Your Kayak Is Floating Away

We’d done a big shop so the kayak was loaded up with food for a week or more, the new rudder blade had been fitted so we were ready to go. 

Time for a coffee and a quick catch up with the rest of world while we still had phone reception. We left the kayak on the beach next to the boat ramp  right in the middle of Mallaig. The tide was ebbing, the harbour waters were mill pond calm and there was hardly a breeze. 

We wandered literally just across the road for a coffee. While at the cafe I popped across the road to check the kayak and lift it down the beach a metre or two so the ebbing tide didn’t leave it high and dry. 

Around the corner we ordered a fish supper (fish and chips) for Lynne and a haggis supper for me. It took a few minutes then we wandered back to some benches on the waterfront overlooking the beach and our kayak to eat our lunch.

We were still in our dry suits so I suppose recognisable as kayakers, as we approached the waterfront some bystanders looked at us with concern and said “Your kayak is floating away”

How? What? That’s not possible!

It just cannot have floated away of its own accord. Being so heavily laden, plus the ebbing tide it would have needed quite a shove to get afloat.

Another bystander said “A kid pushed it off”. 

At first I thought I would be able to reach it by climbing down a ladder on the wharf side but by the time I ran around to the top of the ladder it had drifted just out of reach. A zephyr of a breeze was drifting it imperceptibly across the opposite side of the little bay.  

I ran around to the other side, a working shipyard, ducked under a fishing boat on their ramp only to find it still out of reach. It was now drifting, very slowly, out into the harbour.

It was time to get wet! I eased myself off the ramp into chest deep water and walked towards the kayak but was soon swimming. I grabbed it, swum it back to where it should be and pulled it ashore. 

Luckily my haggis supper was still hot. 

Finished with lunch, we launched and started paddling away from the beach. 

A little kid, maybe 8-9years old appeared on the shipyard ramp. 

“It wae me oo put ya boot ooot”

Ya little wee bastard. 

Muck, Eigg and Mallaig

What a crossing! 

A text book example of keeping a constant eye on transits on an open crossing. A sea kayak is a puny craft on the scale of things, with the most puny method of propulsion of any sea going craft too. Paddlers really can’t afford to go out of their way and have to fight extra distance, wind or tide, or all three, to reach their destination. 

The 12km crossing from Ardnamurchan Point to Port Mòr on Muck was a dream, big big sky, full of sun and huge towering cumulus. A so much sunnier and drier day than had been forecast. A gentle enough wind to have both sails up and be flying along without the stress of a following sea, so easy steering and no pressure on our dodgy rudder blade. 

Right on springs as we are now there’s 3.5m of water moving away and moving back again on every tide, flowing around the maze of islands and convoluted coastline, creating a swirl of currents that are all but unpredictable. 

The ebbing tide tried to drift us SW, then about halfway across, an hour or so ahead of the Tidal Atlas predictions the flood tide tried drifting us NE, quite strongly too. We were aiming off to the west about 10deg to stay on our intended course. The current dropped away as we closed in on Port Mòr on Muck and we were soon tied up to a handy floating jetty. 

Starving, we found a comfy spot for some lunch then wandered up into the village proper. We were tempted to stay but needed mobile reception or wifi for a forecast. 

The Coastguard broadcast the Inshore Waters Forecast on VHF three hourly but it is so brief and lacking detail that we hardly take any notice of it. 

Most of the time we have mobile reception so we use our favourite weather app, Windy.  It shows four different models for any chosen spot. 

The picture below shows a spot between Eigg and the mainland at Arisaig. The detail shown extends for five days. It is the first time we’ve used Windy on a trip and so far we can’t really fault the five day outlook for accuracy. 

Being in no hurry as the replacement rudder blade won’t arrive in Mallaig before Friday and having found wifi and beer from Skye in the Port Mòr cafe we booked a night in the Bunkhouse. 

The thought of a shower, a washing machine and time to explore the island was far too tempting. 

The proprietor of the cafe spent his free time making willow baskets - he’d had a lifetime of making and using natural twines and was a mine of information about which plants had good strong fibres and how to prepare them.

