Mountain and Sea Scotland

Local hills - Ben Newe

2012-01-28T10:50:00.000Z

On a bright winter day with a cold northwesterly wind which was shrouding higher hills with cloud, Ben Newe seemed like it would give a pleasant half day walk. Sitting above the ruin of Glenbuchat Castle in Strathdon, it also promised some nice views over the Don. The direct ascent I estimated would take less than an hour, so I worked out a route to give a slightly longer walk with some variety.

The route goes from a forest car park just off the road through planted forest then out onto the open moor along a higher wood edge. The patchwork of light and shade was creating some really nice effects. One feature of this walk is that it is well sheltered from strong westerly wind apart from the very summit of the hill

The view north over Glenbuchat to the Buck o' the Cabrach which lies on the boundary of Speyside. There was still almost no snow about, this winter is certainly different from last. At least the colder condtions are turning the land the "proper" bleached winter shades rather than the green of a few weeks ago.

The summit of Ben Newe, like many other northeast hills, is a small tor. It's said to have a very ancient well at the summit area. Perhaps this pool in the summit rock is part of it as there is a channel leading from it and traces of an inscription in the rock next to it.

At 565 metres, Ben Newe is a small hill, but being reasonably isolated it does have good views, which is why it was used as a triangulation point for the Ordnance Survey.

As I wanted a longer route than just up and back down I descended south west on another of the waymarked paths - this one would lead down to a car park to the west of the hill. Initially through larch wood, the path meets a forest track which is blocked for a way be windblown trees brought down in December's storms. A bit of a detour soon had me at the minor road which joins the main Strathdon road at Coull of Newe.

Near the junction is a flour mill and this fine example of a typical stone built house in the Scottish vernacular style. The brightly painted windows and door stand out really well.

Leaving the road I wandered through woodland alongside the river Don to this road bridge.

The Don has it's source about twenty kilometres upstream from this point and eventually empties to the North Sea in Aberdeen, one of the granite city's two rivers.

A riverside path enabled me to keep off the road on the way back to complete a really enjoyable day - and just twenty minutes from home.

A winter afternoon on the Moray Firth

2012-01-25T20:38:00.000Z

There are lots of arches and stacks on this section of the Moray Firth coast, but I was delighted to find this one on the Portsoy side of the West Head. I've paddled here many times but not found this slender arch before. It's narrow, but looks like it can be paddled at most states of the tide.

There are three narrow channels which cut straight through the West Head. It's rare to get conditions which will allow easy passage through them all, but today was one of the rare days. This is the widest of the three and even today the swell was being magnified through the gap. Perhaps the best thing about these gaps is that they teach observation, timing and above all, patience. In winter the cliffs are quiet but in the Spring and early Summer the racket and smell of thousands of seabirds adds to the special atmosphere.

Around the West Head and into Sandend Bay, I landed at the abandoned croft Redhythe before paddling on to Sandend where I had a break and ate my lunch. The harbour entrance at Sandend is tiny and faces just about north, which means that in the winter the sun will almost always be in your eyes as you approach. Not a problem today, but in the rough conditions prevailing here it can be tricky to judge correctly.

Heading back around to Portsoy I stopped at another small pebble beach. Although the sun was touching this section, a frost had formed below the high water mark. Since low water had just passed, the frost must actually have formed during the morning. It was certainly cold - the roof straps were freezing as I put the boat back on the car at Portsoy.

The 10 kilometres of this short route had taken me over four hours - mainly due to poking around all the little features of the cliffs. All in all a nice winter afternoon!

Cold cliffs

2012-01-24T20:22:00.000Z

On the last of a forecast run of calm, clear days I made a late decision to do a short paddle on the Moray Firth. My favourite local paddle normally starts at Sandend, but this time I decided to go from Portsoy to Sandend and back. Although this is only a short distance, there's so much interest among the tiny bays, cliffs and rocky channels here that it always takes much longer than expected.

Portsoy harbour was virtually deserted as I got on the water, in total contrast to the annual Scottish Traditional Boat Festival held here, when the harbour is full of boats and the harbourside and surrounding streets are absolutely packed with people, musicians and food stalls.

On the Moray Firth, the swell is a major limiting factor on sea kayaking. The coast along this section is predominantly rocky with low cliffs and the outer firth is exposed to the north and east. Today, although it was calm, a residual swell kept up interest; it's rarely completely flat here.

When I launched at Portsoy the boat was still covered in the morning's frost and ice. Paddling into the shade of the north facing cliffs the air got even colder. In the winter these small bays don't see the sun at all and frosts become deep and penetrating.

I spent some time playing in a few of the rocky channels, which are great for practising boat control and there are so many of varying widths and commitment that you can choose your difficulty level. Given the air temperature of minus 3 degrees and a sea temperature of 7 degrees Celcius, I wasn't too bold - I just didn't fancy an unplanned swim!

Soon I was approaching the West Head which separates Portsoy from Sandend Bay.

A frosty morning

2012-01-17T19:01:00.000Z

I recently posted that I was looking forward to sharp, frosty mornings - and for the last five days that's exactly what we've had in the northeast of Scotland. Wherever the sun hasn't touched, the frost has remained unbroken and created some quite beautiful effects, particularly on dead grasses.

A timber stack was white with hoar frost; the dazzling white a nice contrast with the red of a felled pine. I'm certain there were better compositions and images here, but at minus 6 Celsius I didn't hang around too long! A morning walk in these conditions is such a pleasure - as long as you keep moving.

Island Hopping on the Clyde - a big view to Arran

2012-01-15T19:28:00.002Z

We left the shore on Bute and paddled out into a blaze of light. Passing Garroch Head can sometimes be tricky; on the ebb tide two streams running down the west and east side of Bute converge here in an energetic tide race. No such problems today though as we paddled serenely past during the last part of the flood tide.

The crossing to Arran is just over 10 kilometres point to point, but more like 12 with the drift of the tide which pushed us north as we crossed. Long crossings aren't normally my favourite type of paddling, but with a view like this ahead and good company on the way, this crossing was a pure joy.

Arran's ridges got more dramatic as we approached, the thin band of cloud which had been present since just after dawn constantly shifted and changed. The view was simply stunning.

As we neared, the low sun skimmed behind the cloud band and created a dramatic show of light and shade, the ridges alternately hidden behind luminous mist and then thrown into sharp silhouette.

Paddling south along the shore for a little way we rounded a small point and landed on the sandy beach at Sannox Bay. A thin breze had got up so we moved above the beach into the shelter of some gorse bushes. This time we needed no debate, this was definitely second luncheon; our arrival on Arran was toasted with a nip of 14 year old Glenfiddich.

Second luncheon brought out our food again, with honours going to Mike who produced his stove and a frying pan to cook bacon and egg sandwiches using eggs from his own hens, followed by fresh coffee. There is truly no requirement to suffer on a trip such as this!

Leaving Sannox, we had 9 kilometres of paddling to the ferry terminal at Brodick. Initially we thought we'd left our timing a little tight so we pushed on south past Corrie and along a pretty shore with the smell of woodsmoke from the houses along the shore pervading our nostrils. Phil and I had a good view of an Otter hunting at Merkland Point before we pulled into a glassy calm Brodick Bay at sunset.

We had plenty of time to cross the bay, land on a beach next to the ferry terminal and purchase single tickets to complete our "Island Hopper" adventure. Changing into our spare clothes for the ferry journey, we celebrated the trip with a nip of 10 year old Jura before putting our boats onto trollies for boarding.

The regular ferry "Caledonian Isles" is off service for refit, so we travelled back to the mainland on LOTI (MV Lord of the Isles). If taken onboard by trolley, kayaks travel free on Caledonian MacBrayne ferries. We were boarded first and our boats placed safely on the car deck. As so often, the crew were friendly and curious about our trip. The day was rounded off with a hot meal in the cafeteria and an hour later we disembarked in Ardrossan to run the shuttle to Portencross.

Paddling to Arran from the mainland has long been on my "must do" list. To do this trip with such great company and in such fine weather really was the icing on the cake.

Days like these - they're what life is made for.

Island Hopping on the Clyde - Little Cumbrae and Bute

2012-01-14T18:37:00.001Z

In the chilly pre-dawn of a January morning, four of us met up at Ardrossan Ferry terminal on the Clyde. We would have been very early for the first sailing of the day, but we weren't planning to get the ferry just yet.

Mike, Phil, Douglas and I were setting out on our own version of an "Island Hopper" ticket - and one for which we would need just a single ferry journey. We left two cars at Ardrossan and moved a little further north to launch at sunrise from a tiny beach below Portencross Castle. It will be well worth looking at Douglas' blog for his report of our trip.

We paddled out from the shade of the castle into a glorious winter morning. There wasn't a breath of wind and there was even a hint of warmth in the sun on our backs. Away across the Firth of Clyde the distinctive skyline of Arran emerged from the dawn haze.

The first stage of our trip took us towards Gull Point, the southern tip of Little Cumbrae. We could clearly hear the terriers at the castle on the Wee Cumbrae barking madly over two miles of water - surely they hadn't detected the likelihood of lunch in our boats at that range?!

If so, the wee dogs would be disappointed; we didn't stop at Gull Point, but continued our paddle north west. Conditions could really only be described as idyllic, the reflections of our boats gleaming off a burnished sea and the rich colours of the winter landscape glowing in the low sunlight.

We crossed the main Clyde channel and landed on the south end of the Isle of Bute at Port Leithne, a little way east of Garroch Head.

As we got out our stoves and flasks, a dilemma presented itself - was this second breakfast or first luncheon? The question was of critical importance. A brief discussion ensued along with some assessment of solar declination; we decided that as the sun was over the yardarm (for a given value of yardarm height!) this could indeed be considered to be first luncheon. Our arrival on Bute could therefore be toasted with a nip of 10 year old Jura.

We sat in the sun enjoying a superb view of Arran and the outer Clyde with a hot drink and food in our hands. It was Friday 13th January - but we considered ourselves to be blessed with great good fortune.

Above the pines of Glen Tanar

2012-01-11T19:41:00.000Z

My first few days home after a lengthy spell working away were family days, catching up and visiting. The weather this winter has been very different from last; temperatures in the first few days of January 2012 have been around 10 Celcius, compared with minus 10 Celcius in January 2011 - some variation! The weather so far has been dominated by strong winds including two systems which crossed Scotland bringing Storm (and in some places Hurricane) force winds.

Despite the mild temperatures, it is winter. One morning we looked up to see about 20 Whooper Swans (Cygnus cygnus) passing low over the house as they came in to land on a nearby field, their wonderfully wild trumpeting calls a true sound of winter. These are visitors from the high Arctic, perhaps remaining here in the north east while the weather is mild.

On what would be the first day back at work for many after the Christmas and Hogmanay break, a clear and bright morning was too good to miss. I headed the short distance to Glen Tanar for a modest hillwalk above the pine forest.

Caledonian pine forest and an attractive river make Glen Tanar a popular area for walking and mountain biking. The estate has waymarked several walks and there are also some very old rights of way known as Mounth Roads which cross the area.

Caledonian pines are one of my favourite trees and just seem to have a sense of belonging to this landscape. The real forest specialists of Scottish wildlife have evolved colouration to match these wonderful trees; Pine Martens and Red Squirrels match the warm rufous colour of the upper branches, as does the cock Crossbill whilst the hen is coloured to blend in with the green of the needles. Crested Tits match perfectly the grey, lichen speckled lower limbs of the trees.

From near the start of my route, the forest stretches out in a carpet of rich green toward the high hills of Mount Keen and Braid Cairn which form the head of the glen.

The walk through the forest was, as ever, a joy. Although it's winter there is wildlife to see and hear with small birds in the trees as well as Roe Deer in the more open areas.

Where the track emerges from the closer packed plantation onto the open moor above, this dead giant stands isolated, the stunted tree behind showing the effects of exposure to the wind. Even in death this tree is part of the forest; near the base were tiny seedlings, the first signs of the wood recolonising this area.

A short climb over heather soon got me to the summit of Clachan Yell, the name perhaps is a derivation of Clachan Geal - the fair stones. The name has also been adoped by one of Scotland's best known Ceilidh bands! At 626 metres it's a relatively small hill but a pleasant summit nevertheless. As with many of the Cairngorm hills it is a rounded heathery dome studded with a granite tor. The hill in the background is Morven above the Howe o'Cromar.

On the way to my next summit, Black Craig the going underfoot is on wind cropped heather with clumps of deer grass which in the low winter sun was the colour of bright flame against the brown heather. Black Craig is the beter viewpoint of the two hills with a panorama taking in the Cairngorm giants to the west, Mount Keen to the south and the two Aberdeenshire landmarks of Bennachie to the north and Clachnaben to the east.

Reaching the track again from Black Craig, I dropped down to near Shiel of Glentanar where a stone bridge crosses the Water of Glentanar using two slabs as foundations. It was nearly sunset, 3.30pm at this time of year and my 10km walk back along the river and through the forest encompassed the dusk, the twilight and the rising of a bright full moon.

The route I walked was 23 kilometres with about 500 metres of ascent, and has variety and great views - perfect for a cracking winter day like this.

Happy Christmas

2011-12-24T17:31:00.000Z

Preparing for a pleasant shock to the system

2011-12-16T04:00:00.001Z

After four months working in the heat and humidity of the Middle East, I'll be going home soon to a Scottish winter. This image was taken in mid December 2010 during a very cold spell which lasted several weeks, bringing severe frost and heavy snow.

It usually takes a little while to re-acclimatise, but I love the turn of the seasons and the variety of weather we get in Scotland. It may be a shock to the system at first, but I've missed clear, sharp mornings like this one!

Days like these, a winter day in Torridon

2011-11-16T19:07:00.001Z

Looking through some images on a memory stick, I came across two from an outstanding day's hillwalking in February 2006. I'd set off from Kinlochewe well before dawn on a clear, frosty morning and walked down the Torridon road. Approaching Loch Clair as dawn was breaking, I detoured to the loch shore to take this picture of Liathach (the grey one). This viewpoint is a popular one with photographers but I had it to myself that morning while the whole mountain was bathed in pinkish sunlight. In the shadows where I was, my fingers were sticking to the camera in the frigid air - which may have gone some way to explaining why nobody else was around!

Liathach is a tremendous hill, steep and challenging with multiple summits. It has its standard routes but also some superb quieter routes to the summit ridges. Composed of Torridonian Sandstone and quartzite, the whole mountain is, in geological terms, upside down with older rock overlaying the younger - an amazing thought.

Liathach wasn't my objective that day though. I headed past the eastern end of Liathach and up into Coire Mhic Fhearchair (Farquharson's Corrie), also known as Triple Buttress Corrie from the stupendous rock architecture on the corrie headwall. A very steep climb of a further 550 metres (you earn your hill summits in Torridon as nearly all routes start from near sea level) got me up above 1000 metres on Beinn Eighe (hill of the file).

The view from here is simply breathtaking. A sweep of bold, primeval looking hills backed by the blue of the Minch and spattered with glistening lochans. Just magical.

This view shows (from left to right) the end of Sail Mhor (the big heel) which is the western summit of Beinn Eighe and forms one of the arms of Coire Mhic Fhearchair; the Corbett of Beinn Dearg (red hill) and beyond to the distinctive chisel summit of Mullach an Rathain, part of Beinn Alligin (jewelled hill). Across the trench of Loch a' Bhealaich (loch of the pass) is another Corbett, Baosbheinn (wizard's hill) and on the far right, Beinn an Eoin (hill of the birds).

All evocative names for hills of great individual quality. The memory of that view is as clear as the winter air near the summit of Beinn Eighe.

I turned northeast to walk the quartzite ridges of the "hill of the file". Soon I was in a strange mist through which the sun shone, making everything appear soft and pale. No more photos,but a magical and strange experience. By the time I reached the base of Beinn Eighe near the road I was very tired and it was just about dark. All along the final few kilometres of road back to Kinlochewe my headtorch picked out the golden reflections in the eyes of Red Deer browsing the grass at the roadside.

Days like these; they live with you for ever.

Armistice Day

2011-11-11T06:33:00.003Z

I'm away from home at work this November, but last 11th November I was paddling between Kyle and Plockton. The day was calm and still, perfect for a moment of quiet reflection at 1100, the date and time at which the Armistice brought the carnage of the First World War to a close in 1918.

The Poppy which grew in such profusion on the battlefields of Flanders was adopted as a symbol of remembrance and it continues to be a resonant image both in the UK and elsewhere, worn to remember those who have lost their lives in the service of their countries in all wars.

Today at 1100, our ship in common with thousands of other places and millions of other people will observe a two minute silence ; a simple Act of Remembrance.

