One good thing - 29th and 30th March 2020

With the change to British Summer time early on Sunday 29th March, the evenings seem so much brighter and lighter.  Whilst we have to spend evenings at home, longer evenings are a boost.

Arrival on Cara - diligence, deference and the Brownie's blessing

We were pleased to see first the skerries of Sgeir Gigalum, then the rocky shape of Gigalum Island appear through the mist.  Such is the distorting effect of mist on the eye that what I originally took to be a large island with trees on it turned out to be a small skerry; the "trees" actually Cormorants standing on the rock!  Although we'd been diligent in our navigation, it's always good to gain a positive confirmation of position in the form of solid objects when paddling in thick fog.  We again spoke to MV Loch Ranza on VHF to advise him that we were safely on the Gigha side of the Sound, and wouldn't be crossing back that day.

There was a clearance in the visibility as we crossed from Gigalum Island to the southern tip of Gigha and we were hopeful that the sun would burn away the mist, but it soon closed back in and we were plunged back into a ghostly world.

We had one more short crossing to make in order to reach our planned campsite, less than 1.5 kilometres but there was just a grey wall to be seen.  A line of skerries provided a useful handrail as we approached...

...a sandy beach with a ruined croft on the island of Cara.  It was clear that the late afternoon sun wouldn't be burning off the mist as we picked our way carefully through skerries and rocks towards the beach.......

...which was occupied by some of Cara's resident goats.  They seemed somewhat startled to see us emerge from the mist!

Goats aren't the only residents of Cara though.  Cara House is occasionally occupied by the island's human owners and permanently occupied by a mischievous spirit - The Brownie of Cara.  Said to be the ghost of a murdered MacDonald (naturally, the story claims that the perpetrator was a Campbell!), the Brownie is well established in folklore and occupies an attic room in Cara House from where strange goings-on are often reported.  By turns helpful and destructive, the Brownie deals fairly with those who show him proper respect.

Tradition has it that the Laird and the Minister have always doffed their hats to the Brownie when stepping ashore, and so should everyone else.  We're both traditionalists and observed this deference not once but twice; as our keels touched the sand and as we stepped ashore.  We both said in clear voices "Good evening Mr Brownie" and asked for his hospitality - you can't be too careful, tales are legion of disappearing boats, equipment and even the odd bottle of whisky on Cara if the greeting is deemed inappropriate!

We camped on short turf above the shore and then moved down to the beach itself to light our camp fire, for which we'd brought some seasoned logs - in late summer and autumn most of the driftwood has already been collected.  It was disappointing to see a fire ring burned into the sandy turf nearby; unnecessary damage when a fire can be lit just as easily below the high water mark - we feel sure that the Brownie would have taken a view on this damage to his island!

During the evening colder air dissipated the mist and a stunning sky full of stars emerged, a swathe of the Milky Way arching over Cara. We had our Sweet Potatoes just about ready from the embers and were enjoying a container of frothing sports recovery drink.  We felt that life was pretty good.....

...when the moon rose over the Kintyre peninsula in one of the most beautiful moonrises either of us have witnessed.  Huge due to atmospheric refraction and a striking, vivid orange colour - this was no ordinary moonrise and we turned our chairs from the fire to watch as it progressed higher.  A path of orange, then golden light spread across the glassy water of the Sound of Gigha as the moon gained altitude, dimming the stars as its light intensified - what a sight!

"Red moons" are occasionally seen as the effect of lunar eclipse or smoke in the atmosphere to our neolithic and later forbears could be seen as good or bad omens.  We felt that this was indeed a good omen, and maybe just the blessing of the Brownie....

Give them an Inch.....

We landed on the west coast of Inchmarnock about 30 minutes before sunset and wasted no time in getting our tents up and camp established.  There are easier places to land and camp at the north and south ends of the island but we hoped that the spot we chose would be exposed to any breeze which would keep the midges away.

Inchmarnock means Marnoc's Island and is named for the Celtic monk Saint Marnoc (the name also cropping up in other place-names of the south-west of Scotland such as Kilmarnock).  At the north end of the island, a stone "cist" (burial container) was excavated to reveal a female skeleton buried with a jet bead necklace and a dagger.  The remains were carbon dated to 3500 BC, and the Bronze Age lady re-interred behind a pane of glass.


Across the Sound of Bute, the Arran hills were lit with a warm glow from the low evening sunshine.  It really was quite idyllic, and as a bonus the expected midge attack was thwarted by a "sundowner" breeze which started up as we finished putting up our tents.

The sun was setting in a blaze of golden light over the Kintyre peninsula by the time we'd finished making camp.  We decided to cook our evening meal on the pebble beach where we could light a fire below the tideline so that all traces would be erased at the next spring tide.

