Return leg.

From Tarbert Bay to Mallaig is only ten miles but it was the hardest day of the trip. The wind was force 4 from the north west and was being funnelled down Loch Nevis. We hugged the shore and used what shelter we could but it was a slog.
Mad Tom's "Whale" boat.

A welcome break on the shore of Loch Nevis.

Looking across to Inverie, you never can see the wind.

Once out of Loch Nevis the funnelling effect stopped but the wind was now on our beam and my kayak has no skeg. It wasn't so bad in the rough bits around the small headlands but the smooth bit in between were hard work.

Tarbert Bay Bunkhouse.

We spent the night at the bunkhouse in Tarbert Bay, what a place? As you can see it's an old church complete with resident ghost. It's kept by an old climber called Frank, he kept us entertained all night with a constant string of really filthy jokes. it cost us £2 a head, half the price of the campsite. we didn't see the ghost.

Loch Nevis.

Next day we set off down the Inverie River and into Loch Nevis. The tide was against us but the wind was with us. The paddle down the Loch was nice and layed back, the sun came out and the winds were light. At Kylesknoydart we paused for a photo session before playing in the tidal narrows for a bit. Kylesknoydart.

At the head of the Loch stands Sourlies Bothy, our lunch stop. Here we met a couple of walkers, they were trying to walk from Fort William to Cape Wrath. Neither of them was in the first flush of youth and seemed to have really underestimated the route. They'd been walking for three days and had already been lost and taken a major wrong route. They were knackered and really down. Their route would have taken them into the Knoydart peninsular all really hard going. They said they were going to walk around the coast. I didn't have the heart to tell them that there wasn't a path and it would be even harder going that way. As we left, I saw them set off, the woman was walking with two poles and limping away at the back.

Sourlies Bothy.

Heading back up the Loch the wind had gotten up, it was now a steady force 4. We creeped around the southern shore all the way to Tarbert Bay.

May Day

Saturday was May Day, a group of us headed up to Mallaig. Not sure why Mallaig as it's a horrid place to put in; but that's where we started. We paddled around into the mouth of Loch Nevis, there's a nice beach by the islet of Eilean Giubhais where we had our lunch.
Eilean Giubhais.

We took a bimble around Sandaig Bay before heading into Inverie for the night.

Sandaig Bay.

Long beach campsite, Inverie.

The sweet river Clyde.

On a stormy night in January 1974 a Greek ship "The Captayannis" dragged it's moorings, hit a tanker and was holed. Her captain run her into a sandbank in an attempt to save her but she capsized and 8,000 tons of sugar dissolved into the Clyde. 36 years later she's still there a slowly rusting land mark. Six of us paddled out to her last sunday.

Busy, busy, busy.

Last week I went up to Skye, over the weekend I was camping at Sligachan the windist place on the whole west coast. I was using a tent I'd been given a couple of years ago and hadn't gotten around to using. It's a Vango Equinox - not really a mountain tent - so it did well to stay up.
On Sunday I went for a walk arond the base of Sgurr nan Gillean (965m). Last time I went winter climbing on this mountain I was avalanched out of a gully along with my Brother and his girlfriend.

Sunday night the campsite was hit with a force 8 gale and torrential rain, still the tent stayed up. I didn't get much sleep so by first light I was packed up and away down to Breakish near Broadford. This is Gordon Brown's new home; I was doing my four star training with him. Fortunately we were in the classroom for the first day as the gale blow itself out.

Tuesday saw us down at Armadale rockhopping. Now I love rockhopping and this was doing it in conditions that I'd never get anyone from my club out in, let alone anywere near the rock. Needless to say there was quite a lot of gelcoat left on the rocks. One lad even managed to snap the nose off of one of Gordon's plastic Nordkapps. Really good time but can't say I really learnt much.

Next day we went to Kyle Rhea, here we did self rescues, practiced pretending to repair a holed kayak whilst still afloat. Delt with unconscious casualties in the water, did the scoop rescue, paddled in tide and wind, rolled, much more like I was expecting. All in all a great if expensive time.

This Saturday, I played along on my friend Ray's three star assessment, we did this on our home water, the Firth of Forth. That really is enough BCU crap for sometime, so Sunday we went for a layed back paddle on Loch Long.

We put in by the RFA jetty north of Portincaple. There was a yanky Destroyer on the jetty, the police launch guarding the destroyer pulled us over as we set off. The copper on board was most apolgetic as he took our names and addresses. After that we went around to Carrick Castle for a bite to eat, then onto Ardentinny for another break. Out in the Clyde a submarine was going through manoeavers, surfacing and diving. This was the first time I'd been paddling without a drysuit this year and it felt really good to be without that tight neck seal. On the way back I even went without my cag it was so warm and calm.

Club Development weekend.

The FSCK have just had a fantastic weekend, we hired top coach Rolland Woolven to give us top tips and help with how we organize our trips.
Here he is showing us just what he carries in his kayak and BA, no wonder it's so heavy.

In line towing, we had about half a dozen paddlers pulling this raft with Rolland standing and shouting faster, faster.

Everyone enjoyed themselves and learnt a lot, and the water wasn't that cold.