"They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old
Age shall not weary themor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning;
we shall remember them"

Morning calm at the Cairngorm lochs

2011-10-18T04:56:00.002+01:00

Late summer and Loch Morlich at the foot of the northern Cairngorms was mirror calm. A dawn mist had just about burned off in the sunshine. It's a busy spot in summer with visitors walking, cycling and picnicking, but for now all was quiet.

Not too far away, on the Rothiemurchus estate is the beautiful Loch an Eilein (Loch of the Island) with its island castle. Here too the air was still and the reflections of the surrounding hills were painted across the water. Mornings like this encourage a slow pace to take in the scenery - but not too slow - calm, overcast conditions in summer bring the midges out in force!

Reflecting

2011-10-11T19:09:00.000+01:00

From the Leopard Man's House in the perhaps appropriately named Loch na Beiste (loch of the beast) we headed back across the Kyle to the ferry slip and the delights of Buth Bheag.

We couldn't decide whether it was time for second breakfast or first luncheon, so we opted for coffee and cakes as "elevenses". Once again your testers can report that the quality, quantity and price from this wonderful wee deli are exceptional; and it's situated just 10 metres from a safe landing place. As a refreshment stop for hungry sea-kayakers, Buth Bheag scores 11/10! We'd certainly eaten well, whether from pub, deli or the meals we cooked ourselves. No need for dried food on this trip!

After passing under the Skye Bridge we turned west and paddled back towards Broadford. We would finish the trip in similar weather to that we'd started in, a glassy calm.

The bow of Morag's new boat made a nice reflection as we paddled leisurely along, not really wanting our small expedition to end.

We'd done a little over 80km in three days plus an evening's paddling; Janice and I had added about 20km to that during our "pre paddle paddle". So in terms of distance this was quite a short trip, but distance wasn't the point. Our trip, dictated as it was by the weather, had been all the better for having no schedule or firm plan.

Our lives are too much ruled by schedule and deadline. Perhaps the best thing about this trip was that we'd just kicked back and gone with the flow.

A wreck and a life less ordinary

2011-10-10T19:30:00.000+01:00

As we paddled towards Kyleakin, the first point of interest we came to was the wreck of HMS Port Napier. A 9600 ton merchantman, Port Napier had been converted to a minelayer by the Admiralty and was loaded with 550 mines when she began dragging her anchor in a gale on 26 November 1940. As was common practice, the detonators for most of the mines had been inserted whilst at anchor as it was such a difficult task at sea with the ship pitching and rolling.

To make matters worse, fire broke out in the ships machinery spaces and there was a realisation that if the mines detonated the resulting explosion would probably flatten most of Kyle of Lochalsh and Kyleakin. The ship was towed well out into Loch Alsh and with incredible bravery a party of sailors returned onboard and began removing detonators from the mines and deploying them down the chutes to get them clear of the ship. With the fire worsening, the crew abandoned the ship and retreated.

Some time later there was a huge explosion from the engine room which fortunately didn't detonate the mines. It was big enough to blow out a huge section of the starboard side of the ship and send the superstructure up into the air, it landed on the shore nearby. The ship rolled onto her starboard side and sank quickly in 20 metres of water. The remaining mines were removed later and today the Port Napier is a popular dive site.

Our next stop was a place I've wanted to visit for a long time. On the Skye shore, blending into the landscape is the house built by Tom Leppard, otherwise known as the "Leopard Man". Tom moved here in 1987 and spent three years building a home constructed entirely of drystone and items beachcombed from the shore. The media became fixated with his appearance - understandably since he is tattooed in leopard markings from head to foot (he was in the Guiness Book of Records as the world's most tattooed man), and described him as a recluse who shunned human contact. This isn't really the case though as Tom used a kayak to cross to Kyle each to draw his pension (he is an ex-military man), to do his shopping at the Co-Op and to have a beer.

His lifestyle was certainly unconventional, but he was no survivalist hermit. The house seems to grow organically from the spit of land he chose, there are gravelled paths, trees planted and nurtured in just the right way, stone retaining walls, a hollow made parallel to a stream bed to serve as a bath. And decoration too, natural and pleasing. Tom spent much of his pension money on bird food and had feeding stations all around his house. I've been told that many of the birds were hand tame and that the deer didn't seem to see him as a threat.

The interior of the house is tight and compact but very functional. An obvious amount of care and thought went into making it as comfortable as possible.

Storage areas are made from wooden boxes and built flush into the drystone walls. The floor has drainage channels to allow any rain water to escape.

Tom Leppard left his house in 2008 after nearly 20 years of living close to the land. He was 73 and had begun to find crossing the Kyle an increasing challenge. He still lives in Skye, in a retirement home in Broadford. His possessions are largely still here though.

The Leopard Man's House deserves to be kept in good condition - sadly it's seen some abuse recently. If you visit, pull a few weeds from Tom's beautifully winding gravel paths, or take some rubbish away with you.

Tom Leppard "The Leopard Man of Skye" has lived a life less ordinary; the world is all the richer for folk like him

A Loch Alsh camp

2011-10-09T17:23:00.000+01:00

We once again woke to a strong easterly wind, though it was at least dry. We felt that the weather would moderate during the day and so spent the morning at the bothy, cleaning and tidying, breaking wood for the next visitors and drying out damp kit. We packed at lunchtime as the wind was quickly easing and set out in the early afternoon to head over to Kyle of Lochalsh

After a slightly bouncy crossing of the mouth of Loch Kishorn we got into the shelter of the Duirinsh peninsula. This is a cracking area to paddle, the islands between Plockton and Kyle are a great spot for wildlife. We passed under the Skye Bridge and landed at the old ferry slip at Kyle to buy lunch at "Buth Bheag" (the wee shop), the fabulous deli housed in the former ferry ticket office. The prawn rolls, coffee and cakes come highly recommended by your testers!

We'd intended to head back to Gordon & Morag's at Lower Breakish, but as the weather had improved we decided to spend another night out on our trip.

We headed along the south shore of Loch Alsh and found a campsite at the northern entrance to Kyle Rhea, on a grassy shore below Glas Bheinn (the green hill). The wind which had hampered our plans died to calm during the evening, which brought the midges out. Fortunately enough breeze returned to deter the little devils and we were able to cook and eat our evening meal in comfort.

Another wildlife visitor at this campsite were Earwigs (Forficula auricularia). There were hundreds under our tents in the morning, and many more hiding around the hatch rims and cockpits of our boats.

I found this bird skull on the shore and thought it would make a nice image against a gnarled log. The skull was quite delicate - I thought it may have been a Kittiwake or Black-Headed Gull.

After breakfast we headed out in calm conditions to paddle back to Kyle. Crossing the mouth of Kylerhea we felt the tidal pull of the ebb as it started to run south into the narrows. It was a relaxing morning, the sky was overcast, but a shaft of sun picked out the Skye Bridge. We were aiming for a notable wreck and then the former home of one of Skye's most intruiging characters.

Fire and water in Applecross

2011-10-05T18:58:00.000+01:00

Returning southwards we stayed close inshore, watching for likely spots to collect firewood. As the coast here faces west it collects plenty of driftwood washed up by the prevailing weather. Much of the shore is also wooded with birch, elder and rowan so we were confident of finding enough for the night. We found more than we could have transported; there was certainly no need to cut wood on this stretch of shore.

The small stuff went inside the empty hatches whilst the bigger pieces were secured on deck. It's bothy etiquette to leave some wood for the next visitors if possible, so we amassed plenty.

There was a bit of a stability penalty to pay with heavy bits of timber on deck! Not long after this picture was taken the wind once again increased rapidly as the next weather system passed. We slogged across every small bay into a strong southeasterly wind and heavy rain. It certainly didn't feel much like an August day.

Once back at the bothy we spent an hour carrying our haul of timber and stacking it at the door and around the fireplace. We soon had a fine blaze in the grate and our wet kit hung to dry. As the fire got going it was drying the next timber to be added.

With a curry cooking on our stoves and a glass of wine in our hands life was good!

A rainy day, let's go to the pub!

2011-10-03T19:17:00.000+01:00

The rain and strong wind which had battered us overnight showed no sign of easing by mid morning. I made a dash back out from the bothy to take down my tent and hung it to dry indoors. A glance over towards the Crowlins and Raasay decided our itinerary for the day - we had shelter from the easterly wind along the Applecross shore. Along the Crowlin shore we could see the sea crashing against the cliffs; it didn't look a fun place to be in a kayak.

It was still raining and blowing quite strongly when we set out. We planned to head north to Applecross village and have lunch in the Applecross Inn. Descriptions of various menu items had us hungry before we even set out!

At first we were in pretty wild conditions, particularly crossing the mouth of Loch Toscaig where the wind was coming in violent gusts from behind our right shoulders. I was finding the short, quartering sea a bit of a challenge, but a piece of advice from Gordon in his usual calm and reassuring manner made all the difference and I became much more comfortable.

Soon we were sheltered by the shoreline again, the rain stopped and the wind eased dramatically. This was to be the pattern for the whole trip; strong wind alternating with absolute calm as a really complex series of very small but deep low pressure systems passed overhead.

Arriving at Applecross, we landed right in front of the Applecross Inn. Our chances of getting a table didn't seem great; everyone for miles around seemed to have decided that it would be the ideal place to have lunch on a wet day. Morag went inside to ask - and we were in!

To their eternal credit, Judith and her staff didn't even bat an eyelid at our wet and windswept state. We left wet paddling jackets and trousers under a chair near the door and sat down to a fantastic meal. The food was superb (particularly the half pints of prawns), and though we didn't sample it on this occasion, the selection of real ale looked great. As a sea kayaking pub, this one gets 11/10!

We left Applecross well fed and started our journey back down to the bothy. Our plan to either head over to Raasay or further north to Loch Torridon would have been difficult in the forecast weather, so we left our kit in the bothy to await our return. It's one of the really nice things about bothying; kit can be left in the pretty certain knowledge that nobody will steal it.

Soon after leaving Applecross Bay the centre of one of the low pressure systems arrived. The wind died to a complete calm and the rain just hammered down. As (unusually in Scotland!) the heavy rain wasn't wind-blown it was actually quite pleasant to paddle along with the hiss of raindrops hitting the sea the only sound.

We intended to gather driftwood for the bothy fire on our way back. Hopefully we could find some under the rocky outcrops which was out of the rain or it would be a poor fire!

Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown - DVD 2 preview

2011-10-01T19:50:00.002+01:00

The preview for Volume 2 of "Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown" DVD has just gone live. The DVD itself will be launched later this month and pre-orders are being taken at http://www.seakayakwithgordonbrown.com/Main.html

Rescues DVD, Vol 2 -Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown from Simon Willis on Vimeo.

DVD 2 covers rescues, towing, staying safe in rough water and anticipation, and features footage shot during the St Kilda trip in June 2011.

I should admit to a certain bias here - I'm friends with both Gordon and Simon, and had the great fortune to be part of the team in St Kilda.

Having said that - Gosh it looks good!

A silver silence

2011-09-28T18:11:00.000+01:00

We set out from Lower Breakish at a little after 5pm, heading for the Applecross peninsula across the Inner Sound. Our destination was the coast just to the west of the Crowlin Islands (just on the map in the link).

The forecast remained for complex areas of low pressure crossing rapidly from the west, they would bring rain and strong winds. Due to the forecast track of these depressions we expected the strongest winds from the east, hence our modified plan to head for Applecross. For now we paddled into a still evening as the wind died and a skyscape of towering grey built over a pewter sea.

The colours were monotone with occasional bursts of diffuse evening sunlight. The air stilled completely until the only sounds were our paddle strokes. We stopped frequently to appreciate the evening; when we drifted we could distinctly hear the gentle conversation of a raft of Guillemots over a mile away.

The world was reduced to a silver silence - it really was an extrordinarily beautiful evening.

Our destination for the evening was a bothy on the Applecross shore. We smelled woodsmoke from some distance away so we knew that we'd have company for the evening. It turned out to be a party of five kayakers led by a friend of Gordon's and a family who had walked from Applecross.

The still evening did of course mean that the midges were truly awful. We hurriedly unpacked the boats and headed indoors. The evening was very sociable, but the heat from the fire made the bothy very warm; I decided to sleep outside in my tent, as did one of the other party of kayakers. During the night we regretted this a bit as a gale of wind and torrential rain sprang up very quickly. I was confident of my tent but got little sleep as it was battered by weather that was a complete opposite of the previous evening

A pre-paddle paddle

2011-09-25T16:43:00.001+01:00

In the first half of August, four of the St Kilda team (Gordon & Morag, Janice and I) had arranged to get together for a three or four day trip. We met up at Gordon & Morag's house in Skye on the evening before we were to set out. We planned to leave at the evening high water so that we could paddle straight from the back garden. While Gordon & Morag sorted some stuff during the day, Janice and I met up with Simon and Liz and their friends for a few hours paddling on Loch Eishort, a sort of pre-paddle paddle!

As we set out from the beach and slipway at Ord, the morning's low cloud was lifting off the Cuillin summits across the loch

The forecast windy conditions hadn't yet materialised and it was pleasantly warm as we paddled off southwesterly towards Tarskavaig

After about an hour and a half we stopped at this small beach south of Tarskavaig for lunch. The boats made a colourful sight against the white shell sand. As Janice and I had to be back to set out on our trip, we headed back after a short break.

The breeze had got up a little on our way back to Ord, but the cloud was off the Cuillin and we had a very pleasant trip back up, chatting about life and having a good view of an Otter on the way. Gavin and Shona couldn't quite believe we were heading off on a multi-day trip the same evening, but when the weather, the view and the company are this good, we wouldn't have missed our pre-paddle paddle for anything!

A black Adder

2011-09-02T17:35:00.001+01:00

Whilst assessing a Duke of Edinburgh's Award group in June, I chanced across this Adder (Vipera berus) close to a track in the eastern Cairngorms. At first glance it looked like a mountain bike tyre had been discarded at the side of the track. Adders have the most northern distribution of any snake as well as being the UK's only venomous snake. They are relatively common in the Cairngorms if you know where to look, but this one is a bit unusual in that it is almost completely black.

Melanistic individuals are well known and recorded but this was a first for me. The usual colouration is olive and buff shades almost to yellow with a characteristic diamond pattern on the back. Although very dark, the diamond pattern is still visble and was actually more prominent than this image shows. At about 80cm this was a good sized Adder, I guessed at it being a female as they are larger than the males. I kept a respectable distance so as not to cause any disturbance; and also because the rare occurrences of Adder bites are said to be very painful!

After taking a couple of pictures I moved quietly away, well pleased with my encounter with this beautiful creature.

Shoreline artwork on the Moray Firth

2011-08-16T11:31:00.000+01:00

Further along toward Hopeman, there is an unusual sight on the shore - a pineapple made of wood and stone.

A long-dead, bleached pine stump has been upended and stones carefully arranged in a cairn around it to support the stump and create a striking pineapple shape. I've no idea how long this has been here or whether it was done as an art installation or just spontaneously. Perhaps more intriguingly, how long will this transient naturalistic artwork resist the winter storms?

An equally bleached and battered tree trunk nearby provides a leading line to the main piece.

Nearby are several "chorten" style slender piles of small pebbles, but this simple arrangement caught my eye. the contrast between the smooth sea-washed rock and the featured sandstone boulder plus the colours of the stones separated by vibrant yellow lichen had a striking simplicity.

These pieces were most unexpected and added a lot to the day's paddling.

There is a long tradition of art along the Moray Firth coast. Nearby is the Sculptor's Cave, a dry cave famed for Pictish carvings. Burghead was a Pictish power base, fort remains and numerous symbol stones can be seen in the area.

Pebbles on a beach

2011-08-15T10:30:00.000+01:00

It's a simple, everyday sort of thing; a pebble beach below a cliff. The beach is near Hopeman on the Moray Firth, and I've taken pictures here before.

Landing here can be tricky in any swell but on a recent paddle there was the rare experience of a flat calm Moray Firth. Once on the beach, I spent a good hour just looking at the pebbles as they emerged from the ebbing tide.

The cliff above is a soft sandstone which doesn't form pebbles although there are strata of pebbles within it in places, evidence that there was an ancient river here.

Mst of these pebbles seem to be granites, perhaps washed from the high Cairngorms by the powerful rivers of the Spey and Findhorn which both empty to the sea along this coast. The rich colours of the wet stones simply shone in the diffuse light

The variety of colour and form kept me fascinated in this pebble collectors paradise

Note from the edge

2011-08-14T17:11:00.001+01:00

As a postscript to the our trip, the first banknote I got in change when I got home was this Clydesdale Bank £5 note featuring St Kilda on the reverse!

