Hills, Waves & Wheels

Filey Brigg

2012-01-29T12:35:00.000-08:00

This is one of those trips that I have put off on numerous occasions, more often than not finding it difficult to resist the cliffs and caves of Flamborough Head and Bempton just a few miles south...

...but being keen to explore this section of coast, Chris and I finally found ourselves rounding Filey Brigg on one of the few days of blue skies so far this year.

A swell of just under 1m was running from the north west, creating lively conditions along the reef and beneath North Cliff. I paddled close in here where the water is deep - until the freezing temperatures in the shade drove me back off shore and into the sun.

Somewhere close to White Nab we found a small lagoon protected from the swell, prompting a fast lunch break...

...with views to Scarborough and the castle above. This was about as close to Scarborough as I wanted to get, even at this time of year...

...and we launched quickly before fingers froze, to punch out through the shallow reef breaks and turn south, with the flood tide towards Filey.

Rounding Filey Brigg as the sun set, we paused awhile, enjoying the last of the day's light until the cold prompted a last sprint across the bay, Cobble Bay providing a sheltered landing.

Easing into Eskdale

2012-01-15T13:48:00.000-08:00

Rising on the rugged slopes of Esk Pike, from source to sea the Esk is arguably one of the most beautiful of lakeland rivers. In its clear waters I have bathed sore feet in icy pools after tramping across the high fells; I have dived into its deep green depths lower down the valley, gasping beneath the sudden force of thundering waterfalls; as a child I jumped from high stone bridges further downstream still and today, Chris and I paddled from its confluence with the Mite and Irt, reaching far upstream with the flooding tide.

On the sands that front Ravenglass, the quickly rising tide laps the bows of our kayaks, blue skies belying the day's icy cold.

Here at the estuary's mouth, oyster catchers and turnstornes blanket the shingle. Listening to their cries and the curlew's call I am reminded of spring; after the recent gales and incessant rain, it feels a little closer now, the sun finally warming cold muscles as we push out through the tide for a glimpse of the open sea.

A quick landing to change camera lenses and then we turn with the tide, heading inland.

The low fells of south west Cumbria are unmistakable and it is an area with which I feel a great affinity.

Warm now, we relax, pausing as often as paddling, easing into Eskdale, the high fells beyond still wearing winter's shades of brown...

...and the woodland's oaks still bare but somehow full of life.

The flood carries us rapidly on, overlooked by Stainton Tower, reputedly built as a sighting point for boats entering the estuary...

...and are soon swept under the bridge where the character of the river begins to change.

Reed lined banks crowd the narrow channel and soon there is little left of the tide. We carry on anyway, passing the Iron Bridge and up through shallow rapids whose swift clear waters are barely passable. The upstream journey ended at a deep pool, a favourite haunt of the salmon and sea trout for which this river was once renowned, made famous by the writer and broadcaster Hugh Falkus, a man who understood and cared for this river like few others.
As the sun sank the temperature plummeted and we turned with the flow, sighting a little egret for the first time. (These birds were hunted close to extinction in the C.19th and it was their decline which was in part responsible for the establishment of the RSPB.)

Passing beneath the railway, we entered the tidal lagoon as the sun finally sank beyond the dunes, a wonderful close to a beautiful day.

Point Lynas

2012-01-10T15:21:00.000-08:00

Arriving on Holy Island, Anglesey, late in the day, Chris and I walked the cliffs overlooking Rhoscolyn Beacon.

It is a familiar view for us although I was surprised by the relatively calm sea given the fresh winds that day. It was of no consequence either way as the plan was to paddle around Point Lynas which forms the north-east corner of Anglesey and like many of the headlands hereabouts, has something of a reputation. Yet this north-eastern corner of the island can also give the calmest of conditions on offer, the coastline being well sheltered from prevailing south westerlies: in fact the only time we felt the forecast F4/5 was off the point itself.

Launching from the steep gravel beach at Moelfre...

...thick mist and drizzle slowly cleared, rising above gently rolling hills...

...that end abruptly with the low limestone cliffs.
This band of limestone continues along the coast of Anglesey, stretching past the Ormes headlands and on into Clywd.

The cliffs here are not so dramatic as those of the Great or Little Orme, but provide interesting paddling before the crossing to Ynys Dulas.

The locals watched our passage with interest before following closely as the ebb pushed us quickly on. There is little reference to the race which forms off Ynys Dulas, but a big tide with a little wind will produce interesting water here; we had neither and simply enjoyed a helpful push towards Point Lynas...

...passing by small waterfalls...

...and then beneath the distinctive lighthouse.

Off the point, the race was gentle...

...but provided a little sport before we turned south and on into the shelter of Porth Eilian.

Hugging the coast, the tide was slack as we began the return trip...

...while the sky began to clear for the first time that day.

Too late however to enjoy any sunshine, the thinning clouds did at least allow for a dramatic sunset as we passed inside Ynys Dulas and on across the wide bay to reach Ynys Moelfre just as the flood began to pick up steam.

Tim, looking invigorated after a few rolls to finish his demo of the Tiny Taran...

...beneath a beautiful sunset: a fitting end to our first paddle of 2012.

Tim and his Tiny Taran

2012-01-08T15:09:00.000-08:00

As keen as I was for Tim to try the Tiny Taran, which as the name suggests is the smaller sibling of the Rockpool Taran, I was far from sure it was in my interests for him to do so.
Tim likes to paddle fast. Which is great...

...if you can keep up. I can't quite remember how I got ahead to get this image, rather than another dot disappearing on the horizon; he was probably under orders to stay put for a few minutes.

Passing Ynys Dulas, the seals, like me, soon found themselves lagging behind.
But, like the seals, the Tiny Taran proved a playful companion. On the sheltered side of the island, enjoying what seemed the first calm day in many weeks, we didn't find much in the way of bigger water in which to throw the boat around...

...but the race of Point Lynas provided a few nice waves to surf: the Tiny Taran taking it all in her stride.

Looking back

2012-01-05T15:20:00.000-08:00

The weather of late has given little to look forward to and inevitably one ends up looking back...
Sorting out some images to archive and use elsewhere, I came across a few from a day last November which I quite liked but had not used previously. In particular: one I captured of Brian getting a face full...

...heading out into Trearddur Bay to demo the Alaw...

...after which he took a few of me enjoying the waves.

Hopefully the weekend's weather to come will allow as much fun on our first paddle of 2012.

Lord's Seat - Barden Moor

2012-01-02T10:27:00.000-08:00

I'd already passed beneath Earl Seat and paused momentarily at Simon's Seat but even a Lord's Seat wasn't going to keep me sitting still for long this afternoon.

The high winds and generally abysmal weather of late had abated sufficiently to make a moorland foray worthwhile, but still it was a bitter day, high on Barden Moor.

With a ridiculously optimistic outlook, I'd packed the rock shoes, hoping the crag would be sufficiently dry for me to tackle a few of the less well travelled problems on Lord's Seat, which is marginally less exposed than Simon's Seat but even before leaving the densely forested slopes lower down the valley, I knew it was a forlorn hope.

Still, patches of blue sky and the first sight of the sun in the last two weeks made the walk in worthwhile and a quick recce of the problems I've been meaning to try for far too long provided sufficient inspiration to prompt another resolution to visit the crag on a dry evening in spring, which, having survived another Christmas debacle, seems a little closer than it did...

One Way Ticket from Trearddur

2011-12-19T15:15:00.000-08:00

I'd been on the road for a couple of hours and it was still dark when the phone rang.

Tim: "There's some good skiing if we're not going paddling!" His photo proved the point.
It seemed the motorists were keen to get some of the action too: I hung up after passing the fourth car that had come to grief on the A55 that morning, abandoned obliquely across the carriageway.
Still, the forecast was for wind and sun, we had a one way downwind run planned and I had a new boat to get wet: paddling it was then.
Having left two cars at Llanddwyn Island for the shuttle we launched from Trearddur Bay where some lovely waves provided a perfect start to the day.

Justine enjoys the first of a few great rides and I was delighted with the performance of the new boat, catching a couple of superb runs in the Rockpool GT: what better way to christen a boat!

With a lively swell running it was an exhilarating ride to Rhoscolyn Head and with the tide running against us and the wind, the channel provided some biggish waves to surf before a break just short of Borthwen.

Leaving the bay, still in the Alaw, Brian weaves among the outcrops that guard Borthwen...

...Barry and Justine slipping past Ynys Traws before a fast run of 8km across the wide bay, heading for Ynys Meibion, a joy with the wind and sea at our backs, made all the sweeter knowing we would not have to turn about to slog back.

Barry beside the reef of Carreg-y-trai before heading across Aberfraw Bay...

...and crossing towards Malltreath Bay as the light began to fail.

Tim and I played awhile amongst the rocky fingers that reach out from the western tip of Landdwyn Island, the rest of the group having gone to check out the surf.

They caught us heading in towards the dunes backing Llanddwyn Bay, the Lleyn Peninsula standing proud behind.

With some 25km of paddling, riding a beautiful following sea, behind us, Tim and I land beneath the dunes...

...as Brian enjoys the last of the day's light and the small surf breaking in the shallows.

Sunset beyond the tower of Llanddwyn Island, the end of a superb paddle and a full day.
Footnotes:
> Justine has also posted an entry for the day on her site: CackleTV
> The images from this day were mostly disappointing. So far, using the Pentax K5 on the last few trips, I have been impressed by the image quality of this, one of the few weather proof DSLRs that don't require a second mortgage.
The results would no doubt have been significantly better had I been paying closer attention to the ISO settings - the low light levels later in the day and subsequent high ISO resulting in significant 'noise'.

A Bit of a Bore

2011-12-12T16:44:00.000-08:00

Given a decent sized Sp tide, the Arnside bore and standing waves which form beyond the viaduct can provide plenty of entertainment. On a relatively small Sp tide, I had hoped that the high volume of water running out of the flooded River Kent, might push against the tide sufficiently to create a similar effect. No such luck.

Waiting for the bore a little way out into the estuary on an eerily calm sea, the clag muffling any sound. For once I was not using the usual ortlieb camera bag on the deck and much to my dismay, the bore arrived with dry bags strewn across my spraydeck and the day hatch open.
A few frantic moments of stuffing everything back into the boat followed, though I needn't have worried; a series of 5 waves rolled beneath us in rapid succession, each no bigger than 12 inches, and that, was that.

We waited a short while allowing the flood to build before heading in to the viaduct.
After 20 minutes or so, there was a reasonable flow and shortly after taking this shot, a few small waves did form, providing brief sport.
Clearly, a significantly bigger Sp tide is required and it seems the level of the Kent had absolutely no effect which as Chris remarked: "Was all a bit of a bore."
A terrible pun but still, an enjoyable morning on the water.

A little madness on The Mersey

2011-12-10T15:15:00.000-08:00

Shoulders hunched against a bitter wind coming in off the Irish Sea, I stood with hands stuffed inside my B.A, waiting for a lift with the boat down to the sands. I sensed a sidelong glance from a lady walking by:"your brave..." she said.
I looked at the sea and shivered. "Daft is probably the word your looking for," I replied.
She smiled: "A little bit mad is a good thing though, no?"
Of course it is.

Brian, still enjoying the Rockpool Alaw, about to launch...

...quickly followed by Chris, who would be glad he put his lid on, when looped by a breaker a little later.

Heading out to some surprisingly big waves off shore...

...though with the tide low and still on the ebb, it was messy stuff: waves rising randomly over unseen sandbars, breaking fiercely at times but quickly dissipating, their power spent. (Much better conditions can can found on the flood, around two hours before high water.)
Still, we enjoyed the waves before heading in as the sun began to set...

...it's so easy to write days like this off, but as I coasted in on a small wave, watching the gulls wheeling and carving above the breakers, the icy wind raw on my cheeks, I felt alive, happy to have friends who like me, were perhaps, just a little mad.

A raw day on the Rawthey

2011-12-05T14:47:00.000-08:00

With the less than notable exception, of an exceptionally small amount of open boating, the last time I paddled a river was probably more than 20 years ago. It was with a certain sense of anticipation then that I headed for the rendezvous at the Rawthey / Lune confluence on a cold and blustery day that saw the first real snowfall of the winter.
The Rawthey is a beautiful river that rises on the bleak northern slopes of Baugh Fell, east of Sedbergh; it provides a scenic paddle not without technical interest, including numerous small rapids, drops and a gorge.

Tim enters 'The Slot': an awkward and narrow passage with a corkscrew wave to finish. It had already 'finished' one of the group though Tim shot through without mishap.
By now, after a few wobbles in the unfamiliar boat (approximately 3m too short and far too wide), I was settling into the rhythm of rapids...

