Slow-burn sunset over Skye

As we paddled slowly back toward Kyle, the sun was setting in a bronze blaze to the southwest.

Cloud banks to the west of Skye made this a slow, smouldering affair.

The colours filled the sky after the sun set; as so often the best colour comes long after the sun has dipped below the horizon.  The Cuillin hills seemed razor sharp in the cold, clear air.

And the colour burned on, turning to a final flourish before beginning a long fade from gold to pink.

We sat, entranced.  It's said that you don't watch a west coast sunset, you participate in it.  Certainly that was true of this evening.  Our paddle back to Skye seemed effortless, as if we'd absorbed something of the slow-burn sunset.  We arrived at the slipway well after dark with memories to last a very long time. 

Kyle to Plockton

The islands on the way to Plockton are a good place to see wildlife, particularly Otters.  Today didn't disappoint; I had good sightings of at least four including one bringing a crab ashore to eat.  Unfortunately I didn't get any good photographs. 

The pretty village of Plockton is situated in a bay sheltered from the prevailing southwesterly weather.  It has National Trust for Scotland "Conservation" status and in the recent past has been the setting for a TV series about a rural policeman (Hamish MacBeth).  The village High School is particularly well known for it's Traditional Music academy which has produced some fine musicians and has an impressive array of guest tutors.  This Sunday morning it was very quiet; many of the houses around the two small harbours seem to be second homes. 

Leaving Plockton on the return leg, the view to the north is dominated by the Applecross hills across Loch Carron.  From inside one of the many islands, the Corbetts of Sgurr a' Chaorachain (peak of the little sheep) and Beinn Bhan (white hill) grab the attention.  The light wind had now dropped to almost nothing and the sun was shining - great paddling weather!

During the day I met with Murdo and Raymond.  These are lucky guys - this is one of their local paddles.  We headed slowly back towards Kyle, accompanied by curious Common Seals.  It had been a really good day, but the early evening was to prove the highlight.

Under the bridge to Skye

I set off on a chilly but quiet morning from Kyle of Lochalsh to paddle north to Plockton, then return to Kyle.  The whole coast between the two is dotted with islands and skerries noted for wildlife and owned by the National Trust for Scotland.

At Neap tides and with almost no wind Kyle Akin (Hakon's Narrows - a hint to the Norse influence here) was quiet.  At Springs and with some wind, it's a very different and challenging stretch of water.  Ahead, the Skye bridge spans the Kyle.  This bridge, opened in 1995, replaced the Calmac ferry and reduced queues, but was very controversial because of the punitive tolls.  The eventual removal of tolls on this and all bridges in Scotland was due largely to ordinary people making a principled and obdurate stand.

You can still travel as in the words of the famous song, "over the sea to Skye" by using the Glenelg Ferry which runs from April to October.  It's by far the most pleasant way to reach Skye, and thoroughly recommended.

Under the bridge on the Lochalsh side stands the Eilean Ban lighthouse.  Built in 1857 by Thomas Stevenson, it's no longer lit but is still a daymark.  It's now pretty much overshadowed by the bridge.  The prominent hill in the background is Dun Caan on the island of Raasay.

From most angles the bridge is a fairly unremarkable concrete span, but from directly below it has a undoubted slender grace.  I now left the traffic and bustle to paddle north along the coast.

An elevated view from the Big Heel

As I was staying at the hostel named after this hill, climbing Sail Mhor (Big Heel) seemed very appropriate.

Getting out just as it was getting light, a short walk along the road starts the day, then the best route climbs alongside the beautiful Ardessie falls.  The early sun was catching the top of Sail Mhor, but this side of the hill was in cold shade.

Higher up the angle eases into a hanging river valley, then there's a steady ascent on short heather and stony ground to the summit of the hill.  Sail Mhor is a Corbett and though at 767 metres lower than many of the hills nearby, is a superb viewpoint

To the west I looked down on Gruinard Bay and my paddle of the previous day. I'd set out from a beach in the left hand side of the bay and paddled clockwise. Gruinard Island is prominent in this view.

To the north, the view extends over Little Loch Broom, Beinn Ghobhlach and the entrance of Loch Broom up to the Assynt Coigach hills.

