Part of a series of posts in which I explore some of the fascinating travel journals which have lain previously unread in the archives as well as my own travel journals which reflect those of my fellow travellers of times gone by. Come with me as I travel beyond the stores and out into the wilds...
I've found that the only time I feel inspired to take the trouble of keeping a diary is when I go on a holiday which takes the form of some kind of adventure or expedition. It just seems natural to at least log progress on such journeys, as a useful record for planning future adventures, if nothing else. It never seems enough though, just to log the facts and figures alone, and I invariably end up giving quite a detailed account of my experiences day by day.
I am clearly not alone in this as often the only kind of diaries found in family archives are travel diaries, recording a particular trip or holiday. A big difference now, of course, is that we have replaced the prolific letter writing of the nineteenth century with texts and messaging and I am certainly no longer so used to writing by hand as they would have been. But apart from that, there is really not much difference at all and writing the log on my canoe trip gave me a double connection with the author of the "Log of the Gnat", my fellow canoeist from over one hundred and fifty years earlier.
I find It's a fairly pleasant activity to do on trips where there is inevitably plenty of time to sit around with not much to do. The fact that I am having to stay off my phone means I have to remember to take a note pad with me. The experience of reverting to pen and paper considerably slows down my writing speed and I am forced to spend more time in the presence of each observation rather than just dash ahead to the next. I must admit I find this a little frustrating at first but I gradually get into the groove as I am forced to slow down both my writing and my thinking.
Typing up my hand-written notes into this blog post also proved an enjoyable exercise. Not only did I get to read my own diary for the first time since writing it, reliving my experiences whilst on the trip, but I could also connect my words up with some of the photographs I took at the time, a very satisfying activity.
My companion on this trip was Robin, my long-suffering husband (suffering as in dealing with all my untethered enthusiasm, though of course he is incredibly lucky to have me to share his adventures with!). He prefers to share his adventures as videos which you can find on his YouTube channel. If you're lucky, by the time you click on this link he will have posted some videos from our Loch Shiel expedition. We'll have to forgive him if not, editing does take time.
I've beaten him to it with this account of our week-long expedition across the lochs and coast of the Scottish highlands, in our Old Town Discovery canoe. I hope you enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. But most of all I hope it might inspire you to head out on your own adventures and create your own travel diaries...
Day One: Sunday 21 May 2023
Sat waiting on the shore of Loch Shiel at Glenfinnan. A view across the water to the monument, the blue and white of the Scottish flag fluttering on the “Loch Shiel Cruise Trip” boat in between. Our old faithful Old Town Canadian Canoe sitting on the jetty all packed up and ready for launch. Three large blue plastic barrels – barrel no. 1 cooking stuff; barrel no. 2 food supplies (hopefully enough to keep us going for a week as no shops en route to resupply); barrel no. 3 bedding. Also several waterproof bags for all our clothes etc. All secured to the boat – just in case.
All is calm. All is well. I do hope it stays that way!
Weather cloudy but dry – only a bit of rain forecast for Wednesday, so happy with that. More important perhaps is the wind. We know from experience how hairy it can get even close to the loch shore if the wind gets up and channels down the valleys across the water. That’s fear no. 1.
The other is that our route, planned to allow us to complete almost a full circuit, requires us to not only navigate a river but also to follow that out to sea (yes, I know, on the Canadian, our old bus!) so we can sneak up the coast and back inland on the next loch up. This will take us up to Lochailort where Robin has just gone to park the van up – so that’s just a short one stop along on the train back to Glenfinnan where we’re starting from. Robin assures me he’s scheduled us a nice relaxed pace with plenty of time to explore, picnic etc – thinking we’ll journey over the course of six to seven days. Sounds like a great plan to me – we’ll see…
The locals have been very friendly so far, not that we’re likely to see many once we get going. Our first stop over the border was at Fort William to get a few last-minute supplies, including a bottle of whisky that we thought would be nice to take just for a small tot of an evening and thought we’d rather buy up here in Scotland. We were stood by the bottle trying to decide which to go for (basically the cheapest Scottish single malt) when a local broad accented Scotsman helped us out by saying “ya can’t go wrong with a Speyside” which was great as that was the cheapest one anyway.
Last night we stayed in the van parked up in a pleasant enough spot, apart from the fact that it wasn’t pleasant at all, due to the infestation of midges. Fear no. 3 (final one I think – apart from the unknown and unexpected, no point worrying about those though, or really, not possible to worry about those!). We tried to keep them out the van but without success. It was quite amusing us both clapping our hands everywhere in a mostly vain attempt to squash them not so amusing in the middle of the night when Robin was causing a much greater disturbance to me than the midges, the interior light on clapping his hands manically underneath it!).
