You Snooze, You Lose

Day 58 – Gairloch – 17^th July – 0 nm

The wind blew strong overnight and moved around to the E. The boats threatened to make a bid for Skye Bridge on their own so the van was headed back into wind in the early hours.

The alarm goes off anyway, but it looks like a no-go at start o’clock. The wind is still blowing pretty hard and the bay has a good dose of spume and spray. We decide to sit things out and try to go later in the day. Hurry up and wait...

With hindsight this is a mistake, the wind eases off for a time late morning, but by the time we realise and start to get things together the window has gone and the wind returns. It veers and comes hard from the SW now.

For the rest of the day it is up and down, but marginal all the while, every time we think it has settled it returns.

Planning, admin, kit and snoozing fill the day. We watch a dog obedience class in the field next door go badly wrong, teeth, fur and AWOL would some it up. We amuse ourselves further watching various items blow across the campsite and pin themselves to the downwind boundary fence next door. It’s another UK trip glamorous day.

I decide on an 18:00 cut off to go. It’s still windy so we head down to the small pizza restaurant for tea. So does everyone else, it’s full and we find ourselves eating in the ominously rattling marquee outside. The waitress reassures us that all is fine, it is anchored down to the tractor apparently; I hope it’s a large tractor.

The food is welcome and swiftly consumed, not bad at all. Then suddenly we realise the wind has dropped, the rattles have stopped. I sneak a look outside, the bay is flat now with only a gentle breeze. It’s 18:20, a few salvage miles would be possible, but both paddler and driver have partaken in the odd beer. 

The opportunity is missed - you snooze, you lose.

While it is a little disappointing, we are on the right side of the headland now at least, an early night won't go amiss and there's now time left to reach for the whisky shelf. Every cloud and all that...

Nemesis

Day 57 – Scourie to Gairloch – 16^th July – 46.4 nm

Overnight the forecast has changed, the E winds have turned to a SW breeze, a gentle headwind all the way today it seems, with winds arriving later tonight - but then there is no swell forecast, so that’s all I need to hear.

Turning the corner has dropped the timings back a bit so it’s a relaxed start today. Getting around Cape Wrath means the tension has fallen away, life is pretty positive.

We take a few minutes to reflect on yesterday. Conditions look much better today, perhaps I was impatient and perhaps should have waited for today. But then it worked out and we didn't lose the day. I am still pretty chuffed with how I paddled, that couldn't be faulted. However, I also know that I got away with it - I am under no illusion about that either. The outcome could have been very different.

But we are where we are, the sun is out, let’s crack on.

In 2012 the trip theme seemed to be ‘Chasing Headlands’, in 2015 it’s more like ‘Scratching the Miles’. But today I feel more at home as we are back to hunting headlands. It’s an exposed day, with few options to land and those that there are are far off the route. But conditions look good, I’m happy to head out.

The forecast, though not perfect, could be much worse for this stretch. I want long miles from today, and all in all it looks pretty good. The tide here isn't dramatic, to grab the miles I take a 3 hr hit on the flow and set out early, it’s going to be a long day.

The elephant in the room is Rubha Reidh though. I made mistakes with this headland in 2012, it was the probably the worst day of the trip, it left me scared, possibly scarred, and broke my confidence for pretty much the rest of the trip. Today I've got something to prove.

I like Scourie, if I had to be stuck anywhere, here would do. But it’s yet another fleeting visit, and I head out at 09:30, smiling for a change.

There’s not much tide to push against as I head across towards Point of Stoer, 9 nm hence. The forecast SW breeze actually turns out to be a N-NW breeze.  The forecast is 180 degrees out or so, but I'm not complaining, in fact my smile grows a little wider.

The scenery can’t be faulted, and neither can this gentle following breeze. There’s nothing more to say...

At the Point of Stoer I stop for a pleasant lunch break. I drift very slowly southward, so it looks like the tide has finally joined the party too. My stalker re-appears on the high ground before the lighthouse.  From this distance I can’t really be sure it is her, but I see everyone else giving the mad waver a wide berth and I guess it’s the TM, closely dodging a care in the community future.

