A lot going on at Ardtoe

Following our luncheon stop at Castle Tioram we headed out along the south channel of Loch Moidart towards the rocky skerries and islets at the seaward end.

We passed through the channels and out towards the sea.........

.......before pausing behind the outermost skerry to check that everything was secure on our boats.  Conditions beyond were quite different from the calm waters of the loch, almost as soon as we headed out into open water we encountered quite choppy and confused water. 

The ebb was still running hard and the tidal stream pouring northwesterly out from Kentra Bay was opposed by a brisk F4 wind from the northwest. Adding further entertainment was a 1 to 1.5 metre swell running from the west and on our quarter as we headed south towards Ardtoe.  There was a lot going on with the conditions and we had a bumpy ride enlivened by occasional surfing slides down the swell; we were kept engaged and entertained for the 2 km blast into the shelter of Ardtoe.  I took no photographs on this section of the paddle, but Douglas managed a quick shot just as we turned the corner and the conditions began to develop.

We landed in one of the small sandy bays at Ardtoe for a breather and a snack, deciding to postpone second luncheon until we were back up the coast a bit. 

Quite apart from the sea conditions, there seemed to be a lot going on at Ardtoe itself.  Two new buildings have been added to the FAI Ardtoe Marine Laboratory and further works seem to be in progress.  The largest privately owned marine research facility in the UK, staff at Ardtoe conduct research into commercial aquaculture and among their projects are the production of oyster "spats", fish fry and the growing and supply of Wrasse.  The Wrasse are used as "cleaner fish" to rid farmed salmon of sea-lice which are not only a problem for the fish-farms but also for the wider marine environment.  Who'd have thought that there would be so much going on in this corner of Ardnamurchan?

We were soon going on(wards) ourselves and we were pleased to see that conditions were dropping markedly as the ebb eased off and the wind was dropping away. 

It was a most enjoyable paddle back northwards past Eilean Shona, the great finger of Ardnamurchan stretching away over our left shoulder and the view out to the Small Isles and the Cuillin of Skye ahead.  A couple of years previously Mike, Douglas and I had enjoyed a superb late winter journey along the Ardnamurchan peninsula, finishing at Ardtoe in a beautiful sunset.

We had paddled straight past the tombolo beach at Port Acadh an Aonaich during our outward journey in order to get through the north channel of Loch Moidart before it emptied, but certainly weren't going to pass it by twice!

The view back to the impressive seaward face of Eilean Shona made for a great backdrop to second luncheon......

......of home-made Spiced Carrot & Red Lentil soup, complemented by a small dram of Allan's Highland Park Orkney malt whisky.  Winter days so often turn out to be outstanding and this was no exception; but it still had a final treat in store for us......

A picture of Loch Moidart

We paddled into the North Channel of Loch Moidart, hoping that we'd not have too far to carry the boats as the channel rapidly emptied.  We stuck close to the north (mainland) side of the channel to keep out of the main ebb stream and found that we were in luck......

...we were able to paddle right up to the causeway before lifting our boats over and into the water the other side.  It was then a bit of a race; as we pulled our boats through the very shallow water, it was emptying almost as fast as we walked!  After about 120 metres we gained enough water under our keels to paddle out into the inner part of Loch Moidart.

This isn't the first time we've been in a race against time to get through the north channel !  Our experience is that above half tide the channel should be passable with the possibility of a short portage over the causeway.  Below that there is the distinct possibility of a long and muddy portage.

As often here, the two channels funnel the wind between the mainland and the steep rocky sides of Eilean Shona while the wind is much lighter in the loch itself; exploring Loch Moidart can be a great day when the swell and/or wind make other venues unsuitable.

This was the first day on which I'd carried a DSLR on the foredeck of my kayak in addition to the compact camera in my buoyancy aid.  Having seen just how effective the Ortlieb Aquazoom waterproof camera bag has been in protecting Douglas' very expensive camera, I recently purchased the same bag - secured to the deck elastics of my boat with small karabiners it kept my camera dry and within reach.

I was able to get some pictures which my compact camera simply can't capture, and the greater depth of field from the 28-200mm zoom lens opened up some new options for images.  I did, however find that there's quite a learning process involved in using a DSLR with viewfinder in anything other than flat calm conditions......

Composing and taking an image requires much more in terms of boat positioning, torso rotation and balance when using a DSLR as the hands need to be brought to or above shoulder level and the eyes concentrated through the viewfinder on the image rather than the immediacy of the kayak.  Here Douglas demonstrates perfect balance whilst composing an image; it will take me some considerable time to get the hang of it!