When it comes to moving boats at wild camp sites there seems to be two types of sea kayaker - those who move their boats right up to the tents, and those who only move their boats above the expected high water mark.  We definitely fall into the second category - we carried our boats onto a level patch of pebbles above the high water line - and not an Inch further!

 Douglas and Mike had used this camping spot some weeks previously and Mike was concerned that they may have used up most of the available driftwood - but it turned out that they hadn't tried nearly hard enough as there was plenty of wood along the shore.  Within ten minutes we had a good pile and with the help of a Wilcox Ignition Aid (TM) we soon had a satisfying blaze going.

Local stories claim that Bute's 19th century drunks were dropped off on Inchmarnock to be cured by "isolation and deprivation".  We felt no inclination to emulate these unfortunate folk and enjoyed a frothing sports recovery drink as we cooked our evening meal..... 

After eating we sat back and just enjoyed being in this place - so near to a big city and yet really quite remote.  The only sounds were the gentle crackling of our fire and the water on the pebbles of the beach; there was no man-made noise and very few lights visible on the surrounding coasts.

 The afterglow of the sunset was a long and drawn-out affair, an hour after the sun had dipped below the Kintyre hills there was still a band of intensely coloured light on the horizon.  The air was warm and the heat from our fire meant that we only needed jackets as it got dark.

Give us an Inch and we'll take a mile!

Alternative realities on Loch Shiel

Loch Shiel is a 28 kilometre long freshwater loch which meets the sea via the outflow of the River Shiel.  The loch and its surrounding mountains are heavily glaciated, the water of the loch contained in a trench which reaches a depth of 128 metres before becoming shallow near the outflow - the classic glacial valley loch.

Due to the effects of isostatic rebound, this part of Scotland is continuing to rise following the release of the weight of glacial ice and the original sea level outflow of the loch is some 4.5 metres above current sea level.  It takes only a short pause for thought to deduce that somewhere ahead that 4.5 metre difference was going to make itself very apparent!  That however, lay well ahead of us. 

 We'd subconsciously moved into the very middle of the loch, aligning ourselves with the symmetry ahead.  This was the first of some very unusual effects we experienced during the afternoon and following day.  Realising that the greater interest lay as ever on the edge of the land, we moved close in to the west shore.

The reflection of the steep banks of the loch were incredibly clear on water undisturbed by the slightest breath of wind.

Symmetry and reflection were to be found everywhere one looked - we paddled on, each of us lost in our own thoughts and appreciation of these rare and very special conditions.  For my part, I kept returning to thinking how incredibly fortunate we were in being able to experience this place at this time.

The overcast sky lent a stark quality to some of the trees lining the shore.  The woodland here is in a semi-natural condition and due to difficulty of access has been relatively lightly grazed or cleared.  On the eastern side of the loch there are some areas of dense forestry plantation but we paddled along past woods of birch, oak, rowan, holly and (as here) alder, that most water-loving of trees.

Later in the Spring these trees would be in the full glory of early leaf and the woods alive with birdsong.  This early in the year the buds were yet to open, the shapes of the trees strong silhouettes and, very fittingly, the few birds singing could be heard individually and clearly across the still water.

In places we found that the reflections on the surface of the water had more clarity than the objects themselves; an alternative and inverted reality that confused the eye.

....and at times the coincidence of shape, colour and reflection was simply breathtaking.  This snatched image with Mike framed by a halo of colour and shape looked like something from a child's kaleidoscope.......

.......it was definitely time to stop and put the reality of a small beach beneath our feet!  It was now early evening and we assessed our progress to determine which of several potential campsites we could reach in good time to get set up during daylight.  We don't push on unnecessarily, and besides - with all this scenery around us why rush?  We felt that a small application of Golden Steadying Liquid would assist in the process and accordingly took a small dram of Linkwood (cask strength), watered to the correct specification using the rather abundant supply of crystal clear loch water.

About thirty minutes further paddling  brought us to two potential campsites a couple of hundred metres apart.  The first had better ground but the second was more sheltered.  Almost as our keels touched the coarse sand of the beach a chilly "sundowner" breeze started up..... our decision was made.

It took no time at all for us to set up camp, change into "shoregoing" clothes and put our paddling kit out to air in the breeze.  Stoves on, hot drinks and a hot meal were soon produced.  This was the reality we'd been waiting for through a stormy winter; camping on a beach surrounded by wild mountains and entirely self-contained.  We might be on fresh water, but this was most definitely sea kayaking reality!

