Moving On

Day 62 –Kinlochan to Cuan Sound -  21^th July – 35.5 nm

“Hey well, why not? Let’s get up early.”

Team Managers Diary

The day starts with a bit of a nervous movement as we struggle to get the bus past our large-tented neighbours and then up the damp and slippery hill. As we drive back to Kinlochan we look over the Sound, it is choppy and there is a breeze blowing, but the swell is half-hearted and the white-caps are still in bed.

The forecast is for strongish W winds initially, easing later in the day. There is swell to the W of the island, which I guess will make itself known in the Forth of Lorn later, but the sound should be sheltered. I'm looking forward to paddling down the Sound of Mull, intrigued to see where we will end the day...

It’s quiet down at the slipway, it’s too early for a Kilchoan rush hour yet. By now we are so used to constantly moving on that we just get in to the pack-paddle or pack-drive routine, hardly a thought is spared for the place we are about to leave. Often they only get a brief glance over the shoulder as we leave. But today TM has a little spare time before the ferry, so she heads back over the hill to take a walk along the pretty beach at Sanna.

Quietly away from the slipway just after 8:00 and out towards Mull. The plan is just to sneak across quickly and grab the high-ground shelter along the W side of the Sound, down to Craignure. But life isn’t too bad in the middle, it is a bit breezy but no great dramas. The first food break comes as I pass the lighthouse just short of Tobermory, and then the multi-coloured haven itself slips by. Fond memories make a fleeting mental appearance before it’s back to reality and the miles ahead.

Another hour goes by before the tide really starts to help and then it’s 5.0 kts + for the remainder. The wind blows briskly down through a couple of gaps in the high ground and whistles into my ear, but on the whole things are pretty pleasant. There is a variety of traffic around to add a little interest and the miles slip smoothly by.  

Craignure is the final realistic option before rounding the corner, so we’ll take a time out there to wait for tide and wind to sort out. After 4 hrs 30 and 20 nm the cluster of shops arrive, bringing a welcome leg stretch for a few hours.

We briefly refresh our memories of Craignure, it doesn't take long, and then wait around for things to happen.

4 hrs later it’s time to crack on. We are going off the forecast now, we can’t see the conditions around the corner. The plan is to slog against the wind for a couple of hours and then reach the crossing point as the wind is due to drop. I hope the wind is working to the plan too. The timings are dictated by weather and daylight, it really goes against the grain, but the tide will just be paid lip-service today.

Around the corner it is breezy, the wind rattles out of Loch Spelve and drops the speed to 3.5 kts, but the sun is out and the scenery is impressive, all around. Admin breaks are a little tricky as the boat blows around so much in the off-shore winds, on the upside there is no fetch.

Finally I reach the crossing point, decision time. It’s out into the middle or turn around and head back. TM has already taken the ferry to Oban, so turning around would be a little awkward, I’m carrying kit for an overnight option just in case. But of course I'm not going to do without the little German hot water bottle and I head out into the middle. The swell gets quite large but it’s a trade–off as the wind starts to ease too. There’s some confused water about two thirds of the way across and to be honest I’m glad to reach the shelter behind Insh Island, but we've had worse.

I push against a recently turned tide in the sound at Easdale, to a welcome wave from the van-driving stalker. Easdale is a pleasant, but curious looking place as it straggles the sound, while one half sits precariously beneath the cliffs. Now it's only another mile or two to the sheltered water of Cuan Sound. I like this place, for some reason it just seems a special place to me. Here the flow has just turned too, the wind has gone now and the last light brings out the colours. It’s a peaceful, magical spot, a good place to end the day.

I call TM to ask of any camping arrangements, she tells me to look over to the left, she waves and asks if this will do. She has stumbled across the Argyll Kayaker Cove, run by Michael and Caroline Fothergill.

It looks good to me. It turns out to be more than that - a waterside, kayak-friendly camping idyll with a welcome hot shower. A good overnight venue for Aled's West Coast Challenge we reckon. It’s late enough now to call for another boil-in-the-bag dinner. We sit on the water’s edge, the sun slides behind the hill and the world turns quiet, I'm mesmerised by the water flowing by.

I could and sit and watch it all night.

TM is not so easily pleased, she's more concerned by the temperature, bedtime beckons.

Ardnamurchan

Day 61 – Portnaluchaig to Kinlochan -  20^th July – 25.3 nm

Daily life revolves around the forecast of course. The tides present their point of view, but the forecast has the final say. Today is a good example.