With just about all our clothing on the line drying in the late afternoon sun we walked over to the northern tip of the island for some spectacular clear views in the low early evening light. In the far distance the hills of Barra and South Uist were just visible on the horizon, closer Canna, Rhum, Eigg and Skye stood spectacularly out of the now calm sea. 

The next day the wind was up with a vengeance, the waters of our crossing yesterday were a mass of white horses and heavy showers crossed the island regularly. 

The visibility was fairly clear most of the time so it was tempting to head for the highest point of Muck, Beinn Airien at 137m. We followed the cliff tops around the south coast from Port Mòr scattering the ever present sheep ahead of us. It was wild and windy but a break in the showers meant we stayed dry, until the modest summit of Beinn Airien when the rain came in almost horizontally. We both tried sheltering behind the trig point then headed down and waited out the downpour in the lee of a small cliff. 

As forecast the wind abated in the afternoon, so it was an easy crossing to Galmisdale on Eigg. 

It was immediately apparent landing at Galmisdale that Eigg was quite different to Muck. A mob of people crowded around the entrance to the building housing the cafe/bar and shop, chatting and drinking. We had spotted tents just nearby so asked about camping, the reply was a casual “sure, anywhere you like, the toilets are just in there and there’s a shower too”. 

The next three days on Eigg were fantastic. The heavy showers and low cloud cleared up enough for us to reach the summit of An Sgùrr the spectacular and distinctive rocky peak that makes Eigg so identifiable from any direction. It was still very windy and we were doubting whether we’d make the summit.  Our fears were confirmed by a fella on his way down who had been blown over on a saddle before the summit ridge and had retreated. On we climbed to see for ourselves, stopping in the lee of the ridge to don full waterproofs before emerging onto the ridge and into the full force of the wind. It must have abated as it wasn’t that bad, the odd gust threatened to throw us off balance but there was a good path and in just a few minutes we were standing around the concrete trig point on the summit. 

The mainland was blanketed in low cloud but Muck and the rest of Eigg were fairly clear, a view that was well worth the climb. 

Back down in Galmisdale we discovered the cafe/ bar had two Laig Brewery beers on tap!

Sitting enjoying a beer and haggis crisps we googled the brewery only to discover it was a few kilometres away on the northern side of the island at, surprise surprise, Laig Bay! 

The island community bought Eigg in the mid 90’s from the private owners after many years of unpleasantness. Since then it seems to have thrived, with hydro, solar and wind taking over from diesel generators, and the cafe/bar, shop, markets and other ventures for locals and tourists providing income and employment for 100 residents. More importantly it provided certainty of tenure for the farmers and crofters, some of whom of course have lived there for generations. For those reading in Tasmania, Eigg had a Cygnet feel about it.

The friction between differing groups of people on Eigg is not a new phenomenon but the more contemporary issues are harmless compared with the clan rivalry of the 1500’s. 

One of the walks took us to Massacre Cave. As one story goes the MacDonald clan on Eigg had sent some Macleod men back to their homelands for being too amorous towards their women. Other stories involve rape and castration. The Macleods sailed to Eigg to exact revenge but the Macdonalds saw them coming and hid in the long deep cave in the cliffs on the south coast. For days the Macleods searched the island fruitlessly until one mistake by the Macdonalds revealed their hiding place. The Macleods lit a fire at the narrow cave entrance and asphyxiated all those hiding inside. Most accounts list the death toll in the hundreds, some up to four hundred. It was the whole population of Eigg. 

The cave itself is unusual, the entrance is small enough to require hands and knees then it opens out into a cavern 80m long but no more than 3m wide or high. 

Another more usual shaped sea cave nearby, Cathedral Cave was used for church services following the formation of the Free Church in 1843. The then newly formed church was not allowed to use Church of Scotland properties for services so they were held wherever there was space. 

The strong South Westerlies that have dominated the weather for days veered Westerly and dropped. It was Friday, so time to get to Mallaig to check whether the new rudder blade had arrived at the Post Office. An easy but long crossing, both sails up went up as soon as we left the boat ramp at Galmisdale to come down as the harbour walls at Mallaig loomed over us. 

Mallaig is a great little place, centred around its tight little harbour and bustling with shipping and tourists. A new floating pontoon catered for the yachties and there seemed to be a Cal Mac ferry arriving and departing every half an hour. Being an active fishing port the wharfs were stacked with fish crates, nets and trawling gear. The fishing boats, streaked with rust, battered and dirty from days at sea exude a determined businesslike, brutalist beauty. 

