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Secret Money Tree Kayaking where money grows on trees. There is a tree, accessible only by boat, into which for decades people have driven coins. It’s bark now bristles with corroding coinage. Most are old pennies but there are many new two pence pieces and at least one 2002 Golden Jubilee memorial medal. I’m told it once featured on a television programme in which the precise location of the tree was kept secret. I intend to do the same, and will make no more mention of this curious phenomenon, but careful reading of this article ought to give you enough of a hint to seek it out for yourself. Easter 2004 felt like the start of summer. The weather forecast was delightfully wrong, and although cloud hung around the mountains, it parted elsewhere giving excellent sea kayaking conditions. It’s wasn’t hot, but with the sun on our backs we felt warm for the first time in ages. Diabaig – Wester Alligin Diabaig is one of those picture postcard places. A circular bay is ringed by sombre grey mountains, with a small harbour and a tidy line of cottages that have now sprawled up the hill. When the BBC is looking for another early Sunday evening drama, a sort of “Hamish-Kissangel-of-the-great-and small-Glen”, then any writer visiting this location will find inspiration. If Torridon feels “remote”, come here. Drive forty minutes into a cul-de-sac and Diabaig sits at the very end, a Scottish Ultima Thule. This was our first proper sea paddle of the year, and it certainly felt like it. Once out of the harbour, it took me a while to feel comfortable in the rhythm of the waves, especially when they came from the side during a turn. I was snappy with Liz, because I still feel happier in mountains than on the sea, but eventually my confidence returned and I relaxed into the activity. Curving east, we entered Loch Torridon with the sea pushing from behind, riding the small waves towards the point where the loch narrows. Occasional houses, some built of stone others of wood, popped their roofs from behind rocks and stands of trees. What locations! The CalMac tour boat Hebridean Princess was moored in Loch Sheildaig where it had spent the previous night. The radio crackled into life as it called Stornoway Coast Guard to announce its departure. Around one more headland, and we were paddling into the bay in front of Wester Alligin, which appears on most maps as Alligin Shuas. Our friends have a house here, and we knew they were visiting, so we telephoned. “See those two kayaks in the bay?” I asked. “Yessss” came the reply. “One of the kayaker’s is waving?” “Yes!” “Well, that’s us – put the kettle on and we’ll see you in a moment.” One good lunch and several hours later, we paddled out of the bay to cross into Loch Sheildaig, when we met two other sea kayakers coming in the other direction. We’d seen them in their car yesterday, driving in the opposite direction on a stretch of single track road, and now we recognised each other from our boats. It seems there was quite a gathering of sea paddlers at the Torridon campsite. We pressed on into Loch Sheildaig, rounded the island and paddled back across the bay. Because of our long lunch we didn’t return to Diabaig until 6.30pm, but the sea was calm and the evening light was wonderful. The first paddle of the year was superb. Gairloch – Port Henderson Finding a place to launch in Gairloch proved harder than we expected. Big Sand has a lovely beach and campsite, but we wanted to paddle around the southern shore of the loch. We checked out a pier near the main shops, but it was covered in very slippery seaweed, so we drove around to Gairloch Harbour, near the Old Inn, and found a much gentler slope. Liz was raring to go, but my arms were feeling a little wobbly after yesterdays effort. We crossed to Badachro, meandered gently through the islands, then started the haul around to Port Henderson. This wasn’t our initial destination, we just wanted to see how far down this coast we could paddle and still feel we’d be able to make it back. Red Point was our ultimate goal, but I knew my arms weren’t up to that, not this early in the season. When we saw Port Henderson had a beach, Liz and I decided we’d haul up for lunch. I went in first, attempting my first landing in moderate surf. It was not the most elegant of arrivals! Pathetic beginner that I am, I was desperately trying to remember whether to stern rudder or edge, when the physics of the wave took over, turned me sideways, and dumped a load of water over my head and pushed me sideways up the beach. Such are the joys of learning. Naturally, Liz proved much more adept at this manoeuvre than I had, something which is rapidly becoming a pattern. There’s something wonderful about sitting on a deserted stretch of machair, with a warming drink, tasty food and a fabulous view across a beautiful bay. It’s only improved by being with the person you love. And in this case, with the added frisson of wondering how on earth we were going to get out again through the surf! We counted the waves, which appeared to arrive in “sets” of six, with a good two minutes of calm in between. This was the time to hit. So we floated Liz’s boat and installed her (her too tight spray deck needs two people – we have to change this) and when the time was right out she went. Within the two minute window I dashed to my boat, but as the spray deck was going on I saw the wave height start to rise. Should I stay or go? I went. The first wave started to turn me and I had to brace by stayed upright. Good, or at least, better than my last efforts. I was even more prepared for the second wave. I hit it at full tilt, my bow cutting into its face so the full force of the water smacked me square in my body and face. Apparently, it looked good, but we’ve no photos to prove it. The main thing was… we were at sea. We retraced our route into Loch Gairloch, using a small island in the bay as a reference point, then came into the harbour. As we were packing up, yet another sea kayaker arrived. David Queen had paddled around from Big Sand and was stopping for a drink in the pub before heading back. He was with a group of sea kayakers – it seems Gairloch area is THE place for sea paddlers in Scotland this weekend. Loch Maree This beautiful fresh water loch is studded with islands. We’ve driven past it on many occasions and decided this would offer an easy last day before a drive back to Glasgow. Slatterdale picnic area seemed the best launch point, with plenty of parking space and toilets. A short paddle took us into a small maze of islands, each separated by a narrow channel, well mapped on the Ordnance Survey sheet for this area (19). Most islands are heavily wooded. Ancient Caledonian pines cling precariously to the rocks, their roots seeming to rise out of the barest covering of soil. This area is steeped in history, and I’ve drawn heavily on an article in a 1995 edition of Wester Ross Life for the following information. “Loch Maree and its neighbour Loch Ewe are believed to have been one sea loch in days gone by, which might explain why the village at the head of Loch Maree is called Kinlochewe. The loch is named after the saint, Maelrubha, who founded a monastery at Applecross in 673ad and later made his home on Isle Maree. After his death in 722, his cell on the island was occupied by his followers of generations, standing in a circular druidical enclosure surrounded by trees, an enclosure which can be seen to this day.” A number of legends are associated with the Isle Maree. A visit here was meant to cure madness, when it was accompanied by a dunking in the loch itself, the waters of which were held to have healing powers. A pair of Viking lovers are said to be buried on the island after a misunderstanding – she was meant to raise a white flag when he sailed back home to signal all was well but, doubting his fidelity, she raised a black one instead. Her lover killed himself, and in grief, she did the same. Two smooth stones inscribed with mediaeval crosses are said to be where they’re buried. The islands of Loch Maree are an easy paddle, ideal for a short day or when the sea is too rough. I’ve since been told there may be restrictions on paddling on this loch, but I saw no signs and was given no indication of this by the landowner while I was there. However, to keep things right I better state that this article can in no way encourage, endorse or recommend taking a boat onto Loch Maree. PHOTOS