The team

2011-08-08T15:48:00.000+01:00

Cuma passed us as we paddled back to meet her in her home port of Miabhaig. There's no doubt that without Murdani, Gary and Louise, our adventure couldn't have happened.

We'd seen some fantastic sights and paddled in the most amazing locations, but really it was the people who made this truly "the trip of a lifetime".

Team St Kilda!

Front left to right: Janice, Sue, Morag, Liz and Gordon

Back left to right: Douglas, Callum, Anne, Donald, Simon, Ken and Ian

A blue lagoon and a deserted island

2011-08-08T10:15:00.000+01:00

The lagoon between Pabaigh Mor and Pabaigh Beag was astonishingly beautiful in the sunshine. The colours of the water and the sand were a riot of blue, turqoise and shimmering white.

There is an upper, tidal lagoon which was emptying into the main lagoon. with a bit of effort we managed to paddle up into it - here Liz shows the way uphill!

Whilst we played around doing balance exercises (including a rather impressive cockpit headstand by Callum) and rescue practice in the upper lagoon, Simon set up a camera on the shore.

We took our turn at having our thoughts on the trip recorded, Simon asking each of us about diffferent aspects.

As a location for filming, this was pretty special!

Pabaigh Mor has a ruined kirk, the origin of the name "big island of the priests". In 1827 the crofters were cleared from the island to make way for sheep - a familiar story. In 1861 two Banffshire fishing crews totalling fifteen fishermen and two female cooks were living in one of the caves during the fishing season. A fish holding trap made of an arc of stones is visible in the upper lagoon. At the 1871 census there were nine men from Uig living in a tent on the island, but it has been uninhabited since.

After the First World War it was claimed that boxes of provisions were found on the island and that a German U-Boat had made secretive visits to resupply.

By the time the interviews were completed and we left the upper lagoon the tide had turned and the flood was entering from the main lagoon. It wasn't as hard to paddle against as on the way in, but Pabaigh's beautiful blue lagoon is a hard place to leave in more than one respect! If you go there, save it for a sunny day and enjoy the unique atmosphere of this special place.

Kayaking the west coast of Pabaigh Mor

2011-08-07T15:49:00.000+01:00

Our last day onboard Cuma started with sunny spells. After breakfast, Gary weighed anchor and Murdani took us out of Loch Reasort and turned north up the west coast of Lewis. There was a heavy swell running all the way up, especially rounding Gallan Head. We anchored again in sheltered water off the village of Bhaltos, our plan was to kayak around the north end of Pabaigh Mor (big island of the priests) and make our way back to meet Cuma at her berth in Miabhaig.

We were soon on the water, launching from Cuma for the last time on our trip. Heading across The Caolas Pabaigh we were drawn to some of the caves on the west side of Pabaigh Mor. The swell finding its way in from the open ocean meant that there were cave monsters lurking at the back of these!

Heading north we soon met the full force of the Atlantic swell roaring onto the rocky north coast of Pabaigh Mor. It was exciting paddling for a short distance, then we turned and made a slightly awkward, surfing approach to a narrow channel. The channel contained rocks over which the swell was surging so good timing was needed to pass safely.

The change was immediate and dramatic. Between Pabaigh Mor and Pabaigh Beag is a lagoon of calm, sheltered water fringed with sandy beaches. As we entered, the sun came out and we were treated to a wonderul sight

A Hebridean summer day

2011-08-03T18:34:00.000+01:00

Image by Sue King

Sue took this gorgeous image of the beach at the north end of Scarp. It comes much closer than any of mine to capturing the glory of a Hebridean summer afternoon.

It takes really special colours to surpass a west coast sunset, but on that day there was no contest.

Murdani took Cuma back inside Loch Reasort for the night. The following day would be our last paddling day, but what a day it would turn out to be!

Births and Deaths, Rockets and Phones - the strange story of Scarp's demise

2011-08-02T22:23:00.003+01:00

Many of the buildings on Scarp are now ruins. The community, like many in Eilean Siar (The Western Isles) gone. Scarp's story is stranger than most though, and boils down to the difficulty of accessing the island from the "mainland" of Harris. At the start of the 20th century the population was well over 100 but was already declining. Opportunity in the wider world, whether that meant Scotland, America, Canada or Australia beckoned and many of the young folk chose to turn away from the hard life of an island crofter.

One of the most interesting sites on the island is the burial ground. The older graves are simply marked by boulders with no inscription, but there are some newer, inscribed headstones including two erected by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission

The first of the headstones we encountered marks the grave of Pioneer Donald MacLennan of the Royal Engineers. The date is interesting - 15th November 1918 is 4 days after the Armistice. A very informative post on the "Arnish Lighthouse" blog adds detail to this headstone

Nearby, another CWGC headstone marks the grave of Donald John MacLennan, a Deckhand in the Royal Naval Reserve. He died when his ship, the paddle minesweeper HMS Duchess of Montrose was sunk by a mine off Gravelines, northern France.

The Western Isles suffered greatly, as did all areas of Europe and beyond, from the Great War. The terrible toll of young men undoubtedly contributed to the decline of these marginal communities.

The graves of these two Scarpachs face out over the Caolas an Scarp, the storm beach below giving an indication of the severity of the weather here.

Scarp made headline news twice in 1934. On 14 January a Mrs Christina MacLennan, attended by an 85 year old midwife, gave birth to a child. On the following day she was in considerable distress and as there were no telephones, an islander crossed to Huisinish on Harris to call the doctor. The phone there was out of order so the postman's son was sent to Tarbert to get assistance.

It was decided that Christina should go to hospital. This involved her being strapped to a stretcher and taken across the stormy Caolas an Scarp, then on the floor of the local bus from Huisinish to Tarbert (17 miles away). From here she was taken by car to the hospital at Stornoway, where the trouble was swiftly diagnosed.

Mrs MacLennan gave birth to a second healthy baby, much to her relief. The twins were therefore born on different islands, in different counties and in different weeks!

The papers made much of the story and it was read with interest by a young German by the name of Gerhard Zucker. He was interested in the applications of rockets, and saw an opportunity in Scarp. He had invented a rocket capable of carrying mail; the island looked perfect for a trial. Special stamps were printed, preparations made and on 28 July 1934 the fuse on a rocket weighing 14 kg and capable of carrying thousands of letters at 1500km/h was lit.

Unfortunately, the rocket exploded prior to launch and scattered the letters over Scarp. Although a later launch from Huisinish to Scarp was successful, the damage had been done and Gerhard Zucker came in for some gentle island humour. It got worse for him; on his return to Germany he was arrested, accused of selling rocket technology to the British, jailed and then consigned to an asylum. On his release, Gerhard was banned from conducting rocket research. He served in the Luftwaffe during the Second World War and died in 1985. The story is engagingly told in the film "Rocket Post"

Scarp continued to live in isolation. in the 1930's the islanders got help to build a small jetty, but no equivalent facility was provided on Harris. The Hydro Electric Board consistently refused to provide an electricity supply and in 1966 the Church of Scotland declined to replace the lay preacher. Worse, in 1967 the small school closed, followed by the Post Office in 1969. It was clear that Scarp was a community in it's death throes, and in 1971 the final blow fell. The telephone line severed in a storm and the GPO refused to repair it.

In a very literal sense this was the end of the line. The last two families left the island in the same year. It was the end of a community which had made a living in this stark but beautiful island for hundreds of years.

As beautiful as it is, as gorgeous as the colours of the sea and sky are, there is a sense of something lost in the village at Scarp - I don't think any of us felt truly comfortable there.

Scarp isolation

2011-08-01T13:16:00.001+01:00

When filming of the towing sequences in Caolas Cearstaigh was complete, most of us decided on a paddle down the east coast of Scarp whilst Simon, Morag and ken went to film some rough water landing sequences. The view across the Caolas an Scarp (narrows of Scarp) to the white sand beach of Traigh Mheilein and beyond to Glen Crabhadale was very fine.

Scarp is a pretty remote place and has significant obstacles to permanent habitation. The narrows between the island and the "mainland" of Harris are shallow and very often too rough to cross, and there is no good anchorage. This winch, manufactured by Thomas Greave Engineers would have been used to haul boats clear of the water.

Try as we might, we couldn't get this old wreck moving; it had clearly seen better days!

Apparently it's a 1949 vintage 80 inch petrol example........ - goodness, you did realise I was referring to the Landrover and not Douglas didn't you??!

Above the shore a row of houses once stood. There were originally eight crofts on Scarp, alter subdivided into 16 following an influx of folk cleared from other parts of Lewis and Harris.

The old stone houses contrast sharply with the more modern dwellings. Scarp now has no permanent residents- life here got just too remote. The writer Francis Thompson records that a London visitor amazed at the sheer isolation of the place asked a Scarpach how he ever got the news from London. The puzzled reply was "Well, how do you get the news from Scarp?!"

A couple of the houses are rented as holiday accommodation; a truly "away from it all" location.

Hebridean colour, Scarp and Cearstaigh

2011-07-27T10:56:00.000+01:00

Although our time in St Kilda was finished we still had two days of our trip remaining. The morning was damp, grey and drizzly which suited a slow morning onboard Cuma. About mid-morning Murdani took Cuma to the narrow Caol (strait) between the island of Scarp and its small neighbour Cearstaigh. The southerly wind was still fresh but reducing in strength, and Simon hoped to film some towing sequences here for the DVD.

As we anchored, the cloud tore away and the sun came out - Murdani's Cloud Lever (tm) had been operated again! The Scarp shore is mostly steep and rocky, but occansionally there are beautiful beaches.

Looking across to Harris and Lewis, we reflected that the landscape that had seemed hard and rocky prior to our visit to St Kilda now looked much more accessible with numerous opportunities to land.

Scarp, like most of the Hebrides is composed of Lewisian Gneiss, one of the oldest rocks on the planet. Here, the summer sun picks out the warm colours and characteristic banding in the bedrock.

Even in this hard landscape where the bones of the earth are close by the surface, people have scratched a living. The characteristic ridge and furrow pattern of runrig cultivation were clearly visible. The ridges would have been formed using hand tools and fertilised using seaweed - a back breaking labour seemingly totally mis-named as "lazy beds"

Beneath the cliffs the water was a beatiful turquoise green colour. All our tiredness from the previous day fell away - we couldn't wait to get back on the water!

On days like these, the Hebridean colours are simply matchless. We were truly lucky.

Boreray, the stacs and a farewell to St Kilda

2011-07-13T10:36:00.000+01:00

We reached the end of our crossing at Stac Lee, senses assailed by the wheeling Gannets and the incredible shape of Boreray ahead of us.

Paddling on to Boreray itself, we made straight for a huge cave in the sheer cliffs which drop into the sea here.

It wasn't possible to get a photograph which did any justice to the size of the cave, but it was cathedral sized. Once again, St Kilda's epic scale reduced us to silence.

Murdani brought Cuma to the entrance of the cave so that Simon could film us within. This image doesn't quite show the full story though.....

Murdani brought Cuma really close in and behind her the bulk of Stac Lee was framed in the cave entrance. It's one of our abiding memories from the trip.

Moving up the west coast of Boreray, it was clear that our time was running out. A freshening wind was kicking up the conditions as we headed towards Stac an Armin and the north of Boreray. The swell was suging along the sheer cliff to our right; I tried to stay as close as possible in this amazing environment and so got very few pictures - I was much too busy concentrating on paddling! I'm very impressed that Douglas took such good images from this section of the paddle. All the way along this section we were entertained by the singing of Atlantic Grey Seals, a very atmospheric sound.

Passing between the shark's fin of Stac an Armin and the north tip of Boreray with it's huge towers, we were passed by a tour boat on a day trip from Lewis. Goodness only knows what they thought of us appearing and disappearing in the surf and swell.

Murdani had picked the perfect place to get us back onboard Cuma, a good deal calmer than the conditions we'd paddled in. All safely onboard, he turned Cuma mortheast and we began our journey back to the Hebrides. The approaching weather front followed us all the way back. It's a seven hour passage back, and we spent the time reflecting on the amazing St Kilda, an archipelago of dramatic scenery, amazing natural sights and epic scale.

We felt very, very privileged to have been able to visit and to kayak in such a special place.

It was 11pm when Cuma entered Loch Reasort, a superbly sheltered anchorage in the fresh southeasterly wind. After a very late dinner we toasted St Kilda; our time there was over but we still had more of our adventure to come.

In-flight entertainment

2011-07-12T17:18:00.000+01:00

We began the 8.2km crossing to Boreray, a crossing of open Atlantic water. There was a large swell running but otherwise conditions were good. The oceanic swell was a joy to paddle, great slopes of water passing beneath us. The crossing took around two hours as we had some tidal movement to contend with - in the St Kilda archipelago there's also ocean current to factor in.

To keep us on course we used the best transit any of us could imagine, keeping the top of Stac Lee in line with the summit of Boreray. Carlsberg don't make transits, but if they did........

Our in-flight entertainment all the way across was provided by the birds, Gannets and Great Skuas (Bonxies). There are well in excess of 50,000 pairs of Northern Gannets (Sula bassana) in St Kilda, most of them on Boreray and the stacs. The sky was simply full of them, wheeling and swirling around us.

Ganets have a metre long body and a wingspan of about two metres. They are fish eaters and hunt by making spectacular plunging dives from about 10 metres up, folding their wings and powering into the water. They can swim well underwater.

A Gannet's skull has air chambers to withstand the shock of repeatedly diving into the sea, they are supremely adapted to the sea. Young birds spend three years at sea before returning to breed, and outside the breeding season the colonies disperse to mid Atlantic and equatorial waters. They are very handsome birds, snow white plumage with black wingtips, a golden head and a bright blue eye.

The Gannets we were seeing flying directly towards Boreray undoubtedly had a full cargo of fish in stomach and crop for their hungry chicks. They may have hunted up to 200km from the nest, so it must be galling in the extreme to get "bounced" by the piratical Bonxies within sight of their nests. Several Bonxies will harry a Gannet, twisting and chasing but always forcing it down toward the sea. Sometimes the Bonxies will grab tail feathers or (more seriously) a wing joint and flip the Gannet in mid-air. We watched dozens of these chases, and most resulted in the Gannet regurgitating some of it's fish to stave off the attack. None of the fish ever hit the water before the Bonxies caught them. Sometimes a Gannet would evade the attack, but most often the Bonxies got their fish. It was fascinating stuff.

Cuma had gone on ahead to film around Stac Lee. We watched her almost disappear below Boreray, and even when we were much closer the size of the swell hid her completely at times. Long crossings have never really been my thing, I prefer the interaction of land and sea and to explore coastlines. This, however, was fantastic, committing paddling at it's very best.

We already knew that we'd not be able to circumnavigate Boreray as the weather was closing in, the signs of an approaching front clear in the sky to the west. We still had an absolute highlight to come though.

Through the gates

2011-07-11T21:02:00.000+01:00

The Sound of Soay is a very impressive place. Three stacs stud the sound, Stac Dona, the tall and slender Stac Biorach and Stac Shoaigh which has a arch at the base of it. The effect is of a giant set of gates, in fact they've been christened the "Gates of Hell" by some kayakers!

The Stacs are very Tolkienesque and an imposing sight even on a sunny day like this. The horizon appears flat but there was a large swell running and although near to slack water there was still plenty of tidal movement around the stacs.

As we moved towards the "gates" the scale began to dawn on us; it took longer than we expected to get close.

Stac Biorach (the Pointed Stac) is the taller of the two gates at 73 metres, a spire of dark rock lancing from the water

Stac Soaigh isn't as tall (a mere 61 metres), but is deceptive as we'd seen it end on intially. Seen side on it's massive and has an arch straight through. We could have passed through between the two stacs, but we'd probably not get a better chance to try the arch. As we approached, the apparent calm began to be less calm! Sets of Atlantic swells were approaching the arch from each side and when combined with the tidal movement was creating a mess of confused and energetic water.

One by one we powered through. The arch is much longer than it appears, it's almost a tunnel. Conditions in the middle were best described as "a bit lively". Almost through, I was surprised by a wave reflecting from the wall and required a quick and panicky brace to stay upright. Our verdict? That was fun!

Once we were all through there was a huge change in our surroundings. We'd come from paddling alongside massive cliffs, then between towering stacs. Ahead of us was a very wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean

Choppy Soay for lunch!