We enjoyed a very relaxed paddle around the central part of Loch Moidart, all the time-pressure of the north channel melted away and we were able to pause to absorb the wildlife and scenery in the loch.  With a virtual guarantee of seal sightings, otters and shorebirds aplenty and, particularly in winter, numerous wildfowl it's a stunning location - and then there's the history....

Passing between the islands and rocks along the shore brought us gradually closer to Castle Tioram, the dramatic and well-photographed 14th century stronghold of Clanranald.  It's an obvious spot to stop and enjoy first luncheon, especially since it's accessible by kayak at any stage of the tide but is cut off from the shore at higher states of the tidal cycle.

Clanranald can claim lineage back to Somerled and the Lordship of the Isles, once on a similar footing to the kings of Scotland.  Somerled's power was based squarely on control of the sea and his descendants rarely strayed from the formula though with varying success. We landed on a small white sand beach were once Birlinns would have beached.

Parts of Castle Tioram have been fenced off or boarded up by the owner following a long dispute with Historic Scotland over the possible renovation of the building.  It seems for now that slow decay of the structure will be the outcome, which is a great pity.

We'd enjoyed a relaxed journey through the picture-perfect Loch Moidart in very calm conditions, the next part of our paddle would be quite different!

A Smirisary smirr

In early February I met up with Allan, Douglas and Alison for a few days on and around the Sound of Arisaig. We based ourselves at the very comfortable Glenuig Inn - a favourite location of ours. After a good meal and a comfortable night, Allan, Douglas and I made the very short drive to Samalaman Bay to launch.

The morning was grey and damp but almost windless - a smirr of rain misting us and the camera as we sorted out our boats on the sandy beach.  Just as the Inuit peoples have many different words to describe different kinds of snow, in Scotland there are many different words to describe different kinds of rain; and "smirr" must be one of the most descriptive!

The fine, almost invisible misting of rain (the Scots word is occasionally used to indicate "smoke" too) continued as we paddled west along the rocky arm of Glenuig Bay, but with mild temperatures and a great paddle in prospect we were just happy to be out on the water on another winter trip.

We passed inside a couple of rocky skerries and around a small headland to paddle along the shore below Smirisary. The previous afternoon I'd arrived early at Glenuig and decided to take a walk over to this interesting crofting township.  The public road from glenuig ends at the large Samalaman House, which was once a Catholic seminary.  From here there is no road to Smirisary, nor would it be possible to even get a wheelbarrow across the rough path - everything which can't walk must go by sea or on the back of a human or pony.  The track starts at a gate in the fence......

           It's said that there is only one chance to make a first impression.  Welcome to Smirisary?

The track climbs gently over the crest of a crag which then drops steeply to ground with obvious signs of previous crofting use.  The first buildings come into view, hard up against the crags.

No crops appear to be grown here now but there is evidence of field systems and a network of drystone dykes separating the crofts.  It's known that the township was in full occupation in the 19th century and that at least one of the families who lived here were called McIsaac.  By the mid 1940's the last of the houses was empty and the township fell into disuse.

What marks out Smirisary is that unlike other former crofting townships in this area (there are good examples of deserted townships at Peanmeanach and on the Ardnish peninsula) it has been partially reocccupied.  Sheep now graze the ground where cattle would have been the crofters main livestock and the permanent residents gone. Instead of the unremitting year-round labour of crofting, the occupants and visitors (some of the houses are now holiday rental properties) of Smirisary come here for recreation and an "away from it all" experience - seeking that very remoteness which precipitated the abandonment of crofting townships pushed to the edge of the land.

There are still ruined croft houses and buildings at Smirisary, evidence of how many families once forced an existence in this place.

As we continued our paddle past Smirisary the smirr cleared through and the visibility improved dramatically.  Out to the west the islands of Eigg and Rum dominate the view, bringing memories of a superb winter adventure to the Small Isles.

Our route today took us south and then east to enter the north channel of Loch Moidart with the mainland on our left and Eilean Shona on our right.  Ahead we could see water to the limit of visibility in the channel - a good thing as below half tide this passage partially dries revealing a kilometre of sticky mud and sand. 

Moonlighting on the Correen hills

"The most difficult expedition to achieve on mountains in this country is a moonlight climb in winter.

Not that the difficulties are technical.  A full moon among snow-mountains will normally provide

visibility of twenty-five miles - if the sky be clear.

And that is the root of the problem : to combine leisure with a full moon, a hard frost, and a clear sky.

Success needs patience, long and persistent patience."

