on the beach, stands the reputed Knockinaam Lodge Hotel. This fine establishment has a Michelin star and luncheon there is a mere £37.50.... very mouthwatering and tempting. We salivated over the luncheon menu...

Grilled Fillet of Native Salmon
with Basil Pesto

Cauliflower and Parsley Soup
with Crème Fraîche

Roast Cannon of Galloway Lamb
Thyme Pomme Fondant, Haggis Bon Bon
Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage,
and a Juniper and Port Reduction

Caramelized Thin Apple Tart
with Double Vanilla Bean Ice Cream
or
Selection of Fine British and French Cheeses
served with a Walnut and Sultana Bread

Coffee and Petits Fours

...indeed we salivated so much we could understand why it was called Port of Spittal Bay!


However, on this occasion the temptation of some excellent rockhopping ahead and a strong flood tide carried us away from this culinary temptation.


This really is an exceptional coast and we enjoyed every hungry minute of it...


...until we arrived at Port Stilton.


Here on this bare strand, we would enjoy our few plain victuals.

A Galloway snow squall warning

Although we had driven through snowshowers on the way to Portpatrick, we launched under clear blue skies. We soon found ourselves in the shade.


Making our way to the SE along the cliffs of Tandoo Point on the Rhins of Galloway, the skies darkened...


...as a great snow squall raced across the land and out to sea. This was a trip that could go either way...

Going with the flow on the Rhins of Galloway

After settling David's new pheasant friend we at last got onto the water beneath the old lighthouse at Portpatrick. In the distance we could just see Northern Ireland on the far side of the North Channel.


The tides run strongly in the North Channel and our plan was to take the flood tide SE to the Mull of Logan then take the ebb tide back to Portpatrick.


We soon cleared the crumbling walls...


...of Portpatrick's old outer breakwater. Portpatrick lighthouse was built in 1839 but was decommissioned in 1900.


Even Phil forgot about the pheasant fouling his car, the tide soon caught us and before we knew it...


...we were in the shade of the dark cliffs of Castle Point.


We stopped for a moment in the little bay behind the point to admire the remains of Dunskey Castle.