2011-07-11T08:43:00.000+01:00

We made a rendezvous with Cuma for lunch in the Sound of Soay. Conditions at the entrance to the sound were choppy, and the tide was still running strongly through the sound. A break would mean paddling through near to slack water. There's no anchorage here, the cliffs of Soay and An Campar drop sheer into the sea. The practice we'd had boarding and launching via Cuma's inflatable now paid off as we formed the strangest lunch queue any of us had experienced.

In another display of consummate seamanship, Murdani took Cuma close in to the cliffs of Soay. He knew that there was an eddy which was almost slack and he positioned her to take advantage. With the engine trickling ahead and the helm hard to port, Cuma described a tight circle in calm water. We queued up and boarded, passing each kayak on a towline to the stern.

All safely aboard, we tucked into lunch and also took the opportunity for a comfort break. This is another great advantage of using Cuma as a base; the coast of Hirta and the crossing to Boreray are both, individually, very committing paddles. With Cuma in support is became possible to do both in a day. For me, lunch was more nervous than for most - I'd tied the knot holding £25K of kayaks and kit to Cuma!

Our slowly revolving restaurant had one of the finest views imaginable. Soay and An Campar loomed over us and ahead lay the stacs of the Sound of Soay, with Stac an Armin and the edge of Boreray just visible.

Hirta's south and west coasts

2011-07-10T18:22:00.000+01:00

We turned north west and began our journey below the cliffs of Hirta's southwest coast. This stretch is exposed to the full effect of the North Atlantic swell, we were lucky to experience it on a quiet day.

However, "quiet" is a relative term and there was still a considerable swell surging at the cliff bases. We kept offshore a little to avoid the worst of the clapotis and to get a wider view of the cliffs.

Looking back to Mullach Bi, yet another dramatic skyline is revealed

The scale of the cliffs constantly caused us to have to adjust perspective - I couldn't get Morag and the top of this cliff near An Campar in the frame even at the widest angle my camera could manage!

Rounding An Campar, the northwest tip of Hirta, we got our first view into the Sound of Soay which separates Hirta from Soay (sheep island), where we'd arranged to meet Cuma for a lunch date with a difference

Underneath the arches - paddling through an island

2011-07-04T10:54:00.000+01:00

The weather forecast for the following day was good, but with a weather front approaching from the southwest in the evening. We would certainly get a paddle, but would have to leave St Kilda before the front arrived. The brief summer night was beautifully lit by an almost full moon. This signalled that we'd also get lots of tidal energy around the islands and stacks.

After breakfast we got on the water straight away, Simon filming from the double, piloted by Ken. The close in footage in the DVD will be mostly filmed in this way. Ken is a very skillful paddler, he made manoeuvring and controlling the double whilst Simon filmed look easy, even with Simon having to lean out and get angles for filming.

We paddled straight across Village Bay to the north side of Dun. The weather on our first evening paddle hadn't allowed us to get to this side, and what a great place it is. Rafts of Puffins dived though green water as we approached. The whole of Dun is riddled with caves, passages and arches. Slots which look like one-way tunnels open up into huge caves and it's possible to get through underneath the island in a couple of places. We entered such a slot whch led into a large cave, then exited back out the way we came, rather quickly on a large swell in my case!

Continuing south east we came to the Great Arch. This cuts through the island and can be seen clearly from many miles away.

There's a large submerged rock in the centre of the arch which creates quite a lot of confused water. Gordon checked it out and called us through.

The arch is huge underneath, a great passage to paddle. The framed view back to Boreray is just superb.

All through, we turned north west up the coast of the island in warm sunshine and light winds.

There's great rock architecture here and more caves. The entrance to this one leads through to the slot we explored from the other side.

Soon we were passing the Dun Gap, but this time we headed past and on up the coast of Hirta.

Across Hirta

2011-07-03T20:42:00.002+01:00

From the 430 metre summit of Conachair our walk would take us west to the rounded top of Mullach Mor with its crown of antennae and radomes, then south along the ridge dividing Village Bay from Gleann Mor (big glen) to Ruabhal overlooking Dun.

Right on the summit of Conachair, on the edge of 400 metre cliffs, we were surprised to see this Heath Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza maculata). It's a common species in damp ground throughout Scotland but isn't normally associated with cliff edges, especially ones so exposed as here.

From Mullach Mor we had a view out to the northern arm of Hirta, An Campar, and beyond to Soay (Sheep Island). The difficult nature of any landing in Glen Bay can also be seen in this picture.

Gleann Mor stretched out below us, facing north. The oldest archeaological finds on Hirta have been made in this glen. There are hut circles and a set of remains known as "The Amazon's House" which is probably a bronze age wheel-house.

We followed the vehicle access track from Mullach Mor to a dip, then left the track and followed a contouring path to Ruabhal (western hill) and the cliffs of Hirta's south coast. The view was, as everywhere we looked, stunning.

To the north west were the dramatic cliffs we hoped to paddle along the following day. The pointed summit in the distance is the 358 metre Mullach Bi which is about half way along to the northwest tip of Hirta.

After some searching, we found the Mistress Stone, a fallen block bridging an eroded dyke. Apparently, the young men of St Kilda balanced on the very edge of this rock as a test of balance and nerve (the drop is very considerable) although it may equally have been a stunt for the benefit of Victorian tourists....

We went right to the edge of the 130 metre high cliff overlooking Dun Gap. How calm and easy it looked compared to the previous evening!

We'd had a great day ashore. I think we were all grateful to have had the opportunity to explore the village and some of Hirta, and of course to a hillwalker Conachair is a rare "tick"!

The weather signs were encouraging; the calm conditions in the Dun gap was an indication that both wind and swell had dropped away. We headed back to the pier in Village Bay to rejoin Cuma for another of Murdani's super meals. All ears were on the weather forecast for the following morning

St Kildavision! - the video diary

2011-07-01T08:26:00.003+01:00

Simon shot this short clip as part of the build up to Volume 2 of the "Sea Kayaking with Gordon Brown" DVD series Filming footage for the DVD was the primary reason for us being in St Kilda, though a great adventure was also high on the list of reasons to go!

Although it's not of the same quality as the finished product will be, this short video does give a flavour of the place and of our trip. The team have had a sneak preview of some of the DVD material - which looks very, very good!

Simon's blog has links, more information and progress reports about the DVD's,

St Kilda Sea Kayaking, Video Diary 3 from Simon Willis on Vimeo.

Bonxies - big, brown and bad to the bone!

2011-06-30T19:18:00.001+01:00

The summit area of Conachair is home to a colony of the largest, most powerful and predatory of seabirds in northern waters, Great Skuas (Cataracta skua), known in Scotland as "Bonxies". As soon as we approached they got airborne in preparation.

They began a concerted series of low level attacks on us, normally at head height. These are big birds, muscular and with a wingspan of 1.5 metres. An attack, accompanied by a tearing rush of air as the bird passes, gets your full attention. We were most careful to avoid any area where there was a possibility of a nest, but it seems that the mere presence of a human (or anything else) in the area is enough to trigger an aggressive response...

Everything about Bonxie behaviour and body language exudes menace, even when they are not attacking.

Relatively recent arrivals on St Kilda, Bonxies are predatory pirates, they will attack and kill smaller birds, kill lambs and make a speciality of ganging up on Gannets, grabbing wings or tail and forcing the Gannet to disgorge its load of hard-earned fish.

It's fair to say they don't mix well with others......

Amongst ornithologists, small and nondescript birds are known as LBJ's (Little Brown Jobs). We christened this group of Bonxies as BBB's, which needs no further explanation!

In an attempt to get good pictures of an attack, Gordon and Douglas formed a team, Gordon standing as a target and Douglas taking the pictures.

I was having my own personal issue with a Bonxie. One individual took great exception to the fact that I wasn't ducking under attack but standing my ground to take pictures. Clearly this was a grave insult to his Bonxie pride and he attacked with renewed menace. It became a battle of wills.

In this post, Douglas has captured the attacks from about 25 metres away, including the moment just before......

The bird powered in and hit me a resounding slap on the forehead with its feet.

Honour was restored, the Bonxie went off to perch on a cleit and I moved away. We were rather glad to move out of the combat zone!

Conachair and the cliffs

2011-06-30T12:08:00.001+01:00

We spent all morning exploring the village and its immediate surroundings. We had our lunch by the pier and dozed in the warm sunshine for a short while (Murdani's Cloud Lever was still in the "Open" position). We could see there was still a swell running into the bay, so the unanimous decision was to go for a walk, taking in Conachair, at 430 metres the highest point of Hirta.

The climb to the Gap, a bealach (col) on the edge of the northeastern cliffs, goes initially up to the head dyke. This wall separates the in-bye land from the open hill and like most of Hirta is dotted with dozens of cleitean, the work of many decades.

Above the head dyke we passed the irregularly shaped drystone enclosures at An Lag Bho'N Tuath. The original purpose of these enclosures has been debated for some time; they are unusual in that some don't have entrances. Originally thought to be livestock enclosures, it is now believed that they were used to protect crops.

The slope steepens above, the views back down to Village Bay and across to Dun provided a good excuse for regular rest stops! Our walk would eventually take us to Ruabhal (western hill) above the Dun Gap and back to the pier above the eroded cliff and shore.

The climb ends suddenly at the edge of the cliffs where the St Kildans lowered themselves on home-made ropes to harvest birds and eggs. We can attest that it's a fair drop!

The views to Boreray and the stacs are very, very fine

The most numerous birds of the upper cliffs here are Fulmars (Fulmarus glacialis). Superficially resembling gulls, they're part of the Petrel family and have a wingspan of a little over a metre. They fly with a distinctive stiff-winged style and use long effortless glides.

The tube above the bill provides a means of excreting excess salt as brine; Fulmars prefer the colder and more saline waters of the North Atlantic and North Pacific to feed, spending many months at sea. Young Fulmars spend several years at sea before returning to their birth colony to set up a territory and find a mate.

Sea kayakers paddling around the UK will be familiar with these birds, they readily make close approaches to kayaks, planing past at head height and giving a long, cool inspection on the way by. A less endearing trait is that they readily projectile vomit an evil smelling oily substance over intruders around the nest; if it gets onto clothes the smell never leaves!

The St Kildans killed thosands of fulmars each year, apparently with very little effect on numbers. The birds were valuable for their oil, each Fulmar yielding about a quarter of a litre. Feathers and meat were also prized and eggs were eaten too. Nothing was wasted, the entrails were ploughed in as manure. A report from the mid 19th century noted that the 180 St Kildans ate around 22,600 birds in a year, mostly Fulmars and Gannets but also including Kittiwakes, Guillemots and Puffins. This didn't include the birds preseved and exported.

We skirted the highest sea cliffs in the UK on the very steep pull to the summit of Conachair. Just below and to the east of the summit we came across this aircraft propellor and engine parts. It is part of the wreckage of Bristol Beaufighter LX 798, a long range night fighter based at Port Ellen, Islay which crashed here on the night of June 3rd 1943 killing both crew. Most of the wreckage slipped back off the cliff but parts were strewn across the hillside. There is a memorial to the crew in the Kirk in the village.

We were almost at the summit of Conachair, but as we were to discover, it is defended by a different type of airborne combatant...

Life and death in St Kilda

2011-06-29T19:41:00.002+01:00

We left the Kirk and schoolhouse and wandered over to the most iconic view of the Village, simply known as The Street.

Again, it will be well worth reading this post on Douglas' blog along with the one here.

The view along the Street is instantly recognisable as the same view portrayed in old photographs, particularly those forming part of the George Washington Wilson collection held by Aberdeen University.
What is particularly noticeable is the alternating styles of house along the Street. the older style "Blackhouses" are interspersed with newer cottages.

The Blackhouses had actually been rebuilt on their present site by the St Kildans in about 1834-1836, having originally been sited higher up. Like most blackhouse designs they had a rounded appearance like an upturned boat, tiny doors and if they had windows at all they were heavily recessed. The roofs were of turf and thatch held down with stones suspended on ropes of twisted heather or straw. The smoke from the constantly burning peat fires exited through the thatch. Simple and primitive they may have appeared, but they were well adapted to the environment.

In 1860 the Landlord, Sir John MacPherson Macleod of Dunvegan, had 18 new houses built at his own expense. Historically, landowners have had a justifiably bad reputation throughout much of Scotland, but the MacLeods deserve much credit for their treatment of and support to the community on Hirta. The St Kildans paid rent in kind in Fulmar oil, Gannets, Puffins, feathers, wool and the like but the MacLeods put back far more than they ever received. The MacLeods and their factors, in particular John MacKenzie, seem to have been good men. As the community declined, rents were adjusted downwards and necessary supplies sent in addition.

The new houses were among the most advanced in the Hebrides. They had two or three rooms, windows each side of the door and chimneyed fireplaces. They also had zinc roofs, which unfortunately carried away in a storm. These were replaced, but were found to be unsuitable as they let in rain and acted as condensors, leaving the interior of the houses damp. The roofs were replaced with felt and tar which cured the damp, but the houses remained noisy, their hard edges resisting the wind and in gales the smoke couldn't rise from the chimneys. The old blackhouses were retained as byres or stores, and some St Kildans moved back into these during the winter. Perhaps the most significant aspect of the houses is that they were built by MacLeod's masons and used mortar, which meant that they had to be maintained using materials from outside; another blow to the St Kildan's independent way of life.

This baulk of timber was set into the drystone wall facing the houses on the street. It is an old piece, polished from being sat upon and there seems every possibility that it is the same timber shown in Washington Wilson's glass plates.

The National Trust for Scotland has seasonal work parties on Hirta who are restoring some of the cottages and field drains. A check curtain at the window was a homely touch amongst the stone landscape.

We moved to the end of the Street and beyond to the burial ground. One of our team, Donald Thomson, led the first successful unsupported return voyage in sea kayaks to St Kilda and has since studied the islands. He has a passion for and a deep knowledge of the history of the islands and was an excellent guide. He pointed out that the level of the ground inside the burial enclosure is much higher than outside. The ground was so thin and stony that earth and seaweed had to be piled up inside to permit sufficient depth for burials.

Bones often had to be moved aside to permit fresh burials in the confined area. Most graves are marked with a simple stone bearing no inscription. Later burials have more formal stones, and represent those who left the island but whose remains were brought back to be interred here.

Yellow Flag Iris were in flower amongst the gravestones.

Disease played a part in depopulating St Kilda, the smallpox epidemic which left a party stranded on Stac an Armin for nine months because there were not enough people to man a boat to recover them is the best known example. Contact wwith Victorian tourists and do-gooders was probably a more potent factor. The Victorians seem to have treated the island as a zoo and its people as quaint exhibits. There are records of tourists throwing sweets at the St Kildans and entering their houses to gawp. Contact with the outside world also introduced the concept of a cash economy, and showed opportunity outside the harsh confines of the islands.

Between 1866 and 1928 the population halved from 77 to 37. Without enough manpower to catch birds, carry peats increasing distances and man boats the community was doomed. Increasing dependence upon charity seemed the only future if they were to remain on Hirta. In 1930 and after after long discussions, the islanders petitioned the Secretary of State for Scotland to be evacuated. The catalyst seems to have been the death of Mary Gillies from appendicitis, she could not be moved to the mainland in time to save her life.

In April 1930 the islanders case was pressed by the MP for the Western Isles, T.B. Ramsay. It was a painful affair. The press went overboard on the human drama, the Admiralty fretted about adverse publicity and a place had to be found for the community to resettle. Finally, all was arranged. On 28th August 1930 the people carried their possessions to the pier to await the arrival of the SS Dunara Castle and HMS Harebell the following day. The dogs were drowned, the sheep were transported to the mainland and the cats left to fend for themselves.

At 7am on 29th August 1930, each St Kildan family left an open bible and a small pile of oats in their houses, according to tradition. They then walked down to meet the ships. By 9am, HMS Harebell had weighed anchor and thousands of years of permanent habitation in St Kilda came to an end. It was reported that the people bore their evacuation with dignity.

A well-meaning Argyllshire county Council settled the folk in Ardtornish, where they were given employment in forestry. None of the evacuated islanders had ever set eyes upon a tree.

The Kirk and School, Hirta

2011-06-29T13:23:00.003+01:00

Although sheltered from the worst of the weather,Cuma rolled heavily at her anchorage overnight in the swell wrapping around Rubh an Uisge (water point) and there was little sleep to be had.

The forecast was unpromising, but Murdani has a most wonderful possession, and one that is a rare thing indeed. Deep within Cuma, he has a "Cloud Lever". It can be used only sparingly, but today he set it to Full Open and the day turned out much, much better than the forecast. A few of the team expressed a desire to put their feet on terra firma, and since the residual wind and swell would have made paddling close to the cliffs tricky, a morning ashore was decided upon. Gary ferried us to the pier in Cuma's inflatable and we gathered to meet the NTS warden for our introductory briefing.