Before it got dark we gathered driftwood piled up at the side of the shore by the recent stormy weather and made a fire in an area of sand behind the beach where it would cause no damage and we could erase all trace in the morning.  Using a "Wilcox Ignition Aid" (TM) we soon had a good fire which provided hot embers to bake our potatoes, served with butter and salt and which by unanimous vote were declared the best yet.

We retired to our tents warm and very content.  An owl called a few times and then there was complete silence.  The wind had died and the absence of sound was palpable and very relaxing. 

An Arran Amble - Kilbrannan sunset

Good wild camping spots are surprisingly difficult to find around Arran's coast.  For much of the way public roads hug the shore and where good spots might be found it's often the case that the shoreline is rocky or bouldery.  Beaches which appear ideal at high water often turn out to have difficult boulders or reefs at lower tidal staes.  We managed to find a good spot though, a green area fronted by a tiny beach which was accessible at all states of the tide.

As a bonus, the shore had lots and lots of driftwood for a fire - just 15 minutes collecting gave us more than enough for the evening.

With our fire lit below the tideline and our dinner underway we had time to relax and enjoy our surroundings.  The only sounds were the calls of shorebirds and a gentle lapping of the water on the shore.  It looked like we'd be treated to a good sunset too.

We put potatoes in tinfoil to bake in the embers of the fire and poured a small dram of Mike's 15 year old Dalwhinnie to accompany our supper and......

...a graceful sunset beyond the Kintyre shore.  Life felt particularly good!

As the afterglow of the sunset washed the sky over the Kilbrannan Sound with colour....

We made a last check on the boats before retiring for the night.  The following day's forecast was for fresh to strong north or northeasterly winds with a complex meteorological mix of nearby fronts affecting the weather.  It all promised to make our passage to the second potential crux point of our journey around Arran rather interesting.......

An Arran Amble - peace and light

The rain passed through overnight and we woke to a beautiful morning, fresh sunny morning.

Just as we were completing the packing of the boats and preparing to leave, one of the volunteers from the Samye Ling community walked along the path around the point.  She was friendly and polite and seemed genuinely interested in our journey.  As we had already packed away our camp there would have been little point in her discussing camping, but she did take a discreet glance around our site.  No trace - it's our practice anyway and the fire we'd enjoyed the previous evening had been erased by the overnight high water.  A few minutes later and another volunteer arrived from the opposite direction; surely no coincidence.  Again, she was friendly, and learned a good deal about the island and it's history from a chat with Douglas (who has a female ancestor born on this island and native to Arran all her days).

It's clear that the monks of this community still feel that they can influence access and the right of responsible camping - we have no doubt that had we arrived early in the evening we would have had a visit from a representative asking us to move on.  We would have politely declined and exercised our right (under the law) of responsible access.

Here's what the Scottish Outdoor Access Code says concerning wild camping:

"Access rights extend to wild camping. This type of camping is lightweight, done in small numbers and only for two or three nights in any one place. You can camp in this way wherever access rights apply but help to avoid causing problems for local people and land managers by not camping in enclosed fields of crops or farm animals and by keeping well away from buildings, roads or historic structures. Take extra care to avoid disturbing deer stalking or grouse shooting. If you wish to camp close to a house or building, seek the owner’s permission. Leave no trace by: taking away all your litter; removing all traces of your tent pitch and of any open fire (follow the guidance for lighting fires) not causing any pollution."


Our camping spot was discreet, out of both sight and sound of the island's inhabitants and we moved on early in the morning.  We didn't experience any difficulty, though others have and indeed two kayakers were "strongly discouraged" (but not prevented) from camping a few nights later.  Douglas blog here has links to previous access issues on Holy Island.

Back on the water, we paddled along the east coast of Holy Island......

...on a bright, glittering sea.

Approaching the southern end of the island we spotted one of the numerous geological features of  the Arran area; the basal New Red Sandstone of the shore overlaid by columnar basalts, the contrast is quite striking.

There is a lighthouse at the south-east tip of Holy Island, at the appropriately named Pillar Rock Point.  We chose not to land and explore either of the lighthouses because, though we like lighthouses a lot, these are in use by the community as spiritual retreats and we had no wish to disturb the occupants.

The south of the island is where some of the monks, including the abbot, live.  A winding path leads to the abbot's residence on the slopes of Mullach Mor.

The houses here are ecologically designed and fit into the environment superbly.  The Buddhist monks aren't the first religious users of Holy Island, as the name might suggest.  In the 7th century a cave on the island was the home of St Mo Las, then in the 13th century a monastery was founded by Ranald, Lord of the Isles.  There is also evidence that the followers of  the Norse King Haakon sheltered on the island on their way home following defeat at the battle of Largs.

