Cape Wrath And Beyond.

Or as we dubbed it on the day, Cape Serenity. But more of the serenity of Cape Wrath later. 

The Calmac ferry arrived in Ullapool at a good time for us, the tide was high enough that the car deck was just about level with the street making hauling the kayak on its trolley off the ferry far easier than it could have been. A few hundred metres of hauling later and we’d found a spot for the tent just metres from the beach and tomorrow morning’s high tide. 

Through the Summer Isles the next morning with a light following wind then on around Rubha Coigeach crossing to Achmevich Beach for lunch. The now windless day was soft shades of translucent silvery grey. The sea sluggishly moved with a barely noticeable south westerly swell and above us the thin low cloud veiled the sun but admitted a satiny brightness that made the mirror-like sea glisten like mercury. 

On around the Point of Stoer travelling fast now with a healthy SW wind filling both sails. Just before the Point itself, The Old Man of Stoer, a sea stack well known to UK rock climbers stood tethered to the cliffs by a climbing rope. Turning into the wind around the Point it was a bit of a push against the fierce wind funneling over the headland and out through the bay to find a campsite in the shore of Culkein village. 

The South Westerly was still blowing the next morning so it was a very fast sail NE across the bay and then North to Handa for a cuppa and something to eat. Handa Island is leased to the Scottish Wildlife Trust. It is of particular significance for its seabirds such as guillemots, razorbills and great skuas breed in internationally significant numbers. 

 

A little after 1pm and we’d set up camp at the top of the beach at Kinlochbervie and let Alan know we had arrived. Alan, a work colleague from many years ago, was joining us to round Cape Wrath and along the north coast. 

In the pub that evening we pored over maps and tidal information and decided that the conditions the next day looked good, the east going stream started about 5:30pm and we had a weakening SW wind to help us up the coast, so a sleep in and a lazy morning before heading off. 

As we left the shelter of Loch Inchard and turned north, the southerly tide and rebound made for slow and uncomfortable going for a few kilometres - hopefully not a taste of what may lay ahead. 

Sandwood Bay about 15km south of the Cape was realistically our only opportunity to land along the cliff bound and rocky shore and the benign sea conditions meant the surf would be small. Sandwood is just one of those amazing beaches, sweeping for about 3km in a graceful arc backed by dunes and low rocky hills. 

The SW wind had weakened considerably and all was pretty calm until an area of boils and a quite unruly sea just south of the Cape indicated a lot of water was still moving. Somewhere.

It was hard to tell. 

Did this mean we had our timing wrong? 

The sea calmed down closer to the Cape and by the time we arrived it was as serene as we could have hoped for. In fantastic sunshine we passed through two big arches right on the Cape, lining up photos, meandering as well as it’s possible to meander in a 5m+ double kayak back and forth revelling in the serenity of Wrath. 

On to Kearvaig and its luxurious bothy, but before we could settle and put the billy on it was a long long haul with our kayaks and gear over the long low tide length of beach of soft sand. 

Some days, and this was one of them, it seems harder work at the end of the day getting the kayak above the high water mark and camp set up than the whole day’s paddling. 

Kearvaig is one of those special places, remote wild and wonderful. You’ll probably look it up on Google Earth and get some idea of the place but either by foot, bike or kayak endeavour to get there in real life. Arriving by kayak is probably the most challenging but whatever you do, try and avoid arriving at low tide like we did. Not only is Kearvaig an amazing spot but we were treated to a calm evening of amazing light and cloud scapes. 

Cape Wrath in the background.

Out through the small but messy surf the next morning to pass spectacularly high cliffs abounding with puffins and guillemots. We thought the arches at Cape Wrath were impressive but this coastline just became increasingly magnificent. 

Durness was murky with drizzle but that didn’t deter the beach goers who we spotted huddling out of the rain under large beach towels. Too hard core for us - we went to the pub for a pint and counter meal still in our dripping kayaking gear. 

Being comfy and warm in the pub, and a second pint, inevitably meant lunch was a bit longer than it would have been if we too had huddled on the beach in the drizzle, so Rispond, a few kilometres along the coast offered a good landing and camping space. 

Rispond’s little harbour with a beautiful stone jetty and adjacent buildings were built in 1788 initially for trade in wool to Holland then salt herring and a salmon bottling plant. Now the buildings are holiday rental accommodation and a private holiday house, all in very good condition and well cared for. We certainly appreciated the flat grass on the front lawn. 

The very sheltered harbour and slip are used almost exclusively by the local lobster fisherman, who stores a week’s catch in slatted wooden crates tied floating in the water there until he heaves them all onto his ute to be shipped to Portugal.  There is no quota, the lobsters just have to be the legal size.

If you have the chance to go sea kayaking anywhere in the UK pick any section of the coastline between Cape Wrath and Thurso. Just when we thought the arches, caves, tunnels, stacks and cliffs couldn’t get any more impressive we rounded the next headland and discovered more. 

Caves we entered without a torch enveloped us in total darkness long before reaching the end, and all the while the echoey disorientating sound of the sea swishing, booming and gurgling filled our ears. One particularly spooky cave had a beach of white sand at its head, but in the semi darkness it wasn’t readily apparent what the vague whiteness ahead was, until we were aground. In the gloomy light, the long wave-smoothed purple/red rocks of the tunnels were reminiscent of the view from those tiny cameras when travelling down an oesophagus. The gurgling sea added to the effect.  

Much of the coast is easily accessible, not particularly exposed or committing and the sections between road access are short. Information on launch spots, tides and all other necessary info can be found in this excellent guide book from Pesda Press in the UK. 

Our last tidal ‘interest’ was Strathy Point, sticking some 4km out into the Pentland Firth. With low tides in the morning we were paddling most, if not all day with the east going flood so we were expecting an accelerating current around the Point but were disappointed. 

Our last night before Thurso and the end of our trip was the natural harbour at Portskerra.

 

The last day of paddling was as spectacular as the previous few - a myriad of caves, maze like channels between sea stacks and through arches. A nice wind too so with sails up we made good progress past Dounreay, one of the earliest nuclear power and testing sites in the UK. It is now being decommissioned which was originally scheduled to take 100 years then accelerated to take 60 years at an estimated cost of £4.3 billion (~AU$8.6 billion) The site is now surrounded by two large wind farms. 

As we rounded Holborn Head and Thurso appeared in front of us so did the wind. The same lovely sailing wind we’d had earlier in the day was now right on the nose. With 6 weeks of paddling fitness in our upper bodies we just went for it, paddling hard the final 3km to the boat ramp just at the mouth of the River Thurso. 

The last of the whisky was drunk to celebrate another fantastic day on the water and we wandered off into the streets of Thurso in search of a shower, food and beer. 

Not necessarily in that order.