It’s 14 nm to the rocky coastline of Ardnamurchan, 10 nm of it is open water. The forecast is for dead calm initially but then the wind will come with the change of tide and quickly strengthen. This afternoon doesn't look good, with strong winds from a slightly unusual SE direction.

It’s going to be a pushing the timings and pushing your luck sort of day. A late paddling arrival or an early weather arrival could make things a little sticky. So it’s out of bed early, and decadently regardless of the tide I try to make a more successful job of negotiating the reefs. It’s easier this time, just keep going for the bigger gap.

If the forecast is correct then the wind should arrive when I'm still a few miles from the coast. The plan then is to head to the nearest bit of coastline shelter and work along the edge towards the point to reassess. Sanna Bay gives an early finish option.

Other than a clumsy, unscheduled toilet stop on one of the reefs, all goes to plan for the first couple of hours. Flat conditions and pleasant scenery, blissfully alone in the early morn.

I can see darkness looming over the distant hills now and as per the forecast the wind comes rattling out of the SE. Disconcertingly, I see it approaching over the water. Soon it’s a chunky, splashy chop with a face full of spray whenever waves go over the bow.

Still a couple of miles out now and the wind is funnelled down through some low ground at Kilmory, the sting in the tail. I point a little more to the right, and head for the cliffs bordering the low ground. Eventually I sit in close below the cliffs, hiding in a narrow cleft as I take a chance to eat. Phew, that was hard work.

There are another few miles along the cliffs and then I turn into Sanna Bay. Team Manger has just arrived, even in the poor weather it is surprising how much of an advantage a kayak can gain when the corners are cut.

4 ½ tiring hours to get here, it’s now time for lunch and some fresh clothes.

A horse sized dog barks convincingly at us from a house nearby, TM is a little concerned. No worries I say, it’s stuck behind a substantial looking fence. It jumps the fence in an easy, well-rehearsed manoeuvre - aah...

The shaggy brown beast heads determinedly our way, but when it arrives it feels it has done its duty with all that barking and is now just a friendly large lump. It scrounges some lunch, pees on the van wheels and my boat (I'm not going to argue with it) and then wanders back to the house. There it stands looking smugly at the miffed Jack Russell it left behind the fence.

TM managed to get a forecast update on the way around this morning. The wind is going W later and dropping to high teens, but with a chunky swell coming in too. I guess this will arrive prior to the wind. I'm not too convinced about paddling around the rocky headland in those conditions. On the other hand: the SE wind this morning was pretty strong, it’s hard to judge here in the lee of the hills, but it shouldn't bounce off the cliffs too much though.

It’s comfy in the van and as I pontificate and procrastinate I realise that if I don’t get my act together the decision will be made for me. I go for the SE, working on the theory that the relatively narrow channel on the other side will limit the fetch.

How wrong can you be?

The pretty bay is left behind as the hard-as-nails lighthouse drifts into view. I'm close to the cliffs and all goes well for a while but then as I start heading more E the wind bares its teeth. Of course the western entrance to the Sound of Mull runs west/east and is relatively narrow, but I had overlooked the fact that the Sound itself is a 20 nm channel running NW and it is obvious it funnels the wind nicely, why wouldn't it?

It takes an hour and a half of hanging onto the blades and battling the white-caps to get to Kilchoan. On the way the wind is breaking the 30 mph barrier and I am getting a little concerned here and there. Not the best of places to be on your own. The hoped for landing at Tobermory is now nothing more than a pipe-dream.

As I can see further down the Sound I find sets of breakers making their way up the Sound too, oh yeah...anyone else want to join in?

I can’t go straight into Kilchoan, those waves on a day out from Craignure are too big for me. But they come in definite and predictable sets, with a little application of timing and dog-leg paddling all becomes more manageable and I make my way in. It’s a good finish and I'm almost smiling.

I arrive to more glares, not seen those for a while, from the ‘professionals’ on the jetty though. No replies to my Hello’s. TM arrives, grasps the atmosphere and we head into the little gold mine of a store to stock up. The place is friendlier, and heaving, as everyone else stocks up too, it’s a popular little spot. We sit on a bench outside, lifting sugar levels with a family bag of sweets. Conversation and our attention drifts between the breakers out in the middle of the Sound, more narrow roads and the roof of the store, which is flapping alarmingly in the wind. We watch a fisherman slowly row in from his boat; it looks like hard work out there...

The day finishes further up the road on a small campsite. We watch as the wind drops away and I second-guess that we should be paddling around now, but then before I can think that one through the W wind arrives and things look just as shitty, only in the opposite direction. Better the devil you know perhaps?