The two shipyards are right in town, they were busy with sound of grinding and hammering, overall clad workers  rolled new paint on old hulls. All within metres of brightly clad tourists wielding ice creams and fish and chips. 

Unfortunately no rudder at the Post Office so headed out of the harbour and found another fantastic campsite at the entrance to Loch Nevis. It hadn’t arrived the next day, a Saturday, either. Frustrating not to be paddling on but with a day free before the next post arrives on Monday we’ve time to paddle further up Loch Nevis and climb some mountains. 

The Treshnish Isles - Bird Lovers Paradise.

After two lovely relaxing days on Colonsay the weather was just perfect for the 20km crossing to Mull with the forecast South Westerly of 10-12 maybe 15knots it was likely to be an easy fast crossing. Both sails went up pretty much as soon as we left the beach, the wind was light but we could feel we were making good progress as we daydreamed our way along in the sunshine. After about an hour and half Lynne happened to look behind and exclaimed “Look!” Blimey, we knew there was rain forecast but the sky behind was a threatening black wall of cloud. We were still in hot sun, but not for long. Gradually everything went grey, the wind and sea picked up noticeably and in the heavy showers visibility was very poor. We headed in a more westerly direction, directly for the Sound of Iona and at 11, 3 hours from leaving Colonsay we landed on a sheltered beach just inside the Sound for a cuppa and a bite to eat. 

I noticed the aluminium rudder blade was a bit bent from the force of steering in the following seas, which it shouldn’t be. On closer inspection I realised why.  The aluminium was cracked half way across just above the rudder cheeks, just where the blade flex is concentrated. Mmmm, that’s not going to last long in seas like this morning. There’s nothing we are able to do to repair it and we’re a long way from an aluminium fabricators to have one made so I unpacked my phone and headed up looking for reception. None, not unexpected in this part of the world but across the Sound of Iona I found free wifi outside the Iona Craft Shop. Within a minute or two both our daughters were lined up to remove the rudder blade from our kayak at home and send it to Mallaig Post Office for us to pick up.

We had passed this way in 2013 but the weather had prevented us from getting out to Staffa, and the state of the tide made landing the laden double on the Treshnish Isle of Lunga very difficult. We vowed to return. 

So here we are with a dodgy rudder on a bit of a grim wet wild day but Staffa an easy 12km run downwind and with high tide at 5pm, just perfect for landing and camping on Lunga, a further 8km downwind. Onward, but with only one sail up and treading very lightly on the rudder pedals. 

We couldn’t see anything ahead of us through the grey murk as we followed a compass bearing of 20deg. The Staffa tour boat from Iona disappeared straight ahead of us into the greyness, at least confirming we were heading in the right direction. Surprisingly the Treshnish Isles to the NW of us were fairly clear and there were even patches of blue sky far beyond them. 

At about the time we were thinking “surely we should be able to see Staffa by now” a darker shade became visible in the murk.  The island slowly became clearer.  We could also see lots of coloured dots on the rocks adjacent to Fingals Cave and three tourist boats standing off waiting to pick up or drop off more people. 

Wilderness this ain’t. 

The array of hexagonal columns and the terraced hexagonal ‘tesselated’ pavement formed by the tops of columns was certainly an impressive sight. 

Landing on a shingle beach on the SE shore we had lunch then headed around the north of the island. 

Along the NE shore suddenly the sky and sea around us was full of puffins! Thousands of them. Many fringing the cliff edge in front of their burrows, others swooping around us, wings beating furiously, bright orange webbed feet streamed out behind and those bobbing on water in the lee of the island apparently unconcerned with our presence until just metres away. 

Such attractive gloriously comical birds. 

Back out into the wind and it was a quick crossing to Lunga, where another tourist boat stood off the shore having deposited its load of tourists ashore to explore the island. 

At high tide the big seaweed covered boulders forming the stony spit at the northern end of the island are well underwater leaving a flat area of pebbles, easy landing for us an hour or so before high tide. As we pitched the tent and settled in the clouds slowly cleared to a glorious sunny evening. 

