A windy crossing of Culzean Bay.

Rounding an uncharacteristically flat Carnage Corner south of Dunure, we met a cold offshore wind blowing out of Culzean Bay.

We put our heads down and...

  ...steadily crossed the expanse of the bay.

 Beyond the squalls, the shore-break did not look particularly appealing for a stop so...

 ...we pressed on steadily towards Culzean as the clouds gathered...

...and Turnberry lighthouse slowly appeared over the distant the horizon.

Threading the skerries under grey skies of Dunure.

 When we emerged from the pub we found that the wind had dropped but swung even further to the south. We would not be leaving the harbour under sail. We were glad not to be on the water when this fishing boat roared into the harbour.

 As it was high tide we were able to paddle through the Dunure skerries...

 ...below the grim grey walls of Dunure Castle.

As we threaded our way through the various channels through the weathered lava flows of an ancient volcano...

...we caught sight of the iconic silhouette of distant Ailsa Craig, which itself is a volcanic plug.

Disaster at Dunure!

When we left Bracken Bay for Dunure we were helped along...

...by a light F3 wind from the NW. Andrew and Colin turned back just before Fisherton Point. As we carried on round the point, the wind suddenly veered round to the SE and we were met by a very gusty F4 to F5 breeze. This required a close reach to make Dunure and frequent vicious offshore gusts threatened to flatten us. It made for some rather exciting kayak sailing but sadly the conditions were not conducive to photography...

 ...so you can only judge how much fun we had by our expressions...

...as we entered Dunure harbour. Sadly things then took a turn for he worse. We had made such good time that we arrived in the Dunure Inn at 11am...90 minutes before the draconian Scottish licencing laws allow the sale of intoxicating liquors on the Sabbath!

 Mike could see the funny side but Phil had never tasted anything quite so wersh as Coke.

It was just as well that David was not with us. Things could have got desperate...

Return to cold, grey northern waters.

The staff of seakayakphoto.com have now all returned to their winter waters on the Clyde. Sunday's forecast was pretty variable. XC weather was showing SE 4-5 backing NE 3-4, the BBC was showing NE 3 with full sun, Theyr was for NE 3-4 and the met office inshore was for SE 5-6 backing NE 4-5. We decided to do the Seafield to Maidens run (NE to SW) with a car shuttle return. None of the forecasts had got it fully right and Jennifer, Mike, Phil and I set off on a cold overcast day from Seafield....

...towards the Heads of Ayr...

 ...with a light F2-3 NE wind.

Using sails we slowly caught up with Andrew and Colin who had set off ahead of us in their new Valley Etain 175s. Indeed this was Colin's first outing! His kayak looked very smart with a light grey deck and red trim though I confess I have a soft spot for Andrew's all white with red trim combination which is the same as my own Nordkapp LV. This Etain 175 was originally called the Etain LV but I am glad that that label has now been dropped as it was rather misleading. When seen next to the other kayaks on the beach, its volume  was bigger than the Nordkapp LV, not much smaller than the Quest's and considerably bigger than the Cetus MV (that looked almost miniscule alongside).

We took our first luncheon looking out towards a misty Arran from Bracken Bay, which has lost a lot of sand since the spring.

A glorious effulgence on the Solway.

 The last of the wind died...

 ...as the sun dipped towards the horizon.

 The surface of the sea turned to glass and...

 ..every slight ripple distorted our reflections.

 The setting sun was not the sole object of our attention.

 Above the Isles of Fleet, the Moon...

 ...began to glow softly in the darkening, deep blue sky and far below...

 ...its reflection danced on the mirror-like sea.

 We drifted for a while until the air began to chill and we started paddling again.

 With each stroke the sun...

 ...sank a litter further until...

 ...the day was gone and only...

the moon lit our landing.

Lost for words...

 Rather than stop on Ardwall Isle for fourth luncheon, we...

 ...decided to press on...

 ...and enjoy the...

 ...glorious sunset...

 ...on the water.

 We were soon lost for words...

To Ardwall in the sunset.

"The Singleton" was all gone and it was time to leave Knockbrex.

We paddled towards Ardwall Isle, where there is another sandy beach below the trees.

 The wind had backed to the SE but by the time we were afloat had all but died away.

 So we paddled along the coast of Carrick...

 ...with the flood tide helping more than the wind...

...till we arrived at the wooded slopes of Ardwall Isle, just as the sun began to set.