A mile to the south of the headland I come across a Tern in distress, it makes a disturbingly human sound as it tries to evade the worrying of a Skua. Initially I guess the Skua is bullying the Tern into dropping its catch but then it dawns that it is after a more sinister outcome. The one-sided aerial combat continues, the Tern is more agile but the Skua is tenacious, and larger. There is a certain inevitability about the uneven matching. The Tern’s shrill cries pierce the quiet, I'm rooting for the plucky little fella, but steadily the Skua drives the Tern lower and lower. Eventually it hits the water. It doesn't get up.

I expect the Skua to close in to administer the coup de grace, but it doesn't. It moves a distance away downwind and sits on the surface; I guess it’s waiting for the Tern to drown, avoiding any risk of harm. Tho’ nature, red, in tooth and claw (and beak).

Just to keep the side up, a Guillemot chivvies me along for a few minutes. I don’t know what I do to upset the little darlings but they do seem to take dislike now and then.

The clock shows 4 hrs or so as the headland of Rubha Na Coigich slides by over to the left. The distant Summer Isles follow. The wind is picking up now and I’m catching a few surfs, the waves are a good match speed wise and progress is good. The boat is pointing towards Greenstone Point, it would be nice to tick off Rubha Reidh, but a 34 nm day would only get me to Slaggan Bay, still 10 nm short of the next landing at Melvaig. We’ll think about that as we get nearer.

I’ll run out of tide before RR anyway.

But then I take a minute out to listen to the sexy sounding coastguard lady, as she reads out the forecast: Rough-Very Rough - Severe Gale 9 - Soon. Sod that, I’m not getting stuck on the wrong side of that sodding headland again. Oh no. A heading change, right hand down a bit, pointing towards RR. It is going to be a Monster Day.

I’m concerned about missing the tide at RR so the pace is lifted a little, the new heading also points me slightly across sea, stretching the wavelength once again, giving me a few lengthy rides. Closing on the headland the wind drops away, as the tide changes. The flow heads directly N from the headland. The smooth, dark line gives the game away as it pushes against the slight N breeze, I sneak a little further in to easily avoid it.

Now I round Rubha Reidh in a smooth calm, with a quiet TFFT of relief on my lips. I get a good look at the lighthouse this time. Porpoises stand out as they feed along the eddy line and to the south all is smooth, without a breath of wind. Nearby there are some intriguing rock formations, while the view of the distant mountain tops on Skye brings a smile. Life is tired, but rather pleasant. 

I scratch gently along the coastline, but to be truthful there isn't much flow close in. The van is easily spotted at Melvaig,it has a large red and white kayak on top, Team Manager adds a few words of encouragement, before the Taran points south again for the last few miles to Little Sand.

As I round the last corner and turn into Loch Gairloch a stiff SE wind comes flying out. The calm before the storm was rather brief it seems, the wind is on its way.

I sneak up the stream as far as I can and then it’s a long trolley to the far corner of the expansive campsite. The place is heaving, but TM has chosen wisely and we stake our claim in the least desirable corner. That’ll do nicely.

TM tells me of her day, apparently Kylesku gets the vote as the most beautiful setting on the trip so far (I point out that Rhyl is still to come). She also vividly tells of the stressful day of driving, along narrow, van-overhanging roads. The paddling day was just the opposite today, stress free with plenty of space. What a difference a day makes.

As the wind starts to rattle the van, we reflect that it was all timed perfectly, absolutely ******* perfectly.

10 hrs 30 for the 46 nm

Monster Day.

Heaven and Hell - Cape Wrath

Day 56 – Durness to Scourie – 15^th July – 30.0 nm

We are as far N as we can get really, and not that far distant from the longest day either. The sun goes to bed at late o'clock up here. Though the clock tells how late it is, the body clock ignores things, you still find yourself pottering around when you should be long ago tucked up. Just another little factor to add to the mix.