In order to show as many aspects as possible of the village, it will be well worthwhile reading this post alongside this one on Douglas' blog to get the full "St Kilda Stereovision" (tm) effect!

Village Bay provides the only sheltered anchorage in the whole archipelago, and in easterlies or southeasterlies even this is untenable. Most of the habitation is clustered around the bay, though as we were to learn, earlier settlers lived right across the islands.

After visiting the Feather Store and the naval gun, we headed across to the largest of the older buildings, the Kirk and Schoolhouse

The interior of the Kirk is plain and simple with a cool, calm ambience. It has been renovated, having been stripped of timber following the evacuation in 1930 and by all accounts is a much lighter and more pleasant place than for much of its history. A Gaelic bible lies on the lectern, which totally dominates the kirk.

One of the many influences which eventually led to the decline and evacuation of the St Kildans lies here. Organised religion arrived on the island in1705 when a Rev Alexander Buchan was sent as a missionary by the Church of Scotland. He stayed for four years, then there were sporadic incumbents with increasingly puritanical views culminating in the appointment of Rev John Mackay in 1865. He had been ordained by the Free Kirk (which had by this time split with the Church of Scotland) specifically with St Kilda in mind and he set about establishing a harsh Sabbatarian regime.

The obsevances Mackay introduced seem today to be excessive, but the St Kildans didn't resist. There were three Sunday services, each lasting 2 to 3 hours, which all must attend. No work of any kind could be undertaken on the Sabbath, not even the drawing of water. Conversation between the islanders was forbidden from Saturday evening until Monday morning. Prayer meetings were held on Wednesdays, no work could be undertaken for 12 hours either side of the meeting. Music was forbbidden, as were children's games. Children were expected to carry a bible everywhere under their arms.

For a community so intimately bound to fluctuating natural resources and so reliant on constant cooperative labour to remain viable, these restrictions were to prove catastrophic. Though more enlightened minsters were sent following MacKay's four year reign, it was too late.

The history of St Kilda's people is superbly told in charles MacLean's book "Island At The Edge Of The World" published by Canongate.

The lectern cloth is extremely beautiful. It seems to reflect the natural surroundings with the blue of the sea and the green of the island slopes. It's hard to see Mackay entertaining such things during his time though!

Various plaques in the kirk commemorate events on the islands, as here with the origin of the kirk bell. Other plaques commemorate aircrews lost in plane crashes on the island, and the designation of St Kilda as a dual World Heritage Site.

This collection box is in front of the lectern, lit by morning sunlight streaming through a window.. It's beautifully crafted and has the names of the main islands inscribed on it. I struggled to get the composition, focus and exposure in balance, the slightly soft effect in this image seems to suit the light and the atmosphere well.

Connected to the Kirk is the school classroom. Teachers were occasionally sent to "improve" the lot of the St Kildans from 1709 onwards with a more permanent arrangement from the late 1800's. Most of these teachers were overseen by the incumbent Ministers, but in 1906 a Mr and Mrs MacLachlan arrived and seem to have been a real asset to the islanders. The children were taught formal lessons from 10am until 4pm in a variety of subjects.

It's unlikely that they had a teacher like Douglas though!

Mind the Gap

2011-06-27T22:12:00.000+01:00

We wanted to get an evening paddle to Dun, but with a forecast of NE Force 5 to 6 imminent, we'd be paddling in increasingly breezy conditions. We change into paddling kit and began the first of several installments of "pass the boat" to get on the water.

Cuma seemed to have sprouted a shiny new bowsprit! Simon and Ken embarked in the double kayak aka "The Battleship Potemkin" in order to do some filming - there was a possibility that this would be the only paddling we'd be able to do given the forecast.

We headed off tward the Dun Gap, a narrow channel separating Dun from Hirta. The breeze was already funnelling through this gap and creating some nasty conditions. One of the party took a brief unplanned swim, was quickly rescued and promptly interviewed on film for the DVD - no opportunities wasted on this trip!

Once through the gap we were in the lee of Dun in calm, sunny conditions, the contrast was quite startling. The air was warmer in the sun but cold in the shadows and we got our first taste of paddling under the cliffs of St Kilda.

There's constant interest along this bit of coast with caves, arches and cliffs. We ventured into a couple of caves which cut right through Dun, but conditions on the windy east side meant that there was no safe passage through for most of us, though Gordon made a spectacular return trip through one slot....

Almost at the southeast tip of Dun and we could feel the wind whipping around the point. More pertinently, we could see the tidal race pouring around Giumachsgor against the wind. It looked very, very imposing and a decision was quickly made that we'd not go that way. The Great Arch of Dun was equally tricky looking with the wind howling through it. So it was back to the Dun Gap for our return.

I took no pictures on the way back through - I was far too concerned with keeping upright in the conditions. The gap was utterly transformed in the hour or so since we'd come through. The rising wind was pushing breaking waves into the consticted gut, exposing large rocks in the channel. The wind itself was pouring through. We dodged from rock to rock gaining what shelter we could before an unavoidable sprint out of the gap through confused seas.

After we'd all managed through, there just remained the paddle across Village Bay to the jetty, where we left the kayaks secured for the night and were picked up by Cuma's inflatable for dinner.

The swell across Village Bay set the scene for a rock n' roll night onboard Cuma as she lay beam on to swells rounding Geodha Clann on the east side of the bay. We did wonder whether we'd missed the weather window...

Stac Lee and Village Bay

2011-06-27T12:05:00.000+01:00

Murdani now turned cuma away from Boreray and headed soth west toward the main island, Hirta. On the way we passed close to Stac Lee (the grey stac)

This is another impressive stack, rising to 172 metres and once again covered with Gannets. Here too the St Kildans landed to harvest the birds and built stone cleitean to store the catch, they must have been phenomenal cragsmen.

A look back at Stac an Armin from the base of Stac Lee

On the 8km passage from Boreray to Hirta we were all thinking the same thing, how brilliant it would be to kayak around the stacs and the Boreray coast, but would the weather permit it?

Cuma rounded the northern arm of Village Bay and we got our first sight of Village Bay. There's no denying that the military buildings do impose on the scene.

Bur what caught our attention more were the older stone buildings and the many Cleitean dotted around the landscape. As Gary anchored Cuma, thoughts turned to getting onto the water.

Boreray, sheer impact

2011-06-26T10:43:00.001+01:00

We rounded the impressive Stac an Armin and got our first clear view of the west coast of Boreray

Nothing really prepares you for getting close to Boreray (The Fortress Island). The cliffs soar straight out of the sea to a height of 384 metres, studded with towers and pinnacles.

This side of the island looks impregnable, but the St Kildans often visited, landing on a sloping slab on the eastern side. As on the Stacs they harvested birds for meat, oil and feathers but here on Boreray they also kept some sheep. These animals were quite distinct from the sheep kept on Hirta, being origially Scottish Tan Face and then crossed with Hebridean Black face animals. The St Kildans plucked wool from them and took some animals back to Hirta; these were thrown into the sea and picked up for transport!

Murdani has expert knowledge of the waters around Boreray, he piloted Cuma through a gap between Stac an Armin and Boreray guarded by two small but rugged stacks and took her close in to these mighty cliffs.

Very close in! This tower is the left hand one in the second photograph. Here too the air teemed with Gannets and Fulmars, the two metre wingspan Gannets were brilliant white specks around the upper part of the island. We were stunned into silence by the epic scale of this place.

The sheer impact of Boreray is hard to describe and it's difficult to portray in pictures, but what an experience!

The Warrior's Stack

2011-06-23T21:29:00.001+01:00

We approached the St Kilda group trom the north east, arriving first at Stac an Armin (the warrior's stack) which is just to the north of Boreray.

As we were to repeatedly discover, everything about St Kilda is on a huge scale. We got closer and the Stac got bigger....

At 196 metres high it's claimed to be the highest sea stack in the British Isles. Incredible as it seems, the St Kildans not only visited this stack to harvest eggs and young birds, but also built around 80 stone stuctures known as "Cleitean" to store the catch and a bothy to live in during the harvest.

The potential of the Stac as a source of Gugas (young, unfledged Gannets) is obvious, the air is full of the birds and the Stac is plastered with the tens of thousands of gannets and their guano.

Murdani took Cuma around Stac an Armin and between the Stac and the island of Boreray. From this angle, the bold shark's fin shape slashes skyward, the scale betrayed by the tiny specks of Gannets around the summit nearly two hundred metres above us. This surely has to be one of the most dramatic sea stacks anywhere.

Our introduction to St Kilda had been a brush with a formidable Warrior in grey armour set off with dazzling white.

We were impressed!

The islands beyond the horizon

2011-06-22T11:09:00.002+01:00

Sunday morning dawned bright and, more importantly, with light winds. The Shipping Forecast was listened to avidly and options discussed. Murdani felt that we'd have a good but limited weather window to get out to St Kilda - we were on! After breakfast we weighed anchor and headed out of Loch Tamnabhaigh, passing the island of Scarp and so to the open Atlantic. The passage would take around six hours, most of us passed the time by sitting and chatting in the sun on Cuma's decks.

"Westward!" - Douglas emulates one of his great heroes; the resemblance is amazing!

The trip can be followed (with much better pictures) on Douglas' super blog to enjoy the full St Kilda Stereovision (tm) experience!

St Kilda lies 41 nautical miles west of Lewis, well below the horizon when we set out. The air was very clear, and after a couple of hours the clouds above the archipelago, then the islands themselves became visible. The shapes we'd studied in photographs crept above the horizon. I'd seen St Kilda several times from seaward, but this is the more usual view.

From right to left, Stac an Armin, Boreray, Soay and Hirta

Excitement mounted as we approached. The sense of scale was difficult to judge - we were still several nautical miles away when this picture was taken.

We had arrived at the edge of the world.

The summer glow and the shining path - an evening paddle in Lewis

2011-06-20T19:40:00.001+01:00

Cuma sailed from Loch Miabhaig in the late afternoon. The plan was to head south along the west coast of Lewis to Loch Tamnabhaigh and anchor for the night. We would be sheltered from any weather but in a good place to sail for St Kilda if the conditions were favourable.

We headed out of Loch Roag past the island of Bhacasaigh which was lit by a beautiful warm light. Lewis gives its name to Lewisian Gneiss, one of the oldest rocks on the planet at a staggering 3000 million years old. To put that age into perspective, no fossils are found in Lewisian Gneiss because it predates all life on Earth.

The shelter of Loch Roag was soon behind us and some of the team experienced a sudden requirement for horizontal repose as the effects of a large Atlantic swell made themselves felt. Cuma is a great sea-keeping boat though, and her motion was very natural as she rode the swell around Gallan Head and turned south.

Murdani had chosen the perfect anchorage; the head of Loch Tamnabhaigh was calm and quiet. Some of us fancied an evening paddle, so after dinner we got on the water at 2145. In summer it barely goes dark at these latitudes and it was a beautiful evening for a paddle.

Douglas hoisted sail and headed down the loch. Even with the lightest of breezes he accelerated smoothly past us.

We paddled to the mouth of loch Tamnabhaigh, chatting and enjoying being on the water in such a special place. Rounding a headland, the moon became visible reminding us of the hour. We made a quick jaunt across Loch Tealasbhaigh and then turned for the paddle back to Cuma's anchorage.

The western sky was filled with a delicate orange blush, it was nearly 11pm and we felt very privileged to be part of a gorgeous Hebridean summer evening.

By the time we got back to Cuma the sunset colours had faded and a shining path of moonlight showed us the way.

Just magical.

Heading west - the start of an adventure

2011-06-19T19:41:00.002+01:00

A couple of months ago I had an email asking me if I'd like to join a team heading out on a sea kayaking expedition to St Kilda. The trip was being organised by Gordon and Morag Brown of Skyak Adventures, and one of the purposes of the trip was for Simon and Liz Willis of Sunart Media to shoot footage for the second "Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown" DVD. The other purpose was to have a great adventure! My reply was an almost instantaneous "yes please!" and I spent the last two months at work in increasing excitement and anticipation.

All good adventures should start with a sea voyage and ours would start with not one but several. Having convened at Skyak's base in Skye on the Friday evening to load boats and kit, Saturday morning saw us at Uig in the north of Skye in the queue to board the Calmac ferry MV Hebrides to Tarbert in the island of Harris. At this point I think we were all hoping we hadn't forgotten anything important!

We were : Anne & Donald, Callum, Douglas, Janice, Ken, Liz & Simon, Morag & Gordon, Sue and I. Our team included well respected coaches, a good variety of paddling experience and added value in Donald, who was on the first successful out-and-back self supported expedition to St Kilda by kayak and who has a wealth of knowledge about the St Kilda archipeligo; and in Douglas, an outstanding photographer.

We sailed from Uig on a beautiful morning, hoping that the good weather hadn't come too early

The ferry turned her bows to the west, and the Outer Hebrides came into view across a shining sea.

The passage into Tarbert through the skerries. Simon & Liz and Donald & Anne had travelled the previous day; we'd meet up with them at Miabhaig in the north west of Lewis. Lewis and Harris are actually one landmass but are considered separate islands.

At Miabhaig, we got our first view of MV Cuma, our home for the next six days. Her skipper Murdani has a lifetime of experience on this coast, we couldn't have chosen better.

The next couple of hours were spent embarking our kit and playing the first instalment of a new game - kayak Jenga. Would we fit them all onboard?

With Murdani's guidance, everything was stowed safely. We were ready to start the adventure proper.

Postcard from the edge

2011-06-18T12:50:00.001+01:00

I'm just back from an utterly superb week's sea kayaking. Some of the most stunning locations imaginable combined with brilliant company to make this a trip to remember for a very long time.

There will be much more in future posts, but here's just a taster.

All change at the south end of Bute

2011-06-09T08:54:00.000+01:00

There is a further geological change at the south end of the Isle of Bute where intrusions of igneous rocks, mainly basalt and spilite, form a distinctive landscape. Some of the outcrops have iron age remains on them, notably a vitrified hillfort at Dunagoil

Outcrops close to the shore contain small dry caves, adding a possibility for bivvying.

The southern tip of Bute can be tricky to paddle, particularly on the ebb tide where the streams flowing south down both sides of the island meet. If they confront a southerly wind overfalls can be formed. This evening, although the ebb was in full swing all was calm apart from some boils and upwellings around Rubh 'an Eun (point of the birds).

The light at the point was built in 1911 and forms an important mark for shipping. It flashes red every six seconds, reflecting its position marking the port side of the inbound shipping channels.

I soon arrived at Kilchattan Bay and was picked up. No need for a wild camp tonight, a steak meal and a glass of wine beckoned!

The south tip of the island marks a change in the paddling; the east coast of Bute is relatively well populated and in usual weather conditions is more sheltered from the prevailing southwesterly wind. Unortunately, a fresh northeasterly was forecast for the following day, a change from the expected northwesterly.

Launching again at Kilchattan Bay the wind was immediately obvious. It was a steady grind into the wind and a short chop, picked up with wind over tide conditions. There are plenty of opportunities to land along this coast, but few in an easterly airflow. The best option was tucked in behind a pier at the village of Kerrycroy. The buildings here look as if they've been transplanted from the south of England, and indeed this was the intention. It's said that the village was rebuilt in 1803 by the first Marquess of Bute to make his English wife feel more at home. The road to the "big house" of Mount Stuart starts here.

A further choppy paddle took me north to Rothesay Bay and my finish where I'd launched the previous day. There aren't any pictures from this leg due to the bouncy conditions. An unwelcome close pass by a RIB in the more sheltered waters of the bay "livened up" my last kilometre - 20 metres away at 40 knots felt too close for comfort.

Information about this trip

This was a 65km paddle over two days.

Bute can be reached by Calmac ferry from Wemyss Bay or Colintraive, the crossings can be expensive if cars are taken.

The whole trip is on OS Landranger 1:50K sheet 63 (Firth of Clyde), although sheet 62 (North Kintyre & Tarbert) is useful for the area of the West Kyle and Tignabruaich

There are numerous opportunities for wild camping on the west side of the island, it's less easy on the east side.

Tidal streams may be encountered in the Kyles where the flood enters both Kyles and meets near the Burnt Islands, and at the south end as noted above.

Bute, an island of contrasts

2011-06-08T09:59:00.001+01:00

Kildavanan Point where I had my lunch stop is a significant point not just on Bute but also across Scotland. It lies right on the Highland Boundary Fault, a geological faultline running southwest to northeast across the country from here in Bute to Stonehaven on the North sea coast.