If we thought the puffins on Staffa were impressive they were nothing compared to Lunga.  Tamed presumably by the regular tour boats we could sit and watch the puffins come and go from only metres away. They just didn’t seem to notice us at all. Coming and going from their burrows, some just standing there seemingly enjoying the warm sunny evening as we were. Quite a few were flying in with beaks full of fish, landing with uncanny accuracy right in their burrow entrance and disappearing underground instantly. 

Razorbills intermingled with the puffins and there were also shags nesting under boulders, fulmars perched precariously on tiny ledges as well as a colony of thousands of guillemots clamouring raucously on offshore rocks and pillars off the west coast. 

The long evening sunlight culminated with a spectacular sunset but not long after we settled in for the night the rain began again and continued all night and well into the next day. 

In the morning while we had the island to ourselves we explored again, walking to the summit of the island in the light rain as well as of course some time simply watching puffins going about their daily business. 

We emerged from our tent again late afternoon to a scene of busyness.  One of the tour boats was using their floating landing ramp to load passengers and a group of sea kayakers had just arrived, whereas we were packing up to leave on the same late afternoon high tide that we’d arrived on the day before. 

Across towards the shore of Mull with just the last of the flood tide helping us on our way and then north to Caliach Point where the tide was well and truly ebbing against us. It was a bit of a plod the last few kms to a fantastic campsite at Langamull beach. We’d camped in exactly the same spot on beautifully smooth machair on a raised platform above the beach on our way to Tobermory in 2013. 

And On To Colonsay

Thirty kms south from our launching at Duror and the first job in Oban was to visit ‘Sea Kayak Oban’ to see if they sold trolley wheels. They didn’t, but they did have a swanky kayak trolley with removable wheels that will fit our trolley. So two days into the trip, the kayak is full of food and we have two trolleys and one set of (very expensive) wheels. 

Whilst packing the boat on the slip way in Oban a boat running tourist fishing trips pulled along side, the skipper started chatting then offered us some mackerel. Delicious, thank you, that’s dinner sorted for this evening!

Whilst on the subject of gear, after five days paddling we love our new dry suits. Kokatat - lighter, more breathable and more comfortable in so many ways than our old UK made Typhoon suits. Whether it’s due to their breathability or the lighter material, we’re not sure, but we don’t seem to overheat even in hot (for Scotland) calm conditions. 

In the current era of women specific outdoor gear, such as gaiters, packs, and sleeping mats, what bullshit, Lynne’s drysuit is truly women specific.  With a drop seat it is so much easier than trying to manipulate a ‘She Wee’ through the male orientated front ‘comfort’ zip! 

The last five days alone have amply demonstrated the fantastic variety of weather and conditions experienced when paddling in Scotland. We’ve had hours of hot sun and mirror calm, kilometres wide stretches of water so disturbed by the tidal flow that the boils, upwellings and mini whirlpools make it look like it’s simmering gently whilst moving along at 3-4 knots. We’ve had drizzle and absolute torrential rain as well as many rain types in between.  To add to the fun the forecasts seem to be a work of fiction. Gentle northerlies were forecast the day we left Oban heading south with the tide to Jura ... it blew south westerly at 10-15kn+ from mid morning onwards, and while at Craighouse the wind came from every point of the compass over about an hour. 

Oh and did I mention the spectacular coastal vistas with a backdrop of mountains?

The Jura Hotel on the waterfront at Craighouse provides camping on luscious grass within metres of the kayak pulled up on the shingle beach, as well as hot showers and of course all the usual pub food and drink. 

We had a feed in the pub and went to bed early, our unfit bodies feeling a bit worn out after a few days paddling on top of a few late nights at Liz and Arthur’s.

Just behind Jura Hotel is the Jura distillery. We had planned to stock up with a bottle of malt whisky there and as it turned out our arrival was timely, the usual nip each to toast our safe arrival ashore had emptied our small hip flask. 

The distillery shop didn’t open until 10 so it was a lazy morning with multiple cuppas enjoying the glorious morning of hot sun and clear blue skies with just a hint of a breeze to keep the midges away.

We tasted a couple of the more moderately priced whiskies from an absolute plethora of choice up to bottles costing £400+!! The one we chose, a 10year old was named ‘Journey’ which seemed appropriate. And it’s delicious. 

