A perfect pitch

It turned out that our day could and did get better!  The camping spot we'd originally planned on was a few more kilometres up the coast, and given the wind direction we realised that it would be right in the wind.  So when a flash of white sand backed by bright green woodland caught our eye at the back of a small bay, we had to take a look.

Landing near low water we found ourselves in an enclosed bay, sheltered from the wind and in full sunshine.  A few folk were enjoying the late afternoon sunshine, indicating that the bay was fairly accessible, but it did look very promising as a wild camping spot.  Our preference is for fairly remote areas which are little used, but never look a gift horse in the mouth!

As the day visitors started to leave, we pitched our tents, Donny and Douglas pitched on the level turf above the beach itself - where there was even a picnic bench......

Allan and I chose spots in a beautiful wood of birches at the back of the bay which was alive with birdsong.  At the time and in the memory, this felt a perfect pitch.

Once we'd pitched up we wandered the bay, just enjoying the sunshine and the location.  We came across this lovely piece of beach art which must have taken both patience and real creative talent to produce.  Transient and perfect, it would be washed away by the evening's high tide.

Much of the beach was covered in pieces of white "coral" - actually Maerl, a corraline algae which when living is a purplish colour.  When they die, the calcereous remains of Maerl are broken and crushed by wave action, then bleached in the sun to form dazzling white "coral" beaches such as this one.  

A rare and fragile environment, Maerl beds have comprehensive protection, but are at risk from scallop dredging - one pass by a scallop dredger's bottom gear can destroy a bed which might be hundreds of years old.   Loch Carron has some of the best examples of Maerl beds and as a result is protected by designation as a Marine Protected Area (MPA).  

In the wood, Primroses were in flower on sunny banks - perhaps my favourite of the early Spring flowers; such a cheery sight at the back of a long winter.

After dinner we wandered over to the edge of the bay and climbed a rocky outcrop to photograph the setting sun - it was a really lovely evening.

Our fire below the Spring tide mark was lit to get going while we took our photographs and brought snacks and drinks down from the tents.

 Across the sea, beyond Skye and Raasay, the setting sun slipped down to the horizon to end a truly great day on the water.  We sat with a dram by our fire and chatted into a glorious evening.

Note: Since we camped here, the bay and its beach have been featured in a national newspaper and on a well known travel website as "one of the most beautiful and accessible in Scotland".  This is undoubtedly going to increase it's popularity and perfect as it is, we will avoid camping here for the foreseeable future in order to go a small way to reducing future pressure.

An evening to savour

The Loch Fyne Light Show started with a distinct softening and warming of the light quality.  We picked up cameras to watch as the sun sank through a cloudbank over the Kintyre shore.

Donny walked to a vantage point on a nearby rock rib to take some video - you can see Donny's film about our trip on his YouTube Channel here.

I joined Donny to get a view with no rocks in the foreground and was rewarded with this lovely path of sunlight beaming across Loch Fyne.

I spent a good twenty minutes just taking it all in; the last two years have seen few trips due to Covid restrictions and work pressures....it was so good just to "be" in the outdoors again, in the moment with a lovely sunset.

The sun dipped below the Kintyre hills and the sky put on a final flourish of gorgeous light....just superb.

As Donny and I wandered back over to join Raymond and Allan at our camp site the light show faded to a pastel finish, but there was one last and beautiful element to come.

After sunset the pale, ethereal light was as gorgeous as the sunset had been, though in a completely different way.  My photographic skills don't do the light quality any justice whatsoever, the softness and opacity of a calm evening.  It's this changing "Solas" (light) which really makes a day.

The temperature dropped after sunset and we got our fire, built well below the Spring high water line, lit and away.

Contained by a few big logs, it soon built a very satisfactory heat with remarkably little refuelling required due to the lack of wind.  We sat around and enjoyed after-dinner treats and the odd dram - life seemed particularly agreeable on this Fyne evening!

A Fyne afternoon for a swim

Replete and refreshed from our second breakfast in Tarbert, we headed south down the Kintyre shore before crossing back to the Argyll shore of Loch Fyne.  Conditions remained absolutely perfect with calm water and warm sunshine - we had to keep reminding ourselves it was still March!

Close by the Argyll shore we landed on the tiny island of Sgat Mor (the name is possibly Big Skate after the fish).  We were delighted to find this tiny shell sand beach on which to take a leg-stretch.  We didn't stay long as the island is home to a colony of Great Black Backed gulls who voiced their displeasure very forcefully.

Sgat Mor has a small navigation light in a tower on the highest point, and for good reason.  It seems to have been a regular shipwreck site and even with the light has seen groundings, the latest in 1994.

Our plan for the day was to reach our intended camp site early in the afternoon so that we could take some time to just enjoy the great weather, rather than cranking out distance.  Soon after leaving Sgat Mor we arrived at a spot we'd scoped on the way past the previous day.  Donny was already there and had enjoyed a doze in the sunshine; you'll be able to see this trip in video on his Youtube site.