Yesterday I wandered down to the Tourist Office. There a pleasant notice took a weight off my mind, the bomb-droppers are away on their summer hols and the range is shut. I hope the Russians don’t pick July to invade. Wind and swell are still part of the immediate future, but thankfully bombs and bullets shouldn't be.

It’s blowing from the SW today, there’s a hint of swell running around the corner too, 2-4 ft of it. The forecast is for the wind to move to the E tomorrow, which would make life much better, but of course there’s a catch, the swell is forecast to go to 4-6 ft with it, and on the corner the route would be close to the edge of the 6-8 ft band.

Impatiently I decide to go with better the devil you know, 06:45 OTW means a bleary eyed paddle out.  I'm nervous, there wasn't much sleep in the bus last night. I want to get on with the job, but it’s another reputation to contend with. I feel that this isn't going to be a good one though. It looks like another day of questionable weather and limited options.

The offshore wind takes the Taran quickly to the end of Faraid Head, via the impressive rocky outcrops. Turning left now and the chilly wind is funnelled down from the hills via the Kyle of Durness. It rattles out of the bay to make a short but splashy crossing.

Soon I'm under the cliffs once again and I sneak past the grey and naked lump of ‘Bomb Rock’, hoping that the Tourist Office sign was up to date. I'm still nervous of the wind blowing over the tops, perhaps if I ignore it it will go away...

I'm busy working on my blissful ignorance skills when I suddenly find myself in a lumpy tiderace at Kearvaig. Like Harry Houdini, I didn't see that one coming. It’s big and intimidating but along the cliffs it’s pretty linear at least. But as I round the end the wind comes from the side and it all becomes unpleasant, confused and breaking. I turn left, out of the flow and into the eddy of the bay. I don’t have to travel far to leave the flow and things become manageable again.

I'm exposed to the wind once again until I regain the cliffs just short of the Cape. Here the man in the little pink boat is viewed with curiosity by the visitors at the lighthouse. It’s windy, I'm nervous and I can see hints of what lies around the corner drifting by. I seriously consider calling it a day and turning back, but that would be a lot of a hassle.

I'm there now, this it, I poke my nose nervously around the corner, it’s chunky and confused. If I have to turn back, Kearvaig beach and bothy would be the option, followed by a long trolley out. It would all be a real pain but at least there is an option there.

 I don’t really have the spare processing power to assess things too deeply now, I just get on with it for a while. It’s confused along the eddy line so I head out to get clear. It’s lumpy further out as the swell stacks up with the flow, but it’s a little more predictable. Eventually I feel I’m getting clear but it’s slow going, the eddy is miles long. I finally get a little time to think, I can handle this if things get no worse. Southwards we go. It’s Hobson’s choice now anyway.

The SW wind is stiff and gives a good impression of wind over tide conditions, the swell is from a little further N though. Thankfully this means it is not square on to the flow but it is still stacked up a little, the angular difference from the wind confuses life a touch of course. But as I make progress further south things start to look a little more positive and I guess they will ease the further S I get.

Then I notice some white stuff down by the small rocky islands of Am Balg. I can’t really judge the size from here, I continue. Nearer now and it looks like a bit of a bouncy tiderace, but I guess we’ll soon be clear as we pass the island. 

The OS map didn't tell the full story here, a chart may have hinted a warning. Later I realise that the gentle ebb of further up was now funnelled through the mile wide gap, and the swell stacked up accordingly. For the next 35 minutes I work harder than I can remember. It is absolutely sodding awful. Big, intimidating, breaking, relentless and full width - from my perspective I can’t see a way around nor any easy route through. It goes on, and on...

It’s more than a mile before I have the balls to turn the boat anywhere other than square on, now I turn S looking for any way out. This puts me at an angle which gives a welcome increase in wavelength and eventually gets me away from the breaking stuff, but now the I’m parallel to the coastline and the rebound is large, lumpy and from everywhere.