...and eddies, constantly amazed to find myself breaking out with barely any need for the paddle: if only I could spin a sea kayak so quickly.
Shortly after running the third of the more difficult sections - a two tiered drop entered through a narrow, rather fierce looking channel which actually proved far less problematic than the rockier alternatives to its right, followed by a quick ferry across toward the right bank and a second drop - we met the Lune.
Having run the river without a capsize, much to my surprise, I very nearly toppled myself on the grabby eddies at the confluence, a smart brace the saving sea kayaker's grace.
Footnotes:
The trip from Rawthey Bridge to the River Lune confluence is approximately 14km and is grade 3 / 4.
A guide for this section of the River Rawthey can be found here on The UK Rivers Guidebook.

Surf's Up!

2011-11-27T15:50:00.000-08:00

After spending the afternoon with Mike at 'the factory', sorting out a few things for the new boat now under construction - and having managed to pitch the tent despite the gales - there followed an entertaining evening in the pub.
As Jim explained to the barmaid, we hadn't meant to go there, we just got blown that way; of course that meant it was headwinds all the way back, but with the promise of Jim's mulled wine fortified by an undisclosed quantity of spiced rum, we made quick progress.

Keen to try the Rockpool Alaw, (although with his black dry suit and red helmet, I think it had as much to with colour co-ordination as anything else) Brian takes the demo boat for a ride...

...or perhaps more accurately: was taken for a ride in the demo Alaw.

My turn: waiting to break out...

...and I managed a few good runs, although most ended in out of control bongo's.
Perhaps it was the mulled wine (for mulled wine see: rum), but after a couple of wild rides and subsequent trashings, I found myself spending more time taking photo's than surfing.

The wind had dropped to a manageable F5 by this time but the sea was still wild with the power of the previous night's storm and breaking out was tricky at times.

Dave, having left Bluto at home following last week's beating, prepares to take another...

...as Brian, back in the Alaw, waits to make his run.

Beyond the bay bigger swells are smashing against the reefs...

...those that roll through giving superb clean waves.

Dave breaks out again for a last run...

...cutting through the smaller breakers...

...but it's tiring stuff and as ever, always best to quit while you're ahead.

Bluto takes a Beating

2011-11-20T15:53:00.001-08:00

Carmel Head is perhaps my favourite corner of Anglesey: to combine a trip around the headland with a camp at Porth Llanlleiana, making the return leg via The Skerries gives a superb paddle.

Launching from Church Bay, the fresh southerlies have left a little swell, making for entertaining paddling approaching the head.
After bouncing through the small race off Ynys y Fydlyn, we passed Carmel Head quickly and were soon sheltered from the still fresh winds, beneath the low cliffs leading east. With the swell wrapping around the island however, there were still plenty of opportunities to play...

...this opportunity taking Brian unawares at first.

With tomorrow's destination, The Skerries, our backdrop, we headed on, making for Hen Borth and our first break of the day.

This is an excellent section of coast for rock hopping and while the laden boats limited our choice of routes, the small reefs provided an entertaining playground.

Chris approaching Harry Furlough's Rocks...

...where Brian soon found another wave looming overhead...

...before being surfed away from the reef.

Chris beneath the cliffs of Wylfa Head...

...where Dave was less lucky close in and Bluto took a beating. (Sections of plastic cut from a milk bottle along with a healthy dose of gaffer tape solved the problem.)

Chris approaches middle Mouse and Porth Llanlleiana as the light begins to fail and with the tents up as darkness fell...

...we enjoyed a long evening on the shingle beneath the stars.

Despite a promising forecast the morning dawned overcast and we set out beneath ominous skies on the long ferry glide to The Skerries.
The crossing was enjoyable if uneventful, our arrival an excuse for the locals to stop and stare.

This youngster was particularly curious, approaching me as I stood on the beach, swimming to within a few feet, completely unconcerned.
Leaving as the flood stream began, the return to Carmel Head proved a quick passage, quicker by far than the struggle back against the tide towards Church Bay. In places we eddy hopped but in others there was nothing for it but to power through, using the waves to surf against the flow.

Brian passing Ynys y Fydlyn once more after which the flow eased and we enjoyed a more leisurely paddle to reach Church Bay and the end of a superb trip - my third to The Skerries this year.

Kayak Eagle

2011-11-11T13:30:00.000-08:00

Over the last few years, I have been pleasantly surprised by the number and reaction of mostly young polish men who, on seeing my kayak resting on a beach, have come to make my acquaintance. Invariably they have been friendly, courteous and engaging.
Those who know me, will know in part at least, the story of the eagle (adopted from Poland's Coat of Arms) on the front deck of my boat; put simply, it is my way of honouring the memory of my grandfather, Mietek Herman.

Tank Commanders of the 1st Polish Armoured Division, receive battle orders Falaise, 17th August 1944. Mietek Herman fourth from left.

Written by my father, for the BBC's archive of WW2 memories, this is Mietek's story:

A Polish Battlefield
My name is Mietek Herman; I am a sergeant commanding a Sherman tank in the 2nd Armoured Regiment, 1st Polish Armoured Division and today, August 17th, 1944 is my 31st birthday. We have just received battle orders - before dawn tomorrow we will move to close the gap at Chambois, the only escape route for the encircled German Divisions, to cut their supply lines and stop the withdrawal of troops and armour. But first we must capture a German position near Coudehard.

Mietek’s story continues:
“As we moved towards our objective, we had a clear run for the first few kilometres and then our scouts reported German tanks and anti-tank guns. We took up positions and opened fire but with little effect at 5 kilometres range. Under heavy fire, we had to get in closer and took many casualties. After a short, but fierce battle, we captured our objective just as darkness fell and the night sky was illuminated by the fires of the battle. We rounded up the prisoners and had just started to heat canned rations in billy-cans over primus stoves when the order was received to check fuel and ammunition — supplies had failed to arrive and we were low on both. Despite this, we were ordered to move out immediately, without food or rest from the day’s battles. Our plan was to get as close as possible to Chambois under cover of darkness. Carrying the 8th Light Infantry on our tanks and vehicles, our orders were “complete radio silence, no lights; tank column must not be broken and no firing except on order from the CO himself”’. Behind enemy lines, in total darkness and with no sleep, this was a nerve-racking journey. The Germans also had a similar plan — to escape under cover of darkness and as we moved down a narrow lane towards a crossroads, our scouts reported a German column approaching from the right. To turn 60 tanks and 20 other vehicles in such a narrow lane would have been courting disaster, we just had to press on. Then, a stroke of the greatest good fortune, the German traffic controller at the crossroads halted the German column and waved us forward. We will never know if he mistook us for a fellow German Division or had recognised us and wanted to avoid a disastrous close range encounter. That was not the only luck we had that night! Later we were fired on and took some casualties, but we held our fire and the enemy firing ceased. Again, the Germans must have concluded we were part of a retreating German Division.
As dawn broke on August 18th,we suddenly found ourselves looking upon an unexpected cluster of vehicles of the 2nd SS Panzer Division. All hell broke out; our tanks went into position and the infantrymen spread out and we opened fire with tanks and machine guns. German cars and trucks were on fire, people were running everywhere and the Germans seemed to be in a panic. They started to drop their guns and equipment and surrender. We took about 80 prisoners. Suddenly there was a roar of aircraft and we thought we were being attacked by Messerschmitts, perhaps 20 in all. Then we recognised they were Thunderbolts and we quickly lit flares to alert the pilots, but too late to avert the first attack. As the lead plane came in for the second attack, the pilot saw the signal and with a waggle of his wings quickly climbed, followed by the others. They circled for a while, probably making sure we really were Allied forces, wondering how we could be so far behind enemy lines. The narrow lanes and the dust from the dry roads had protected us and we took only a few casualties from the planes.

By now we were very tired, dirty and hungry, but morale was high and we pressed on to reach our objective at Chambois. My tank was in third position in the column as we slowly crawled forward through the narrow lanes. There was a heavy mist and as the sun rose we were dazzled by the reflections and had great difficulty scanning the horizons for enemy positions. Suddenly, I spotted an anti-tank gun, but before I could react there was a huge flash and my tank was rocked like a toy. I felt agonising pain in my leg and hand and there was blood everywhere — I feared I had lost a limb. I yelled through my microphone for the crew to get out and then half rolled, half fell out myself. The shell had pierced the armour plating of my Sherman, killing my radio operator instantly. Fortunately the tank had not caught fire and the other crewmen were alive. I had taken shrapnel wounds and the others carried me into a ditch. My tank was hit several times more before it finally burst into flames. This far behind enemy lines, there was no evacuation route for the wounded and I was pushed into a recovery tank from where I heard the rest of the battle with guns and explosions all around and every bump and jolt caused agonising pains to shoot through my body. Although I would take no further part in the fighting, the thought that I had two tanks and one anti-tank gun to my credit from the earlier battles was a consolation. I had no proper medical attention, but I was grateful to be alive.
We pushed on and eventually reached Chambois and took up positions near Hill 262, which General Maczek had christened ‘The Mace’. The next two days and three nights saw some desperate and bitter fighting as the Germans sought to prevent ‘The Gap’ from being closed*. On the 21st of August, the Canadians broke through from the other side and the gap was finally closed. On the 22nd of August 1944, I started my journey back to England and a new life. One year later, on August 22nd 1945, my son Michael was born.”

Footnotes:A full description of these battles can be found in John Keegan’s book ‘Six Armies In Normandy’. The chapter on the Polish Army concludes with the following, a fitting postscript to Mietek’s story:
“The Canadians’ diarist recorded that the scene they encountered when they relieved the Polish divisions was the most savage the regiment had ever encountered. The Poles had received no supplies for three days; they had several hundred wounded whom they had been unable to evacuate and they held some eight hundred prisoners. The road was jammed with burnt out vehicles, theirs and the enemy’s. There were corpses everywhere, unburied and dismembered. Amid these horrors, the Polish Commander received the Canadians shaking with emotion. His soldiers told long stories to the Canadians, who did not understand a word but roared with laughter all the same. During the next days, the bodies of 325 Polish soldiers killed in the battle of the Falaise Gap would be found makeshift graves near the positions where they had fallen. On the summit of The Mace, sappers of the Royal Canadian Engineers, in tribute to their comrades-in-arms, erected a makeshift signboard. It bore, in English, the simple inscription: ‘A Polish Battlefield’.”

All quiet on the western front

2011-11-07T15:11:00.000-08:00

It never ceases to amaze me just how completely the different the same stretch of coastline can be from one trip to the next.

L to R: Myself, Chris and Mary - Image: John Bunyan
Glassy seas on our return from Penrhyn Mawr, which produced some small but entertaining waves to surf despite the small tide and lack of wind. Not that anyone was complaining; what a beautiful day. And what a day for the camera to pack in. It was left to John then, to take the pictures: more of his images can be found at http://jbkayaklog.blogspot.com/
Some lovely images on Mary's blog too: http://wildplacesandeverythinginthem.blogspot.com/

Beneath Barden Moor

2011-11-03T09:48:00.000-07:00

Falling from Barden Moor towards the Wharfe...

...a diminutive beck swollen by the Autumn rains whose peat stained waters match the leaves...

...through which this heron flew. I waited a while...

...and found him again...

...before following the beck up on to the moors in the soft failing light. Already I think, I am looking forward to spring.

Cacophony Crack

2011-10-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry: this little gem of a route beneath Rhoscolyn Head was actually named Symphony Crack, but today, Cacophony seemed more apt somehow.

It's one of those superb routes which takes the climber though situations quite outrageous for the grade and whose position above the sea on a day like this, is breathtaking.

Brian scrambling down to the belay...

...before setting an anchor and roping up. Leaning back on the belay, the sea surged below...

...before colliding with the cliffs in a wild crashing cacophony.

A view of Rhoscolyn Beacon as we walked out, pleased to have climbed at last on the cliffs beneath which I have so often paddled.

Pen by Thor's Buttress

2011-10-23T15:12:00.000-07:00

To the right of the steep grey wall of Esk Buttress, one of the finest and most dramatically situated of Lakeland crags, lies the easier angled Thor's Buttress. The rock is of same quality, offering open scrambling requiring at least a small degree of competence and provides a fine route to the summit of Pen.

Heading up into Mosedale, the path which leaves the bottom of Hardknott Pass is almost immediately boggy, but it offers a quiet route into the heart of the fells...

...and provides a grandstand view of the Scafell range from the crest of the ridge at its head. From here the track drops to Lingcove beck, which - swollen by recent rains - required a cold wade, and then traverses beneath the appropriately named Long Crag (middle centre above). It is an interesting route which requires a little route finding ability in the dark. Having forgotten my compass and knowing it would be dark long before I was down I was distracted from these thoughts by a shaft of sunlight which broke through the thinning clouds. I stepped left to get a better angle for a photo, dropping my pack on a convenient rock. Beside it, as if left deliberately, was a compass. Problem solved.

The sun's appearance was all too brief, but soon the cloud was lifting from the ridge above Pen, leading to the summit of Scafell Pike; it is by far the most rugged and arguably unspoiled corner of the Lakes, remaining remarkably untouched by the hordes that gather on England's highest summit above.

