We called into Seakayak Oban, the main sea kayaking shop in the area, to pick up a tide tables and some flares we'd not managed to purchase prior to the trip. Stuart, the guy in charge and good friend of Ben who we freelance for back in Dartmouth, was a really nice guy and really generous and helpful with knowledge and advice on the area we intended to kayak in.
Filled with excitement and anticipation of our adventures ahead we finally left Stuart's shop and headed over to the local Lidl's to stock up on food for the trip before driving out to Seil Island, where we intended to start our journey, to eat dinner and do our final packing and preparation.
One of the first things we found out was how friendly the locals are, being befriended almost instantly by the couple who owned the cottages next to the carpark, who offered to look after our van while we were away, allowed us the use of their outside tap for water and pointed out the local otter who was frollicking in the shallows on the other side of the small rocky bay.
Next morning we loaded up the kayaks, managing to cram what we thought was enough food into them, and set off around 10am paddling south down through the Sound of Luing in a strong ebb tide with the sun blazing. We stopped off at the Grey Dogs tide race to witness the seriously strong flows through there before continuing on past the entrance to the mighty Corryvreckan and down the first few kilometres of the east coast of Jura. We'd set off a little late having struggled to get up and moving earlier in the morning, so we pitched camp early (due to the tide turning against us) on a nice pebble beach overlooking the sound and the mountains beyond, cooked up dinner, and went to bed early to avoid the midges and get some sleep prior to our proposed earlier start the next morning.
The weather held well the following day and we made better use of the tide to put in a longer run all the way down to a superb little camping spot near Craighouse at the bottom end of Jura, with the northwest winds increasing throughout the afternoon helping us along a bit.
Strong winds on day three limited mileage to a measley nine kilometres, but at least it brought us a little closer to the Sound of Islay which we intended to paddle through early the next morning, with the added bonus of seeing some sea eagles up close and camping on a beach next to a deer.
We discovered the tides moved extremely quickly through the sound of Islay covering the 25km to the NE tip of Islay from our camp in just three hours! With a light ESE wind in our favor we made the decision to continue on our journey with an 11km open crossing to the islands of Oronsay and Colonsay. A quick pit stop by the lighthouse was undertaken to munch some sandwiches, re-fill our hydration bladders and plot our bearing, before setting off again for the low and distant-looking islands ahead. It only took us 1hr 50mins to make the crossing, landing safely on an idyllic little beach on Oronsay, where we had a few brews and a bit more food in the baking sunshine, overlooking seal colonies on some rocky islets just offshore, with the Paps of Jura in the far distance. It was beautiful! After a well-earned rest we paddled around the southern tip of Oronsay, past huge atlantic grey seal colonies, and up to a sheltered little camp spot on the north side of the island. With water levels running low we hiked up a nearby small mountain in search of a stream to top up by but had no luck - the streams were just boggy ditches with almost stagnant water in them. At a nearby farm we were informed that there was a spring (where they got their water from) over by a beach not far from the one we'd landed on earlier in the day. Typical!!! One extremely long walk later we were back at the tent cooking up dinner with a much needed brew in hand. We slept well that night!
It was very windy the following morning from the east, but the forecast gave slightly lighter southerlies later in the day, so we decided to paddle to a nice looking beach on the NE tip of Colonsay that afternoon and explore the west coast of the island. Rain and mist spread in that afternoon and it was pretty miserable breaking camp in such awful weather, but the sightings of huge colonies of seals on the low rocks and large numbers of sea birds nesting on the cliffs on our paddle northwards more than made up for it. That evening we landed on our intended beach, which was indeed very scenic, and set up camp on some lovely soft grass at the back of the dunes.
Strong SE winds were shaking the tent when we woke the next day and a quick look out to sea showed a mass of white-caps and confirmed our thoughts that we'd be having a rest day instead of doing any paddling today. At least the sun was out again though, allowing us to dry out all our soggy gear from the previous day and catch up on a bit of chart work, reading and more importantly - sleep! That evening we went for a walk along the beach and up the craggy hill to the south to gain a VHF signal and listen to the weather report. With force three to four southeasterlies forecast we made plans to have a crack at a crossing back to Jura in the morning, aiming to land at the entrance to Loch Tarbert before exploring a bit further up if possible.