But it’s all down to just one person, it’s not going to go away, get on with it. Have a cry later...

Finally it’s over and I sneak into the gap behind the island of Seana Sgeir, jeez...

I earned my money on that one.

I park the boat on a just-submerged rock and fill my stomach and empty my bladder. I try to call Team Manager but there’s no answer. Later I find she’s sat on a beach a few hundred metres away. But eventually we meet up and sit on the beautiful beach at Oldshore Beg. The sun makes such an appearance that I have to cover up the old bald patch. The clock says it’s only just lunchtime, but I find that hard to believe, it’s seems so long ago since Durness dropped behind.

By 15:00 it is time to get back on or it will never happen, the wind has dropped somewhat and there is little swell here. After this morning’s escapade conditions are positively wonderful as I continue down towards the final destination of Scourie. It’s a relaxed paddle and enjoyable now. By the time Handa Island is reached the tide has turned and I need to do a little eddy hopping, but this is enjoyable too, it’s mellow and adds a little thought to the moment. I thread through my way blindly through the rocky gaps. The sound is flat calm and the scenery is special, it’s a magical place. One to add to the return-to list.

Next is a bit of a ferry glide as I cross to find the gap to Scourie Bay and then I can see the welcome sight of the peaceful natural harbour and welcoming campsite.

The campsite at Scourie is a very friendly and pleasant place to be, all the more so because it now marks the end to my last ever trip around Cape Wrath. The campsite is one of those that makes you feel relaxed the instant you cross the entrance, the best so far?

Kit is laid out in the sunshine, Team Manager sets the kitchen up and I take a while to think things through. Once again I learnt a lesson today on the ebb, it was the same scenario of ebb v swell and wind that I had met previously, nothing new there now. But what was new, and what caught me out, was the sheer scale of things. I learnt a serious lesson there.

Ending up where I did was not the best of things, but on the upside I had to consider that, technically and tactically, that was the best paddling I had probably done in the last 15 years. Nothing had come close, I had to be pleased. Paradoxically the day actually lifted my confidence.

We eat well and ponder life, while the midges ponder us. The sunset is spectacular and voices become hushed as the peaceful campsite turns to watch the great orb fade beneath the horizon.

It’s a heavenly end to a hellish day.

Cape Wrath Lite

Day 55 – Clasheddy to Durness – 14^th July – 15.6 nm

It’s going to be another day of buggering about. The forecast is for 20mph winds from the west, with a 4-6 ft swell running up from the west / south west. I'm not going to get around Cape Wrath today, but then White Head could be seen as a mini-version with limited landings, it will probably give me today’s I-don’t-want-any-more-of-this fix.

On the upside, with geography and weather working together, it means that the day is limited to a short leg to Durness and no further, that’s a bit of a relief really.

It’s an early-ish 0700 on the water, leaving sleepy Skerray Bay behind – a pleasant spot. The wind is forecast to pick up strongly early on and so it’s going to be another day of farting around to see what we can get away with. Initially the aim is to sneak across Tongue Bay and then work up along the rocky coastline, taking a time-out at Strathan to see how things develop.

My left shoulder has been grumbling for a few days now; yesterday’s scream-if-you-want-to-go-faster outing didn't help, so I've swapped to my Legend Hydra paddles for the first leg today. I wouldn't normally swap to something new in poor weather, but I've done a lot of miles with the Hydras and the gentler catch is needed. I need to look after the old top-arm shoulder or there could be problems ahead.

On these trips, the aches and pains tend to relate to the intensity of the previous day(s) rather than the outright number of miles paddled I find.  Stress causes more pain than miles alone - a sharp 10 nm day of grimly hanging on to those blades will hurt more for the following days, than a 30 nm steady cruise does. A form of unpleasantness quality over quantity I guess. Unfortunately yesterday had an element of both.