Once across Great Moss, one must cross the infant Esk. There was little point trying to keep boots dry now, although hopping across proved surprisingly easy, the river lower than expected. From there I followed the moraines steeply towards the toe of Thor's Buttress (centre right above), taking a short detour...

...to enter Thor's Cave. The wind screamed through the cleft, whistling past two chockstones above and it was an uncomfortable spot to linger. I headed out and down quickly enough, back to the start of the scramble, making quick progress up the rough slabs.

Pausing on a ledge, I sensed the sun behind and looked back as a shaft of light caught the flank of the curiously named Pike de Bield Moss...

Steep scrambling continued, though the route now was open to interpretation depending on one's preference, which lead finally to the summit blocks of Pen. There are various routes up this last step and an easy gully which leads around the back, but the rock is rough and sound and the scrambling a delight, despite the wind which by now was threatening to tear me off and hurl me back into Little Narrowcove.
Breathless, I reached the small conical summit. Above is the long rugged ridge to the summit of Scafell Pike...

...while off to the left are the austere cliffs of the East Buttress, the rising traverse of Great Eastern Route just visible in this image. It is one of those routes which takes an improbable line for its grade, the leader winding through overhanging corners as the belayer watches the drips that fall, never touching the face, to land meters away from the cliff's bottom. Rather gripped while setting a belay on a much harder route on the East Buttress, I fumbled the ropes and watched my belay plate follow the dripping water, noting the exact spot where it struck the scree some 50m below. Belaying with an Italian hitch, on steep technical ground for the next two pitches, I learnt my lesson.
Heading down into the gathering gloom I felt for the compass in my pocket: another lesson learned.

A View from Above...

2011-10-19T14:58:00.000-07:00

...which unfortunately, was all I was going to get on the second day of the NWSKs EoSM.
In the summer I suffered from a short lived bout of Tenosynovitis; on the previous day's paddle from Rhoscolyn the same wrist became increasingly painful and by the next morning (when these pictures were taken), it was clear both wrists were affected.

Disappointed not to be able to paddle, given what looked to be superb conditions, I settled for for a walk along the cliffs, taking a shots as others from the meet paddled below.
I suspect it has been brought on by gripping the paddle shaft too tightly, something I know I'm guilty of especially when concentrating.
I did wonder if the larger blades (Werner Corryvreckan) that I have had since June were the cause, but given I used these to paddle the 270 km around Skye in August without any issue, I suspect the fault lies with my technique rather than the paddle.

Anyway, it was a beautiful morning and I sat a while in contemplation, enjoying the fleeting warmth of the autumn sun, watching the race beyond the beacon building, thinking of the many days I have enjoyed on this coast.

North West Sea Kayakers - End of Season Meet

2011-10-17T14:22:00.000-07:00

The North West Sea Kayakers (NWSK) End of Season Meet (EoSM), and another weekend on Anglesey...

...once again a rather blustery affair...

...if sunnier than is usual for the EoSM.
Leaving Borthwen after trolleying the kayaks from tent to beach, less than two minutes paddling saw us straight into the lumpy and confused seas.

Chris here, about to leave the relative shelter of the bay for something completely different.
I took no photo's between Rhoscolyn Head and Penrhyn Mawr but once out of the more chaotic and sizeable clapotis off the head, we enjoyed the rolling seas making a fast crossing to the cliffs beyond Porth Dafarch. We had intended to complete the circumnav' of Holy Island, but arriving late at Penrhyn Mawr, at the very end of the flood stream, I knew we would be battling to get around the stacks against the ebb and if conditions so far were anything to go by, surfing up the race at North Stack was an unlikely proposition.

Back within the outer reaches of Porth Dafarch...

...where Chris and I took some shots from the cliffs...

...before we turned to head back towards Rhoscolyn...

...this time close in to enjoy some superb rock hopping...

Timing was critical on many sections: I had passed this obstacle moments earlier, running a long narrow channel, the sides of which were well above head height, now completely buried by the waves.

Moving on, the skerries north west of Trearddur Bay provided entertainment as we surfed the surging waves through narrow channels...

...picking intricate routes amongst the rocks...

...and above reefs on which the larger swells broke heavily.
Passing through the white arch before rounding Rhoscolyn Head once more, the conditions had eased...

...to give an idyllic end to an exciting day.

North Stack

2011-10-03T13:35:00.000-07:00

Having enjoyed a morning's sport on the wave at The Swellies, we set off from Soldier's Point with the ebb tide well underway...

...heading directly for North Stack. While Penrhyn Mawr may well be the better known and more highly regarded race, North Stack is arguably just as good, if not better, especially on Sp tides.

With a gentle but noticeable swell pushing against the tide, some hefty waves were forming off the headland...

...though they were difficult to catch initially: Tim drops off the back of a steepish roller.

At the head of the race, things were better: Barry, close to the eddy line, before taking off on a nice run.

Having dropped too far downstream initially, Chris and I work our way back up the eddy...

...beyond which Brian emerges from the back of a great wave.
As the flow increased in speed, the waves steepened and I enjoyed some long and fast rides, finding it increasingly easy to stay in the sweet spot.

Tim powering onto a steepening face, making the most of a demo of the Isel, courtesy of Mike at Rockpool.
A superb day in the races then, making the most of a big tide and what seems to have been the last of our Indian summer.

Surfing The Swellies

2011-10-02T14:05:00.000-07:00

It was always going to be an early start but four a.m. felt more like the middle of the night; still, with a big tide, being two days past the biggest equinoctial Sp tide of 2011 (10.21m Liverpool) and the chance of some good sport in the Menai Strait, it seemed worth the effort.

Sunrise over the Menai Bridge at low water. In fact an early, or equally late start will usually be required if your intention is to surf the wave that forms off the south bank of the strait, mid way between Britannia Bridge and the Menai Bridge, such is the way of the tides.

Waiting for the wave to form, the flood tide already moving quickly up the strait.

Chris gets an early surf...

...as does Tim, before being spat off the wave into the confused and powerful water behind.

Dropping onto the front wave, before I too carve off left only to have the stern sucked down into a small whirlpool which span me through 360 degrees before I could ferry across the channel back to the eddy.

Talking tactics...

...before Chris gets a long and impressive ride on the clean leading waves.

Barry carving it up in good style; well he is a local. To be fair, I think the rest of us were all surprised at how hard it was to stay in the 'sweet spot' - a helpful tip from Barry: taking a transit and lining up the headland of the south bank and the middle pillar of Britannia bridge allowed you to drop back onto the wave in just the right spot without taking any backward glances, making it much easier to keep the bow at the right angle and maintain the speed necessary to catch the glassy front wave.

We finished the morning on the wave that forms beneath the cardinal mark on Swellies Rock, much easier to surf but less impressive than the main affair.
We had already enjoyed a full morning, but with the best part of the day remaining and the whole of the ebb tide still to run, the only sensible thing to do was head across to Soldier's Point and see what was happening at North Stack...

Farne Islands

2011-09-20T13:38:00.000-07:00

I had checked the forecasts both on the evening and morning before driving north; the north east coast it seemed (Berwick to Whitby) was the only area where a strong wind warning was not in force. The outlook (for this our second day), promised some excitement however with a spell of stronger winds increasing to F6 possibly 7. And yet the day seemed promising and so after a little deliberation, we set out more on a gut feeling than any logical rationale.

Tim heading out from beneath Bamburgh castle...

...on a day that started in the surf...

...and finished with surf but saw no sign of the promised F6/7.

A quick crossing to the inner islands saw us tucked out of the fresh breeze, behind the low cliffs...

...alongside which a little swell made for some interesting rock hopping.

We both poked our bows into this gap before retreating; the surge and twisting channel making the prospect of a clean passage less than likely.

Beyond Little Scarcar where the grey seals followed our wake. Judging by their size and curiosity, many were last year's pups I think.

Out by the Northern Hares, others basked in the morning's sun, which disappeared soon after, swiftly followed by a rapidly freshening wind.
From here we made the 7km return trip directly towards Bamburgh via Megstone and while the wind never really increased to more than the top of F4, it was an enjoyably bumpy crossing.

A little way short of the sands, it was clear that there was a little surf...

...and for the next couple of hours we made the most of it.

I landed to get a few shots of Tim: the total focus that even smaller surf demands, in part at least, the reason it is so cathartic.

After which I managed some great runs on the steep if not huge waves...

...riding the last of each break to the beach...

...the odd bongo providing 'bracing' entertainment.
As the tide rose, the surf dropped in height and became increasingly messy...

...though Tim managed a few more good rides...

...before landing once more beneath the imposing walls of Bamburgh Castle.
Speaking with someone who knew the beach better than us, it seems if surf is what you want, it is best to be here close to high water.

Border Crossing by Kayak

2011-09-19T15:18:00.000-07:00

As far as border crossings go, this one is hardly fraught with difficulty, unless the of course the swell is up in which case the many reef breaks north of Berwick could make life interesting.

Launching mid-afternoon from the north side of the pier...

...to paddle out past Bucket Rocks, dodging the breaks; impressive given a swell of no more than around 3ft.

Tim approaches the cliffs, weaving through waves that rose suddenly and unpredictably as the swell ran over unseen reefs...

...breaking to the north of the arch: Needles Eye.

Beneath the cliffs in the only place we were able to get close in. In fact we managed the pass through the arch between sets...

...before continuing once more off shore...

...reaching Burnmouth in the already failing light where a landing looked improbable at first glance.

In fact a clear channel allowed us to sneak in behind the breakers finding a lovely sunlit cobbled beach on which to enjoy the late afternoon light.

Tim heads out through low surf...

...and I follow, close to the reefs that protect the inner bay.

Paddling south atop a lovely rolling swell and beneath beautiful skies, we begin the return leg to Berwick. The last of the season's gannets pass overhead while terns dive, their staccato flight so nearly just a memory of summer trips now past.

Approaching Berwick in the last of the evening's light, the low sun catching the crest of waves rolling in, to break once more on English sands, our short foray across the border complete.

Borthwen in Black & White

2011-09-12T14:46:00.000-07:00

Having sorted out the remaining images from the weekend, I rather liked these in B&W, which seemed somehow to capture the mood of the afternoon more as I remember it...

Heavy breakers beyond the cliffs to the east of Borthwen.

After a long surf in...

...Chris turns to break out once more; though the waves close in were never big, it was hard work pulling out into the bay.

Further out amongst the bigger waves, the wind was less noticeable...

...though there was little margin for error close to the cliffs.

In spite of the extremely confused water around Ynys Traws, with the wind pushing the boats away from the breakers, it was possible get very close to the rocks over which the swell thundered, sending great plumes of spray skyward. An exhilarating place to pause and rest a while; a good place to get a sense of immensely powerful hydraulic forces in motion...

...before heading out for one last run.

Blowing off the cobwebs at Borthwen

2011-09-11T12:55:00.000-07:00

The morning after the day before...

...and a dramatic view of Rhoscolyn Beacon in storm force winds. Volunteers manning the watch tower on the hill above, confirmed the wind speed as high as 57 knots, (actually just inside the F11, Violent Storm category), though the average wind speed was more like F9.
The previous day had been slightly less severe with an average wind speed at the very top of F6, (26 knots) and prolonged periods that felt much more like a good F7.

Hoping for a bit of surf we spent several hours paddling out of Borthwen...

...into the much bigger conditions outside the bay...

...and enjoying the swells which were something like 2.5 to 3m in height.

Brian making a run back into the bay, impressive conditions behind...

...just as Tim sneaks out along the southern edge, dwarfed by the breakers ahead.

Outside the confines of Borthwen...

...while Chris surfs back into the bay.

Waves breaking on Ynys Traws send spume and spray some 30ft high as Tim heads in.

Brian waiting for a set to roll through.

Tim pulling hard to catch the fast moving swell...

...by which time Chris and I are knackered!
An awesome bit of paddling which the photos really do not do justice, either in capturing the scale and huge drops down steep faced swells, or the massive power of surging walls of water down which we surfed: utterly superb.

Esoterica

2011-09-04T13:46:00.000-07:00

Having spent the previous afternoon slithering around on greasy limestone attempting to avoid another jarring tumble, mostly with an absolute lack of success, I had to wonder how I'd managed to find myself teetering about on more polished limestone the very next day...
Idly leafing through the Yorkshire Limestone guide book, the section at the end caught my eye: Esoterica, Gill Scrambles.
Unlike the Lakes, where Ghyll Scrambling is a real part of the climbing scene, the Dales are not renowned for Gill Scrambles, but here, right at the end of the book, the very last route in fact, was a 3 star 'classic'.

With a much brighter afternoon and blue instead of the previous day's leaden skies, Strans Gill looked like a perfect little outing for a couple of hour's sport. The Gill climbs from the infant river Wharfe in Yockenthwaite, through the thickly wooded steep slopes that rise above Langstrothdale, pictured above.