Beyond Little Loch Broom and Cailleach Head are the Summer Isles - a fantastic sea kayaking location.

Turning around, the view is just as good! The outliers of An Teallach are on the left and beyond are some of the hills of the Fisherfield Forest. 

I was well wrapped up, but even so it was pretty cold exposed to the wind on the summit.  After around 15 minutes of taking in the view I headed back down the hill, going first to the smaller "top" in this picture.  The whole walk took a little over five hours, perfect for a short day.

Gruinard Island

Gruinard Island is a lozenge shaped sandstone island 2.5km by 1 km and lies on the east side of Gruinard Bay around 1km from the shore.  Once wooded, it was used as sheep pasture from the 18th century.  The island hasn't been permanently inhabited since the 1920's.

In 1941, during the Second World War, government scientists decided that this "useless" island would be ideal for testing a biological weapon.  It was suspected that the Germans were testing weapons containing virulent diseases, so the British scientists decided to act. They penned sixty sheep on the island and bombed them with Anthrax spores. Unsurprisingly, the sheep died (experiment successful?) and were buried in a cave on the island. 

The difficulties began almost straight away.  Firstly, there was no vaccine for Anthrax at the time, and a poor understanding of the propagation and viability of the spores.  Anthrax has the unfortunate qualities of being both a deadly and a very resilient bacillus. Then a sheep carcass floated out of the cave and infected livestock on the mainland.  That was quickly "hushed up".  It became obvious that the spores in the soil were not dying, and the Government bought the island in 1947 from the Eilean Darach estate for £500 and put up the "Keep Out" signs.  As information gradually leaked out post-war, Gruinard was tagged in the popular imagination as "Anthrax Island".

In 1986, amid increasing environmental concern, the UK government's Chemical Defence Establishment conducted new sampling and discovered that there were still relatively high levels of spores in the soil on the island.  A combination of environmental concern and fear of infection/litigation forced action.  The entire surface area of the island was soaked in formaldehyde and sea water to disinfect it, then sheep and rabbits were reintroduced to test the effectiveness of the clean up.

In 1990 the island was declared free of Anthrax and sold back to Eilean Darach estate for the original purchase price - together with a 150 year indemnity.  Some scientists however, claim that  the spores will continue to be brought to the surface by vegetation for hundreds of years......

The one good thing to have come out of the whole experiment was that it did help toward an effective vaccine for Anthrax in both livestock and humans.

(The information above has been paraphrased from Hamish Haswell-Smith's indispensible guide "The Scottish Islands")

Although I feel that it is safe to visit the island - at least on the shore - one can't help having just a little apprehension.  After paddling the 4km across from Mellon Udrigle I landed on the west coast of the island near this arch, which at higher states of the tide could be paddled.

The north west coast of Gruinard Island is an unexpected rock-hopping delight with pinnacles, channels and boulders to explore.

Heading around the north end and down to the south east tip, the spit of Sron a' Mhoil reaches out toward Gruinard House and provides a convenient landing place.

This ruined shepherd's hut seems to be the only building on the island.  Beyond is the 106m high point, An Eilid (the Hind).

It would be good to think that such things will never be happen again, but who knows?  The attitude from far away government which sees this part of a northern land as "useless" is a continuing factor.

Perhaps the last word on the whole affair should be left to Gruinard Island itself.  In the north west corner, a tiny bay contains an eloquent response in stone to the scientists who infected it.

                                       The land always endures, always has the last word!

A thin and chilly wind was blowing, and it was time to leave the island, though I'm glad I visited..  I paddled back to Gruinard into a wintry looking sunset.  I'd managed around 32km during the day without hurrying, and the wild calls of Divers welcomed me back to the beach.

Gruinard Bay

A narrow window of weather prior to a series of deep Atlantic low pressure systems gave an opportunity for a paddle, then a hillwalk the following day.  I chose the Dundonnell area and stayed at the very comfortable Sail Mhor Croft.

A short drive in the morning got me to the beautiful Gruinard Bay to get on the water before 8am.  As I was packing the boat, a radio programme about the poet Norman MacCaig was being broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland's "Out of Doors".  Once I paddled out of the bay, I'd be able to see some of the mountains which so inspired him.