   W.H. (Bill) Murray from "Undiscovered Scotland" 1951

The night climb Bill Murray went on to describe was a traverse of Glencoe's Aonach Eagach  in 1947 on a night when the moon lit the way and the climb was enhanced by a display of the Aurora Borealis.  He and Donald McIntyre finished the climb and waited to watch the dawn before descending.  It's a truly inspirational chapter in one of the two works of mountaineering literature which have most inpired me - the other is also by W.H. Murray - his unsurpassed work "Mountaineering in Scotland" which was written whilst a prisoner of war.

I've been lucky enough to be able to combine all the right conditions twice, once in England's Lake District on an icy round of the Kentmere hills and once on a climb of Lochnagar.  The opportunities are rare and fleeting - hesitate and they're gone.

3rd February 2015 was a full moon.  It had snowed heavily during the day and frequent snow showers fell into the evening, the sky more overcast than clear.  Then, after 10pm when I was just going to bed I took a last look outside.....

The cloud, though not completely cleared, was thin and patchy allowing the moon to shine through with astonishing intensity onto the snowy fields behind the house.  I simply couldn't go to bed and pass up this rare chance.  The roads were snow-covered and untreated so going any distance wouldn't be advisable - I thought closer to home and decided to try for a round on the Correen Hills.  Driving to the top of the Suie road would get me high to start with provided I could drive up there.

I packed a rucksac with full winter hillwalking kit and took food and water sufficient for the night; I was quite prepared to make it a full night walk if the conditions held.  It seemed that I could snatch most of the conditions described above save that I'd be on hills rather than the high mountains.

I got up to the start point on a somewhat tricky road and had to use a snow shovel to dig a parking space such was the snow which had fallen during the day.  Right from starting out my head-torch remained in my pocket, I just didn't need it even in the forest.  The forest tracks were ankle deep in snow; I had considered skis but on unconsolidated snow they wouldn't have been much quicker than walking.

When the moon was in the patches of completely clear sky the quality of light was absolutely amazing, an intense, pure hard white light throwing pin-sharp shadows.  It was cold and breezy but I was getting increasingly warm walking through the deepening snow.  I'd hoped that the snow on the exposed ridges of the Correen Hills would have been scoured clear by the wind but in fact it was even deeper above the forest; and was proving to be unmitigated labour to walk - at times- wade- through.

I decided to scale back my plans and to make the first summit of the ridge, Mire of Midgates, my objective.  The 1.5km traverse from the treeline to the 487 metre/1598 ft summit took well over an hour of hard graft and I was breathing very heavily when I got there - but the view was more than worth the effort.

To the north the distinctive shape of Tap o' Noth with its hillfort was alternately spotlit and thrown into chalky shadow as the cloudbreaks raced overhead.  To the west the big Cairngorm hills were a sweep of white across the horizon - pin sharp across 40 kilometres of space; I was able to pick out the tors on Beinn a'Bhuird although my photographs in that direction didn't expose at all well.  I spent a full half hour just watching the scene as the moonlight came and went; it was a truly great night to be out on the hill.

Eventually the cold started to bite and it was time for me to head back. The tracks I'd ploughed made my return a little easier even though they'd partially drifted-in during the time I'd been on the ridge.

Perhaps the most atmospheric part of the walk was coming back down when I opted to use a route down a narrow firebreak rather than the wide forest track.  The moon lit the way and both trees and snow were sparkling in its hard light.  The air itself was glittering as, sheltered from the wind, frost and tiny snow particles caught the moon's light as they fell.

I'd fallen short of the conditions described by Bill Murray in being on lower hills, on a night less than fully clear and on unconsolidated snow which had curtailed a longer expedition, but I didn't care one bit.  The rare coincidence of conditions had given me a memorable night out.

At 0200 I arrived back at the car for the short drive back down the hill to home and bed - the xenon glare of the headlights the only artificial light I'd needed during the whole walk.......

Scottish Pine Martens - a film by Simon Willis

 I mentioned in a previous post that our friends Simon and Liz have a Pine Marten visiting their garden near Loch Sunart in Ardnamurchan.  Simon has made a really lovely short film of these beautiful and engaging animals, shot mainly on DSLR and of superb quality.  You can  either watch it here:





or at Simon's site at SimonWillis.net: Scottish Pine Martens


 As Simon points out during the commentary, you wouldn't want a Pine Marten family to gain access to your loft or outbuilding as they can cause quite a bit of damage - but seriously, who wouldn't want to have a garden visitor like this?  :o) 

On "irresponsibility, setting a bad example and endangering the lives of others" - and on choice.......

