Sea kayaking inthe mountains with torpedoes and invisible ink.

By the time Jim and I returned from the shuttle, the tide was well back. We had chosen a launch site beside...

..the old pier at Arrochar and so did not have nearly half a kilometer of sticky black mud to negotiate at the head of Loch Long.

Once on the water, the Phil was dwarfed by the jagged ramparts of the Cobbler. The first of the winter snows clung to the dark rocks of the high corries.

We set off SW down Loch Long towards the distant open sea. We were hemmed in on both sides by the mountain slopes...

...that now plunged into the sea but which had once confined the glacier that had gouged out Loch Long during the Ice Ages. The SE side of the valley that contains the loch was in deep shade and our breath froze into icy crystals in the cold morning air.

We moved over to the sunny side of the loch where we passed the remains of the abandoned Admiralty buildings which were the headquarters of the Loch Long Torpedo Range. The range opened in 1912 and remained open until 1986. During WW1 in 1915, a Uruguayan national,  Augusto Alfredo Roggen, was arrested at the the nearby Tarbet Hotel. He said he was on a fishing holiday and had a map of the area (including the restricted area at the head of Loch Long) in his possession. He raised suspicion as he had arrived without rods and a when he was arrested, a revolver, ammunition and invisible ink were found in his room. Although the police were very smart to find the invisible ink, what really damned him was, that in Britain, the revolver was considered a very unsporting way to catch fish. He was transported  to the Tower of London and although the Loch Long fish were spared the bullet, he was not. In 1915 Britain, fish enjoyed a longer life than spies.

We would need to be careful...

Hunched by the cold, a long, long way from the open sea.

For a change, we decided to drive a long way from the open sea for our last trip. We left Glasgow in thick misty conditions, so thick that we missed the turn off for the Erskine Bridge and nearly ended up in Greenock. Fortunately the mist was rising by the time we arrived.

Our destination was Arrochar at the head of Loch Long. The open sea was 160km away, down Loch Long, the Firth of Clyde and the North Channel, between the Mull of Kintyre and Ireland. There are two car parks at the head of Loch Long but the tide was out, revealing evil, black mud. We launched instead, from the slipway near the old pier and parked at the car park beside the village  hall. If an event is on and this full, an alternative is to and park on some open ground to the south of the Village Inn and launch from the old slipway to its north, or some steep stone steps opposite.

Only the sea weed at low tide betrays that Loch Long is not a fresh water lake, nestling deep within the mountains.

At sea level we were still deep in the shade but high above us, the rising sun already shone on the summit of Ben Arthur, 884m. The Cobbler, as the Ben is commonly known, appeared to hunch over the head of the loch.

The still water of  Loch Long reflected the forests of the Cobbler's foothills while this cormorant sat immobile, hunched against the cold like the Cobbler. It didn't look like a good day for fishing...

...but perfect for sea kayaking, so we wasted no time getting ready.

As the mist rose  and the sky cleared, the temperature plummeted and the shaded road turned into a sheet of ice.

We were very careful as we carried the kayaks along to the slipway. I have never understood kayak coaches, who insist on warm up exercises before paddling. We were roasting by the time we got the kayaks to the shore.

Mind you, Phil didn't stay roasting for long. Jim and I left him for an hour as we negotiated the treacherous mountain road over to Lochgoilhead, where we left a shuttle car before returning to Arrochar.

A dream of the otter and the mountain

Although we were some way offshore, an otter surfaced between Tony and myself, a still wriggling fish clamped firmly in its jaws. Unfortunately it was gone before I got my camera out.

As we approached Brodick Bay...

...we paddled alongside a beautiful mixed woodland.

I had borrowed Tony's new Werner Cyprus paddles. He was very pleased when I finally, and ever so reluctantly, gave them back. He just laughed when I said I would just have to buy some myself!

As we made our way across Brodick Bay, Goatfell rose majestically behind us.

The wind dropped to nothing and we drifted, savouring the moment for as long as we could, not wanting the dream of the day to end. It was now just a short distance to the ferry terminal and a ride back to reality in MV Caledonian Isles. The remarkable thing is that we were only 22km from the Ayrshire coast and home.