To the north and west of this line the rocks are generally hard metamorphic types which give craggy landforms and support thin, acid soils - typically Highland scenery. To the south and east of the line the rocks tend to be softer sedimentary types (Old Red Sandstone on Bute) with more rounded landforms and supporting much more fertile soils. There's further interest at the southern tip of the island where the landforms are quite different.

It's these contrasts, not just north to south but also in the contrast between the sparsely populated west coast with its sandy bays, rocky shoreline and small shingle beaches and the more populated east coast with villages and woods which make paddling around this small island so rewarding.

Looking across St Ninian's Bay, where several yachts had anchored to enjoy a windless afternoon, the rich farmland was buzzing with activity as a cut of grass was being taken from the fields. It's no surprise that the usual interpretation of the name "Bute" is from Ey Bhoid - Island of Corn.

Earlier folk obviously felt that the island was a good place to live. There are Standing Stones and hillforts dotting the coastline, and the ruins of the sixth century St Ninian's Chapel, itself sited on an earlier pagan burial ground. St Ninian is Scotland's earliest saint, a missionary monk who preached Christianity among the Pictish people. He is most associated with the monastary of Candida Casa in Whithorn, Galloway but there are numerous sites which also bear his name.

All that remains of the chapel is a low turf and stone wall; this adjacent ruin is sometimes mistaken for St Ninian's chapel, but it is much later and may have been part of a fisheries enterprise

Both buildings are on a splendid site; it's on a narrow promonotory with a bay for landing boats right beside it, and a great view to Arran.

Setting off southward again, I saw a group of five kayakers in the distance, heading for Inchmarnock and then met with Caroline and Kevin who were also paddling around the island. We chatted for a while, mostly about how good it felt to be paddling in sunshine and light winds! They were looking for a camping spot whilst I would paddle around the southern tip of the island to finish for the night at Kilchattan Bay.

Calm in the Kyles, above and below

2011-06-07T09:26:00.001+01:00

The north end of the Isle of Bute is rugged and difficult of access on foot. When I lived on the island I walked there sometimes and always found it a slog. Today I was able to glide past using the last of the flood tide.

This small area of the Kyles makes a great day paddle in itself, one can start at Colintraive and explore the Burnt Islands then across to the popular but concealed yacht anchorage of An Caladh and then if the tide is right head up Loch Riddon (also known as Loch Ruel). On a rough hillside above the shore at the north of the island are the Maids of Bute, two brightly painted rocks which have watched over the Kyles for well over a hundred years. I waved to them as is traditional but they didn't wave back, and sadly my photograph didn't do the ladies any justice.

It's not all rugged wilderness hereabouts though; a few kilometres west on the mainland shore are two villages, Tighnabruaich and Kames. Very pretty and with impressive stone-built waterfront houses, both are popular tourist destinations. For this tourist, there was a particular attraction - an ice cream from the village shop. This sea-kayaking lark doesn't always have to be a wilderness experience! :o)

Having eaten my ice cream beside the RNLI slip in a lovely summer scene of folk wandering the seafront and children exploring the beach, I headed back out and past Kames. I was now heading south down the West Kyle and crossed back over to the Bute shore.

As the West Kyle opens up, there's a view down past the island of Inchmarnock to the Arran hills. The heat of the day was building a haze, something we've not seen since the warmth of late April.

The calm surface of the water allowed a glimpse into the world below. Every summer, several species of jellyfish can be found in large numbers on Scotland's west coast. Most numerous today were Moon Jellyfish, but there were lots of larger Lion's Mane Jellyfish ( Cyanea capillata) too. This one was about .75 of a metre across with tentacles stretching some 3 metres behind it, the largest yet recorded had a diameter of over 2 metres!. I kept to one side as the sting can be painful. The Lion's Mane has a fascinating lifecycle, most of the animals found close to the shore are reaching the end of their lives. There's an aura of calm about the jellyfish which suited the day's pace perfectly.

I paddled on and arrived at Kildavanan Bay for a lunch break on the warm shingle. I looked over to Ardlamont Point across a mirror calm sea with not a breath of wind. How very different to when I was here a few weeks ago!

A Bute of a day

2011-06-06T09:21:00.000+01:00

At last there seemed to be a lull in the rain and wind which has characterised Spring 2011 in Scotland. I planned to combine a trip to visit relatives on the Isle of Bute with a circumnavigation of the island. We lived on Bute for 8 years, but in pre-paddling days so this was a trip I'd looked forward to doing.

I was able to carry the boat straight to the water from our relatives house in Rothesay, the main town on the island. Although it was early in the morning the temperature was already rising, a pleasant change!

Paddling north past Port Bannatyne I started to enter the Kyles of Bute, the narrow channel between the north end of the island and the Argyll mainland. The water was mirror calm, Strone Point and Beinn Bhreac (speckled hill) were reflected perfectly.

Near the north end of Bute a ferry route crosses the short distance between Rhubodach (Old man's point) and Colintraive, one of two routes operated by Caledonian MacBrayne connecting Bute to the mainland. The current vessel on the route is MV Loch Dunvegan . It may seem strange to have a ferry named after a Skye sea-loch on a southern route, but in fact the vessel started her service life on the Kyle of Lochalsh crossing. She was laid up following the opening of the Skye bridge then reactivated to serve this route. The crossing takes less than five minutes, and it has long been claimed by those living on Bute that the crossing costs costs more money per metre than flying on Concorde!

Just north of the the ferry the narrowest parts of the Kyles are reached, starting with the Burnt Islands. Theses islands contain a thriving Gull population which lets you know quite vociferously that you're intruding. Curious seals inspected my boat on the shore as I walked up to photograph the Yellow Flag Iris (Iris pseudacorus), the metre high yellow flowers are abundant on wet ground in early summer.

Evidence of the Gulls diet is everywhere on the islands, empty mussel shells form a crunching mat over the rockier parts.

The next part of the trip would take me west through the Kyles around the northern end of Bute.

The Star of the Wood

2011-05-26T18:42:00.000+01:00

Whilst walking in my local park this evening, I noticed this small plant. About 10cm tall and delicately beautiful, it's flowering in large numbers in the birchwoods.

Not being too good with wildflower identification, I looked it up when I got home. It's Chickweed Wintergreen (Trientalis europaea) which is apparently neither a Chickweed or a Wintergreen but a member of the Primrose family.

As is so often the case, the Gaels have a much more descriptive and evocative name: "Reul na Coille" - Star of the Wood

A small hill under a big sky

2011-05-25T10:54:00.000+01:00

On a windy day with some bright spells I set out for a walk along the River Gairn. The wind was forecast to be above gale force on the higher hills, so staying low seemed a good bet.

The walk started through a pleasant mix of Birch and Rowan wood before heading across more open ground to the River Gairn. Ahead are the slopes of Mona Gowan (Moor or Mountain of goats). There are lots of ruined buildings along the Gairn; at one time it must have been well populated. Some of the buildings are recorded as having been in use as late as 1888.

There are some very fine views along the Gairn from the track. This part of the Cairngorms has an enormous sense of space even at low levels. The mountain in the distance is Ben Avon (pronounced A'an). The hill takes its name from the River Avon (bright one). Ben Avon is a sprawling mass of a hill, prominent from may parts of the north east - from where I stood a walk of 20 kilometres would have been needed just to get to the foot of it.

After crossing the Gairn on a Victorian iron bridge the track arrives at Corndavon Lodge, a former shooting lodge owned by Invercauld estate. It was extensively damaged by fire and subsequently repaired and is still in occasional use for shooting groups to take luncheon. There are reputed to be full size wall murals in some of the rooms. The building beyond is marked as a bothy, but has been securely locked for many years.

From Corndavon Lodge I went back across the Gairn, this time on a shoogly wooden bridge and followed a track uphill towards the high point of my walk, Tom Breac (the speckled hill). Looking back along the walk-in, the characteristic patchwork of a grouse moor shows well. Heather is burned in strips to allow young heather shoots to grow as food for the grouse. These patterned hillsides are common all over the eastern highlands. In this view, the Corbett of Morven is prominent.

Soon the summit of Tom Breac is reached and the view is magnificent. Across the Dee valley is Lochnagar; I was last on its summit a little over a year ago when there was much more snow on the ground. To the south, the view stretches right down past the Cairnwell to the mountains of Perthshire and to the west there's a grandstand view into the corries of Ben Avon.

Tom Breac is just 696 metres high yet packs a view way beyond its height; it's a little hill under a big sky. It isn't on any tick list and seems rarely visited, which is a pity because it makes for a good half day walk.

After the wind

2011-05-24T10:33:00.000+01:00

Much of Scotland is clearing up today after an area of exeptionally strong winds crossed the country on 23rd May. Gusts of 160kph (100mph) were widely recorded, with mean strengths of over 110kph (70mph) in some areas for a large part of the day. In the Beaufort scale, this puts the winds between Storm and Hurricane force.

We're fortunate not to experience the extreme weather events which some parts of the world endure, but this was a pretty strong wind.

42,000 homes were without power for varying lengths of time with many still to be reconnected, road were blocked, ferries and trains cancelled. It's a reminder that nature is in charge, even in a supposedly benign month. The gales are continuing today but at greatly reduced speeds

Lots of trees are down, often large mature ones like here. The tree has fallen over a very well used path alongside the River Don. We walk this path 3 or 4 times a week.

It's been a strange period of weather. After the calm and warm days of April, May has been very unsettled. The west of the country has been inundated with almost endless rain, as commented on by our friends Simon & Liz. Here in the north east it's been much drier, in fact the river levels are well below the seasonal norm. It's been windy and showery, but nothing like yesterday's blow.

We're hoping for something more settled soon, but the weather forecasts don't offer too much hope!

Hanging out on a wet weekend

2011-05-23T10:14:00.001+01:00

So, how much fun can it be to spend a significant part of a weekend immersed upside down in water?

Actually, quite a lot! I spent last weekend at Glenmore Lodge, Scotland's National Outdoor Training Centre on a kayak rolling course. Along with lots of time in the pool, there was video analysis and land based training.

Lots of skills and techniques to learn in a great environment. Glenmore Lodge has an enviable and well-deserved reputation for the quality of instruction, staff and facilities and in all respects lived up to the reputation. Along with great facilities, the accommodation and food were superb - the afternoon cake being a highlight!

A fun weekend with some really nice folk, spent largely upside down

From Buchan to Transylvania!

2011-05-20T10:52:00.002+01:00

Just south of the sandy sweep of Cruden Bay at a group of skerries known as The Skares there's a change in the rock type to a pink, heavily featured granite. This doesn't form such large cliffs, but there are interesting features on this section; this is the larger of two arches - no chance to paddle through this one though! There are lots of caves along the route, some very large but I elected not to disturb the birds by paddling in at this time of the year.

The skerries at the south of Cruden Bay are a great place to see Atlantic Grey Seals

Some of which are very curious and playful! In the background are the dunes and sandy bay of Cruden.

Passing Port Errol, the tiny harbour of Cruden Bay, the stark and dramatic ruin of Slains Castle is reached. Built in 1594 by the Earl of Errol as a replacement for Old Slains, it must have been a draughty place to live. The castle is quite large and was built around an existing tower house.

The diarists Boswell and Johnson stayed here on their tour of Scotland, but probably the most famous visitor was Bram Stoker who used the castle as inspiration for "Dracula". It's not hard to see why, the gothic lines and drama of the place create a brooding and slightly menacing atmosphere in bright sunlight, never mind a wild moonlit night....

I continued a little further north from here before turning for the paddle back to Collieston. The sun was out though and it was pleasant enough. In Collieston harbour, the kids had finished school and were playing on the sand and swimming in the sea - hardy souls!

This had been a great paddle; the spectacular seabird colonies, wonderful wildflowers, seal encounters, a sandy bay, arches and caves plus a vampire's castle - who says the East coast lacks interest?!

Apart from Port Errol, there are few opportunities for landing along this route (31 kilometres in total). The few bays which are tenable to land in are rocky and much easier to use at higher states of the tide, being bouldery lower down.

The start of the route is on OS Landranger sheet 38 (Aberdeen) with the remainder on sheet 30 (Fraserburgh)

Tides run stronger here than on most of the north east coast. The Springs rate is given at 1.75Kts, turning at roughly HW and LW Aberdeen. I found that close in the stream felt stronger, particularly at the headlands either end of bays, where strong eddies and some turbulence occurs.

A botanical break

2011-05-19T09:31:00.001+01:00

The cliffs on this part of the Buchan coast tend not to be high or continuous. Between the stretches of rocky cliff are steep slopes of grass and sharply incut geos. In these places there are great areas to see wildflowers.

The mats of Thrift (Armeria maritima), also known as "Sea Pink" for its resemblance to Carnation, are the most common flowering plant in spring and early Summer, along with Sea Campion (Silene uniflora).

Close up, the Thrift flowers are very pretty and look to be quite delicate. This is an illusion though as the plant grows abundantly on rocky cliffs and shores and also on mountains right up to the summits; it seems to thrive in tough environments. It's one of my favourite plants and one I've planted in my own garden.

Thrift is often seen sprouting from seemingly bare rock, anchored into a crack, but where conditions are favourable it can grow in profusion.

At the back of a tiny bay it seemed to be forming a cascade of pink flowers.

Where the rocks of the shore meet the grassy slopes I found a few Common Scurvy Grass (Cochlearia officialis). A member of the Cabbage family, it has leaves rich in Vitamin C and was once eaten to prevent Scurvy. Perhaps this is the origin of the Gaelic name for the plant - "Am Maraiche" (the Sailor)

In the more grassy areas is another favourite of mine, Red Campion (Silene dioica). It's a beautiful plant which grows in most places; again I've planted an area in my own garden. It's particularly beautiful when seen in low sunshine when the hairs on the stems and leaves give the plant a halo of light as they catch the sun. A word of warning though - Red Campion is very vigorous in a garden, it spreads by throwing seeds from the bladders under the flowers when the wind blows. Once you plant an area it's a constant process to stop it taking over!

The relative quiet of the grassy slopes was quite a contrast to the noise and smell of the cliffs, but it was time to move on. The tidal movement on this bit of coast is stronger than elsewhere in the north east and I didn't want to miss the free push!

Seabird cities of the Buchan coast

2011-05-18T10:16:00.000+01:00

May has so far been quite a windy month, so when a calm day following a run of westerly winds was forecast it seemed a good opportunity to paddle along the seabird cliffs of the Buchan coast

I set out from the little harbour at Collieston on a cloudy morning with no swell, a bonus on this part of the coast which juts into the North Sea. I planned to paddle north past Cruden Bay and return later in the day. Launching is very easy at Collieston as there's a sandy beach inside the harbour. Parking is limited, but there's another car park a few hundred metres north of the village with a small beach. The harbour is owned by the local community and an honesty box is in place for using it - the suggested donation is £1.

Heading out of the harbour I turned north and shortly passed the ruin of Slains Castle, confusingly one of two along this coast with the same name. This is Old Slains, the smaller and less well known of the two. It was built in the 15th century and blown up by James VI of Scotland (James I of England) in 1594 to punish the Earl of Errol for becoming involved in a plot against him. The Earl was later forgiven and went on to build a much larger castle further up the coast.

Further north the cliffs begin to get higher, the dark rocks streaked with white from the seabird colonies

Every ledge and platform is crammed with nesting birds. The most numerous are Kittiwakes (Rissa tridactyla), Guillemots (Uria aalge) and Razorbills (Alca torda) with smaller numbers of Fulmars (Fulmarus glacialis), Shags (Phalocrocorax aristotelis) and everyone's favourite, Puffins (Fratercula arctica).

I kept back from the cliffs a little to minimise disturbance to the birds; the other numerous species here are Herring gulls (Larus argentatus) which constantly cruise the cliffs looking for unguarded eggs or chicks.

Paddling along the seabird cliffs in late Spring is an intense sensory experience; the sheer noise of the colonies, the almost overpowering smell and above all, the whirling, whirring activity of birds coming and going to their nesting ledges, jostling, preening and arguing. You are truly surrounded by birds and their daily lives.

It's one of Britains greatest wildlife spectacles and an absolute privilege to experience. The sobering thought is that these packed cliffs are quite small colonies in comparison with those on cliffs such as Fowlsheugh near Stonehaven.

A rinsing on the Innsean!

2011-05-16T10:30:00.000+01:00

When I set out from the bothy the view to the day's hills was obscured by a shower. I hoped that the sunny spells would outnumber the showers!

As I climbed to a shoulder below the first hill, Sgurr Innse (peak of the meadow) the cloud cleared to show the rugged summit cone. The way up lies on the far side of the summit so I began contouring the slopes to the left below crags and blocky boulderfields.

