Jura

It is really hard to believe we were in NI just yesterday, it seems so far away both in distance and head space. 

Yesterday was a release, for a few hours at least we were really in holiday mode. We had lunch in the pub and were back there for dinner with a nice bottle of wine in the evening. Machrahanish is basically a golf resort, it was pricey, I didn't even look at the bill. I didn't need to know. 

The thought of cranking out another 50km day today to meet up with our friends at Craighouse on Jura was not on our agenda, we were in holiday mode. 

We usually pack the kayak with all but our overnight and breakfast stuff so we can be off in the morning a bit faster. Not last night, we couldn't be bothered. We're in holiday mode remember.  Despite this we were bashing out through the small surf at 8, half an hour earlier than we had planned. Catching the tide a mere 27km to Gigha where we planned to camp, have a cruisey day leaving the 20km crossing to Craighouse for Friday. 

Anyway, you know how it is, you get in the groove, flowing with the tide. A cruisey time on Gigha became a quick half hour stop to eat and a course was set to Craighouse before the northerly tidal flow turned south. 

The day was warm humid with low cloud and very poor visibility, at best 7 or 8km and dropped to about 4km before we reached Gigha. We set off into the murk with nothing to see but the compass and nothing to gauge progress but the odd bit of seaweed. A hour and half later vague shapes very slowly became the firmer shapes of land, but still no perspective. The shapes could have been low lying rocks or islands close to or a mountain range a lot further away. Suddenly the silhouettes of trees could be discerned on the skyline, then some vague white blogs became houses, then other white blobs became moored yachts. We were nearly there, bored upper body muscles suddenly stirred and our pace picked up only to meet the now southerly current. We could feel the boat slow, just what you need at the end of a long crossing, a contrary wind or tide for the last few kms. 

There was no mistaking the big black letters on the front of the large and imposing building just back from the shoreline - Jura Hotel. There was also no mistaking the smell from the equally imposing but more industrial buildings just behind the hotel - in big black letters Jura Distillery. 

Now early evening and there is hardly a cloud in the sky the sea is still like a millpond, the wee beasties ate making themselves known and it's time for dinner.