Out in the pouring rain, we watch a group of new arrivals wrestle a large tent into a small space. They follow this entertaining act with a barbeque lighting session. I wonder if it is waterproof... oh, it appears not.

The day ends soggily.

Proper Day

Day 60 – Applecross to Portnaluchaig – 19^th July  - 35.2 nm

Today the forecast can’t be beaten, it’s a calm start with little more than a breeze for later. It is a sheltered route too, taking in the Inner Sound, followed by Loch Alsh and then the Sound of Sleat. Happily swell shouldn't be a problem today. I’m looking forward to this one, paddling under the iconic Skye Bridge feels like we are returning south again and the highlight of the day will be passing through the fast waters of Kyle Rhea. I feel lucky to have such weather for the day, it’s not a time to hang around, so 07:05 OTW.

I leave Applecross in an oily calm, a stress free few hours lie ahead. Not for Team Manger though, she has to negotiate the steep pass out of Applecross in the van. 

The TM Diary: “I pack up and attack the high pass out of Applecross. It is a proper Alpine Pass style steep ascent, and a scary, steep descent. I am going so slowly. Maybe cycling isn't that attractive after all, it looks like a long push to me.”

Realistic if nothing else, that’s the TM.

As I head down the sound I am a little disappointed, the conditions are perfect but the last few days are catching up a little, I feel rather rough. Things ache in places where I didn't think I had places. But just as I clear the Crowlin Islands, 4 porpoises appear alongside. Not an uncommon sight, but usually they keep their distance. These gregarious fellas however accompany me for the next hour as we head peacefully towards the bridge. They take their leave as I reach the buoy before the high concrete arch. I notice that the buoy has a website address painted on it, do people look at the websites of buoys...?

The plan was to get an early start in order to catch the tide here at the bridge. I check the base of the buoy and can see that timings look good, the tide is starting to run favourably. I slide beneath the bridge with a quick photo and then work across towards the entrance to Kyle Rhea. It’s further than I thought but finally I turn into the narrow channel between the hills. A yacht sneaks up on the outside but an inside line keeps me level. We touch 9 kts as we pass through the geological gap. It’s still and calm, the sun is out and we are doing 9 kts, what else could you ask for?

But of course it can’t last, finally the channel widens out and the flow speed drops, I'm disappointed as the speed steadily dips to 5.0 kts. I’ve been spoilt for the last half hour.

In 2012 I spent an idyllic night camped on the Sandaig Islands, so I drift across to take a quick look while the boat slides further down the sound. Last time I got hit quite hard here by a wind out of Loch na Dal to the right, the same happens again, but not just as strong. But this time Loch Hourn to the left is emptying on the ebb and the wind blowing against the flow chops things up quickly and quite sharply. It takes about 45 mins to get clear, and I'm glad, I don’t want anything further to challenge the idyll.

Close to the headland at Doune I find myself flogging against the tide, enough to need to move in close - didn't expect this. But then as I clear the headland I suddenly gain a knot and all is happy again. It’s the flow out of the loch playing around I guess.

TM has taken the ferry across from Armadale to Mallaig and as I approach Mallaig the ferry crosses ahead, accompanied by an I-can-see-you phone call. Clouds slide over the top and a breeze chops things up a little as I approach the town. It gets tense for a time as I have to double back briefly to avoid a Calmac Threesome, the ferries throw a few radical manoeuvres at the mouth of the harbour and then the calm returns.

7 hrs on the go now and I'm starting to flag, but just as I look for an excuse to slack the sun comes out  and I feel duty bound to get going again. It would be rude not to.

Geography dictates that the day will end somewhere around Arisaig. My arms are part of this equation too. So I report in to TM to break the news, but the onset of summer hols means that campsite spaces here are a rare commodity. After much fruitless searching TM finds a spot and gives me directions. But all those reefs and sandy beaches look the same to me, and even with the help of Mr Garmin I screw it up. I have to paddle out and try again, asking sheepishly for a little VHF assistance along the way. I think that is the first lost landing in 1300 nm or so, I suppose I can live with that.

Anyway I get it right this time and land on a pretty but rather smelly beach, to meet a slightly stressed Team Manager.

The campsite is a straggly and scruffy affair, we seem to be parked on a flattened patch of rubble, surrounded by more rubble and various assorted debris, but beggars can't be choosers, and the sunshine view is fantastic. We look out over Egg, Rum and Muck, backed by the Hebrides in the distance.

Once again I forget to turn the Moron Magnet off and our neighbours lay claim to the small space behind our van, laying out their sofa and elephant-sized dog cushion. As I unpack I step around them to return paddling kit to the van - unusual. Team Manager leaves me to it and heads out on a de-stressing bike ride.