Anyway, we had a pleasant enough meal sealed relatively safely in the van – vegan mushroom stroganoff with rice and peas, ready meal from Morrisons at Fort William. Very tasty and it went down very well with the bottle of red we decided to treat ourselves to, we are on holiday after all – oh yes, and a Gu salted caramel dessert. Didn’t have far to go to climb into the back and under the duvet for an early night.
Slept reasonably well (other than occasional episodes of applauding the midges) but up and awake by 5 (as I have been in the habit of doing of late) so made us a cup of tea. All done very carefully on the tiny stove on the pop-up table in the van. I had brought a book with me to leave in the van for reading either end of our canoe trip, but having realised that it was my last chance to use my phone and still be able to charge it for a week (except from the one power pack we were taking) decided to make the most of that and browse some news articles etc. I’m enjoying keeping up and exploring what’s going on in the world at the moment, so will be interesting to see how I get on without being able to. Will have to keep phone use to a minimum, although will need to keep it switched on for taking photos. Robin has his Go Pro and Drone so hopefully will have enough charge for those as it will be fun to make a video record of our trip.
Well, he should be back fairly soon. The sun is just trying to break through and I’m very much looking forward to getting afloat.
A couple of people have just come to the jetty to launch their boats and asked about our trip. Helped me to move the canoe over – realised how heavy it is and warned me that we might need to carry in a couple of places on the river as the water is very low. It’s normally okay if you wait for high tide (as Robin had told me). We would definitely have to unload some stuff first and do in more than one go so I hope we won’t have to carry it far (okay, so I guess that has been fear no. 4). We were also reminded of fear no. 5 as they mentioned ticks as well as midges. At least we are prewarned. And hopefully they won’t actually cause any significant issues. We’ll see.
5.00pm.
Perfect. So perfect.
Just a few hours into our trip and I couldn’t ask for more. We finally launched around 11.30am. Any fear of the canoe being overladen drifted away as we were well afloat with plenty of clearance.
We started by heading in the opposite direction up to the very head of the loch, where the monument to Bonnie Prince Charlie stands, with the famous “Harry Potter” viaduct nestling in the hills beyond. After a short stop there we began our trip in earnest, heading south-west down the loch towards the sea. We didn’t go far before we stopped off again as wanted to at least touch down on the first island of our journey. The loch was calm enough although there was a bit of a head wind as expected. It did get a bit choppy when we crossed over a bit further along, with a significant swell with the canoe banging down over the waves a couple of times and we did take a little water on board though not much – was grateful for everything being in waterproof bags or barrels. But I’m no doubt making it sound more dramatic than it was. We’ll stick to the shoreline as much as possible but also was not really a problem crossing over, you just feel a little more vulnerable out there.
Anyway, the main thing to say is we ended up doing very little paddling today – the reason being that we found a perfect lunch spot were we enjoyed a couple of hours (swim, fire, boodle and courgette lunch, cup of tea, harmonica) then very shortly afterwards a beach that was so idyllic and perfect for camping that we really had no choice but to stay!
A large shale beach in its own little bay with a small flat grass area at the top perfect for pitching the tent, a large stone fire-pit with a very comfortable tree trunk beside it. And views to die for. Apparently we’re at a place called “Rubha Dubh” (two and a half miles of paddling so far). The great thing is, we have plenty of time so can enjoy the luxury of spontaneous stops and long encampments and lunch, which is, after all, the fun bit.
This camping spot is just so perfect. Such a beautiful view, such a beautiful bay and such a perfect spot for making camp. One of the great things about wild camping being perfectly acceptable and legitimate in Scotland is there’s no waiting until dusk to put up your tent. So, tent’s up, firewood collected and fire started, sitting in the early evening sun, which has decided to warm us with its presence, a cuckoo sings, the water laps on the shore. Perfect.
Day Two: Monday (22 May)
6.20pm
Our first full day out on our expedition and all’s well – with just about the right amount of effort and adventure. I knew we had to get stuck in and do a decent amount of paddling today to cover the ten miles needed and I can certainly feel it in my shoulder muscles. But here I’m sitting once again on our own little shingle beach, the sun on my face, a fair breeze (so no midges) and a wonderful panoramic view. The tent is up (freestanding on the beach, with a few large rocks to hold down the pegs), firewood gathered and fire started ready for our evening meal.