From the start, this is a delightful scramble, hidden from view within a miniature gorge, short steep steps keeping the interest high.

The grade, in dry conditions such as today, is probably Moderate, though there is an interesting pitch around two thirds of way up that is significantly harder. (V Diff - avoidable but doing so ruins the nature of the scramble.)
The fun ends with a fitting little finale, up a thrutchy chimney, to emerge beneath the bridge on the path from Yockenthwaite to Cray...

...whichever way you go from here, the views are all that is best about this quiet corner of the Dales.

Damp days in the Dales

2011-09-03T14:58:00.000-07:00

Wet granite is ok to a point. Wet gabbro the same. Wet grit is pretty useless and slate horrific. Wet rock generally is not much good for anything, depressing if you're intent on climbing, but then surely not such a problem for mountain biking? Unless of course your route consists primarily of wet, polished limestone.

A quick spin this afternoon, up on to the fell above Littondale resulted in: little more than 10km covered, 350ft ascent, a treacherous descent and no less than 5 falls. Limestone!

Rockpool GT

2011-09-01T15:10:00.000-07:00

I've been toying with the idea of a second boat for quite some time and have considered most that fitted the criteria I was looking for which, in comparison with my Rockpool Alaw, were: a little faster; greater load carrying capacity; as good or better from which to take photos and ideally one which offered an alternative storage solution for my cameras; just as responsive which I feared I would have to compromise on to gain a faster hull and which overall, required a rather less aggresive approach.

Having taken the boat above for a demo, predictably perhaps, I have decided to stay within the Rockpool fleet but not without looking at the alternatives.
Now there are far more experienced paddlers than I who can offer their opinions on sea kayaks from all the usual manufacturers (though more than a few reviews of sea kayaks that I have read have raised more questions in my mind about the reviewer's abilities than the kayak's capabilities), and this is not meant to be a full reveiw in any sense, so I will simply say that I believe the Rockpool G.T does exactly what it says on the tin...

...and fulfils all of the criteria I was looking for.
I will continue to paddle the Alaw, a boat that I think I am only really just beginning to exploit the potential of and which I believe, contrary to reviews I have read and opinions I have received, is absolutely not a boat for relatively novice paddlers, (this view often cited it seems simply because of it's flat mid hull section and consequent initial stability, which to me at least, seems to be missing the point completely).
But back to the G.T. I was delighted to find it extremely responsive (more so than the Alaw); relatively forgiving while paddling across grabby eddy lines, boils and confused water running at 3knots; noticeably faster on flat water; more predictable when sitting still in small waves - important to me when holding an SLR instead of my paddle; and perhaps most surprisingly, it handled just as well overall I thought as my Alaw, without being loaded. Lastly, in moving water with small waves of around 1ft or just over, I'm not sure there was any noticeable difference rolling the G.T.
So, despite the fact that this will obviously be my boat of choice when on multi-day trips, I suspect it might see plenty of use on day trips as well.

Just one thing I'm honestly not sure about: what does G.T. stand for?

Skye Circumnavigation: Scalpay - Armadale

2011-08-29T17:06:00.000-07:00

We had hoped our early start would help beat the midges as well as giving us the best chance of finishing the trip on our sixth day. No such luck, with the midges at least.

It was a slightly frantic pair that took to the water shortly after 8am, some way short of Caolas Scalpay.

Once on the water however and away from our tormentors we could enjoy the mirror calm morning...

...and long views up the Inner Sound.

Passing the Skye Bridge provided a real boost, being such a significant landmark if not a challenging one to pass.
We stopped for an hour or so at Kyleakin, enjoying a second, more leisurely breakfast after the rushed affair earlier that morning. We knew the tide would be against us through Kyle Rhea, but unless we had started at around 4am, there was little we could have done about it, and so felt in no undue rush to get back on the water.
In fact, hugging the west shore, we managed to use the eddies within Kyle Rhea as far as the ferry crossing without any real problem. There we saw a yacht heading north with the flow at a phenomenal speed and came across the first real point at which some determined paddling was required to round a small rocky promontory. Soon after we turned a corner to encounter a rather trickier problem. Here the full force of the flood stream was racing past a number of small outcrops. The channels in between were impassable as the torrent dropped nearly 1ft in height between them. The only solution was to paddle at full speed hitting the very top of the eddy line and then power across 10 yards of fast moving water to safety. It required no small amount of precision and as I raced across the eddy line my keel hit the outermost rock; luckily I stayed on course, the current lifting the bow but not turning me downstream and we continued without further incident, the last of the real obstacles on the circumnavigation of Skye behind us.

Launching after a short coffee break just south of Kyle Rhea...

...to continue down the Sound of Sleat.

We paused again to rest by the lighthouse off Ornsay, where a dramatic rainbow formed across the mouth of Loch Hourn.

From here, a last determined effort saw us approach Armadale shortly before 7pm, having covered 51km from Scalpay that morning bringing the grand total for our circumnavigation to 268km.
It had been a rewarding journey in many ways but even with the favourable conditions we enjoyed, hard on both boats...

...and bodies.

That evening we enjoyed a well earned pint at the Ardvassar Hotel in the company of two friends from Lewis and North Uist who had arrived that day on Skye to undertake a course at the nearby college.
Having taught Tim and I a few words of Gaelic, they departed, offering some solemn advice for future expeditions:
Don't sink!
My thanks to Tim who took charge of the camera to capture all the images of me, and to those who offered their help along the way.

Skye Circumnavigation: Staffin Island - Scalpay

2011-08-29T16:16:00.000-07:00

Our intended campsite for the previous evening had been Inver Tote but the prospect of a more leisurely evening had meant stopping an hour or so before at Staffin Island.

Dawn and sunrise beyond the Torridon mountains; we would need an early start to make up for lost miles if we were to stay on track. Despite having rounded the significant headlands and being established on the 'easy' east coast, we both knew a strong southerly could still jeopardize the success of our trip and were keen to cover the remaining 97km in two days.
As we left the island a stiff south easterly breeze made me regret the previous day's early finish but the wind quickly eased and was soon nothing more than a gentle breeze.
We quickly passed Kilt Rock where I noted climbs I had completed back in 2004 along with the rotten, vegetated gully that was almost as exciting to descend as the routes were to ascend.

Another spectacular waterfall cascades across the basalt columns...

...just before the scenery begins to change once again, drawing us on and south.

Inver Tote, which would certainly have provided a good campsite, if lacking in the appeal of our small island camp.

By midday the breeze had all but disappeared and trying to maintain a pace of around 4 knots, we were both becoming uncomfortably hot beneath the strong sun.

No wind at all and passing beneath the long section of cliffs approaching Portree I actually started to fall asleep. Quite bizarre to jerk awake, still paddling, my cadence having hardly slowed at all.
We landed soon after on an unmarked sandy beach, coffee, fruit and nuts giving a much needed boost...

...and as we approached the Raasay Narrows a northerly breeze began to build; just sufficient to provide us with a much appreciated push towards Scalpay.
Another late finish having covered 46km taking the total to 217km, but no sooner were the tents up than the midges descended. So far the midges had hardly bothered us but that night they swarmed and we both cooked inside the tents.

As the sun set, Tim braved the ravenous hordes to take this image of our camp before hastily retreating once again.

Skye Circumnavigation: Uig - Staffin Island

2011-08-29T15:26:00.000-07:00

Before pitching the tents the previous evening, our host Brian had shown us his own kayak, which he had nearly finished building; it seemed it lacked only a seat but being keen to join us for the next leg of our journey around Rubha Hunish, a little improvisation saw us all on the water by mid-morning.

Leaving Uig we followed the gentle coastline north...

...the rocky foreshore gradually growing in height...

...until once again on glassy seas, we rounded the last real crux of the trip.

The remnants of a low northerly swell washed between the stacks and we took full advantage of the conditions, exploring this dramatic headland's intimate corners in detail.
Pausing beyond the cliffs, we caught sight of a large fin and then two more followed by a whoosh of air. Such tall fins could only belong to Orcas and I watched in awe as they headed west, unfortunately too far out for the short, wide angle lens I was using to capture.
Moments later another, smaller fin cut the surface just yards away. Transfixed I watched a blunt head and broad back roll through the surface before the dorsal fin rose and then disappeared.

Reaching belatedly for the camera I managed only a couple of shots before they were gone, but not before I had tentatively identified the creatures as Risso's Dolphins. Certainly their behaviour, blunt head and overall size, match the Whale & Dolphin Conservation Society's chart...

Elated, we continued, heading south for the first time towards Port Gobhlaig, where we dropped Brian off before continuing towards Staffin Bay.

This next section of coastline was superb, littered with caves and arches which we took the time to explore, recognising that today was not going to be a high mileage affair.

A narrow entrance in one headland lead to this dramatic exit...

...which I recognised from the other side as a climb I had tried and failed to find years before. The obvious slender slab provides the route Spantastic, a fragile HVS of two 20m 4c pitches. The guide book notes however, that the technical grade assumes a complete lack of imagination! Looking at it from water level, I was surprised it still existed. Now I know where it is, and that it has not yet succumbed to the sea, I suppose there's no excuse...

Beyond this delightful area of caves and arches, the islands of Sgeir na Eireann and Eilean Flodigarry were catching the late afternoon sun and our thoughts turn to a relaxed evening camp.

Approaching Staffin Bay...

...which looks less appealing than Staffin Island for our fourth camp.

With the tents up, this time long before dusk, we enjoyed our first relaxed evening of the trip, albeit with the knowledge that this shorter day of 36km taking our total to 171km, would mean another long push tomorrow to make up the miles.

Skye Circumnavigation: Lorgill Bay - Uig

2011-08-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

This, our third day on the water was always going to be a big one. Neist Point, the first real crux of the trip was 8km to our north and if the winds stayed light, our plan was to get around both the headlands of Dunvegan and Waternish, effectively putting the exposed west coast behind us and leaving just one major headland to get around: Rubha Hunish. If we could reach the Uig, some 52km away, then we would be well positioned for this northernmost headland of Skye.
After crossing Moonen Bay on glassy seas...

...we reached Neist Point at the start of the north going stream. The westerly swell had dropped again and with an absolute lack of wind and still only a gentle flow, conditions were idyllic. While we both felt that such calm conditions where something of an anticlimax for this notorious headland, it was with mounting excitement that we pushed on, quickly crossing Loch Pooltiel and then passing Dunvegan Head.

Here we paused, the seas still glassy, watching several porpoises as they passed by, some just a few feet from our bows.

Tim begins the crossing of Loch Dunvegan with the Cuillin behind...

...the low lying headland of Waternish in the distance.
Landing at Ardmore Point we took a leisurely break, and picked up a forecast on the VHF which called for freshening winds from south east.
By the time we were back on the water the wind was a respectable F4 and for the next 7km we enjoyed the first following sea of the trip, surfing rapidly on to round Waternish Point.
From here, a beam wind slowed progress for our third crossing of the day, to reach the Ascrib Islands. A short choppy sea had made the crossing hard work and we rested awhile amongst the low lying islands, summoning enthusiasm for our fourth and last crossing of the day to reach Uig.

Tim heads out into Loch Snizort, Uig some 9km distant.
Ten hours and 52km after launching that morning, we landed on the rocky foreshore close to the pier. We had hoped to use the campsite but this proved difficult to access from the shore; we were in no mood to carry the heavy boats for such a distance and having accepted that it was going to be an uncomfortable camp we walked back along the rocks towards the boats.
As we passed the last house, a figure appeared above and enquired if those were our kayaks and, did we want to camp in his garden?
Several cups of tea and large portions of caramel popcorn later, we pitched on the thick grass of Brian and Anastasia's lawn. A definite result but tonight, it was gone 11pm by the time we had the tents up and a meal on.
Our hosts had checked the forecasts and assured of light winds tomorrow, with 135km already behind us along with the whole of the west coast, we were becoming increasingly confident that we could make it around Skye in six days as planned.

Skye Circumnavigation: Soay - Lorgill Bay

2011-08-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

Leaving Soay late the next morning, the wind was still from the west but dropped significantly...

...as we headed along the sound towards Rubh' an Dunain and Loch Brittle.

Now behind us, Rum sits on our southern horizon...

...as the view up the west coast of Skye begins to unfold.

A gentle swell of around 2ft is still running from the west creating entertaining conditions close in as we investigate numerous rock gardens, channels and waterfalls.
Our plan is to reach Lorgill Bay, some 50km from Soay which will put us just 8km south of Neist Point. We are therefore reluctant to enter Loch Eynort but needing a break, decide to land beneath the cliffs.

Having both hauled our boats up the steeply shelving beach, we watched with some apprehension as a much larger set rolled in, waves dumping heavily from around 4ft; our launch required careful timing and with such heavily loaded boats was not without risk.