Apart from these houses at the southern end of the island, most of the present day infrastructure is in the north of Holy Island where the monks have founded a Peace centre.  Dry stone dykes have been repaired, the orchard restocked and a vegetable garden provides food.  Thousands of native trees have been planted; the presence of the Woodcock we saw is an indication that the woodland is well established.  Environmental considerations are important to the order; water is supplied by springs, heating is by solar panels and sewage is treated in reed-beds.

There is much to admire about the Samye Ling order's stewardship of Holy Island; we hope that in time they may become more tolerant of the occasional sea kayaker passing through on a journey, and abide by the spirit and letter of Scotland's Access law..

Given the Buddhist owners, it's perhaps fitting that the other lighthouse on the island is the Inner Light; and as it is passed a superb view of Arran's hills opens up.  We left Holy Island with our own small sense of peace and light.

The 30 hour adventure - a wild night out

After leaving Skipness we continued our journey south along the Kintyre coast past the ferry terminal at Claonaig, where the small public road veers away from the shoreline. The ferry terminal is essentially an unattended slipway with a passenger shelter, but it does have toilet facilities if required.

Insomuch as we had a "plan", the general thought was to continue for a further ten or so kilometres to where a series of beaches offer potential camping spots.  By this time however, a sneaky headwind had got up and slowed us somewhat - it was also approaching dinner time!  We didn't want to be arriving at a camp mid-evening and not be able to enjoy the situation, so we started looking for potential spots some 5 kilometres short of our "planned" area.  We hoped to find a good spot, and on the sheltered side of a small point we spied a raised shingle beach backed by a platform of turf - a very pleasant site.

The only slight issue was the carry from the water to the high water mark.  A feature of the tidal regime around the Clyde is that at Springs, high water occurs around midday and midnight.  Therefore, arriving at a campsite late afternoon/early evening and leaving in the early morning at Springs will mean a long carry.  If you're a solo kayaker in this area it's something to factor in to your planning.

Douglas had foreseen the possibility of having to carry boats a bit of a distance and had brought along a Karitek Portage Strap.  Normally used as two straps with four paddlers moving one boat at a time, we found that one strap used by two of us behind the cockpit with one of us carrying the bow of a boat worked very well, even when moving fully laden boats up a beach.  The access to this beach was a carry of 75 metres and included a narrow gully.  Nevertheless, it was a fine campsite and we soon had our tents up and hot drinks on the go.

Whilst we cooked and ate dinner we were able to start to absorb and appreciate our surroundings.  the wind had dropped, but at this time of year there are no biting midges so we could sit in comfort to enjoy the hazy view across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran.  Dinner commenced with some of Douglas' fine home-made soup.  As our planning for this small trip had consisted of two texts and one phone call the previous evening, the dinner menu was restrained compared to our usual fare.  Not that we resorted to packet food you understand - just that we hadn't had time to pre-prepare our usual fare!

Dry driftwood was plentiful; five minutes collecting from the tideline and ten minutes with a folding saw produced, with the aid of the "Wilcox Failsafe Ignition Aid" (TM), the basics of a good fire placed below the highest waterline.  We don't build fire-rings of stones, finding them unnecessary and unsightly.  The next big tide will have removed all traces of this fire; we aided the process by dispersing the remnants the following morning.

Regular readers of our blogs will note that we subscribe to the restorative and performance enhancing benefits of a particular sports recovery drink.  Despite the short notice, we all managed to pack an eerily similar amount of this......  Purists can relax; the apparent proximity of the container to the fire is a telephoto effect - no sports recovery drink was harmed in making of this image.

As the evening wore on our eyes and ears became more attuned to the spot we were in.  Earlier in the day we'd heard the first Cuckoo of the Spring, and there were two calling from the wooded hillside behind the beach.  The air was alive with the cadenced song of Willow Warblers and from the shoreline the prevalent bird sounds were the trilling calls of Common Sandpipers and the occasional wild, bubbling call of a Curlew.  We sipped and compared small drams of Dalmore and Dalwhinnie whisky, both 15 year old expressions - declaring both to be worthy accompaniment to the final course of our dinner, baked potatoes from the fire with salted butter.

With the air and sea completely still, there was no natural "white noise" and we heard an Otter swimming right by the bay before we saw it.  Absolutely unconcerned, it continued to feed in close proximity to the shore.

There are many ways to have a wild night out.  Our evening had good food and drink, good company, a great venue and a fantastic floor-show.  A different take on "birds and booze"!