An early start in dry and windy conditions, producing some SE wind chop, saw us slowly making our way south towards Scalasaig where we intended to re-stock our food and water supplies at the local store before setting out on the crossing. By 10.30 we'd bought plenty of food supplies for the next week, re-filled our water bottles at the ferry terminal and were paddling out of Scalasaig on a bearing of 145 degrees heading for Loch Tarbert. For the first couple of hours of the crossing things went well, happily enjoying bashing our way into the force 3 wind and waves. However, it was short-lived as soon the wind increased to a solid force 4 with prolonged gusts of force 5 which severely slowed our progress and turned the crossing into a real battle. Three hours in, with an hour to go, we were feeling pretty shattered but couldn't stop paddling or else we'd have been blown backwards wasting all the precious energy we'd expended. We slogged our way slowly on into the strong headwinds, barely feeling like we were making any progress at all, and feeling totally demoralised. Finally after four hours of paddling, with the last two being at our limit, we made it to the safety of land and came ashore on a small beach at the foot of the mountain Beinn a Chaolais, part of the Paps of Jura. That was it paddling-wise that day - we were totally shattered and spent the rest of the afternoon just lolling around sleeping, reading, eating and drinking tea. And we still slept like logs that night!
Next morning we were still aching, but luckily the wind had increased to a solid force 5 with gusts of force six, meaning we could have ourselves a well-earned rest day. The morning was spent chilling out and in the afternoon we took a walk over to the next bay, about 3km away, where we met a couple of guys who'd hiked the Paps and had a nice chat with them for a bit before returning to our camp for a late dinner and some hot drinks by a driftwood fire we build and watch the sun set.
We'd been paddling and living out of our kayaks for over a week now, and were starting to fit in well with nature and the movements of wind and tide. It felt blissfully easy as we sped off up Loch Tarbert in a pushing tide and following wind and swell in beautiful sunshine. Soon we'd navigated our way up through the narrow inlets to arrive at what seemed like an inner lagoon only a few kilometres from the east coast of Jura as the crow flies. Here we had a leisurely lunch waiting for the tide to turn before paddling back down the Loch in the ebb tide to arrive at the Cruib Lodge bothy where we ended up staying for the night. It felt strange to be in a building rather than the tent but it was nice to have chairs and a table to sit at for dinner, with the added advantage of a ringed plover nesting right outside the front door. At least it was a quiet bird, not like the noisy cuckoo's and oyster catcher's that we'd experienced at most of our other camps, constantly crying out with piercing and repetitive calls. And then there was the eerie wailing of the seal colonies that we'd experienced too. The seals and oyster catchers we learned to live with, almost not noticing their calls after a while, but the cuckoo was just plain annoying. Luckily they weren't at it all day and night though.
The next leg of our journey was to paddle up the west coast of Jura, heading for the mighty Corryvreckan. We'd not managed to get a VHF signal for the last three days but the wind seemed to be coming from the west, which would aid our progress northeastwards up the coast, so we set off from the bothy on the morning ebb tide and cruised easily down Loch Tarbert in blazing sunshine, paddling without our cags on for a change. After a two hour break on a beach at the entrance to the loch waiting for the tide to turn we set off again paddling up the west coast of Jura on glassy-smooth waters. On this section the weather gradually closed in on us bringing patchy drizzle and a fairly thick sea mist by the time we arrived at Glengarrisdale. We raided the bothy here of supernoodles and hot chocolate, which we cooked up on the beach, before setting off again around 8pm for the tip of Jura and the Corryvreckan. Arriving about half an hour before what we thought was the slack tide it was still flowing really strongly so we pulled out and hiked up to the top of the hill overlooking the sound to get a better view. It looked like a river in flood with strong downstream vee's and large wavetrains charging between the offshore rocks and small islands. Out in mid-channel there was less turbulance but it was still flowing really fast - too fast to paddle against. Elisabeth didn't like what she saw before her, but back in our kayaks I led her through the last few fast shutes and broke out safely in the calmer waters of the last cove, right at the narrowest point of the Corryvreckan sound. By now it was getting a bit gloomy in the fading evening light and what with the fog, the tide still flowing strongly, and the reality that we'd be ending the paddle in the dark if we continued, we decided to leave the crossing until morning and set up camp in the midge-infested cove for the night instead.
We dragged ourselves out of the tent around 9.30 the next morning and after deciding to give the crossing a go due to light winds we were packed up and on the water in just over an hour. I'd been confused as to why our tidal stream charts didn't seem to match what we were experiencing on the water last night until I'd realised, once in the comfort and dry of the tent, that I'd put the tide tables in the waterproof case the wrong way round and I'd been looking at July instead of June's, and it was out by one hour! Arriving at the large rock at the entrance to the cove smack on 10.45 (the correct time of slack water) the race did indeed seem to be easing off, with just gentle currents and flows swirling around in different directions, so we set out across the Corryvreckan heading directly for Scarba island 1.5km away through the faint mist and fog. After about 15 minutes of paddling we'd completed the crossing, finding it to have been pretty smooth and uneventful in the end, much to Elisabeth's relief. We paddled hard around the west coast of Scarba and made it up to the neck of the Grey Dogs tiderace, between Scarba and Lunga, to find some fun looking surf waves in the three-foot range there. I couldn't wait to get out and have a go at riding the wave, and it wasn't long before I was in amongst the action surfing my fully-laden Xcite; getting some great rides for about ten minutes or so before I started aching and we headed into a little cove on Lunga for a brew up and a bite to eat. Mid-afternoon we set off up the west coast of Lunga and Rhuba Fiola, crossing the sound of Luing on the last of the flood tide, to arrive at Cullipool on Luing island around 1630. Here we topped up our dwindling water supplies in the public toilets before paddling the last kilometre or so north to a reasonable camp spot in a grassed over disused quarry where we stayed for the night.