In recent posts on our blogs, Douglas and I have mentioned that we sometimes enjoy a small dram of malt whisky with luncheon during our sea kayaking trips (but never with second breakfasts!).  We also sometimes enjoy a pint of frothing "sports recovery drink" - for which read beer- with our evening meals.

We have both received comments on our posts (here and here) from "Responsible Seakayaker" who is clearly very unhappy about this.  He or she - the contributor has chosen to remain anonymous - placed identical comments:


"I am a responsible sea kayaker and I strongly object to your repeated glorification of the consumption of alcohol on your sea kayaking trips. Have you no insight into the bad example you are setting to impressionable sea kayakers whose lives are endangered by your irresponsibility? You should be ashamed of yourself."



"RSK" is of course entitled to his or her opinion, and for that reason I've chosen not to delete the comment.  I do however feel that some context might be helpful.


We both live healthy and active lifestyles.  The measures we sometimes imbibe at our luncheon stops are tiny.  There is no risk of our getting anywhere near the revised Scottish BAC limit for driving.  Should conditions on the water be at all difficult we choose not to take any alcohol.  During the evening and when safely off the water for the day, we may choose to enjoy a more liberal dram, or a beer, but not to excess. We may very well choose to have a hot chocolate drink or a cup of tea instead......

Malt whisky is in a very literal sense the distilled form of its place and the elements which combine to produce the spirit; in moderation we choose to consider it one of life's small pleasures.


Each and every sea kayaker I've met has been capable of making their own choices and decisions - the very antithesis of "impressionable".  Some of the folk I paddle and walk the mountains with enjoy a small dram, others choose not to. To imply that sea kayakers are so impressionable that lives will be placed in danger by our "irresponsibility" is, I believe, stretching credibility and perhaps mildy disrespectful. 



But, for the avoidance of doubt:


"Alcohol can impair your judgement, affect your coordination, make you more liable to exposure and if you are male, make you impotent. Excessive consumption and misuse of alcohol damages health and ruins lives."


We all have choices and the choices we make shape us and determine the paths our lives take.  "RSK" will very probably choose to disagree with much of this post - and that's fine.  He or she has that choice and many other choices too.





These pages will continue to portray, to celebrate and hopefully even to glorify the Scottish outdoors and the wonderful locations and experiences we are fortunate to share as part of a healthy lifestyle.  This may very well include the mention of an occasional dram...... 



And I'm not the tiniest bit ashamed of that.


Slàinte mhath!  (good health!)   :o)

    Spring evening at a camp on the Kilbrannan Sound - "irresponsible, a bad example and a danger to the lives of others" ?

In the bleak midwinter - lime and coda

From Castle Stalker we used the sails to speed our passage across to Shuna Island.  There's another island called Shuna, somewhat further south at the mouth of Loch Melfort, but the one we were headed for is the Loch Linnhe version.  We paddled up the west side until we found a fine place for luncheon on a small sandy beach at the head of a bay and sheltered from the wind.

After a leisurely lunch stop we headed around the north tip of Shuna and straight into a stiff southeasterly breeze.  It requred a reasonable amount of effort to push against both the wind and the start of the flood tide, but ahead of us was a great view down the Lynn of Lorn to the Garvellachs, the scene lit by occasional shafts of watery winter sunlight.

After circumnavigating Shuna we continued south and made our way to Eilean nan Caorach (Sheep Island) where we landed in front of the cottages and industrial relics.  The base rock heareabouts is lime-rich and was quarried quite extensively.  the cottages would have been occupied by the quarrymen and lime-burners, there is a storehouse, a pier and three single-chamber lime kilns, all of differing designs.

The smallest of the three kilns appears to be the oldest and is in a fairly ruinous state.  given the extensive cracks down the walls we were disinclined to venture within!

The largest of the three may well be the most recent and is in a sound condition.  The rock was quarried and in this style of kiln would have been broken to lumps and layered with coal or coke on a raised grate.  The size of the lumps was important because the fire had to "breathe".  The fire would be lit and at approximately 900 degrees Celcius a chemical reaction (calcination) initiated and quicklime produced which could be raked through the grate. 

Most lime kilns are of a very similar size as a result of optimisation. The aperture was known as the "eye" and the chamber is almost always eggcup shaped.  Usually a batch took a day to load, three days to fire, two days to cool and a day to unload.  Typically 25-30 tonnes of lime would be produced in a batch, requiring about 12-15 tonnes of coal to fuel the fire.  The quicklime which was produced was quite caustic but could be altered to make lime for mortar and for agricultural use.  It must have been hot, dangerous work and it's difficult to believe that life expectancy was very high for the workers.  The kilns on Eilean nan Caorach and nearby Lismore were active from the 1790's until well through the 1800's.