From here the coastline became increasingly rugged; Tim is dwarfed beneath the imposing Stac a Mheadais.
In Talisker Bay we rested without landing, before continuing into Loch Bracadale and on, crossing to Idrigill Point. Already the crossings that this trip required where becoming tiresome, but with Macleod's Maidens gradually growing in stature, it was difficult not to appreciate the wild grandeur of our surroundings.

Approaching the maidens...

...and looking back on the outermost stack.

We had been paddling now for nearly 7 hours and still had some 8km to go to reach Lorgill Bay; the dramatic evening light and some of the most awe inspiring cliff scenery we had seen on the trip yet kept spirits high however and we indulged in a little exploration close in...

...passing through arches and beneath waterfalls, secure in the knowledge that a good campsite was just over an hour's paddle away.
Landing at Lorgill Bay proved less easy than we hoped. With the tide extremely low, a wide band of large, rounded, weed covered rocks made for a difficult and quite risky carry. Our predicament had not escaped the notice of a couple already camped in the bay.
Having paddled around Skye in '96 and noting then the superb situation of the bay, Nick had returned on foot to camp at Lorgill Bay; now, seeing us half dragging the boats, slipping on the treacherous rocks, he quickly offered his assistance...

...but once again, the sun had set long before we had the tents up and a meal cooked: another long but rewarding day with 50km covered, 83km now in total and just a short stretch to reach Neist Point in the morning.

Skye Circumnavigation: Armadale - Soay

2011-08-29T09:01:00.000-07:00

Arriving at Armadale on a blustery morning but with an improving forecast for the week ahead, Tim and I loaded the boats...

...packing sufficient food for 6 days on the water and allowing an extra 2 for bad weather days or other unexpected delays. Along with approximately 8L of water each and all the usual paraphernalia the boats felt extremely heavy and having staggered down onto the sands of Armadale Bay, we eventually launched shortly after 1pm.

Beneath bright skies, a gentle start gave way to an increasingly strong headwind from the west. We had expected this and knew that once around the Point of Sleat, we would have a long crossing to Soay with the wind on the bow quarter all the way. Still, our plan seemed sound given the week's forecast; the next two days would bring light winds creating a weather window to make our run up the exposed west coast, and we were prepared for a bit of a slog.

Tim ploughs on into a choppy sea approaching the Point of Sleat, Eigg beyond.

Rounding the point: the clouds are gathering and the sea is growing. A long swell of around 1.5m was running from the west while smaller wind waves of around 1ft ran across from the northwest. All were colliding with the headland, which, with a little tide thrown in for good measure was producing extremely confused seas, more fun than threatening however. Twenty minutes or so put us beyond the point and out of the bigger waves but the clapotis stayed with us for several km's as we looked for a landing to rest before making the crossing to Soay.
Our heavily laden boats made for a difficult landing and launch from a boulder strewn bay but we were soon back on the water and having rounded the first significant headland were now heading northwest to Soay, some 15km away.

Beneath ominous skies we completed the first leg, heading for the distinctive cliffs immediately south of Elgol and then turned on a bearing, the island barely visible, for the north east corner of Soay.

At last, out of the wind and the skies are brightening as we look for a camp, now both wet, cold and tired, as yet unused to the extra weight of the boats, having covered 33km, the F5 westerly requiring constant effort to make progress.

Pitching the tents on a superbly situated headland overlooking Soay Sound, the sun had set some time before we cooked and ate. I hoped the wind would ease as predicted overnight for the next day required a long push of nearly 50km up the west coast, which would put us in a good position to round Neist Point, the first real crux of the trip, early on Day 3, with a favourable tide. So far, so good...

Isle of Skye: Circumnavigation

2011-08-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

Having just completed a circumnav. of Skye, here is one of my favourite images from the trip.
Taken on our sixth and last day as we approached Armadale, a beautiful rainbow forms over the entrance to Loch Hourn.

The circumnav. was completed in mostly favourable conditions, in five and a half day's paddling: our shortest day was around 30km, rounding Rubha Hunish, where we saw three Orcas and I think, Risso's Dolphins; the others were between 40km & 50km.
A superb and rewarding trip: I'll post a full report once I have sorted out all the images.

BCU Four Star Leader - Sea

2011-08-20T03:13:00.000-07:00

Pass.
It's been a journey...

Flamborough Head and the Bempton Cliffs

2011-08-15T10:03:00.000-07:00

The last time Chris and I paddled here, we were only able to get through one arch due to the swell; this time we had perfect conditions both for exploring the caves and passages and enjoying the excellent rock hopping.

Despite being engrossed in the paddling, I took a great many photos; unusually, all were on the 14-40mm lens which I had hoped would better capture the cliff scenery than the longer lens I usually prefer.

Chris took the shot above, capturing the superb folded rock strata and I'll let the other images do the rest of the talking, suffice to say it was an absolutely superb day's paddling launching from South Landing and travelling almost as far as Reighton Sands before returning as the sun set.

Brian and Chris emerging from the first cave, where several young grey seals played beneath our hulls in the clear water.

A lovely passage approaching the lighthouse.

The next cave we entered: a truly cavernous tunnel, several chambers at its end leading who knows where...

Stopping to inspect a problematic little rock hop...

...which proved more difficult to pass cleanly than it looked.

Deep within a superb cave.

Having passed North Landing, there is a little more movement in the water...

...creating superb rock hopping. In a similar rock garden I was washed up onto the cliff before being dropped on the edge of a slabby boulder, to topple sideways into a deeper channel. An instinctive high brace saved me from what would certainly have been an uncomfortable capsize, although I added a few new scrapes to the hull.

Brian sizes up another awkward gap...

...before adding a few scrapes of his own.

Dramatic rock architecture just short of the gannet colony...

...where Chris took this shot of me passing through one of the two arches.

Brian exiting the same arch, gannets wheeling above.

Continuing up the coast the rock hopping continued until, with just a few hours of light left, we turned to make the journey back.

Looking back along the cliffs...

...before rounding Flamborough Head once more.

Brian and Chris dwarfed by the imposing headland.

A serene moment having followed an archway into a sheltered lagoon...

...and exciting via yet another archway.

Evening calm: Chris lingers as the sun sets, drawing to a close one of the best day's sea kayaking I've had on the east coast yet.

Going Pro

2011-08-13T06:11:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, we had a GoPro Video Camera in the group; it was an experimental run as none of us had used one of these before now. Results were mixed but I'm considering buying one as well, in particular to try and capture some of the more exciting paddling in the races and while rock hopping in bigger conditions.

I'll leave the editing to Tim but I pulled a few stills from the footage...

...the image quality leaves much to be desired, (these shots have also been cropped) and the super wide angle gives interesting results. Water droplets on the casing are clearly going to be problematic...

...but I'm hopeful that use of these cameras in future will allow some good results in those places where just reaching for the SLR would probably result in a capsize...

Sunset Surf

2011-08-10T04:12:00.000-07:00

With the surf forecast at 1m, we had hoped for a repeat of our evening's surfing off the beach at Crosby back in May...

...Brian heading out to the better waves further off shore.

We all caught a few nice rides early on, but with a rising tide and falling wind, conditions soon dropped off. It seems that the best conditions here are with a F5 westerly about 3hrs before HW Liverpool: at this stage of the tide waves form over the sand bars which wash out as the water level rises. Np tides are better than Sps which make it easier to avoid the Iron Men further up the beach.

By the time I gave Chris the camera to get a few shots, things had dropped off significantly...

...although there was still enough energy in the waves to throw the boat around a bit.

Playing in the waves as the sun sets...

...what better way to end a day?

Rocking and Hopping!

2011-08-08T05:25:00.000-07:00

With the wind up a few notches (SW F5), a day's rock hopping on the south west coast of Anglesey seemed to fit with our agenda. We left Porth Trescastell, (Cable Bay), following the rugged coast with the intention of enjoying a surf at Traeth Mawr.

A dull start gave way to a brighter afternoon as we worked our way towards the Ynys Meibion: Chris negotiating a gap en route.

Tim concentrating on getting the right line...

...before being surfed through.

Chris makes it over a reef to deeper water and the chop beyond.
Just short of Aberffraw Bay a strong wind warning came in over the VHF; we did a smart about turn, paddling back into the F6 north westerly predicted not holding much appeal.
The return towards Cable Bay was exhilarating on a sizeable following sea and as the winds seemed fairly constant still, we continued to investigate the surf around Rhosneigr.

In the end, we didn't get any conventional surfing done...

...although the surf landing near the skerries of Carreglydan was entertaining.
In total we covered little in the way of mileage, but again, a superb afternoon's paddling making the most of the conditions.

Penrhyn Mawr: The Inner Race

2011-08-08T03:07:00.000-07:00

We actually spent much more time in the Outer Race on this day which was wild enough to put a stop to any photography. Flowing at around 5 knots and with waves to around 6ft, we enjoyed some exciting surfing and were all hammered by a few breakers, the leading waves however were clean and provided great sport.

The inner race was much smaller and the eddies far less affected by the boils and small whirlpools on the edges of the outer race...

...there were still some good waves however...

...and we made the most of these...

...before heading on around the headland, the low swell creating ideal conditions for the superb rock hopping here...

...while still allowing a few tighter corners to be explored. Another superb day on what is arguably the best of Anglesey's coastline.

Fretting in the Fog

2011-08-07T15:07:00.000-07:00

When the relatively warm moist air flows from the north sea towards land and colder waters, the cooling process forms what is termed Advection Fog, otherwise known as Haar or Fret.
Alone and out of sight of land, in some localised lumpy water where the south going stream was running against a swell of around 3ft, I found I was fretting a little too.

Launching from Catterline Bay (south of Stonehaven and Aberdeen), the visibility was poor but much better than it soon became.
I paddled north, passing arches and caves amongst the the charismatic conglomerate cliffs, still teaming with birds including a few puffins, though the casualties of the breeding season littered the sea's surface; old gannets, their last summer spent, hung amongst the waves while fledgling gulls too weak to survive their first months were hacked at by their larger brethren.

Passing inside a narrow channel, I soon came across a seal colony and stayed awhile as their curiosity got the better of their caution.

Others were content to snort at a respectable distance.

The old men of the sea...

...and the young alike seem tired of the dreich day.
Passing Bowdun Head, I paddled further off shore, surfing against the Spring tide on the swell, steepened by the flow. It seemed I was making good progress but on checking for a mark on the cliffs there was nothing but the swirling fog, waves and water meeting at sea level, no horizon and no reference points; I felt suddenly unbalanced, and cut back across the flow. It took some time for the cliffs to appear, a murky dark smudge growing from the fog as I fretted. I started the return leg soon after, passing beneath Dunnottar Castle though I could see no more than about 10m up the cliffs, moving quickly with the tide.

A spectacular arch, the roof lined with large rounded rocks that appeared poised to fall, lead to a calm bay where I took a last break on this eerie paddle, emerging beneath the pier at Catterline and returning it seemed, to the world.

Beneath Gars-bleinn

2011-08-04T15:43:00.000-07:00

Launching from Elgol, with the Cuillin beckoning beyond Loch Scavaig, it is hard to resist the temptation to point the bow north and paddle immediately towards Loch na Cuilce and the ridge above.

Yet a relatively short detour in the other direction, out around the headland of Suidhe Biorach and Eilean na h-Airde is well worthwhile; the limestone cliffs are impressive as are the caves and blowholes that riddle this section of coast.

A direct crossing from here to Soay took just over an hour, after which we headed into Loch na Cuilce; late enough in the day for the tour boats to have left the bay, leaving us alone with the seals.

Around Attermire

2011-07-27T15:12:00.000-07:00

When we completed this circuit around Langcliffe Scar and Attermire six months ago, much of the route was an unnerving test of balance although in places the bikes stood upright with no support other than the snow freezing around the wheels as we rested behind stone walls...

...what a contrast: the soft light of a still, summer evening.

Climbing beneath Great Scar, steadily approaching the open moor...

...to look down on the barns below and then out across Malham Tarn towards Kilnsey Moor.

A short rest by the junction of bridleways at the Grizedales...

...before a fast crossing of the moor...

...to reach the caves above Langcliffe after which a final couple of miles on perfect gassy tracks before a last steep drop into Settle closes the circuit to end a beautiful summer evening.

Around the Stacks

2011-07-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

Another day with no photos taken, at least not by me. Quite simply, I was having far too much fun amongst the waves at Penryhn Mawr. Being on Nps and with a gentle NW breeze against the flow, conditions were friendly and great fun.We surfed for an hour or so before heading on round the stacks to finish on smaller but still surfable waves at the start of the ebb at North Stack.

Above: (Original photo taken by Kev Robinson) Returning around the outside of South Stack. I realised this was actually the first time I have paddled to the west of South Stack, having always taken one of the narrow inside channels previously.

Bikes, Bogs and Bruises

2011-07-17T14:05:00.000-07:00

A wet and windy forecast meant there was little in the way of motivation to get out on the sea...