The Sgurr is mainly schistose rock which breaks down to reasonably good soil and supports a better variety of plants than soils from some other rock types. Among the boulders, the herb Dwarf Cornel (Cornus suecica) was flowering earlier than usual. the white "petals" are in fact bracts, the flowers are the tiny dark cluster at the centre which ripen to a cluster of round red berries. The berries were once used to stimulate the appetite, but the plant is now fairly uncommon.

The ascent of Sgurr Innse looks intimidating, but as is so often the case unfolds as a reasonably easy line requiring occasional mild scrambling. The compact summit has great views and is set neatly between the much larger hills of the Grey Corries to the west and the Loch Treig hills to the south east. The view across to Stob Coire Easain and Stob a'Choire Mheadhoin above Loch Treig is particularly fine. I recalled climbing this pair in wet snow and a gale of wind on a day much more pleasurable in the pub afterward than it was on the hill!

The key to safely descending Sgurr Innse is to go back exactly the way you climbed up on a slanting rocky shelf. There are a couple of apparent paths leading to descent routes but the summit area is surrounded by crags and loose gullies.

Back on the bealach (col) I had a clear view across to Cruach Innse (hill of the meadow). The names of these hills refers to the meadows at the foot of them where the sheiling remains lie. The Gaelic word "Innse" or "Innis" can mean either meadow or island and crops up regularly in place names where there is pasture, most usually in the form "Insh" and on islands where it is usually rendered "Inch"

To the west the sky had blackened and I was obviously due a meteorological kicking. The right hand boulder made a good shelter and I sat in its lee as the rain started - and what rain! It simply hammered down, the air temperature dropped dramatically and the wind increased too. After about half an hour I was becoming quite chilled, and decided to move on as soon as there was any sign of a slackening in the rain. Battening down, I headed out, and a few minutes later the rain got even heavier... I can recall being out on the hill in heavier rain than this only once; it was truly lashing. The ground was visibly flooding around me as I plodded up the rocky slopes of the Cruach; and then, as suddenly as it had come on the rain stopped.

One of the features of a showery weather regime in the UK is the quality of light in between the rain; everything looks intensely coloured and washed clean. The view back toward the Loch Treig hills seemed much more vibrant. Sgurr Innse is at centre right and the rocky shelf of the ascent route is clearly visible slanting right to left.

The two hills, though linked by a bealach and quite close together are completely different in character. The Sgurr is schisty and craggy whereas the Cruach is a spacious dome with clipped heather overlying quartzite rock in all shades from dazzling white through pink to ashy grey.

There's a long view from the summit along Glen Spean to Loch Laggan and Badenoch. The tops of the Creag Meagaidh group were in the cloud, a towering banner which stretched fully 60 kilometres - no wonder it was a long shower!

I headed back to the bothy for the night and actually managed to get back dry as the wind was still quite strong. All the streams and rivers had risen considerably in just a few hours from the rain and burns were streaming off the hillsides in ribbons of white.

I cooked dinner and took a stroll around the area of the bothy before a disturbed night due to the mice which were neither "sleekit, cowerin' or timorous"!

Of mice and ministers

2011-05-14T15:04:00.002+01:00

With a forecast of blustery winds and heavy showers, hillwalking looked a better bet than sea kayaking. I planned to climb two Corbetts to the south of Glen Spean, Sgurr Innse and Cruach Innse, and incorporate an overnight stay in the Lairig Leacach bothy.

Walking in from near Coirechoille (Wood Corrie) the route follows a traditional drove road once used by drovers taking cattle from the highlands to the trysts at Crieff or Falkirk. The track leads from the banks of the River Spean and starts to head uphill through woods of Ash - not generally common in the highlands. Above the Ashwood, more open ground with stands of willow, birch and conifers gradually gives way to open hillside. Ahead, the bulk of Cruach Innse (hill of the meadow) is prominent.

Alongside the track, Birdsfoot-trefoil (Lotus corniculatus) was beginning to flower. A member of the Pea family, the name refers to the pods which form after the flowers and resemble a bird's claws. The red and yellow of the flower gives rise to a dialect name - "bacon-and-eggs".

I thought I'd seen a figure in the distance, but it was a bit of a surprise to come around a bend in the track and see this gentleman! Known as the "Wee Minister", it's a statue of a Free Kirk minister carved from wood using a chainsaw. There was a stone figure of a minister near this spot which was destroyed during the 1970's, this statue was installed in May 2010. There is some debate as to which minister he is an image of, but the plaque offers good fortune to all travellers who pass. Standing about 1.5 metres tall, I imagine he'd give you a bit of a fright in the mist....

Climbing higher, the track heads into the Lairig Leacach (Pass of slabs or paving stones). The name may refer to the occasional bands of slabs which the modern vehicle track crosses. Ahead, the first of the promised showers was raking across Stob Coire na Ceannain (peak of the corrie of heads) at the eastern end of the Grey Corries ridge.

Just off the track, a bright green patch in the brown moorland tones indicates the remains of a sheiling. Just the base of the walls are visible now of a hut which would have been used during the summer when the younger folk would take cattle to a higher pasture to allow the ground around a farmstead to recover (the process of transhumance). Common across the highlands, sheiling sites are often much greener than their surroundings, even several hundred years after they were last in use.

After 10 kilometres of walking I arrived at the Lairig Leacach bothy. An open shelter maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association, it and other bothies are a unique and precious resource, freely available to all. There's no charge to stay, you can't book, accommodation is a bare building with wooden platforms to sleep on and in most cases the bathroom facilities consist of a spade.

It looked as if I'd have the place to myself overnight, but I was wrong! Of the many bothies I've stayed in across Scotland, this one had the most mice. There were at least six visible at one time through the night, together with a vole. Just about every bothy has a resident mouse or two, but they were mob-handed here. Bothy mice seem to be rapidly evolving into a distinct subspecies, equipped with crampons instead of claws and titanium tipped teeth. It's common practice to hang all food up out of the way, here I had to hang my jacket, rucsac and everything else from the ceiling!

All this excitement was still to come when I left most of my kit in the bothy and set out towards Sgurr Innse.

Getting the hump above the woods of Glen Tromie

2011-05-07T19:43:00.001+01:00

Towards the end of a very fine spell of weather, I set out from home to travel to Druimguish to do some hillwalking above Glen Tromie (Gaelic: Glen of the Elder trees). I'd use my bike to get up the glen to the start of the walk.

Glen Tromie is attractively wooded in its lower part with Willow, Birch, Oak, Rowan and of course Elder all being prominent. Higher up the glen conifers dominate but fortunately not in monoculture blocks of Sitka Spruce. The River Tromie flows from the linked lochs of the Gaick Pass and enters the Spey below Druimguish.

There are extensive grassy flats higher in the glen and a couple of abandoned cottages. The hill which appears to block off the head of the glen is the delightfully named Mullach Coire na Dearcag (Summit of the Corrie of little berries). I left my bike near this spot and set out up the hill.

A steady climb took me over the subsidiary summit of Meallach Bheag (Little Hump) and onto the Corbett of Meallach Mhor (Big Hump). Both summits are well named, being just as the names describe. The view is very extensive; to the northeast the Cairngorm summits were clearly visible, and to the west, the central highland giants of Ben Alder and Creag Meagaidh stood out well.

The Window on Creag Meagaidh was very prominent. How simple it looks to find in this view, but it's not so easy when on the hill itself with the weather down; and finding it is key to a safe way off the summit plateau. The Post Face was also prominent, containing hard climbs pioneered by Dr Tom Patey

The higher ground still has the bleached tones of winter, but Spring has arrived even here.

The vegetation is largely short heather, parts of which have been burned in strips to provide young shoots for Grouse to browse. There were more Cloudberry (Rubus chamaemorus) flowers on this hill than I've seen in a long while. The plant flowers quite infrequently in Scotland; perhaps the exceptionally dry Spring weather has suited it. Whilst taking this photograph, a lizard scampered over my boots, seemingly without noticing me at all.

To the south I could look into the Gaick Pass, a traditional right of way goes through here linking Speyside with Atholl. It makes a fine walk or mountain bike route, and has a number of legends attached to it; as well as probably the first recorded avalanche deaths in Scotland when a notorious recruiting Sergeant and his party were avalanched in a hut in the heart of the pass.

I headed north along a broad ridge above Glen Tromie for about 5 km to a trig point on the small summit of Croidh-La. The view from here is great, a panorama of the Spey valley and the towns of Kingussie and Newtonmore.

A steep descent led me back to the bike and a leisurely spin back down Glen Tromie, with a nice sighting of an Osprey as a bonus.

The route is 25 kilometers in total, about half of which can be cycled; the ascent is 710 metres. You'll need OS Landranger sheet 35 (Kingussie and the Monadhliaths). Most of the hillwalking guides recommend a route which uses a bike all the way to Bhran Cottage at the foot of the hill followed by a straightforward up-and-down walk. I feel that the route I used is a better one, a pleasant ridge walk with very good views.

An entertaining crossing to Bute

2011-05-05T10:17:00.000+01:00

Moving out toward the tip of Ardlamont Point, the island of Bute became visible beyond. The wind was blowing directly from the island, funnelled through the lowest part of Bute across Ettrick Bay where I hoped to land. I took a final photo, battened myself down and headed out.

The wind, waves and some wind against tide along and just beyond the point gave some of the most challenging conditions I have ever paddled in. A short, vicious swell was being punched up as the water shoaled approaching the point itself, and was combining with an incoming swell from the south east. The boat was pitching and slamming wildly, sheets of spray and water being hurled back across me. The swells were head height or higher, tumbling and breaking from different directions. This demanded absolute concentration - one small mistake here would be punished instantly.

I was barely making progress around the point, but found myself actually quite enjoying the ride. At worst, I could hold the boat head into the the sea and be blown back around the point if I needed to. Of course as I gradually won clear and into the Sound of Bute, this option wasn't available; being blown backwards would have seen me on the lee shore. Not good. Equally, although I could cope with the sea from ahead, going down-sea in this would have been much more difficult.

Fortunately once clear of the point the confusion of different swells settled into a steady direction, and though still large, steep and short period was much more predictable and manageable. I settled down for the battle, a simple enough game of physical and mental endurance against a relentless wind. The boat was riding well over the sea, and more than once I was glad that it was loaded with camping kit as more than half of the fore end hung up over a particularly nasty swell; being flipped backwards was not a prospect I relished!

Eventually I won into the wide arms of Ettrick Bay and gradually the swell had receded as it had less fetch to kick up, but if anything the wind strength was higher here as it barrelled across Bute. A quick re-evaluation of transits and I decided to head slightly north to the beach at Kildavanan, which forms the northern arm of the bay. Here I'd get more shelter and the paddle wasn't directly against the wind.

I reached Kildavanan, tired but elated after an entertaining crossing. The 4 kilometers had taken almost three hours of unrelenting effort. I was thickly encrusted with salt from the spray and quite hungry!

Journey's end at Kildavanan with Arran beyond. The wind still flattening the water in Ettrick Bay, but as ever it didn't look as imposing from the beach.....

I was picked up at Kildavanan - it helps having relatives on the island!

This is a really good trip with variety and wildlife. In the more usual westerly airflow it would make sense to start at Colintraive and finish in upper Loch Fyne. The weather for my trip was a complete contrast to that experienced by Douglas Wilcox and friends on their trip in the same area, this variety of conditions and light is surely one of the attractions of sea kayaking in Scotland.

The distances were 36 kilometers on day 1 and 25 on Day 2; add about 20 kilometers to complete the journey through the Kyles.

Four Ordnance Survey Landranger 1:50,000 maps are required for the trip:

Sheet 56 Loch Lomond & inverary
Sheet 55 Lochgilphead & Loch Awe
Sheet 62 North Kintyre & Tarbert
Sheet 63 Firth of Clyde Area

In upper Loch Fyne HW is +0011 Greenock.
Tidal stream at the narrows runs at 1Kt Springs, but 2Kts close to the end of An Oitir
Tidal streams in lower Loch fyne are not significant.

Tidal streams enter both the East and West Kyles of Bute on the flood, meeting some way east of the Burnt Islands. Streams may reach up to 3kts at Springs

Wrinkled rocks and furrowed sea at Ardlamont Point

2011-05-03T10:45:00.000+01:00

I'd pitched the tent in near darkness on the inner end of a grassy spit with a lagoon behind. After a breezy night I was woken by natures own black and white alarm clocks - Oystercatchers calling as they started their day. Soon after, they were joined by trilling Sandpipers and my first sound of a Cuckoo for the year. Clearly it was time to get up!

I was on the water and away by 0730, continuing south then SSE toward the marina at Portavadie. I could see a huge cloud of dust being blown from the car parks here across the water. It was going to be a tough day, and as soon as I turned SSE the wind was in my face.

I was able to slog across the more open stretches, then shelter close to the shore in bays with west facing shores. Here it was very peaceful and quiet. Early Spring flowers like these Primroses (Primula Vulgaris) have been joined by some later flowering plants - here Red Campion (Silene dioica) making a nice contrast.

Rounding Rubha Preasach (wrinkled point) the first view of the Arran hills opens up. The wind tearing across the Sound of Bute in the distance was a warning that the shelter of the bay I was in was coming to an end.

The rocks toward Ardlamont Point become increasingly folded and layered. Tiny inlets of green water are formed where the beds ride up over each other. I noted several terrific camping spots for future trips. This rock gave me some shelter to rest, eat and drink before starting the crossing to Bute. Plans to journey up through the Kyles of bute to the east side of the island were already gone - I would head straight to the west coast around Ettrick Bay. In good conditions the 4km crossing would take about 45 minutes. In the F5 gusting F6 now blasting around Ardlamont Point, I anticipated it would take a tad longer!

A Fyne day for a Royal wedding

2011-05-02T10:35:00.001+01:00

The day of the Royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton was forecast to be a fine sunny day with a fresh to strong easterly wind - far too good to be sat in front of a television!

I planned a two day paddle down Loch Fyne and across to the Isle of Bute, hopefully going through the Kyles of Bute to the west side of the island. I knew I'd have shelter from the easterly wind until I got into lower Loch Fyne, then I'd probably be exposed to it.

There's a good launch site in the village of Strachur near the head of Loch Fyne and I set out in very warm weather. The wind was funnelling down the loch and gave me a good push.

Below Strachur, the lands on the east shore of Fyne are known as Strathlachlan. It's a pleasant mix of wooded shore with pasture and moorland above. After about 10 kilometers Kilbride Island is reached; above the shore on a small headland with views up and down the loch is a ruined chapel. The name "Kilbride" suggests that an early monk may have used this place (the prefix Kil or Cill normally indicates a monks cell). What is certain is that in the 12th century land and money were granted by the chief of Clan Lachlan to a group of friars in order to establish a chapel here. As well as the main building, there are traces of other outbuildings visible on the ground.

A few kilometers further on, the ruin of Castle Lachlan occupies a rocky knoll next to a sheltered bay. There has been a castle of one form or another here since the 12 century, with this building probably dating from the 13th century. It was the seat of Clan Lachlan (or MacLachlan) who claimed ancestry from Irish princes (a Royal connection!). The clan received land from Robert I of Scotland in the 12 century and were related to Clan Neill of Barra and Clan Sween - both clans noted sea raiders.

The castle is unusual in that within the square keep wall are linked tenement buildings and vaulted arches. this was meant as a dwelling as well as being an impressive statement of power. Today the south facing ivy-grown wall was a suntrap for visitors.

12 kilometers futher down the loch is Otter Ferry. The name has nothing to do with the aquatic mammal, but derives from An Oitir (the spit), a sand bar which extends half way across the loch from here. The ferry operated from the 18th century until 1948, and an anti-submarine boom was placed across the loch during World War 2.

The most significant building here now, especially for thirsty sea-kayakers, is the Oystercatcher. A fine location for a sea kayaking pub, it also has the advantage of serving very fine Fyne ales. I felt duty bound to drink a toast to the happy couple.....

The afternoon was turning to evening, but I had another couple of hours to go before finding a great camping spot on the shore. I had great sightings of an Otter and a Fox on this stretch, the fox eading down the shore almost level with me. At one point he stopped and sat down in a very dog-like manner to watch me pass. So far I'd been sheltered from the wind, but during the last hour it had been increasingly turning against me and I knew that the following day would be hard. It was time for an early night.

Birds and rocks, Spring on the Moray Firth

2011-04-26T20:34:00.000+01:00

After an enforced gap in my paddling and hillwalking of four months due to work, a calm and sunny day seemed too good to miss.