From above, the size of the flue is obvious.......

...and from inside the burning chamber the inticate brickwork is seen to good effect; a fine Victorian engineering job.

We moved on from Eilean nan Caorach a little further south, to Port Ramsay at the north tip of Lismore (Lios Mor - big garden)  No doubt the gaelic name is indicative of the fertility of this limestone-rich island. 

We made a brief coffee stop on one of the small tidal islands clustered just off Port ramsay and enjoyed the view back over Eilean nan Caorach and Shuna to the Appin shore.  Our midwinter trip was almost over, but we had one last treat in store....

Heading out past the north tip of Lismore we were exposed to the full force of the flood tide as it compressed through the north end of the Lynn of Lorn.  We had to PLF for a good ten minutes to get around the small skerries and then set up for a ferry-glide back to Port Appin; it certainly rewarmed us! 

To the south, a vivid streak of sunset colour beyond the Garvellachs developed across the horizon, providing the perfect coda to a great winter trip.


It hadn't turned out to be a bleak midwinter at all!

In the bleak midwinter - red blood, grey stone and a pink with yellow spots lighthouse...

For the final day of our midwinter trip we decided on a shorter paddle, starting at Port Appin.  We would head north to Castle Stalker before circumnavigating Shuna Island.  We also hoped to visit some of the smaller islands off the north end of Lismore.

This area is justifiably popular for sea kayaking as it packs history, wildlife, numerous islands and a bit of tidal flow into a small area.  Having said that, we once again saw more Sea Eagles and Otters than other kayakers !

The trip can be done from a long layby at Polanach on the A828 road but we chose Port Appin as our starting point.  There is parking here just across the road from the jetty which services Lismore, but in summer it can be difficult to find space to park.  Traditionally the ferry port for Lismore, Port Appin was once a busy steamer port and more recently was the main crossing point for workers at the huge Glensanda granite quarry across Loch Linnhe

We set out northwards against the last of the ebb tide and soon passed the small lighthouse on Sgeir Bhuidhe (yellow skerry - probably named due to the bright yellow lichen which grows on the rocks).  The first light tower here was a 7 metre high iron tower on a brick base designed by David Alan Stevenson in 1903 and powered by acetylene. It marked the passage from Shuna Island into the Lynn of Lorn and exhibited a white flash with a red sector once every six seconds, visible for up to nine nautical miles.

In 2000 plans were drawn up to dismantle the old light and replace it with a steel tower with white aluminium panels to a simple but souless design.  A local campaign was started to preserve the style of the light which gained wide publicity when the entire existing structure was painted pink with yellow spots in 2001.   Officials at the Northern Lighthouse Board were less than amused, but some good did come of the prank because the plans were revisited and a fibreglass tower more in keeping with the traditional design replaced the old light in 2002, powered by solar panels.  The original lantern is on display in Port Appin village together with an information board.

We hoisted sails in the freshening breeze and in no time were arriving below the somewhat older landmark of the iconic 13th century Castle Stalker (Stalcaire - hunter (falconer)).  Built on a rocky outcrop at the mouth of Loch Laich it is surrounded by water except at very low tides when mud and sand would have anyway slowed down any assault.  As with many of the castles in the area it belonged to the MacDougalls of Lorn, a half-norse pirate clan who based their power on control of the sea and on their Birlinns - fast, light ships which could be rowed or sailed and were based on Norse longship designs.

The especially bloody history of the castle is well told on the Castle Stalker website, starting with a murder in 1463, and continuing in a litany of bloodshed until a final unfortunate killing as recently as 1949 when the then owner Duncan Stewart was stabbed in Sarawak; he died a week later.  The castle was purchased by the late Lt Col D.R. Stewart Allward in 1965 and restored by his and his family's labour to a fully habitable state - a quite remarkable achievement.  Some images of the interior of the castle are contained in the "Canmore" archives.

Castle Stalker is one of the iconic images of this part of Scotland, and has also been etched into popular culture by appearing as "Castle Aaaaarghh" in the film "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", notably when King Arthur is taunted from the walls by a defender with an outrageous French accent......

The building is well seen from the road above Loch Laich, but close up the details come alive.  Above the door is a carved coat of arms, heavily weathered but appearing to bear a figure in the centre.

The thin breeze was getting quite chilly so we finished our exploration of the outside of the castle and the island and headed back down to get moving under sail in our own versions of Birlinns!