This morning our perfect spot was not quite so perfect as the still morning air brought with it thick clouds of midges – I opened up the tent to get out and promptly closed it again! Luckily we’d come prepared and I was very pleased to be able to put on my midge net over my hat and face before venturing back out again. Not ideal as you feel a little cut off from the world but definitely worth it. I wish I’d put our midge spray on sooner as the bites I’d gained from the previous night were still irritating me. Anyway, with our midge protection on we could make ourselves a morning cup of tea. We brought the little gas stove and a few cylinders to use when we didn’t want to make a fire, like in the morning.
I had determined to go for a swim in the loch every day. Yesterday I went in at our lunchtime stop. It took me a little by surprise as when I waded around in the shallows it felt pleasantly warm so when I launched myself in the deeper bit for a swim, I’d stupidly not expected the icy shock of lake swimming. Still, not as icy as Coniston Water was back in January. Anyway, the shock is apparently the bit that is good for you and I soon settled my breathing and enjoyed a good swim around.
I decided morning might be the best time to do my swims. I nearly changed my mind to leave it until midday today but then realised I couldn’t miss out on swimming I our beautiful little bay. There was even a small bit of sand leading down into the water so I could go in without my sandals. I also realised there was no point getting any clothes wet, even the running vest I use for swimming in. So I went from being clothed from head to toe, including midge net, to heading au naturel into the water. Wonderfully free and felt so natural. We really are out hear on our own, haven’t seen a soul since we left Glenfinnan, except for a couple of distant boats by the salmon farms.
So started my day with tea, then yoga, then swim. The wared up with some porridge. Perfect.
We set off around ten, feeling ready to get some paddling in.
We’ve seen a good range of different conditions out on the water through the day, often changing without warning. It was almost as calm as a millpond when we set off. Well, the surface had that wonderful smooth silky texture, with gently swirling patterns. It felt wonderfully calming and peaceful.
As we made our way down the loch along the righthand shore we encountered choppier waters, and sometimes a well would come and the water splash over the sides a little. It got a little hairy but nothing too bad. We tried to stick close to the shore most the time. The wind would suddenly whip up with no warning and then shortly after it would be calm again. We did notice that it usually got rougher when clouds covered the sun and calmer when the sun came out. We weren’t sure how much it was that or how much it was affected by the contours of the loch and surrounding hills. We concluded it was probably a bit of both.
We had a stop about 11.30 (after 3 miles) for a rest and some fruit, nuts and seed mix as a snack. It was a lovely little beach and the sun came out as we lay back against the rocks to rest. We stopped again for lunch which today was peanut butter with peppers in wraps, which is going to be our lunch for several days to come! Good fuel anyway. We had noodles yesterday for lunch but mostly as I wanted something warm after my swim.
By lunch today we had done five and a half miles, some of it harder than other bits. Hard work when the wind got up and not really any chance to take a break from paddling hard. But it feels good to be putting some effort into the journey.
Our destination was at ten miles and was supposed to be another lovely beach stop on the north shore (right hand side). We were getting pretty tired when we reached the headland we were aiming for. We’d passed a gorgeous looking beach a little while before, a long stretch of shingles, with large white rocks, including a pile of boulders with a Mediterranean looking tree growing out. We’d also passed a couple of remote little white cottages, first one on the far side and then one on our side which I took a photo of. I’m not sure about what lies beyond the hills surrounding the loch but we think these would only be accessible by boat. What a lovely place to stay!
Anyway, we finally reached what we thought would be our destination (opposite the mouth of the river Polloch). But as we came round the headland we spotted a small yellow sign on a board on the shore. We pulled in to see what it said, even though that was a bit tricky as we had to turn across the swell. I had to disembark and walk onto the shore to read more than the “Please stop” in larger letters at the top. It told us that we shouldn’t land in the bay (ironic as we’d only come to read the sign!) due to being a protected area for black throated divers. Fair enough, but after we left and carried on round we could see several more yellow signs all along the next bay. So having thought we’d finally reached our destination, we had to continue on, crossing over yet another bay as the water got choppier. Once we got past the restricted area there didn’t appear to be anywhere suitable to camp. We could see a beach over on the far side though so decided to head over to that.
The crossing proved a little more challenging than we’d thought, well just more hard work really. We though the wind would carry us across, especially as we had to go slightly back on ourselves, but we struggled to keep the canoe pointing the right way. Luckily the swell wasn’t too high as we ended up side on the waves most the way. It took longer than we thought but, bit by bit, the golden glow of the enticing beach on the distant shore got closer. We were so relieved when we finally landed.