We awoke to a misty morning.  The first sounds were the Cuckoos of the previous evening, and then at close hand from the mist, the spine-tingling calls of a Black Throated Diver (Gavia arctica) - the call echoing across the still water.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair and varied according to taste.  I prefer something quite light, but Douglas' healthy option of dry-cure bacon, free range egg, tomato and cheese in a wholemeal wrap with coffee and orange juice looked very, very good!  Mike had even brought along half a dozen eggs from his own hens - you don't get food much more local than that!

We'd chatted the previous evening about the amazing wildlife we'd seen and heard less than 50 miles in a straight line from the centre of Glasgow, and speculated on what might be next.  We hoped perhaps to see an eagle, but what we actually saw next was on an altogether different scale.  while preparing for the day, my eye was drawn to an unmistakable triple outline on the surface of the glassy water - a large Basking Shark just a couple of hundred metres offshore.  None of us have seen these summer visitors quite so early in the year - perhaps a good sign for a warm summer?  Douglas managed a photo of the shark before it disappeared into the mist.

The shark wasn't the only thing to have disappeared into the mist - so had the Isle of Arran!  We took bearings to Loch Ranza and worked out the likely effect of the flood tide on our transit before heading out into Kilbrannan Sound.

The weather forecast was for any early mist to clear and leave a bright day.  The next hour of our journey was to be an unforgettable one......

Winter backpacking on the White Mounth - from ice to fire

As we descended from the Dubh Loch into the large glacial trench containing Loch Muick (loch of pigs) we could see our destination for the night marked by the stand of pines and larches on the cloch shore.  The descent is on an easy-angled stalkers path and relatively painless on the knees.  The burn draining the Dubh loch (the Allt an Dubh Loch) can be seen on the right of this image.  It zig-zags down to Loch Muick in almost continuous whitewater;  I have heard it referred to as the "streak o' lightning" due to its appearance from across the loch.

Approaching the trees we walked into welcome sunshine, warm on the back.  The larches were glowing in the late sun, showing up well against the contrast of the pines.

Our accommodation for the night.......well, almost.  Glas Allt Shiel (shieling of the grey water) is shooting lodge built for Queen Victoria and is still in very occasional use.  An outbuilding to the rear contains a bothy maintained by Dundee University Rucksack Club, run on very similar lines to MBA bothies.  Dave and I have stayed at Glas Allt Shiel previously.

 We made hot drinks and went to the loch shore to enjoy the last of the late afternoon sunshine.  The view down the loch is very fine from here.  We then set about collecting firewood, picking up branches blown down in the recent gale.  Between us we'd also carried coal and kindling on our journey over the mounth so we would have a good fire.  The previous open fireplace in the bothy has been enhanced with a very effective solid fuel stove - we got it lit and by the end of the evening had the whole bothy up to 18 degrees Celcius; not bad in a granite outbuilding with outside temperatures below freezing!

Whilst we were sawing up our firewood a Common Vole (Microtus arvalis) repeatedly appeared to eat a few blades of grass.  It allowed close approach but if we strayed too close and it disappeared into one of its runways through the grass.  It seemed quite a fiendly wee thing, but would have a colder night than we would!

Blazes of light in "the dark glen"

 The Mountain Bothies Association sign on the door of a bothy is always a welcome sight.   Then there's the anticipation - what will the bothy be like, will there be other folk staying?  One of the joys of bothying is in the people met, pretty much always like-minded outdoor enthusiasts.  Each bothy represents a leap of faith by the owner and continuous effort by the MBA to keep the place in good condition. Glendhu was one I'd not previously stayed in and I found it in great condition with four clean, dry rooms.  There were no other visitors staying that night so I picked  a room upstairs to sleep in and settled in.

As I unpacked the boat and carried my kit the few metres to the bothy from the loch shore, the western sky was ablaze with a glorious sunset.  I gatthered driftwood from the shore and spent twenty minutes with the saw to produce.......

A different kind of blaze in the grate. Although the evening was pleasantly mild, a bothy isn't quite the same without a companionable fire.  All done and I prepared my dinner of home-made cicken and corgette casserole featuring green and yellow courgettes gifted from a neighbours garden at home accompanied with saffron infused rice.  A small dram of Jura 12yo malt went very well with the food.

Before going to bed I took a walk outside to find a third blaze; that  of a dark sky full of stars with a huge swathe of the milky way overhead - just beautiful.  I slept soundly and comfortably.

The morning was bright and fresh, the southeasterly breeze would be at my back down the loch.

After breakfast I repacked the boat, tidied the bothy and cut some more driftwood for the next visitors.  Glendhu can be anything but "the dark glen" and I'll be back to visit this lovely spot soon.......