By the time Saturday morning had arrived we'd had a re-think on what to do with the handful of remaining days left of our trip, and as we sat drinking tea and munching our breakfast we discussed the final plans for the following days ahead. Instead of seeing out the remainder of our trip exploring the small islands just south of Oban, we'd come up with the cunning plan to catch the ferry out to Coll and Tiree with the aim of circumnavigating both islands before we had to drive back home on the Wednesday or Thursday. It was a tight schedule, and we'd have to rack up some serious mileage to complete it seeing as it would be about a 110km round trip, but the idea of ending our scottish adventures with a challenging journey around some beautiful islands really grabbed us and appealed to our competitive and motivated nature. Half an hour after getting back on the water that morning we were back at the van and unloading our kit, and not long after that we were down at the ferry terminal in Oban booking tickets for our crossing to Coll. We'd missed the only ferry that morning unfortunately, so we booked ourselves onto the 0845 ferry for Sunday morning instead and then drove off to the supermarket to re-stock on supplies for the trip. That afternoon we had a pleasant paddle up Shuna Sound, past Shuna Island and up around Torsa Island, before returning to the van to re-pack and prepare for our mini-expedition to Coll and Tiree. To cover the distances required, in the now shorter timescale, we really had to travel as light as possible. Out went anything we hadn't used over the last week and a half, out went most of my clothes and spare kayaking thermals, out went most of the spares and repairs kit, and out went pretty much anything we could really make do without. Food-wise we only took enough just to cover the three days now available to complete the journey, as with food being generally quite heavy we couldn't afford to carry any more than we needed.
Sunday morning was quite hectic for a few hours; dropping the kayaks and kit off at the ferry terminal early, parking the van up and hiking back, packing the kayaks with all our kit and provisions for the trip, and then loading them onto the ferry, but soon we were sat up on deck relaxing and admiring the views of Mull and the surrounding mountains as the ship sailed out of Oban heading for Coll on a beautiful sunny morning. Three hours later the ship docked at the jetty and we unloaded our boats onto the stunning island of Coll, super-keen and full of excitement for the adventure that lay ahead of us. By the time we'd lugged both the kayaks a kilometre and a half from the jetty to a suitable launching spot near the centre of town in Arinagour our enthusiasm and energy levels were starting to wane a little to say the least. A favourable tide sped southwards, but by the time we'd eaten lunch, donned our kayaking gear, loaded the kayaks down in harbour and got ready to eventually paddle off, there was little if any of it left, and it was four O'clock in the afternoon! Even though the tide was now against us a little, at least the brisk NW wind and shelter of the rugged granite cliffs and small white-sand bays aided our travel southwards and compensated for it a bit. We had a wonderful paddle for a few hours, exploring the rocky inlets and small coves dotted along this section of coast, and not far before reaching Gunna Sound, (the stretch of water between Coll and Tiree), I saw my first Otter! We'd stopped for a snack-break and I was just drifting across a small cove in the wind when this otter just popped up infront of me, stared at me for a moment, and then dived underwater again. A few minutes later it re-appeared, only this time it hung around a bit longer, floating on the surface of the water with his/her head up looking at me, only five feet from my kayak, allowing me to see the whole of him/her really clearly. It seemed quite relaxed and slightly curious of me and seemed in no rush to swim away. Then with a flick of its tail it was gone as quickly as it'd arrived. An amazing experience! :) Arriving at Gunna Sound we discovered the tide was flowing against us fairly strongly and it was late in the day, so we re-traced our steps to set up camp for the night on a grassy bluff next to a small sandy cove overlooking a tiny little island where a ewe and her two lambs were stranded having been cut off by the incoming tide. After planning tomorrow's journey and proposed early start, we cooked up dinner, washed it down with a few brews, and then turned in for the night.