Guaranteed seal sighting at Corrie, or your money back!

 We left Sannox to paddle down the east coast of Arran to the ferry terminal at Brodick.

 We were surrounded by torrential rainstorms...

which turned the sky black and chilled the air.

We always see a seal basking on the rocks at Corrie. In the distance the MV Stadiongracht, a 172m cargo boat, was making its way from Brodick Bay up the Clyde to Greenock.

Off Merkland Point, we got a great view to Holy Island and the distant Ayrshire coast. The entrance to Loch Ryan could be seen to the left of the steep slopes of Holy Island.

Landfall on the golden sands of Sannox.

The approach to Glen Sannox in Arran must be one of the finest crossings in Scotland.

As you get nearer the mountains...

...begin to fill the entire horizon and sea kayakers find themselves dwarfed by the scale of the landscape.

The crossing from Bute is 10.7km and we were ready to stretch our legs by the time we reached ...

...the golden sands of Glen Sannox. What a location for second luncheon!

This dragon does not belch smoke!

Leaving Garroch Head, we now started to cross the Sound of Bute which separates Bute from Arran.

HMS Dragon seemed to be practicing holding position under the mountainous backdrop of Arran, perhaps she has geostationary capabilities.

The tides off Garroch Head can create some lumpy conditions but as it was in the last hour of the flood, the water was pretty flat.

As we slowly approached HMS Dragon, we were a bit concerned in case she turned round to start speed trials over the measured mile along the north Arran coast. If she did so, she might run clean over the top of us at 30 knots or so. We wondered if her radar showed our approach.

Whatever, the sight of four stealthy kayaks approaching proved too much for her and she moved off at some speed. Her departure was silent, no sirens, bosun's whistles or throbbing engines. There no great wake and no belching smoke. The only sign of the forces that propelled her across the ocean was a heat haze above her funnel.

Making the most of short winter days.

The Firth of Clyde channel is a busy shipping lane, in the past we have met RN nuclear submarines, RN frigates, RFA supply ships, tugs, tankers and bulk carriers here. It was a relief to land safely on Port Leithne on Bute for first luncheon.

One by one we came into land. In the distance the bulk carrier Grace Future continued down the Firth of Clyde and the Polish tug Cyklops made her way up towing a barge to Greenock.

Some landed more elegantly...

...than others. Once ashore, we washed our victuals down with a rather fine Isle of Arran single malt Scotch whisky. This particular bottle was from a sherry cask, no 510, which was distilled on 7/4/1997 and bottled on 16/6/2008 (bottle 282/295). It was only 1030am and some might consider this a bit too early to enjoy first luncheon, not to mention a fine malt like this.

However, I cannot think of a better time nor place to enjoy a whisky, which was distilled under the very mountains we were headed for.

Too early? Not a bit of it, you need to make the most of short winter days. We came here last year with our friend Jim. He had brought some of his favourite malt, Bruichladdich Rocks, which he shared with us. Sadly Jim died earlier this year so we raised our glasses to Jim and continued on our way, thankful of shared, short winter days past but making the most of this one.

Clyde ore, prawns and peninsulas.

We set off across the Hunterston Channel for the Little Cumbrae. To our right a huge 225m bulk carrier, Grace Future, had just pulled away from the Hunterston ore terminal. We crossed well in front of it and soon came across the Campbeltown creel boat...

...Silver Spray III, lifting her pots on the far side of the channel.

We paddled past the southern tip of Little Cumbrae, we were bound for  Port Leithne which sits under St Blane's Hill on Bute.

To the west of Little Cumbrae we crossed the Firth of Clyde channel and came across another Cambeltown creel boat Five Sisters. The Firth of Clyde used to be full of fish but there are none left. The only thing these boats catch are prawns which have increased in numbers since the fall of  the fish populations.

We now caught sight of our landfall on Arran, Sannox, at the mouth of the great glen of the same name.

To the NW of Sannox, the Cock of Arran stretched away towards Kintyre, which is a somewhat less than priapic peninsula.

Looking back across the Firth of Clyde channel, we could still see...

...Five Sisters lifting her pots and Grace Future was by now well down the Hunterston Channel. She was floating high after having offloaded her cargo of ore.