It is breezy as I head across, squalls and heavy showers litter the first hour or so, the clock ticks slowly. At least the fetch is short and while it’s draughty the conditions are fairly flat. It’s a good opportunity to have a bit of a compass and map nav exercise. I part Rabbit Islands and work across to sneak through a gap below the headland. The turn into the bay reveals a pretty, sandy beach hiding beneath atmospheric scenery at Strathan.

It’s peeing down, and the clock shows less than 90 mins since I set out, if feels like a full day already. It’s chilly too and I take a sneaky opportunity to change into some fresh kit while we try to decide what to do. I'm a little nervous about the headland true, we can’t see around the other side, it is blowing hard and there are no get-outs, not one, for 9 nm or so. That’s probably a couple of hours or more in this wind.

I'm working now on the principle that Cape Wrath should take the sting out of the swell and Faraid Head will limit the fetch a little against the wind. If the swell is from the SW this may all work, it it’s more from the W then diffraction enters the game to a greater extent and if it’s from the NW then my ideas could turn out to really be a great big load of bollocks. At times like this I just want someone who can tell me what I should do. I want my Mummy!

The old we’ll-just-sneak-around-the-end-and-turn-around-if-it-doesn't-work cliché card is played and I leave the steadily increasing patch of flat sand. Downdraughts batter down from the top of the cliffs, close in life is noisy but fairly accommodating. I am aiming to reach the top close to slack water, I really don’t want any wind over tide hassle today. Obviously this means a slog on the other side, but I'm hoping that geography might help me out with a bit of an eddy behind Faraid Head, actually about 4nm or so of an eddy. It’s a bit of an optimistic call, but hey, you never know your luck...

It is lumpy at the end, the turn-back warning light flickers but it’s not fully illuminated yet. I push on into the wind and as I move steadily away from the cliffs the rebound fades and things start to settle, blue skies sneak over the top.  Soon it is just a long, but fairly flat slog into the stiff wind. I can see the cliff top campsite at Durness, it takes a while to get any closer, but eventually the Taran makes a sandy contact with the rocky Russian-roulette beach. I'm glad it’s over, it wasn't all that bad in the end, the wind was just a slog really. It’s the decisions that are tiring and stressful. There’ll be more tomorrow.

Durness has a strange feel to it, it’s really just a few houses, a pub, campsite and a couple of stores, yet somehow it feels more like a small town. There is a constant bustle about the place. The campsite is busy but we find a nice spot, unfortunately I forget to turn off the Moron Magnet and soon we are crowded in. Our new neighbours are pleasant people it seems but I just want a bit of peace and quiet - the dog, motorbike and music shoe-horned into the narrow gap soon mean a grumpy repositioning of the Team Fatboy bus.

The wind takes the clouds away and as the sun comes out Team Manager heads out for a get-away-from-it-all bike ride. I find myself chatting to a gentleman about his tidy little 1970 VW van, he imported it from California to get a rust-free model - impressed, that seems like serious van owning stuff to me. He’s a nice guy and as the conversation wanders on it turns out he’s from my home town. Now he’s just pottering about the place in his smart little van. He says he likes the sound of my trip, ‘what an adventure!’  - I most definitely like the sound of his though, you can keep a chunk of the adventure.

He glances across at the unglamorous positioning of our van and suggests we could park next to him on the cliff-top, his neighbours are due to leave soon and we could achieve a much sought after sea view.

I look out over the bay, I know he has a point. Logically I can see that it is a pretty impressive view, it ticks all the boxes. But my emotions are strangely flat, it does absolutely nothing for me, nothing at all. All I see are eddy lines and flow, fetch, re-bound and swell, cliffs and landing options. It’s all I have been looking at for the last 50 days or so now. I look across to the van too and realise that the back of the shower-block wall will do for me. It makes a pleasant change.

TM returns from an impressive sounding bike ride, with tails of dérailleur gears and sand dunes, a nice combination for the team bike mechanic I reflect. We decide to eat out for a treat, but it isn't. Still the bundled wi-fi helps with the weather forecast.

It looks another should-we / shouldn't-we day lies on the doorstep.