...but provided a good excuse for a day on the bike amongst the Western Fells of Cumbria.
The weather was obviously closing in rapidly as I climbed Scarth Gap Pass from Buttermere. Behind, sunlight dappled the Derwent Fells but beyond the pass, dark clouds gathered above Pillar and I doubted I would make it over Scarth Gap before the inevitable deluge began.

In fact, the first heavy downpour lasted just a few seconds as I paused beneath Pillar rock on the forestry track that links Ennerdale to Black Sail youth Hostel.
Then the clag closed in properly; it was a wet but fast ride along the River Liza and Ennerdale Water...

...occasional breaks in the weather revealing Angler's Crag on the far side of the lake, to reach the start of the pass climbing to Floutern Tarn.

Clearly the bridleway had seen little traffic recently; a machete would perhaps have been more useful than anything Specialized offer.

Once up above the tarn, the angle quickly eased as did the rain, giving views across Mosedale back towards Buttermere fell.
A steep and fast descent ended rather more suddenly than I expected...

...grassy slopes giving way to bog, leading to the second fall of the day. A tumble while descending Scarth Gap Pass luckily resulted in nothing more than a bruised shoulder. This time, the more spectacular dismount over the handlebars bruised nothing but ego, landing as I did amongst the soft reeds and wet bog.

The track rapidly improves however and the descent to Loweswater was fast, the stony track leading down through the pines before meeting the road. A last short off road section brought me out underneath the bulk of Grassmoor and a final spin along Crummock Water saw me back at the bottom of Newlands Pass having completed a 33km circuit, the vast majority off road.

Ynys Enlli: Isle of the Currents

2011-07-11T05:45:00.000-07:00

This was to be my fourth trip around Bardsey Island or Ynys Enlli, the Welsh name being of greater significance for sea kayakers than the English, which refers to the Bards of centuries past. On our last journey to Bardsey, we had enjoyed a smooth crossing to the island and then a rather more sporting return; today, with high pressure, a strong sun and enough of a breeze to create some lively water, we sought out the same overfalls one would more often seek to avoid on a trip to Bardsey.

Looking across The Sound, the morning after the day before; the breeze has died and the tide is nearly slack...

...quite different to the conditions we had enjoyed the day before during the middle hours of the flood with a small swell rolling in. (Being on a neap tide, the max. flow was a shade over 3 knots.)

Approaching Pen y Cil, Bardsey beyond, Tim surfs beneath the crest of the first waves, Brian and Chris hidden in the troughs behind.

Surfing amongst the chaotic waves off the point, behind which a convenient eddy allowed for a few photographs, though from such a vantage it is almost impossible to capture the real size and surging power of the waves.
Having made sure the camera bag was properly sealed and after a quick roll to get into the spirit of things, I joined the others in the race. There is something quite hypnotic about big steep waves: in my mind's eye I can clearly see the foaming breaks; the deep trough beneath steep green and blue faces; water carving off the bow...brilliant!
With a mixture of relief and reluctance we left the overfalls to begin the ferry glide across The Sound heading for Trywn y Gorlech and the north west corner of Bardsey. At first it seemed as though our ferry angle was too great, the tide having little affect, but then as we neared the half way mark, the flow increased and we were swept rapidly west. Seeing a long eddy behind the rocks of Maen Bugail, I turned the bow and paddled hard, directly across the flow. The ground I lost by doing so was easily recovered once in the eddy.

Between Maen Bugail and Bardsey, the tide was pouring over a shelf or sill of some sort, creating perfect glassy waves. If the overfalls of Pen y Cil had been hypnotic...

...these waves were mesmerising, smooth and gentle by comparison.

As the tide began to ease and the waves dropped we completed the ferry glide to reach Bardsey...

...following the rugged west shore which proved almost as exciting as the race...

...rock hopping and dodging breaks along the cliffs before landing on the beach directly across the island from Porth Solfach.
Leaving Bardsey, we rounded the Pen Diban, the race here providing more excitement and large rolling waves which quickly eased as we headed north along the cliffs before recrossing the sound in the first hour of the ebb.

Looking across The Sound the next morning, the day's calm was profound although we enjoyed an idyllic day's paddling north of Porth Ysgaden. I took no pictures, engrossed as I was, though a momentary lapse of concentration amongst the rock gardens near Porth Dinllean resulted in smashed gel coat and a boat in need of some attention. A small price to pay for such superb sea kayaking.

The Cheese Press Stone

2011-07-07T09:12:00.000-07:00

Taking the rock shoes I had gone to explore the bouldering possibilities on the low limestone edges above Kingsdale near Ingleton. There was little enough of interest but it is a beautiful place to while away a summer evening.

I returned along the edge, dropping back to the valley via the Cheese Press Stone...

...the reason for it's name being more obvious from this angle perhaps. There are many such stones though most are a good deal smaller, scattered along the edge; a reminder of the glacial action which formed these valleys.

A fleeting rainbow frames the view across Twistleton Scar End, towards Ingleborough.

The Tern of the Tide

2011-07-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

Warmer by about 20 degrees C than our last trip to The Skerries in January, a Sp tide and calm seas made for a superb day around Carmel Head and then out to The Skerries from Harry Furlough's / Furlong's (?) rocks.

From Church Bay, we rounded Carmel head against the start of the ebb, enjoying some tricky rock hopping en route...

...and then a gentle surf off Carmel Head as the flow began to pick up.

Approaching Harry Furlough's rocks before starting the crossing: a giant ferry glide completed with the tide running at around 6kn.

On the usual crazy bearing, we were swept past both Victoria Bank and Coal Rock, to land beneath the imposing lighthouse...

...amidst an incredible number of Arctic and Common Terns.

Acrobatic...

...and graceful...

...I watched their staccato flight from beneath the lighthouse...

...while others succumbed to the strong sun above.

Heading up to the northern end of The Skerries to start the crossing to Carmel Head, the tide is still running swiftly but without the immense power of our outward journey.

One of many Grey seals watches us pass, leaving this island outpost of North Wales to the terns and the tide.

Waiting for a Wave...

2011-07-04T07:58:00.000-07:00

I have paddled though the various races around Anglesey often enough but usually as part of a longer journey around the stacks or Holy Island; to find the sea so calm then, on the very day that we had set aside specifically to spend at Penrhyn Mawr was a little ironic.

With the NW going stream starting late in the day we had a lazy afternoon exploring towards South Stack before returning to wait for the race to start. Above, Chris watches the flow building gradually...

...while Tim warms up on the eddy lines.
After an hour or so the flow picked up, conditions rapidly becoming much more lively. Periodically the front waves reared up to around 5ft, perhaps a ferry's wake or other isolated wave pushing against the tide, but mostly it was only much smaller waves that we surfed. It was however a very interesting day and we learnt a great deal about the race, finally calling it a day in about the fourth hour of the NW going stream, returning to Porth Dafarch to plan tomorrow's trip: The Skerries.

Following A. Dolphin

2011-07-01T05:15:00.000-07:00

Arthur Dolphin, who died aged 28, following an accident in the Alps on July 25th, 1953, was arguably the finest climber of his generation. Despite his premature death, Dolphin left a legacy of first ascents that are still regarded as test pieces today.
The most famous is perhaps Kipling Groove on Gimmer Butress above Langdale. Dolphin's use of a top rope to test the hard and unprotected crux moves was controversial and it was Joe Brown who hammered in a piton on the 3rd ascent, generating even greater controversy, which finally gave a modicum of protection to coax aspirant leaders out of the groove and across the crux wall. A mistake here would have resulted in a 100ft fall; a frightening prospect today and almost certain death climbing with hemp ropes tied around the middle as was the practise then.
I remember making those same moves, with good modern protection relatively close by; I was pretty gripped all the same. Soloing a less well known Dolphin route, I found myself equally gripped, much more recently.

Tiger Wall at Earl Crag is typical of many gritstone routes at its grade on which awkward and comitting moves lead to an airy finish. High on the arete, shaken nerves an indication of how little I have climbed recently, I shook my head in wonder at the audacity of those early pioneers.

The picture above, taken some years ago, shows me making the last moves of Tiger Traverse on the opposite side of the buttress and gives a better idea of the situation once out on the arete.

I'll Bet She Does

2011-06-29T02:21:00.000-07:00

Who she was and what she did, I don't know.

You'd have to ask Dave Musgrove jnr. who named this route at Simon's Seat, pictured above, having made the first ascent in '95. At E3 6a I was never going to get that far on it but I had a little fun trying the problematic start before turning my attention to easier offerings.

The rock at Simon's Seat is some of the best moorland grit to be found in the Dales and here, curious protrusions such as these create a number of routes up otherwise blank walls.

It's also a superbly situated crag perched high above the Wharfe valley, appearing in places as though it must be about to give in to gravity, much as I did before very long...

...returning to the valley floor as the sun set.

Around Ardnamurchan by Bike and Boat

2011-06-27T12:16:00.000-07:00

This was a trip I'd been planning for some time and had originally intended as a complete tour of the peninsula, starting deep within Loch Sunart and finishing at Glenuig. In the event, I didn't trust the forecast and started at Kilchoan, completing a two day trip to round the point and explore the northern coast before returning by bike across the peninsula.

Arriving late and camping on the shores of Loch Ailort, I woke to a strong wind gusting out of the bay...

...but by mid morning all was calm and with the immediate forecast calling for light winds, I decided that despite the intense low pressure system in place, the trip was on.
In fact the weather reports were a mass of conflicting information with winds predicted at anything from F0 to NW F5 which gave rise to no small amount of debate and ultimately the decision to go for a simple overnighter, meaning I was less committed if the weather really did crap out. Paddling alone focuses the mind on such things!

Looking down the Sound of Mull; dull skies and glassy seas...

...the conditions much the same when I landed a little later at An Acairseid, only the very gentlest of swell reaching the rugged shore.

Once past Eilean nan Seachd Seisrichan, the wind did pick up a little, reaching F4 for a short while but by the time the lighthouse came into view, it was fairly steady at F3. A gentle swell of around 2ft slopped around the cliffs and provided a little bounce as I paddled on, waving to the tourists on the point. No one returned my wave. Miserable buggers.

I landed briefly at Eilean Carrach, elated to have rounded the point and wondering where I would obtain a sprig of white heather for the bow, such is the tradition of rounding Ardnamurchan Point.
Cooling rapidly in the breeze now freshening once more I paddled on through a low chop, passing Sanna Point to land beyond Rubha an Duin Bhain.

Frustrated by a wide band of rock in front of a perfect beach, I emptied the boat at the water's edge, ferrying the gear to a lovely little pitch above. I knew I would be launching at HW in the morning so had no qualms about leaving the next day.
Rain fell relentlessly as I cooked in the tent that evening but just as I had written the day off, the skies cleared...

...giving way to a glorious sunset beyond the Cuillin of Rhum...

...and the Isle of Muck...

...the Outer Hebrides just visible on the western horizon.

In contrast to the previous day's leaden skies, the morning dawned bright and blue and I made good use of the morning's sun, drying wet kit before loading the boat at the HW mark, waiting for the tide.

A low swell washes the reefs below Rubha Carrach...

...the fascinating rock architecture beyond keeping the interest high as I paddled on, heading for Fascadale Bay.
I spotted a golden eagle here perched on the low cliffs at the bay's entrance and after a lazy lunch decided to head off shore, returning to Portuairk by a wide semi circular route. I was hoping for an encounter with dolphins or even whales and spotting a mass of birds wheeling and diving, thought my luck was in. I paddled on but saw no sign of cetaceans, realising belatedly that the real show was already all around me.

Manx shearwaters in their hundreds repeatedly circled the boat, 'shearing' past often just a foot or so away...

...closer in to the cliffs they returned, wheeling, twisting and soaring in a wonderful display for several minutes before heading out once more.

A last break on the return journey and a view of Eigg across calm seas.

In fact I couldn't resist landing here too, enjoying the white sands of Sanna Bay...

...before landing at Portuairk and returning to Kilchoan by bike to close the loop around Ardnamurchan Point.

Loch Torridon

2011-06-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

Very much a trip of two halves: the first day idyllic, the second nothing more than a head down battle back into Shieldaig.
Loch Torridon is renowned for severe squalls and while the upper loch is perhaps most affected, any wind with an easterly component will very often funnel out of the mountains creating very difficult if localised conditions reaching far into the outer loch.

Shieldaig offers a convenient jetty and is an ideal place from which to launch. I spent a while here chatting with a local fisherman as he worked on the tangled mass of ropes festooning the jetty. A little wary at first, he soon opened up and was telling all sorts of tall and fishy tales. A local skipper's encounter with a pod of 250+ dolphins however was corroborated by others who had seen the same pod in the vicinity of Red Point. I was soon heading out, my objective, of course, Red Point.

I paddled first to the narrows to pick up the ebb and having poked my bow into the drying gap between Eilean a Chaoil and the headland, the dramatic slopes of Beinn Eighe beyond, I headed out on glassy seas.