It is a lovely little beach though. Not quite as perfect a little bay as our last one but perfect all the same for our evening and morning rest. I’ll see if it’s a bit calmer in the morning for my swim
Day Three: Tuesday (23 May)
5pm
We have just landed on an exciting little island complete with ruined castle! We’re now on the tidaly sea loch so we got the canoe in as cloase as we could but are hoping the incoming tide will bring it a little further up the little beach we found round the back. Low tide was at 3pm.
Quite an adventurous day really. We decided to make an early start this morning and had packed and launched by 7am. We’ve realised that the time when it is calmest, with no wind, is the time it is best to be out on the water, not only to avoid choppier waters when the wind gets up later on but also to avoid the inevitable infestation of midges which happens on the shore. They started to appear about 9 o’clock yesterday evening, just as we were finishing our tea and cake and had moved on to the whisky and chocolate. So we made a rapid retreat to the tent. Next time we should give ourselves time before the midges come out to prepare for the morning too. We woke to find the air thick with them outside the tent. I managed to get the toiletry bag and my hat and midge net from the porch and got as much done as possible before gearing up to venture out. It took us about an hour from waking to being all packed and ready to go.
It was beautifully peaceful out on the loch, with the water as smooth as silk. I enjoyed singing out across the loch as we glided along. Our first destination was St. Finnan’s burial ground - a small island with an old stone jetty leading up to a barely worn path through the bluebells and primroses up to the burial ground which had some incredibly age and weather worn gravestones, (as well as a few much newer ones - we saw one dated 2021), along with a ruined chapel. Well worth an explore.
We saw plenty of potential camping spots on the way back over on the north shore so we hadn’t needed to cross over yesterday but we were fine that we had as ours had been a nicer spot. St. Finan’s island was on the south shore too but it was a bit narrower at that point and we easily crossed back over to the north shore when we left. Robin and I were both in need of digging a hole somewhere to lighten our load but we weren’t going to do that on a holy island! So we landed again as soon as we reached the opposite shore.
We continued along the loch side and now our eyes were scanning the trees for any sign of a very large nest. The two chaps we’d met at the Glenfinnan jetty told us that there was a sea eagle nesting along this stretch of shoreline so we were hoping to catch sight of it. After paddling for a while we were ready for a break so pulled into the shore. Shortly after landing, a flock of geese flew past overhead followed by a load of seagulls, like they were being chased off by something. Then we saw it glide overhead, what was undoubtedly the said sea eagle. It quickly disappeared back over the trees on the shoreline ahead of us. So when we set off again we kept our eyes peeled once more. Eventually we spotted what must be its nest, high up in the tallest tree, where you could image it perching, surveying all around. We didn’t see the eagle again but we were content that it had shown itself to us, if only briefly, and continued on our way.
As we proceeded further toward the far end of the loch, we started to see signs of civilisation, much more than we’d seen since leaving Glenfinnan a couple of days earlier. We could see a few houses up ahead, although it too a fair stretch of paddling and a fair number of songs for us to get near. On the way the loch had become quite shallow and we even grounded the boat a few times. It was still fairly calm though and felt pretty safe, it was just mud or gravel banks we were coming up onto and we could just step out in our wellies into the water if we couldn’t back paddle or punt into deeper water. We were expecting it in the river as we had been warned but not while still in wide reaches of the loch but it just made it more entertaining, trying to spot the best way ahead by trying to read the ripples on the water.
It wasn’t actually true when I said there were no shops for the whole trip as the settlement at the end of the loch apparently has a shop open each day but only from two until four in the afternoon. We reached it about midday but really didn’t feel there was anything we needed so decided to continue onwards.
As we progressed, the loch became a river - the River Shiel - and suddenly the water and surroundings had a whole new feel to them. We passed under two bridges, the new one and then the old one, a beautiful arch of old stonework. We were pleased to find the river was perfectly navigable, although we again got stuck on a few gravel bars the flow was very gentle. It was getting time for lunch and we’d come into a part of the river with a number of old jetties which we thought we could sit ourselves down on maybe to eat lunch. There were a couple of people fly fishing at one of them but they were just packing up and starting to head off. As there was a bench by that one we decided we’d pull over there. However, as soon as we stopped our canoe at the jetty the woman exclaimed in a very posh voice “No, no, no! You can’t stop there!” shortly followed by “We try to be polite”.