We soon had the tents up on a patch of turf above the beach, which was backed with colourful early Gorse and alive with birdsong.  A couple of hours were spent just relaxing, collecting firewood and airing out kit.  As is the way of things, the time slipped by really pleasantly doing, essentially, not a lot.  This is an important part of these journeys for me, when all that's necessary is to keep fed, warm and comfortable all life's other hassles and stresses can be put on hold as doing pretty much nothing takes up all my time.

Our camp looked straight across to the hills of Arran which were in a blue haze.  Strips of sea mist around the north of the island made it appear to be floating above the sea rather than rising from it.

As the afternoon wore on the warmth increased and the light took on a lovely quality.  We were all rather warm in just t-shirts and light trousers and so a swim was debated.....

Donny, Allan and I took the plunge and can report that the water was on the bracing side of refreshing, but that once immersed it was a brilliant experience.  We emerged invigorated and dried off in the warm sunshine.  Only once have I swum in the sea earlier than 25th March and that was in similar conditions in the Sound of Arisaig - in February of 2013!

 After getting dressed and cooking a dinner of  home made Spaghetti Bolognaise courtesy of Raymond, we built the fire using some larger logs to contain and reflect the heat.  The early evening light was promising something special, so we finished all our camp chores and prepared for the light-show.

A noisy morning and a quiet day

I slept fairly well at our first camp site, but only until the first hint of light.  the clear, fluting song of a Blackbird singing solo was the start of the dawn chorus, and was a strikingly beautiful sound in the quiet dawn.  What was neither beautiful or quiet were the many geese, a Raven, a Pheasant and several Oystercatchers who joined in soon afterward, a more discordant dawn chorus would be difficult to imagine!

No matter, it was a lovely morning when we emerged from the tents, and surprisingly there was absolutely no condensation on the tents or the ground - quite unusual for this time of year.  The sunrise was a slow and stately affair, the forecast for overcast and hazy but warm conditions looked pretty accurate.  I never underestimate the privilege of waking up in places like this....we were less than 60km/40 miles from the very centre of Glasgow, Scotland's busiest and most populous city and yet we might have been in another world.

The party would split here; Douglas and Mike would head back to Portencross on the Ayrshire coast, Donny would head off to explore in his F-RIB with the possibility of joining up with us later in the day.  Raymond, Allan and I would head back north into Loch Fyne.  It had been great to catch up with everyone - I've so missed these journeys with good friends during the pandemic.

As we paddled back up the west side of Inchmarnock we were accompanied by the noisy neighbours; a flock of Canada Geese and small groups of Greylag Geese.  They allowed us to get fairly close, then splashed their way airborne in noisy indignation to land just ahead and repeat the process - why they didn't just fly around behind us I've no idea!

This was a strange day of weather; neither cold nor warm, calm with absolutely no wind, dry and with soft-focus light.  I'm sure that the conditions subconsciously affected our pace and energy - we all remarked on being a bit lethargic during the day.

At the mouth of Loch Fyne the Ardlamont buoy sat on top of its reflection, perfectly still

I'd had a very distant view of dolphins - which Donny later confirmed as Common Dolphins.  For some years a lone Common Dolphin nicknamed "Kylie" (as he frequented the Kyles of Bute) had made a permanent home near the buoy and had, it seems, been able to communicate across a species boundary with Harbour Porpoises but there was no sign of him when we paddled past.

Near to Ardlamont Point we heard a familiar high pitched chatter and looked along the cliffs to get a great view of a Peregrine Falcon (Falco peregrinus) arcing out over the water before returning to the crags - a really lovely sight.

I got quite tired paddling during the afternoon, maybe out of practice, maybe the strange weather, and took almost no photographs.  We trimmed our plans to head right up into Loch Fyne and instead headed to a beach recommended by Donny as a potential camp site.  Arriving mid afternoon after meeting up with Donny gave us plenty of time to select the best spot and to gather driftwood for our evening fire.

The wood was very dry and lit immediately, soon developing into quite a hot fire.  Purists can relax, the apparent proximity of the can of Brewdog sports recovery drink to the fire is an effect of the camera - the can (chilled in a nearby burn) was well out of range and no Brewdog was harmed during the making of this blog post.

 Dinner was Allan's excellent Venison Casserole, eaten around a fine fire (a Fyne fire?!).  All of us were tired and we headed to the tents pretty early with the promise of another fine Fyne day to come.

A very special induction

The third week of March promised some very fine and warm weather in Scotland.  Having studied the forecasts and checked availability we decided on a sea kayak trip over four days and three nights in the Firth of Clyde and Loch Fyne.  Allan, Raymond and I would start near Tighnabruaich in the West Kyle, Donny would launch his F-RIB from the same spot and Douglas and Mike would kayak from Portencross on the Ayrshire coast to join us for an overnight camp.

Our planning was very flexible, there was no fixed itinerary other than getting out on the water for a journey and to enjoy the fine weather.  From previous knowledge of the area we had several potential wild camp sites in mind for our first night and were able to keep in touch through the day to decide which one would work best for our varied starting points and times.