This outcrop of gneiss provided a novel late afternoon lunch stop and had done so for an otter or two previously, discarded urchin, crab and other shells littering the platform.

Passing Diabeg, I remembered the first time I climbed here with Karl, when, having successfully scaled The Pillar (the best E2 slab pitch in the UK?), we very nearly fell off the top of the crag trying to find the descent amidst the bracken and then failed completely to find our next objective after which midges and rain forced a rapid retreat.
Landing just beyond Craig and finding a lovely little spot to camp, I decided to call it a day preferring the remote feel of this section of coast to camping on the sands at Red Point. I would be extremely glad of the decision the next day but for now, with the camp set and plenty of light, I set off to explore the surrounding country.

The ubiquitous bog cotton was everywhere...

...but I was quite surprised by the number of orchids, many hundreds of them scattered between small stands of birch and pine.

As the sun began to set, what little breeze had kept the midges at bay dropped completely; I lit a small fire in an effort to deter them but it was only as darkness approached that their numbers really became tolerable.

Having stopped flapping, I was able to sit still for long enough to attempt a few long exposures...

...both of these shots utilising a convenient rock to help stabilise the camera.
As the temperature dropped, a slight breeze returned and I noted with a tinge of concern that it was out of the east.
The morning however proved completely still and I set off across the outer loch towards Rubha na Fearn, the northern tip of the Applecross peninsula. Half way through the 5km crossing I noticed a small yacht, under sail heading west and making fast progress close to the far shore. Now how is he doing that I wondered, just as the first gusts ruffled the surface in the centre of the loch...
Within ten minutes, the wind had increased to a good F5 and by the time I was across, it was a fairly constant F6, gusting at quite a bit more. I rested in the lee of the point, ate and drank, pushed a few barley sugars into my BA pocket and set off. It was both an exciting and gruelling return trip with no chance of stopping let alone taking any photos. A fishing boat shadowed me for a short while as I bounced and pitched past Aird; I wanted to wave but had to make do with raising the paddle above my head briefly between gusts to indicate all was well before plugging on.
In fact, despite the wind the conditions, if hard work, were not overly difficult, the fetch being small but the sudden and violent nature of the squalls that affect Loch Torridon is certainly something to be aware of.

Beinn an Eoin

2011-06-27T07:29:00.000-07:00

Meaning Hill of the Bird, Beinn an Eoin is easily overlooked amongst the Torridon 'giants'. It is not a Munroe. It is not especially difficult. It is a long walk in. And, well, it's just not that obvious a summit to choose amidst the many spectacular ridges of the area.

But then, those are perhaps exactly the reasons to visit this lonely ridge which offers some very rough walking once off the track to Loch na h-Oidhche, a lovely and lengthy summit ridge and perhaps the best view of the Torridon range that there is. The shot above was taken late in the evening, from the slopes of Maol Ruadh, close to Red Point.

On the ridge, looking across the loch toward Baosbheinn.

A view of Liathach's northern corries and long ridge which I have traversed several times though I have yet to do so in winter: something to look forward to if conditions are favourable early next year.

Looking north along the ridge of Beinn an Eoin, Loch Maree beyond.
I had packed the camera away for the descent and long walk out from Poca Buidhe having descended a steepish gully from a minor col on the ridge...

...though as the sun began to set, lighting the western flanks of Slioch, I couldn't resist stopping for one last photo.

Beinn Alligin

2011-06-27T07:02:00.000-07:00

One of the best known of the Torridon summits, Bein Alligin...

...seen here from across Loch Kerry on a brighter day.
After a bleak start, the clag lifted above the summits, prompting a change of plan from low level, to high level route.

The Horns of Alligin, beyond the only level ground on the ascent of Tom na Gruagaich.

Just beneath the first summit, the main summit Sgurr Mhor and The Horns beyond.

Enroute to Sgurr Mhor, the steep flanks of Tom na Grugaich behind and Upper Loch Torridon below.

Looking down on The Horns. Perhaps rather 'over egged' by the walking guides, these pinnacles do offer some easy scrambling but any real difficulties are easily avoided, in summer conditions at least.

Looking across the Shieldaig Forest toward the dark flanks of Baosbheinn.
The descent from The Horns is unremittingly steep...

...until at last one reaches the burns below...

...where several waterfalls provide a fitting conclusion to a day of superb ridge walking and two Munroes traversing Beinn Alligin: the Jewelled Hill or Beautiful Mountain.

Torridon Panorama

2011-06-27T05:09:00.000-07:00

Beinn an Eoin is one of those mountains that is easy to overlook when surrounded by the many majestic ridges of the Torridon mountains; in fact it boasts a lovely, if rather gentle by Torridon standards, ridge of its own and is perhaps the very best place from which to view the entire range.

Frustratingly, I did not properly depress the auto-exposure lock on the first two of the five shots taken (the two right hand frames being inconsistent) but this image does at least convey something of the immense panorama from the summit.

Crummackdale

2011-06-16T04:58:00.000-07:00

Beyond the tiny hamlet of Wharfe, Crummack Dale is a tranquil valley, nestling between Ingleborough to the north west and Studrigg Scar to the east.

Amongst climbers, Studrigg Scar is known simply as Crummackdale and was one of my favourite crags for 'trad' limestone routes. The rock is suspect in places and superb in others while the protection ranges from reasonable to non existent. The routes themselves are superb, first ascents being made by many of the usual suspects including, Dennis Gray, Bonnington, Austin and Brian Evans amongst others...

Walking past the hay meadows, I remembered one gloriously long summer day when Karl and I climbed all of the HVS' and a few of the low E grade routes here, at the end of the day adding one of our own, more a variant than a new route but satisfying all the same.
I spent a while bouldering out the start of some of the routes I remembered, the moves strangely familiar albeit feeling much harder after an absence of several years and then simply sat awhile absorbed by the scene, listening to the curlews and trying to photograph these little fellows...

...LBJs (Little Brown Jobbies) as they are known among the experts.

Another LBJ.

A last view of the Dale before heading back to beat the downpour already dousing the slopes of Ingleborough.

In Amongst the Ormes

2011-06-15T06:34:00.000-07:00

A little tide and a fresh breeze combined to create lively but friendly conditions and a chance to get in amongst the Ormes' caves and rock gardens for a wonderful day's paddling.

Jim, beneath the limestone cliffs of the rather misleadingly named, Little Orme.

The limestone here is part of the Clwyd Limestone band, running from the east coast of Anglesey through to Llangollen; the rock having been shaped quite spectacularly in places...

...and, while there are numerous caves, some are more easily explored once ashore.

Paddling beneath huge boulders on the beach at Porth Dyniewaid...

...and beyond the sea washed limestone platforms...

...before heading on towards Great Orme, enjoying gentle rock hopping, weaving amongst the kelp and exploring every nook and cranny of this unique section of coastline.

Northern England & the Isle of Man

2011-06-15T05:35:00.000-07:00

Hosted by Liverpool Canoe Club, the marina was the scene for the first of a series of launch events to celebrate the release of Jim's new guidebook, Northern England & the Isle of Man - Fifty Great Sea Kayak voyages.

Typically, having just bought my copy, I won another in the raffle being held to raise funds for the RLNI.

I gave it to Chris who made a suitable donation before having it signed by Jim.

Large Damp Slacks and other Coastal Landforms

2011-06-07T12:00:00.000-07:00

Parabolic dunes, large damp slacks and shingle spits: just some of the coastal landforms for which south-west Anglesey and Llanddwyn Island are well known amongst geologists.

Jim Krawiecki, who joined us for the weekend, may not be a geologist (I didn't ask if he knew anything about large damp slacks), but he is the co-author of Welsh Sea Kayaking and an endless source of stories rooted in the folklore of this coast: great company then for two day's paddling; an 'out & back' trip between Rhoscolyn and Abermenai Point.

Leaving the crowded beach at Borthwen we were quickly amongst the rock gardens, working our way east and then south, hugging the coast to avoid the fresh north easterly.

A quick break on the skerries of Cymyran Bay preceeded near catastrophy: as we crossed toward Rhosneigr a windsurfer swept between Jim and I at high speed, leaving me only marginally more dumbstruck than Jim. Suffice to say the misguided soul was left in no doubt about the error of his ways.

St Cwyfan's church: our own confessions would have to wait, services being held here only at Easter and Christmas I believe, and locked between times.

A swift crossing of Aberfraw Bay followed before a break behind Dinas Bach; every yacht in the area having had the same idea apparently.

With the best of the paddling still to come...

...we continued, again hugging the craggy coast to avoid the wind.

Photo: Jim Krawiecki

In the lee of Pen-y-parc...

...before another blustery bay crossing to reach Llanddwyn Island.
Eventually after yet another long and blustery push across the windswept bay, we landed at the point...

... with just enough light to set up camp behind the (parabolic) dunes before sunset.

Leaving Abermenai Point at mid morning, the day has yet to decide on the weather it seems...

...a light shower giving way to a fierce sun as we pass Lladdwyn Island once more.

Negotiating the narrow channel inside Carreg-y-trai...

...after which we glided across the glassy calm waters of Cmryn Bay, this shingle spit almost catching us unawares as we cut between the small islands...

...to land after some 65km of paddling, back at the now deserted beach of Borthwen.

Jim's second sea kayaking guide, Northern England & the Isle of Man, is also now available from Pesda Press.

Ceredigion Marine Heritage Coast - Day2

2011-06-07T05:09:00.000-07:00

I had not been unduly concerned about a change in the weather overnight, but still it was a relief to wake to a still and beautiful morning on our cliff top perch.

Launching from the base of the cliffs would have become interesting had the northerly breeze freshened.

As it was, we took the tents down early and then lazed in the sun, watching the dolphins play in the quiet bay below as we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.

I'm not sure it gets much better, although I wished for a longer lens to capture the scenes below.

Back on the water, yesterday's low swell had eased although there was still enough movement in the water to enjoy some gentle rock hopping.

Dramatic rock architecture kept the interest high...

...and turning a small headland we entered this giant slot, the cave running almost 100m back into the cliffs.
Shortly after, back in the sun we turned about, to head past Ynys Lochtyn once more...

...where the dolphins were waiting. We paddled out of the flow around the headland and drifted quietly on with the tide as a mother and calf surfaced repeatedly nearby.
A tour boat was also enjoying the show, but apparently not our presence, the skipper rudely shouting that we should keep 50m away from the dolphins.
In fact we were significantly more than 50m away from the closest when we had started to drift with the tide, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth then one boisterous individual leaped clear of the water no more than a few yards from Brian's bow. No one it seemed, had bothered to tell the dolphins to keep their distance.
I pondered various replies to the arrogant skipper but held my tongue and after a short while the boat's engines roared as he sped away, to the next dolphin hot spot on his list no doubt.
My elation only slightly dampened by the self righteous tour boat skipper, we paddled slowly on, off shore now, enjoying the low lazy swell and long views along the cliffs.
A sudden commotion ahead had me alert once more: a tail hitting the surface, the dark flank and fin, and then the massive girth of a 4m dolphin leaping clear of the water...

...difficult to capture (from approximately 100m) and hard to predict where they will appear next but I was more than pleased with this shot and I will remember that moment for many years to come.

Beneath the strong afternoon sun we headed on with the tide, off shore at first and then close in, using the flow as best we could...

...occasionally entering rock gardens at the base of the cliffs...

...watched with indifference by the grey seals until, having surfed through through the channel behind Cardigan Island, and enjoyed the last of the rock gardens...

...we entered the estuary, surfing small waves over the bar to bring to an end one of the best trips I have been lucky enough to enjoy in Wales.

Ceredigion Marine Heritage Coast - Day1

2011-06-06T07:46:00.000-07:00

This section of the Welsh coast is one that I have been planning to visit for some time; one of the principal attractions being the possibility of encountering bottlenose dolphins. There are around 100 dolphins known to be resident in Cardigan Bay; their presence being one of the key factors in the formation of the Ceredigion Marine Heritage Coast.
Although I had high hopes of encountering these wonderful creatures, having only seen dolphins once before while sea kayaking, my hopes were tempered with a healthy dose of realism.

In fact, over the course of two of the best day's kayaking I have ever had in Wales, both the number and proximity of the sightings experienced, far surpassed anything I might have hoped for.

A late arrival at Cardigan meant launching and floating down a very shallow estuary channel...

...after which we were quickly amongst the rock gardens heading toward Cardigan Island.
Beyond the island the sea state quickly picked up. A low northerly swell rebounded off the cliffs and with a small amount of tide adding to the chop, it was an enjoyably wet and bouncy ride east with a brief landing at Mwnt, before we tucked in to enjoy some some of the dramatic arches and caves.
A little further off shore, eyes peeled for dolphins amidst the chop, I had resigned myself to the fact that conditions were pretty poor for a sighting. Reflected waves leaped upwards in small pinnacles as we disappeared in turn between the wave crests and troughs but beyond Aberporth the sea quickly dropped away...