The day ends with a beer and reflections on a pleasant paddle and those useful miles. We are positioned nicely for Ardnamurchan now. An unhelpful forecast takes the edge off things, but I'm passed caring nowadays.

We sit on the tailgate to watch the pretty sunset, trying not to kick the dog in the process.

Windy Waiting

Day 59 – Gairloch to Applecross – 18^th July – 21.8 nm

The wind is mid-teens from the SW, but the forecast is for top end 20s late morning. So it’s an early, tide-flogging start to grab what we can to get the day going. We wheel the boat across the campsite and I slip off the beach at 06:50, under chilly, grey skies.

The plan is to get across to Red Point and re-asses there. Crossing Loch Gairloch is no drama, then I head S, scratching along the rocky coastline, trying to avoid as much of the tide as possible. Another yeah..whatever, stop-start day - I've long since given up asking the god's to give me a break.

Taran and me win the race to Red Point where I can’t get hold of Team Manager. The conditions don’t seem too bad so I set off to cross the mouth of Loch Torridon.  Not far out TM manages to get in touch, XC Weather have just updated their forecast – 26 mph SW from 10:00 to 13:00. It’s 08:45 now, it will be close. We’ll go for it.

But not long after 9:00 the wind arrives a little prematurely, boat speed is soon down to 3.5 kts and I’m gripping the paddles hard. The fetch is thankfully short, but it’s a bit of a splashy battle across to Fearnmore. I catch my breath in a small sheltered bay and try to let TM know that I survived. But once again the phone and VHF don't want to play. Though it’s sheltered here, there is no landing option, so I grab a bite to eat as the boat blows around. A quick glance at the moody scenery completes the break and then it's time to batten down the hatches, before heading out around the corner.

1.5 nm later I decide that there isn't really any point to all this and head in to the bay of Ob Chuaig, I look back to watch the white stuff blowing past the entrance on the way in. Mr O.S. describes a sandy beach, but there is no beach, the water ends with a band of rounded boulders backed by the sort of undergrowth that David Attenborough would find something interesting in. It’s too far to the next get-out at Sand, so this will have to do.

After a clumsy aborted attempt to get out, I head up the stream a little and dump the boat in the bracken. There’s no easy access here and I slip and slide my way up a muddy path towards the tiny settlement of Cuaig. This get-out was on the option plan this morning and hopefully Team Manager will head this way. I sit in the rain on the side of the stream-carved scar, under the wary gaze of a suspicious cow. Here it’s a toss-up between the chilly wind or the midges, I shuffle about while I to find a compromise.

The phone chirps into life, it’s International Rescue, on her way once again to bail me out. Life improves. She also managed to access a little tea-drinking wi-fi this morning, so we have a forecast update – the wind is due to ease later. This means a soggy afternoon to be spent in a kit strewn van while we wait for things to blow through. I wonder if my boat is safe stashed down in the bracken, Team Manager looks at me quizzically – just who is going to go down there then? As she says this, a cottage just up the road suddenly springs into life and the family head out into the wind and rain, straight down the muddy path towards the beach. Sod’s law.

As I doze a passing sea paddler parks his van for a chat and asks if I have any paddling ideas for the current weather. Yeah, sit inside and think about it. He inquires what we are up to and once again, evasive answers are given. Apologies Ian!

The edge goes from the wind, but it’s still a bit choppy outside the bay. I wrestle the boat out of the bracken for an 18:30 OTW, the dropping tide helpfully means there is some sand now.  Out of the bay, into the draughty bit and it’s another 3.5 kt slog southwards towards Applecross. The breeze makes things splashy but the shelter that Skye provides means that there is no swell, life progresses slowly but steadily. Short of the peaceful beach at Sand the wind finally starts to ease, it was an hour early arriving this morning, and of course it’s an hour late in going away now. I glance across to Sand and think of a night spent there 3 years earlier, of broken trolleys and pipe whittling. The memories fade as I round the corner into Applecross Bay.

The bay is flat calm, and I become strangely disorientated as I paddle in the wrong direction for a time, I struggle to make sense of things. Eventually I get my act together and am happily reunited with Team Manager on the rocky foreshore by the pub.

It’s a pleasant setting, but the light is fading and there’s still plenty to do. The day ends with a rush of soggy-kit hanging, boil-in-the-bag boiling and map-case map swapping. We drift in to darkness.  Team Manager is a little frustrated with the late arrivals and early departs, there is much to see but little is getting seen. Tonight is just another example.