Despite a short paddle the day before we still struggled to get going in the mornng and it was 0700 before we were packed and on the water, half an hour behind schedule. The sheep had made it safely off their island we noticed as we paddled away, and it wasn't long before we'd crossed Gunna Sound on slack water and were heading southwestwards in the ebb tide, past Soa Island, heading for the small harbour in Scarinish. We had a quick half-hour pitstop here to top up water levels and grab a quick bite to eat, before continuing onwards in good flows to cross Hynish Bay in a brisk cross-wind and round the southern most tip of Tiree. The force 4 headwind across Balephuil Bay slowed progress a bit but we battled on to land through small clean surf onto the western end of the beach in the shelter of the high cliffs for more food and a wee-stop. The expected rough conditions up the western end of Tiree in the strong northwesterlies turned out not to be, as the wind weirdly dropped right off providing an easy paddle north in smooth waters with a slight swell, past huge colonies of sea birds nesting on the high cliffs there. Finally we rounded the northwest tip of the island, past more huge seal colonies, and started the long journey back along the north side of Tiree and Coll. We were hoping to at least make it back onto Coll by the end of the day, but we were feeling shattered by now and the distance yet to cover looked quite daunting and almost unattainable by that point. However, we got lucky once more in the way of the brisk northwesterlies returning again, and soon we were whizzing along in the strong flood tide with the wind on our backs. Arriving at Gunna Sound for the second time in one day, at 1730, we encountered the flood tide belting out through the entrance and clashing with the prevailing wind and tide to produce some rough and exciting conditions for us to paddle through. It didn't really phase us though, and after bashing our way through it we continued past Gunna Island and on up the west coast of Coll in the now overcast, gloomy and rough conditions, with waves crashing over the rocky cliffs behind us. The visibility also started to deteriorate as we rounded our last headland of the day, squeezed through a gap in the rocks, and paddled into the safety and shelter of Feall Bay. With 60km under our belts we were done for the day, and we crashed out on the rocks at the side of the bay, totally knackered, to cook up some much needed food and get a brew on. Having been sat paddling our kayaks for ten and a half hours, and on the go from launch to landing for eleven and a half hours, I had no intention of trying to make it to the next bay further north as we'd discussed earlier in the day. Sod that! After dinner we set the tent up in a lovely sheltered grassy hollow, planned a stupidly early start for the following morning to make use of the tides and avoid the wind that was due to increase during the day, and then crashed out in our sleeping bags and went straight to sleep.
Three hours later the alarm was going off at 0230 and we had to get up in the dark and start packing and loading the boats again. Tired wasn't the word for it! It was a struggle but we managed to get away by 0425 in the early morning light and started bashing our way northeastwards up the coast in a brisk headwind and fairly lumpy sea conditions. At times the early morning mist and fog was so thick we had to continue paddling on a compass bearing with no sight of land at all, and progress felt painfully slow despite a favourabe flood tide. After three hours of paddling we'd managed to cover the 15km to the tip of Coll, so progress had been reasonable actually considering the headwind, and we weaved our way between some of the offshore rocks with views of the lighthouse and the distant islands of Muck, Eigg and Rhum and Ardnamurchan Point to the north, before landing on an idyllic sandy beach at the northeast tip of the island. By now the sun had broken through and it was turning into a beautiful day, so we spent a couple of hours chilling out on the beach, munching food and drinking tea, and enjoying the spectacular views of the islands to the north and Mull to the east. Eventually we re-launched the kayaks and started out on the last leg of our journey paddling south in a tail wind for a change and making use of the strongest part of the now ebb tide. We sped along, cag-less, in the sunshine, deviating only slightly, to explore some of the rocky inlets and small coves along this section of coast. We passed plenty of seals again, and the highlight for Elisabeth was in finally seeing 'her' Otter, which she spotted in the very last cove hopping along amongst the boulders, and pretty close up too!
All good things have to come to an end at some point, and so it was we turned our final corner and took our last paddle strokes up to the harbour at Arinagour after a 30km day, having circumnavigated two stunningly beautiful islands. What with seeing the Otter's and paddling around some amazing coastline in mostly wonderful weather conditions, it had been the perfect ending to a perfect Scottish sea kayaking trip. We agreed that Coll was the nicer of the two islands, and vowed to return and explore the area in more detail on a return trip in the not too distant future. After a night camping in the ferry terminal's carpark, we caught the ferry back to Oban, grabbing a shower onboard ship, and picked up some presents and some maps for our next trip to the Isle of Skye in town, before hitting the road south and the long drive home.
To be honest, we didn't really want to come home, what with the nice weather continuing and there being hundreds more islands and miles of coastline to explore up there, but then I suppose they're not exactly going anywhere so we've got plenty more adventures up in Scotland to plan and look forward to in the future. Scotland is indeed a sea kayaker's paradise, if you can ignore the damned midges that is.
Back home various plans are underway for our next trip, the problem is going to be; where to start! Watch this space! :)