The tide was completely wrong for us in Sound of Islay, the southerly flow beginning about the time we left Craighouse so by the time we got there it would be in full flow against us. To add to the fun a Northerly wind was forecast to pick up at about midday. All went ok, staying close to the Jura shore the flow wasn’t too bad, we even had the occasional counter current to help us on our way. As the Sound narrowed we hit what we thought was the major flow and decided to cross to the Islay shore and made reasonable progress until about halfway across we discovered the true current. Suddenly forward progress stopped and paddling hard we had no option but to ferry glide across, heading for a bay were we hoped there’d be a counter current that would help us continue north towards Port Askaig. No such luck! The current was flowing fast right up against the rocky shore, coupled with the headwind we were barely making any forward progress. 

So ashore in a tiny bay out of the current for an hour so until the flow had visibly lessened then on to camp a few kms north of the Bunnahabhain Distillery. 

The forecast for the next three days was strong NE, too strong for the 10km crossing to Colonsay and then the 20km crossing to Mull. But as the wind died away that evening we decided if it was still calm in the morning we’d try to continue on to Colonsay. 

At 6am the next morning the sun was well and truly up and the Sound of Islay like a mill pond. The northerly did pick up later but not too much to hinder forward progress on the crossing from Islay so we landed on Oronsay about 11. Oronsay and Colonsay are joined at low tide by a large expanse of sand dotted with rocky skerries. As it was an hour or so from high tide there was plenty of water for us to negotiate the maze of skerries and pop out on the west coast of Colonsay. Wilder and more rugged than the east coast and worth the diversion despite the messy rebound seas, for the cliffs were festooned with galleries of nests and the water and offshore rocks teemed with thousands of razorbills and guillemots. 

As we chose a spot for the tent amongst the plethora of opportunities at Kiloran Bay on the NW coast of Colonsay we decided that of all the places we’ve paddled, Scotland consistently provides the very best sites. 

The machair https://www.nature.scot/landscapes-and-habitats/habitat-types/coast-and-seas/coastal-habitats/machair that is common behind the beaches and dunes of the West Coast consists of grass cropped so tight it wouldn’t be out of place on a golf course but thickly dotted with white daisies and yellow buttercups provides wonderful camping. We chose an elevated spot, a bit exposed to the wind but better views and no midges!

We’ll be here for a couple of days as the NE continues to blow, but it is forecast to abate on Thursday and give us perfect conditions to cross to Mull on Friday. 

Scotland - Finally

As some of you know we left our breakdown kayak in Scotland four years ago after returning from Iceland. We had been extremely lucky getting it on the plane in Melbourne and we knew there was no way we’d be so lucky on the return journey. We didn’t need it at home and with the range of paddling opportunities in Europe extending from Arctic Norway to the Mediterranean it was a logical decision. 

So a dash up the Motorway from southern England and it was tucked safely behind a shed at Liz and Arthur’s place in Duror north of Oban. 

Our plan was to return in 2017 for an extended trip on the West Coast of Scotland and the Orkneys. That was not to be following our unfortunate meeting with a bombie on the West Coast of Tasmania in March of that year. Lynne spent most of the rest of 2017 in a wheelchair and on crutches with her left leg held together by a fancy stainless and carbon fibre framework nicknamed ‘Rodney’. 

Four years later and we’re back at Liz and Arthur’s with much the same plans as before.

After four years we expected some deterioration or damage, we’d brought with us all sorts of spare parts such as neoprene hatch covers and deck lines but apart from a bit of dirt it was as good as when we left it. The only repair was to replace a fibreglass patch done in the damp and cold of Iceland that had starting to peel off. 

Thank you so much Liz and Arthur for hosting our kayak for so long!!

A few more jobs and a bit of sorting then packing the kayak and we were ready to go. 

We ask a lot of our kayak trolley, home made from plastic plumbing pipe and fittings. The design has improved over the years, the current one is version three and probably can’t be improved substantially. The weak point has always been the wheels as golf cart wheels are not designed to take the weight of a loaded kayak. They’ve all eventually given us trouble and been replaced. 

This time though the trouble started before we’d even got our boat wet. Both lost their tyres on the way to the beach, then rolling on the rims alone destroyed them completely, but they did, just, get us to the beach.