I set out from the little harbour of Sandend, which is situated where a deep channel cuts through the rock. Just out of shot to the right, a sweeping sandy bay is a popular spot with surfers - not today though in the calm conditions

Heading east across the bay, I meandered out to the West Head, rockhopping along the rugged cliffs. The West Head has a couple of channels cutting right thorough it. In the more usual conditions of swell on this coast they make intimidating paddling with surf and amplified swell surging through. This is the wider of the two, and today was easy.

This is the narrower channel. I've only ever managed to paddle through this once; even with today's low swell it looked difficult, the powerful surges creating a rise and fall of about two metres. I backed off again!

Going around the point, soupy conditions showed that an occasional swell was still running.

Spring on the east coast brings seabirds in their tens of thousands. Although quite early in the season, Kittiwakes, Gulls and fulmars are on nests. uillemots, Razorbills and the gorgeous Black Guillemots are in rafts off the cliffs along with Eider and Long-Tailed Ducks. Farther offshore Gannets pass in dazzling white lines from their breeding cliffs near Troup Head. A Kestrel was calling constantly at the gulls passing it's cliff nest site; it's going to be a stressful season for this bird! And, a very special sighting. Heading purposefully east toward Troup Head was a Sea Eagle. I had to double and treble check; I've never seen one on the east coast, perhaps this is one of the birds released in Fife. Fantastic to see, hopefully this will be the start of a repopulation of these great birds.

I stopped for a lunch break in the pleasant harbour of Portsoy. Peaceful today, the village hosts a Traditional Boat Festival each summer which brings throngs of folk from all over the country and beyond.

Theharbour wall at Portsoy is unusual in that it's built from stones placed vertically. I don't know of any other harbours in the northeast of Scotland built this way. The depth is indicated by numbers inscribed on stones - interestingly the numbers change to Roman numerals half way up - perhaps the mason couldn't fit the Roman equivalents for 7, 8 and 9 on the faces of the stones!

A slow paddle took me back to Sandend where the sun was hot and strong. It's good to be back!

A colourful day on the Dorset cliffs

2011-04-11T21:34:00.001+01:00

Whilst I've been at work, I've had a few opportunities to explore the Dorset coast on half day walks. It's a surprisingly wild coast in parts and very varied. In superb Spring weather yesterday, the walk along the stretch from Bowleaze to the White Nothe was truly beautiful. The air was alive with birdsong, and I had my first view this year of a Common Sandpiper - the migrants are arriving in force.

The view to the east was truly exceptional

The chalk cliffs of this part of the coast were dazzlingly white and contrasting superbly with a calm and very blue sea. This is the view from the headland of White Nothe looking over Bat's Head and Lulworth to the distant Purbeck Hills. The top of the detached arch of Durdle Door is just visible immediately beyond Bat's Head, which itself has a small arch

Looking down from the cliffs, the water was clear enough to see every detail of the reefs. I sat in the sun, enjoying the warmth and thinking what a great day it would be for sea kayaking. As if by magic....

First a double kayak passed, the air so still that I could clearly make out the voices and paddle splashes way below

And then four brightly coloured singles passed, all heading west toward Ringstead.. I lost sight of the lucky paddlers as they passed Ringstead, maybe heading to Weymouth. They (and I) were treated to a great day, a real hint of the summer to come.

I fairly caught the sun, my face was glowing during the eveening - one more colour to add to the day!

First Flowers

2011-03-26T20:20:00.001Z

There are hints of Spring beginning to appear. Birdsong is increasing, there's a bit of warmth in the sun and plants are reappearing. A sunny bank by the side of a west coast sea-loch still has the bleached look of winter, but shoots of Woodrush and Yellow flag are everywhere, and there's the occasional splash of brave colour where a Primrose (Primula vulgaris) is in flower.

It's such a welcome sight!

The road to Assynt

2011-03-12T14:53:00.003Z

Looking through some pictures, I came across these, taken in February 2006 on a weekend of very fine weather.

Cul Mor is reflected in a hill lochan. A great hillwalk from Knockan, it can be extended to include Cul Beag, a long but rewarding round of two Corbetts.

The first thrilling view of Suilven (norse: Pillar Mountain), the improbable shape rearing up over the Lochinver road. Suilven is peculiar in that it looks startlingly different from different directions.

Frost smoke on the River Don

2011-02-08T21:45:00.001Z

The December cold spell showed the River Don as a ribbon of frost smoke. Although lots of ice was floating downstream, the water was sufficiently warmer than the frigid air pooling in the valley to form banks of mist close to the water.

Even at the height of the day with the solstice sun very low in the sky, the mist peristed as a thin and shifting veil. I normally delete any images with flare in them, but this one shows so well the effect of the sun lighting the thin mist with a luminous glow.

As the sun set with a pink glow along the western horizon, the bitingly cold air began to sink once again into the slot of the rive valley in a dense freezing cloak.

It would be another bitter cold night.

An icy beauty

2011-01-18T21:49:00.000Z

The snows of November and December have slowly receded at home, leaving a bleached landscape. The startlingly low temperatures which lasted for weeks made life hard for animals, plants and humans but created some delicate beauty.

These pictures were taken on 22nd December within a few hundred metres of home.

Feathers of frost transformed the metre high dead stems of last summer's Rosebay Willowherb (Chamaenerion augustifolium) into white plumes

Daytime temperatures of around minus 10 celsius meant that the winter sun didn't melt the frost at all. The low angle and brilliance of the sun firing through the frosted branches made a shimmering, sparkling display everywhere.

Despite the harshness of the cold, it really was extrodinarily beautiful.

Last hill for a while

2011-01-05T20:41:00.001Z

Between Christmas and Hogmanay, Alan and I managed out onto the hill. The roads were quite icy and the snow wasn't the best, but the effort was certainly to be rewarded. We chose Bennachie, my local hill. I try to climb the hill each time I'm home on leave from work and I was running out of days!

Though there had been a considerable thaw, the weight of snow was still bending trees, some right to the ground like this one. Some of the smaller birch trees have exploded in the bitter frosts of mid December either from weight of snow or as their sap froze.

En route to Bennachie we climbed Millstone Hill which was in cloud and remained so all day. Dropping down to the bealach (col) between Millstone Hill and Bennachie was hard going in thigh deep snow, and the deep stuff prevailed on the climb out too. Higher up, the trees exposed to the wind had some impressive riming.

Th 518 metre "Mither Tap" (mother top) of Bennachie isn't the highest on the hill, but is by far the most prominent and is a justifiably popular outing. Today we saw only one other party high on the hill. The route I chose onto the final summit rocks turned out to be heavily iced and gave moves well into the winter climbing grades - without doubt the trickiest conditions I've seen here. I was glad we'd brought ice-axe and crampons! Alan found another, more sensible route and we met at the summit.

The view was shades of grey, but we did at least have a view. We seemed to be above a low level of cloud with a complete higher level of cloud above. The view was slightly disorientating as the cloud below us had a strange slanting angle.

Our descent was straightforward and all that was left was the 6km walk out around the base of Millstone Hill to the car, then 15 minutes drive home. It had been a great winter day; we'd had a bit of mountaineering on this small hill and once again proved what a great hill it is.

I'm now back at work and away from home for four months. Probably there won't be an opportunity for another hillwalk during that time so it was in some ways bitter sweet - good to be on the hill though!

Happy Christmas

2010-12-24T09:17:00.000Z

I wish you peace and happiness at Christmas, wherever you may be

Solstice stones

2010-12-22T22:10:00.001Z

The north east of Scotland is rich in Neolithic and Bronze Age megalithic monuments. There are many hundreds of standing stones and stone circles, including around forty of a type found only in this corner of Scotland and known as recumbent stone circles.

The Winter solstice seemed an appropriate time to visit one of the circles just a few kilometres from home, Cothiemuir Hill.

This circle is approximately 75 metres in diameter and remains almost complete. Now hidden in a wood on a low hill, it would originally have been a prominent monument with an open outlook. The circle stones (orthostats) are of granite, mostly red but occasionally grey.

The defining feature of a recumbent stone circle is the great recumbent itself, flanked by two pillars (the flankers). The recumbent and flankers are always at the south of the circles, and almost always at the south-southwest. Where both flankers survive, one is always slender, the other stout - and they are of different heights. The flankers are usually angled into the recumbent to emphasise the circle. Often the orthostats are graded in height toward the flankers.

Viewed from the centre of the circle at Cothiemuir Hill, the west flanker (the taller of the two) is aligned exactly to the midwinter sunset.

The flankers are 2.9 and 2.7 metres high, and the great recumbent is a 4.2 metre long slab of dark basalt weighing 20 tons. This stone has been brought to the circle; the work must have been an immense undertaking for a community before wheel and animal power was in use. Radiocarbon dating for this circle places its construction at around 2700-2500 BC, contemporary with most other recumbent circles.

At the centre of the circle is a large slab with a pit underneath it. There is also evidence of a paved area leading from the centre to the recumbent. There was probably a timber circle here before the stones - evidence seems to be emerging that the stones are the closing moment in a long period of use.

It's clear that these circles were places of great importance to the folk who raised them, and beyond. Most were in use for well over a thousand years after construction for burials and ceremonies- indeed to this day there are sometimes small tokens left at circles, flowers, ash and the like.

It's almost certain that one of the functions of the circles was to mark out the important lunar events of the year - particularly the midwinter solstice. In this present spell of unbroken intense frost, it isn't hard to empathise with those who looked to the stones to mark the returning of the light and the retreat of the bitter, dark winter.

A visit at this time of year seemed significant, the stones seem to fit their place, to exude permanence and a faint resonance of the meaning they were raised to convey. And strange, though I've visited many of the circles, I've never once touched any of the stones - I don't know why, other than superstition; which is perhaps part of their power to this day!

"And the moon shall be as blood" - the winter solstice lunar eclipse

2010-12-21T09:14:00.000Z

A rare and beautiful natural phenomenon occurred this morning, a total lunar eclipse. This was to be the first lunar eclipse visible from the UK for 3 years, and the first to coincide with the winter solstice for 372 years, last occurring on the morning of 21 December 1638.

There was a noticeable reddening of the moon at 0532 UTC as it began to enter the earth's shadow. The air temperature was minus 15 celsius and the sky absolutely clear. During this eclipse the further north, the better the view as the moon would be higher above the horizon.

After 0632 UTC the shadow became much more defined as the eclipse approached totality.

As the moon moved toward the horizon atmospheric refraction made it look larger, the eclipse even more stunning.

Totality at 0740 UTC. Photographs just can't do justice to the beauty of this scene, the snow covered landscape a perfect setting for the red moon.

The north east of Scotland is studded with many hundreds of standing stones and stone circles, and many of these are aligned to the winter solstice sunset. What would the folk who built the circles have made of this? At one of the most significant days of their year, would this have been seen as a good omen or a bad one?

I felt priveliged to be able to touch perhaps an inkling of what was of importance to those folk, and to have such a good view of this beautiful event.

Behind me, the sun was rising on the shortest day of the year. In another unusual alignment, both moon and sun were above the horizon at the eclipse, the phemonenon of selenehelion.

A guaranteed White Christmas

2010-12-20T10:29:00.002Z

Despite a significant thaw, the previous dump of snow wasn't off the ground when the next cold spell started four days ago. Initially the snow resembled polystyrene pellets but was pulverised to the powdery consistency of baking powder by a scouring north wind. At first the accumulations were relatively small.

Even small hills like Bennachie - the Mither Tap seen here on the right skyline - became alpine in their apparent scale.

The wind quickly built drifts across the landscape and roads, more challenging conditions for animals and humans alike.

Plummeting temperatures overnight (our neighbour recorded minus 22 celsius on his weather station) brought fresh problems. Aberdeenshire Council's roads department stopped using salt and spread grit to try and help grip, but roads remained difficult. Ice was building up around the running gear of vehicles; this lot had to be prised out with an ice axe after a comparatively short journey.

Heavier snow has fallen over the last 24 hours and more showers are forecast. Coupled with the fact that temperatures aren't forecast to rise above freezing by day or night for the next week - a white Christmas is now guaranteed!

Wildlife and history, a stone's throw from the city

2010-12-17T12:41:00.002Z

Moving farther north east along the north shore of the Moray Firth, I arrived at the narrow entrance to the Cromarty Firth. The rock stacks which stand on each side of the entrance rise to about 140 metres and are crowned by gun emplacements. Sutor is an old Scots word for a shoemaker; local legend is that two giant shoemakers used the cliffs as their lasts and threw tools between the two.

The gun emplacements were built in the early 20th century and saw service in both World Wars. Interestingly, the records show that the artillery batteries were operated by Norwegian personnel during WW II. They stand now as testament to a different time, a different world.

On an altogether different timescale, the folded rocks of the Sutors attracted the attention of the geologist Hugh Miller. A self taught geologist who was born in Cromarty and was a quarryman before becoming a geologist, he did much important work on both fossils and Old Red Sandstone and was also a somewhat controversial evangelical Christian. The book "Hutton's Arse" gives an excellent precis of his work.

The likeness to a shoemaker's last is obvious when the South Sutors are seen from this angle.

The cold breeze in the entrance channel was chilling me down, but as I turned to paddle back I noticed the dorsal fin of a Bottlenose Dolphin quite close. The dolphins of the Moray Firth are famous and very well studied. The population of around 130 animals is the most northerly in the world and the individuals are some of the largest too. I've seen them from a distance before but not been lucky enough to be close.

It soon became obvious that there were two females, each swith a calf which never strayed beyond touching distance of it's mother. They were feeding in the shallows, occasionally "tail standing" to reach among the weeds. I sat quietly as they approached and then became aware of me. After circling for a minute or two, each of the females came very close with it's calf - actually to touching distance. I got eye contact with each of these beautiful animals - a truly amazing experience. At no time were they nervous or aggressive, merely curious and engaging.

I was so enthralled that I only thought to reach for the camera as the dolphins were moving away - the only photographic record of a truly memorable experience is this fuzzy shot. The dolphins continued south west along the shore in the same general direction as I paddled back towards Rosemarkie, completely unfazed by the strange yellow creature briefly sharing their world. I've seen dolphins on the bow wave on ships all around the world - but this encounter was in a different league

On the way back to Rosemarkie I noticed the remains of a couple of stone huts in quite inaccessible parts of the shore. I landed beside a complete example and found that it was a restored "salmon bothy". A crew of four would operate a Coble out of here from February to August, staying at the bothy all week except Wednesday afternoon, Saturday afternoon and Sunday. Inside the bothy are information boards about the salmon fishing, geology and wildlife of the area.

This anchor on a nearby beach may well be from either the boats or large nets in use at the time.

I arrived back at Rosemarkie in near darkness. It had been a memorable paddle with wildlife, history and geology on a wild and rugged coast. The surprising thing is that I started just 10 kilometres from the centre of Inverness and was never more than 25 kilometres from the city.

An unexpectedly fine day

2010-12-16T10:57:00.000Z

In a narrow window of calm weather with reasonable road conditions, I managed a short paddle on the Moray Firth. Initial weather signs weren't encouraging - freezing fog at home and thick mist and drizzle at my launch spot at Rosemarkie on the Black Isle (which isn't actually an island). However, as I was preparing the boat the cloud thinned to give a view of the coastline ahead.

I planned to paddle northeast along the coast to the entrance of the Cromarty Firth and back, around 15 kilometres each way.

This part of the coast is a series of cliffs and headlands all the way. There are few landing places and the shoreline is inaccessible by foot for much of the way, with other parts accessible only at lower states of the tide.

Across the Moray firth, the low cloud giving mist and fog was still very much in evidence. The skyscape was one of contrasts as the moist northerly air was forced upslope and condensed to cloud.

On the north side of the firth, the occasional blink of low winter sun lit up the dead bracken on the slopes and created a lovely warm light. Only the light was warm though; it was still pretty cold! No snow was lying here at the coast in contrast to the banks still on the ground at home in Aberdeenshire.

I was at least sheltered from the cold wind here, it was calm except for the low swell which is rarely absent from the Moray Firth.

Near this spot I was surprised to see a Red Kite circling above the shore. These beautiful birds have been reintroduced to several areas of Scotland after being hunted to extinction in the UK apart from a tiny population in Wales. Primarily a carrion feeder, they will also take small live prey such as amphibians, voles and small birds. The Black Isle is a stronghold for the species, but I'd always associated them with farmland and wooded areas rather than the shore.

Soon after, I spotted an Otter fishing. I waited to try and get a photograph, but it went ashore to devour a crab - and then had a face-off with a Fox which had been waiting on the beach - a fascinating wildlife experience.

It was turning out to be an unexpectedly fine day!