Setting off into a chilly morning, the bay was echoing with the weird calls of Divers (Gavidae sp).  I saw at least two Great Northern Divers and (I think) a pair of Black Throated Divers.  The birds are difficult to identify in winter plumage, but their wailing calls made a very atmospheric sound.

Heading west along a rocky coast, a low but powerful swell was angling in from the Minch.  The first useful landing spot was at the village of Laide, where this burial ground and ruined chapel command a view northeast to Assynt Coigach.  The chapel dates from mediaeval times and would originally have been thatched.  The burial ground is surrounded by a ditch and rampart crowned by a drystone dyke which looks much older.  The ruin was becoming unstable, but has been secured with a steel brace.

Now turning north along the coast, I had lunch and brewed a cup of tea on the beautiful beach at Mellon Udrigle before continuing north toward Greenstone Point.  The swell here was markedly bigger.....

At low water (this was around Spring tides) one of the pleasures of exploring the rocky coasts is paddling among the forests of seaweed.  I think this is a type of Laminaria - I really must learn more about seaweed!
The fronds and holdfasts are incredibly tough to withstand the pounding of the waves, and so shiny that they reflect a passing kayaker with a camera!

My next stop had been considered for some time.  Anyone knowing the recent history of Gruinard Island will probably have just a slight doubt about landing.

Autumn Beeches

While this autumn hasn't quite matched the incendiary colours of 2009, there's been much to enjoy.  The Beech trees (Fagus sylvatica) have been particularly fine. 

Beeches aren't native to most of Britain but have been introduced for a long time, possibly at first by the Romans.  They do well in this part of Aberdeenshire where they thrive on well drained soils with good water supply.  They were planted extensively by landowners following the Enclosure Acts of the 18th Century; this row of trees on the Monymusk Estate may have been planted at around this time

Close up, the leaves show beautiful colours at this time of year as they turn from green to yellow and then to rich russet.

Backlit by low autumnal sunshine, the yellow leaves seem to glow. A walk in a Beech wood in these conditions is a pure joy.

This young tree near to our house looks like a firework exploding from a clump of Birches.  Young trees like this seem to retain their dead leaves on the branches through until early Spring, where older trees shed theirs.

But it's not all gold - at the base of a Beech tree in Paradise Wood on the River Don; again on the Monymusk estate, mosses help to retain moisture and give a Wood Sorrel (Oxalis acetosella) a place to flourish.

Glenlivet Gold

On a day when the Mountain Weather Information Service was forecasting severe gales from the southwest on the highest mountains, I felt that something a bit lower would still give a good day on the hill.  Better still if I could put the wind at my back.  The Hills of Cromdale on the Glenlivet Estate seemed to fit the bill nicely, plus it's just a short drive from home.

The walk starts pleasantly alongside the River Avon, just along from the Tomintoul Distillery, where a minor road leads to a hill track striking straight up the hill.

The hills are a wonderful, rich brown colour at the moment as the deer grass and heather start to colour up.  This is grouse shooting country, with shooting butts like this old example dotting the hillside.  On grouse moors, the heather is burned in strips and patches in rotation to give variety in the age of the heather which these hardy birds depend on. The hills get a characteristic striped look which is particularly noticeable at this time of year.

One advantage of having the southwest wind at my back is that I also got the low autumn sun at my back too.  Looking southwest into the sun, the line of ridges over toward Abernethy looked like a Japanese painting.

The broad Cromdale ridge sweeps away to the east, to the summit of Carn a' Ghille Chearr (Cairn of the Left-handed Lad).  It would be fascinating to know how this hill came by it's name.  Rather surprisingly, there were a herd of around twenty Reindeer grazing on the upper slopes around the area in shadow on this picture.  I previously only knew of one herd in Scotland, on Cairngorm. 

Though these hills aren't very high, barely rising above 700 metres, they command a great view.  Looking west, over the Haughs of Cromdale where a battle was fought in 1690, you look down on Speyside, while  to the north is Glenlivet itself.  This is whisky country, with names like Knockando, Glenfarclas, Tomnavoulin, Cragganmore and of course The Glenlivet to make the mouth water - true Glenlivet Gold!