It's a fair drive from Aberdeenshire to Tighnabruaich, but Allan and I made good time and after stopping for brunch en route we were packing the boats shortly after 1pm - Raymond arrived a few minutes after us from his home near Stirling. We noted Donny's car in the parking area so he was on the water already, a message from Douglas and Mike indicated that they had set off late morning and the weather could not have been better....the plan was coming together!

We paddled south down the West Kyle of Bute and past Ardlamont Point into open water at the mouth of Loch Fyne, it was a cracking day to be on the water.

The slight breeze dropped completely as we crossed to the north end of the island of Inchmarnock - a couple of messages exchanged just as we set off had confirmed our meeting point as the south end of the island where we knew we'd get a good camp site provided that it wasn't inhabited by cattle.

We couldn't quite believe the conditions we paddled in...warm sun on the face, a heat haze and perfect reflections on mirror calm water.  All the more remarkable, conditions were due to be similar for the whole week - and the clocks hadn't even gone forward!

We landed at the shingle spit at the north end of Inchmarnock for coffee and a leg-stretch, greeted by this bright orange Seven Armed Starfish (Luidia ciliaris) which was a very neat colour match with the deck of my Cetus MV.  

"Inchmarnock" means Marnoc's Island and is named for the Celtic monk St Marnoc.  His name appears in several other place names in south west Scotland including the town of Kilmarnock.  Near where we landed a stone "cist" or burial container was excavated to reveal the remains of a Bronze Age lady buried with a jet bead necklace and a finely made dagger.  the remains were carbon dated to about 3500 BC and the lady (subsequently named the "Queen of the Inch") re-interred beneath a heavy glass pane.

Rested and refreshed, we paddled at a relaxed pace down the west side of Inchmarnock, sighting deer and a Peregrine Falcon along the cliffs.  It didn't feel like an afternoon to be rushing along.

In fact, quite the opposite, this was an afternoon to take things very easily and to enjoy the beautiful weather.

A call on the VHF radio from Douglas alerted us that we were just a few hundred metres from the beach above which we'd camp for the night.

Image courtesy of Dr Douglas Wilcox

Douglas took this wonderful panoramic image of Allan, Raymond and I just about to arrive at the camp site; I think it really sums up the day and the superb position.

From the water the position is no less superb, a gently shelving shingle and pebble beach with an area of flat turf above.  This place is sometimes frequented by the herd of Luing cattle which are grazed on Inchmarnock - this breed can be aggressive and don't make good neighbours if camping.  It's their home, so if they're around we go elsewhere to camp!

 After putting up our tents and settling in we joined Douglas, Mike and Donny for dinner around the camp fire.  this early in the Spring there was plenty of driftwood for a fire to be lit below the high water mark.  Raymond, Allan and I had each cooked a fresh meal for one night of this trip - we started this evening with a chilli con carne and rice, accompanied with a glass of red wine - no need to rough it!

This trip was significant for a couple of reasons, the first being that this was the first time we'd been out together for some time, and the first overnight trip of the year for most of us.  The second reason was that all the people on the trip apart from me are retired or semi-retired....and I was imminently to retire.  So, this was a very special induction into the club!

Sat by the fire on a lovely evening in a superb location, sharing a dram with good friends....I think I could get to like this retirement thing! 😊

A seasonal pleasure

September at Mountain and Sea Scotland HQ brings one of most satisfying of seasonal tasks, the storing of firewood logs to fuel our woodburner.  A big load of beech and elm from our regular supplier Ben at Treelogic arrived on a Friday, giving us the weekend to do the job.  

The first task was to sort out what would be stacked immediately and what could be split to give a variety of log sizes.  There followed an evening's work steadily moving the logs to the woodstore by wheelbarrow and starting the stacking process.  There was no hurry to do it as this load of wood isn't for use in the coming winter, it's destined to be burned in autumn and winter 2022/23.

I left the majority of the beech logs aside to be split.  As it was mainly large branch wood it would split nicely and provide smaller logs as well as making the individual logs easier to stack.  This is a job which has never seemed to be a chore to me but rather an enjoyable, even paced rhythm which is totally absorbing and almost therapeutic.

The job is made especially enjoyable because my splitting axe is a a wonderful tool.  A hand-forged large splitting axe from the small Swedish company Gransfors Bruk, it was a gift from our children a few years ago.  I have never used a tool so perfectly designed for purpose and which feels so absolutely "right" in the hands - it makes me smile every time I come to use it.

The job is finished by stacking the logs in one of our several woodstores.  This is also an absorbing job; there will be a "right" space for each log, no matter how awkwardly shaped.  In Scotland we don't usually see straight birch log firewood cut perfectly to length and diameter to form the wonderfully aesthetic stacks seen in Scandinavia, but its still possible to get a stable stack which doesn't look too much like simply a pile!

 And so, the job is done - for now.  The new load of wood is dry and perfectly burnable, but like malt whisky, firewood benefits from some additional time to mature.  Given extra months of seasoning it's possible to get wood seasoned from a dry 20% to as low as 15% moisture content even in Scotland's climate and this makes a surprising difference to the way it burns.  

In the meantime, of course, there's the satisfaction of walking past the woodstore on most days - it's tempting to build and fill "just one more" store - after all, you never know what the weather might be like next winter!