SimonWillis.co.uk

HOME NEWSPAPERS MAGAZINES WEB SITE EXCLUSIVE VIDEO BBC EMAIL

Sleeping Dogs Lie A three day route taking in the Grey Dogs, the Garvellach Islands and the Bridge over the Atlantic. It was during the second day I came closest to disaster. I’d pulled into what I thought was a bay to change the GPS batteries. My day hatch was open, boxes were open on deck and I’d stuffed the new batteries in my mouth while opening the GPS unit. Suddenly Liz yelled, “Look where you’re going!” The bay was only a slight curve in the shore leading inexorably to a fast tidal race, into which I was about to drift, backwards. I jammed the boxes back into the hatch and paddled furiously to escape the grasp of the tide, with the ends of the four batteries still sticking out of my mouth. Liz nearly capsized laughing at this sight, which I thought rather churlish, until she explained. “You were so manic, and with those batteries in your gob, you looked like the kayaking Duracell bunny!” I think this area is scary. I know fear is not an emotion to which sea kayakers are supposed to admit, but I suspect I’m not alone. Oh it looks inviting enough on the map, until you see words like ‘Correyvreckan whirlpool’ and ‘Grey Dogs’. Then you read the guidebooks. They describe capricious tides, changing direction on a whim and at frightening speed. At this point in my research I’d always considered it prudent to close the guidebook, fold the map and put them both back on the bookcase for another day. Finally that day came, and the result was a superb three-day tour with more varied paddling than I’d normally experience in three months. Day One: Arduaine to Garvellachs 25km The name ‘Grey Dogs’ apparently comes from rock formations on the north of the gap that are said to look like the heads of two dogs. It has also been said the ghosts of drowned sailors are chased along the cliffs by the spirit of a grey dog that belonged to Prince Breachan of Lochlann and to escape its fangs they must confess their sins. All of which is colourful, but not all that helpful when you really want to know is when to paddle it. On this subject, the guidebooks offer understated advice such as “make sure you get your timings right”. If you strip out the tales and read between the lines what they’re really saying is, “if you can’t be certain of getting it right - stay away”. Intimidation is piled onto uncertainty when different sources give different times for slack water. Confusingly, they all could be right! The Imray guide warns “even local fishermen say they don’t know to within an hour either side of the expected time when it will turn”. It seems you have to stick your nose in the Grey Dogs’ kennel; if it gets licked go through; if it gets bitten, retreat. We launched at Arduaine, paddled south of Shuna and Luing, and pulled into the small rocky bay at Ban Rubha to wait for slack water. We watched a pod of dolphins cruise past but couldn’t see what was happening in the Dogs so, full of hope and trepidation, we launched early. When things get tricky I tense up. So when I found myself in the middle of the Dogs, turning around to take a photo of Liz, I realised things must be going well. Whisper it softly, but this was easy. We were mid-way between springs and neaps, probably in the last half hour of the ebb tide with the flow slightly against us, and with very little wind to impede our progress or jack up the sea. The dogs rolled over and let us tickle their tummies. “Let’s go for the long crossing to the Garvellachs”, I proclaimed, emboldened by success. All the way I marvelled at the seamanship of the monks who, in 542AD used these waters as we use roads. (How did they work out the time of slack water?) They certainly found a special place in Eileach an Naoimh, the most southerly of what we now know as the Garvellachs, or the Islands of the Sea. No one is entirely sure who built the first church but it’s thought to have been St Brendan of Confert, the Uncle of St Columba. We looked around the remains of the monastery, which is similar to others established by Irish monks on remote islands and headlands in the 6th to 8th centuries and which has been tentatively linked to the large monastery on Iona. It was abandoned during the Viking raids in the 9th century, but became a place of pilgrimage and more ecclesiastical buildings were constructed. Some of the monks’ cells are in the shape of stone beehives that you can crawl inside. Give me a good tent any day. Day two: Garvellachs to Seil 25km “Like paddling inside a Tupperware box”, is how Liz described the following morning, as the high pressure squeezed a lid onto the low cloud. Yesterday we could see land on almost every horizon and these islands didn’t seem remote, but not now. Sky and sea merged into a marine white-out. Isolated in our floating cloud we relied on the GPS to cross to Eilean Dubh Beag and Mor, the Black Islands. At three hundred metres distance their solid forms conjured themselves out of the mist, which suddenly evaporated, rewarding us with a glorious view north to the lighthouse on Fladda. This was when I had my Duracell bunny moment. We’d stumbled across another tidal phenomenon lurking on the North end of Rubha Fiola, a river-in-the-sea. This tidal race carried us north for a good few hundred metres until we could break out and battle our way back on course. I’m very grateful to Tony Hammock of Sea Freedom Kayak for later explaining what on earth was happening (see Sea Briefing). The tidal fun-and-games weren’t over. Crossing the Sound of Luing, it felt like mischievous water-sprites were kicking our boats, doing all they could to push and pull us off course. The passage isn’t particularly narrow but its shallow uneven seabed combines with the fast moving tide to create sudden rushes of water and powerful up-wellings. We then had to eddy hop through the skerries