...just as I caught sight of three fins. They swept past without fuss, heading west, this one breaking the surface just yards from the bow.

Elated, we continued with our own journey, beneath striking cliffs and ancient hill forts.
I appreciated just how difficult it would have been for the warriors of old to breach such defences as we looked for a means to scale the cliffs and find a camp for the night.

A little further and an easier angled section cliffs allowed for what would have been an easy enough landing with empty boats: a slightly more difficult proposition once loaded however.
Having left remarkably little gel coat on the rocks and anchored the boats to a large boulder well above the high water mark, we ferried our gear to the top.

As the late evening sun caught the cliffs it all seemed worth the effort.
A superb sunset above the Atlantic our just reward...

...and the promise of a fine day to follow giving rise to great expectations for tomorrow.

Back on the Brine

2011-05-30T16:05:00.000-07:00

Finally, after the long weeks of wind and rain, a break in the weather and a day on the sea. In fact the wet weather was forecast to persist on the east coast, meaning a change in plans, but like the rain, that's nothing new.
So, Walney once more, but as ever, this island, the eighth largest off the English coast, provided an interesting day.

Chris and Brian heading out through small surf on the west coast to some larger, lumpier stuff off shore. With the tide ebbing against a fresh north westerly, the sea was running at around 4ft but the confused waves, although steep, provided only momentary sport.

Coming back inshore we surfed the small stuff; great fun despite its modest height.
With the arrival of the sun, a break seemed appropriate; landing on the golden beach I warned Brian of the quick sands for which Morecambe Bay is notorious.

I don't think he spotted my double take when I looked back a moment later.

Other victims of the sands. I thought it was a Portuguese man o' war initially, so large was the pale body, measuring almost 2ft across.

Only marginally more mobile on the sands, the seals basked as we passed the southern end of the island, heading on toward Piel Castle and Roa Island: a familiar end to another fine day around Walney.

Eden Lacy

2011-05-27T13:48:00.000-07:00

Having cancelled another trip due to the unseasonal weather, I find myself sorting out images, burning the half decent stuff to CD and binning the rest.
Sorting out those from Kate, Jim and Sean's trip, The Cumberland Ring, I came across a few that I'd intended to use but never did: Sean making his run down the weir at Eden Lacy...

On the smooth tongue...

...before being swallowed by the stopper...

...and spat out some way downstream to work back up and cover the others' descent.
Again I find myself thinking about paddling white water, but then despite the poor weather the rivers are still low; there's the whole access issue; all that faff with shuttles; another boat and all that extra kit...
No. I'll stick to the sea. Just need the tides to be right, the wind just so, the swell within reason and then I'll pack the kit: paddles, flares, radio, pumps, maps...
Maybe I'll just go for a walk!

Out of Season

2011-05-26T16:11:00.000-07:00

Sea kayaking it seems, is out of season.
When the weather broke, near the end of our trip to the Outer Hebrides in April, it was almost a relief; suffering from sensory overload after a four day trip on the east coast, several outings in the Sound of Harris and some quite exceptional days on the west coast of Lewis, I think I just needed time to stop and take in all that we had done.
I was not overly upset therefore about the rain and strong southerlies that ruled out any chance of paddling to Mingulay. If I'd known the winds and rain would still be stopping play with June just around the corner, I might have been slightly less philosophical.
Still, whatever the weather, it's hard to ignore the light evenings and so I decided to take a few photos in an attempt to replace some of the prints that adorn the walls of my house.
I'd intended to photograph one of the less well known waterfalls hereabouts, but enroute, noticed a diminutive beck cascading from a tiny valley almost completely hidden from sight. Pushing through deep grasses and ferns amongst the beech and oak, I came across a series of minature ravines through which the beck fell...

...I quite like this shot: a secretive, sheltered spot beyond the reach of the winds that must surely ease soon. After all, four weeks is quite sufficient to deal with even the greatest of sensory overloads and after the sun and summer warmth of April, the cold winds and rain now have the feel of Autumn.
All very confusing; global warming perhaps.

Sunset Surf on the Mersey

2011-05-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

A long way from the pristine sands and Atlantic surf of the Hebrides perhaps, but an evening on the Mersey made for some great fun surfing until sunset.

Heading out...

...towards the wind farms and the bigger waves further off shore (steep and around 4 to 5ft initially)

...long fast rides eventually bringing us back inshore...

...to finish the evening just as the sun set.

Outer Hebrides: Toe Head & Copaigh

2011-05-16T06:20:00.000-07:00

Our penultimate paddle and a fitting conclusion to our Hebridean adventures, to kayak around the foot, indeed the toe, of Harris.

Leaving Leverburgh on a blustery and cold morning, the day quickly brightened, and after some gentle play in the ebb tide draining An t-Ob...

...we enjoyed some relaxed rock hopping en route to the idyllic bay of Traigh na Cleabhaig.

Here, a ruined croft overlooks the western reaches of The Sound of Harris and the white sands below. I could have sat here all day but the headland, Gob An Tobha, was calling.

This is a wonderful stretch of coastline which we explored in detail entering both small caves...

...and some truly cavernous openings in the cliffs.

The arch at the western extremity of Toe Head was perhaps the highlight, from which we crossed quickly to the small island of Copaigh.

Seals basked in the spring sun as I drifted quietly past...

...before landing in a small inlet to take in the wide views; the Atlantic on one side and a long view down The Sound, so littered in islands and skerries as to appear more like land than water.
It is a curious phenomenon of the Hebrides, that when kayaking it seems there is more land than water, and when ashore, the combination and abundance of freshwater lochs, sea lochs and open ocean appears to overwhelm the islands quite completely.
Our last day was spent amongst the islands at the eastern end of The Sound. Deliberately, I took no pictures, enjoying the paddling without distraction, committing the scene to memory just as surely as the camera could ever capture.
If you have already visited the Outer Hebrides, then you will know how much more there is to see. If you have not, then you should, for here there is world class sea kayaking amidst such wild beauty that it is quite impossible to find words which adequately describe what you will find.

Outer Hebrides: Scarp

2011-05-16T04:06:00.000-07:00

Scarp is one of those very special islands, its coastline offering all that is best about sea kayaking.

Indeed, this was a trip which for me, was on par with paddling around Papa Stour or out to Muckle Flugga in Shetland.

That is not to say that it is similar, Scarp being entirely different in character to any of the Shetland Isles, but rather that these are committing journeys around wild shores upon which the ocean swell breaks...

...as sea eagles soar above.

It is the kind of sea kayaking that will leave memories imprinted in the mind for many years.

Journey around Scarp and you will find the mind's eye returning to the white sands, the green waves, the foam flecked swells...

...rugged cliffs and deep caves will draw you in...

...just as surely as the beauty of calm coves will draw you back.

It is the essence of sea kayaking.

Outer Hebrides: High on Harris

2011-05-13T15:58:00.000-07:00

It seemed crazy: calm seas, light winds, not a cloud in the sky...

...but after 7 days paddling beneath the dramatic summits of both South Uist and Harris as well as Lewis, it was perhaps inevitable that I would want to be up amongst them.
And so our eighth day was declared a rest day, sort of. An Cliseam is after all the highest of the hebridean summits and while 799m may not seem much to those more used to the 1000m peaks of the mainland, it is climbed from sea level and if approached from the south as we did, mostly across rough ground with no track.

In no rush we climbed first into the corrie beneath Mo Buidhe...

...before leaving the track and breaking up onto the shoulder of Mulla-Fo-Dheas, and a short stop. It was a rest day after all.

Continuing briefly on level ground with striking views of the western corries and summits, we were soon climbing steeply once more.

A golden eagle provided another welcome excuse to pause as the huge bird soared first below and then high above.

A last steep climb across boulder fields of rough loose blocks and the views were opening up in all directions...

...Loch A Siar and Taransay far below.

The dramatic ridge of Mulla-Fo-Tuath, unfortunately in the wrong direction...

...though the steep drop to the coll to gain the ridge leading to An Cliseam proved entertaining in sections.

Further scrambling: a fun if avoidable route to reach the summit cairn...

...and long views of distant summits and deep colls.

The summit team! Left to Right: Mike, Chris, myself, Tim.
The descent was steep requiring sufficient concentration to temporarily forget it was a rest day...

...leading soon enough to our starting point: the old whaling station of Loch Bun Abhainn Eadarra.
Whether or not we were rested, I was certainly refreshed and keen to return to the water, our next objective, the island of Scarp.

Outer Hebrides: Beyond Great Bernera - Day2

2011-05-13T14:47:00.000-07:00

Waking to the sound of the sea washing on the sands below, I unzipped the tent and sat for a moment, watching tiny waves break on the beach; oyster catches strutting at the water's edge; the wind, gentle gusts ruffling the bay.

Beyond, Flodaigh and the islands to its north, our first objective for the day.

Leaving Bostadh and the breeze has freshened; heading east we pushed through the narrow channel, Camas Bostadh where the wind funnelled fiercely, forcing heads down as we pulled out to meet a white capped sea running from Loch Rog an Ear.

Turning north again we surfed in behind the skerries and entered the tranquil, unspoilt haven between Benera Beg and Cealasaigh.

I paddled slowly, absorbing the scene ahead. White sands glinted beyond turquoise waters...

...we had been on the water for less than an hour and yet it was impossible not to land and sit, at least for a while, in this incredible place.

As the others explored the lagoon I scrambled up above the dunes...

...every so often looking back and being stopped in my tracks each time, so arresting was the scene below.
With the best part of the day's paddling still to do, I tore myself reluctantly from the beach, now heading north west, on, towards the outermost island, Seana Chnoc.
In rapidly growing seas, now exposed to the swell, we turned in to run between the islands. With the westerly swell being funnelled into this narrow passage and with a F5 and some tide running against it, the sea state was rapidly increasing. The lumpy confused water of our approach to these outliers gave way to steep breaking waves as we committed to the channel. Bracing as a particularly steep wave reared up behind, the boat suddenly plunged into the trough burying the bow and for a second I thought I would be looped...
It passed quickly, the bow kicking free despite the load within and then suddenly we were through.

Beyond Bearasaigh the swell was still appreciable but now gentle by comparison; still, we gave the wild cliffs a respectable berth, no rock hopping out here!

As we returned towards Flodaigh the wind eased, the sun warmed and I relaxed...

...playing in the more sheltered rock gardens beyond.

I returned to take charge of the camera...

...as we tried to capture something of the essence of this wild place as waves washed the skerries, foam streaking the seas beneath the grandeur of Lewis' western hills.
Soon enough we turned south west, crossing An Caolas accompanied by puffins and gannets, heading for the northern headland of Pabaigh Beag...

...with its arch and lagoon beyond.
Off Pabaigh Mor's western cliffs, amidst the reefs the swell heaved and crashed and once more we were amidst broiling waters...

...before entering the calm of Caolas Phabaigh to return to the long white sands of Bhaltos and the end of a truly incredible journey on the edge of the Atlantic.

Outer Hebrides: Beyond Great Bernera - Day1

2011-05-13T13:19:00.000-07:00

Throughout our crossing of the Sound of Harris the previous day the weather had steadily improved until by late evening, the makings of a fine sunset held the promise of a fine spell to follow. We were not disappointed. Driving north from Leverbergh on a fine morning, there can be few who manage not to stop; certainly our journey was delayed more than once by the indescribable beauty of the beaches and islands the road passes.

Eventually we arrived at Bhaltos, not far from Gallan Head, in the north west of Lewis. Standing amongst the dunes above Traigh na Beirigh, we looked across white sands and clear shallow waters surrounding the inner islands, towards the deep blue of the Atlantic...

With the boats loaded for two days amongst the rugged outlying islands of Lewis, we launched, following the curve of the beach...

...heading for the northern tip of Fuaidh Mor.

Already the westerly swell was making itself felt, though for now it was gentle enough to allow for some entertaining rock hopping...

...with half an eye open for the bigger sets.
Heading north along the west coast of Great Benera we explored the craggy shore in detail, until passing inside the small island of Greineam...

...we emerged behind a large reef being hammered by the swell.

In the chop behind the reef, I watched in awe as waves crashed beyond sending foaming cascades across the dark rock, spray flying, showering the boats.

It was a wonderful display and awe inspiring when the benign conditions of the day, in comparison to those of a big sea, were acknowledged.
We dallied awhile before heading north again...

...beneath the clean, wave washed cliffs of gneiss, before rounding the north west point of Great Benera as the light began to fail. We had intended to camp on Benera Beg but the steep boulder beach of our chosen site seemed far less appealing than the white sands of Bostadh and so we turned in, landing easily in this sheltered bay...
...for a superbly situated camp...

...and a 5 star view from the tent.

Having visited the replica Iron Age house, unfortunately locked (not with an Iron Age replica)...

...we watched the sunset beyond the islands of Flodaigh, Bearasaigh and Seana Chnoc; charismatic names to capture the spirit of this wild place, the rugged edge of the Atlantic.