of Poll Gorm, so it was quite a relief to get into the open water past Cullipool. It was slack water as we crossed the mouth of the Cuan Sound, cut through Easdale Sound, and eventually hauled up in the rock-pools of Sloc an t-Siomain for a late lunch. It felt a long day, so we found an island north of Seil, inhabited only by a few goats and a pair of geese, and set up camp. Day three: Seil to Arduaine 17km From the bird song to the scenery, the Clachan Sound felt like cruising down a river, except we passed under the famous “Bridge over the Atlantic”. Alongside is the Tigh na Truish Inn, the House of the Trousers, where a supply of such garments were once kept. After the Jacobite rising, when wearing of the kilt was banned, rebellious islanders would change into trousers borrowed from the inn before heading to the mainland. Or that’s the myth at least. As we emerged into Seil Sound dark clouds gathered to the south and the wind began to rise. Cutting inside Torsa, we found another strange tidal stream; the ebb tide through the Cuan Sound was eddying back around the north of this island and we had to push against it until we reached the south-going flow by Torsa Beag. Emerging from Ardinamir Bay, the wind had whipped up a beam sea, and we hopped from Scoul Eilean to Shuna to Eilean Creagach, landing back at Arduaine. There’s a complimentary relationship between skill and confidence, each helping to reinforce the other. Given the conditions, we probably had the skill to complete this route before now, but not the confidence to know we’d cope if those conditions deteriorated. After four years paddling, I still find this area scary, and perhaps that’s how it should be. Approach the Grey Dogs with respect, or they’ll bite. Sea Briefing – cut out and keep Much of the published information about this area is designed for owners of yachts and power boats, so before we went I discussed the hazards with Tony Hammock of SeaFreedomKayak.co.uk. Here Tony explains how to catch each tricky section at its most benign. He has deliberately not listed the tidal stream timings as it’s important you research these for yourself in the Admiralty Pilot, Imray or other guide where you’ll read lots of other important information. No one can predict every eventuality or change in the weather or tide, so if you’re in any doubt, then leave it until another day. Or pay Tony to take you. Gulf of Corryvreckan OS:55 GR:690020 Not part of the route described here but a key feature of the area. The gap between Jura and Scarba has a worldwide reputation because of the whirlpool that forms in the north west of the passage and which should be avoided. Likewise, if a wind of any force is blowing from the west give this a miss unless you want to be in waves big enough to be visible from the mainland. Heading west, go at neaps when there is little swell or wind from the west, and run through on the end of the flood tide so the current will be dropping and turning so if you want come back the tide will help. Enter the gulf nearer to Jura and be alert for many variable eddies. The Dorrus Mor OS: 62 GR: 756985 As implied by its name “The Great Door”, a huge tide roars between the island of Garbh Reisa and Craignish Point. If a west or north west wind is blowing, then it is best avoided by cutting through the smaller islands to the south. Giving the Dorus Mor a wide berth to avoid being sucked in. With no wind, it’s just a big, fast ride, so pick a state and time of tide to suit your ability. If in doubt, choose neaps and slack water. Aim for the middle of the stream to avoid being caught in the large eddies but be aware the flood can easily carry you into the Gulf of Corryvreckan The Grey Dogs OS:55 GR:710071 Bealach a’Choin Ghlais, also known as ‘Little Corryvreckan’ is the narrow gap between Scarba and Lunga. Heading west, go at neaps when there is little swell or wind from the west. If you’re heading to the Garvellachs you might run through at the very end of the ebb or start of the flood so the building current takes you out to the islands. Slack water can be an hour or more before tables predict so go early and wait. Cuan Sound OS:55 GR:752144 This is the narrow gap between Luing and the mainland at Cuan and it has an unusual tidal phenomenon. The tide goes from slack to full power in the first hour, making slack water important to hit but difficult to predict. On the ebb this passage is relatively safe because there are rarely any waves, just some eddies, and if you capsize you’ll be swept inshore. On the flood you’ll encounter more rough water, especially if it’s against a north-westerly wind. Either way, watch out for the ferry! Sound of Luing OS:55 GR: 720100 The passage to the west of Luing erupts with boils at most states of the tide. It's all to do with the bottom. The water is being forced up the sound of Jura which is 100 meters deep, and through the Luing narrows where it is only1 5meters deep in places and very uneven. It must confuse the fish. Fiola/Ormsa water jet OS:55 GR: 713112 This narrow jet of water runs NNW from the tip of Fiola past the SW side of Ormsa. It can be good fun or very alarming depending on your point of view. It theoretically starts running NNW as part of the flood 4 hours 30 minutes after high water, but as happens so often in the gaps around here, I have often noticed that the tides turn much earlier than the tide tables or Imray pilot suggest. Just be ready for it. Fladda Eddy OS: 55 GR:720124 A whomping great eddy of variable size and intensity. In a calm sea at Springs it generates surf-able waves in various directions, but in a west to north west wind it can be quite vicious. I have hit 11 knots on a spring flood tide here. If you try to paddle directly from the Garvellachs to Easedale on the flood tide you will find that it tries to sweep you out Northwards into the Firth of Lorne.