We moved away immediately and as we went past them I was going to apologise and say we were just looking for somewhere to eat our lunch but decided not to as they didn’t offer up any more friendly words. We amused ourselves pondering the encounter and how it was a strange way for them to ask us not to stop there and they obviously had no idea how to be polite! We try to be polite, but can’t actually manage it! Well, we thought we don’t need your bench anyway so we carried on. We’d assumed it was a public bench of course, there were certainly not any signs to suggest otherwise. Property ownership is a strange old thing. We entertained ourselves lumping all the wrong-doings of the highland clearances, colonialism and bigoted and socially inept aristocracy on their shoulders.
The fishing jetties carried on for quite a way along the river and we were waiting to leave them behind so that we could disembark where there was no sign of human habitation but then further down we saw a lovely we saw a lovely looking spot, also with a bench, although this time just beside a road so thought it must surely be fine. However, we couldn’t secure the boat anywhere on the rocks below it, so said once more, ‘we don’t need a bench!’ and and continued on. We didn’t really, we’d been fine sitting on rocks, beaches, our life jackets or on top of the barrels which actually made very good seats. By now we were very ready for a break and some food so the next accessible beach was good enough for us, though not quite up to the standard we’d now come to expect from this trip!
So we had a quick lunch of peanut butter and peppers in wraps. We were keen to get going again though as we both felt quite cold as soon as we stopped. It was fine once we got moving again though. We knew we didn’t have far to go until we reached the point where the river fed into the sea loch. This was via a narrow entrance which was only passable at high tide and would be quite a steep cascade otherwise.
We knew low tide was due at 3pm so it was unlikely we’d be able to navigate it and Robin had been saying we should portage the boat rather than wait for a higher tide. As we approached we could hear cascading water, see the level drop ahead and the white water splashing up from the drop, so we pulled into the shore to take a look at it from a safe viewpoint.
It was a double cascade through a narrow gap between the rocks, the second one quite a significant drop and there was no question of us paddling down there in our fully laden canoe (although you’d no doubt do it in a kayak okay). So after a short debate about waiting several hours until high tide or portaging, I realised Robin was right and we should unload and carry the canoe and all our stuff over land to the sea loch. We checked out the route and it was only about a five minute walk each way and although the ground was a bit rough, it was perfectly do-able.
There was a bit of an issue getting down the last bit to the water across slimy seaweed-covered rocks and squelchy mud but nothing we couldn’t manage. So we set about carrying our luggage across first, then brought the empty canoe over which we knew would be the hardest bit, but we managed fine, stopping to rest a few times on the way, as we were in no rush. So it only took about half an hour to shift it all over, in three or four runs each. Robin did a bit of droning whilst I rested on the rocks then we finally got ourselves afloat again, which felt quite a relief. It had made a good change though to be using our legs rather than just our arms and was definitely the right decision.
So here we were, on the sea. We were relieved to see it was very calm, at least there on the sea loch, Loch Moidart. Ahead of us we could see an island with a ruined castle on it, which Robin suggested we might be able to camp at, which sounded exciting.
It didn’t take long to paddle over. It has a causeway connecting it to the mainland at low tide. In fact, as we approached, the whole island seemed to be surrounded by a wide mud bank which would make it very difficult for us to land. We explored round the seaward side and found a better approach, with a steep beach without the mud. We landed and thought we might wait for the tide to bring the canoe and all our stuff up to the top but soon realised that would take far too long! So we unloaded and carried everything the short distance up to the top of the beach.
The small island is wonderfully dramatic and certainly the ruined castle is, perched on the craggy rocks, Castle Tioram (pronounce “Cheer-um”). There were one or two people coming over to have a look round, and a ‘venture camp’ group over on the far end of the causeway but nothing to trouble us. The wonderful thing about Scotland is knowing that you are okay to wild camp, so we could just set up and pack down when we wanted. Here we were a bit more subtle about it due to the castle but we soon got the tent up and settled in. There were a couple of visitors still but they were just interested in our trip and commented “you’ve got the best spot”. We certainly had, a perfect camping spot once again.
The weather turned a bit drizzly but we’d put the tent up right by a little stone hut which was perfect for sheltering in and we were able to cook in there. Onion, courgette and celery with curry flavour noodles, which went down very well. Shame Robin forgot to bring any oil (he was in charge of our food supplies), boiled onions aren’t quite the same as fried, but we managed fine.
We sat on the upturned canoe to eat, overlooking our little beach, followed by a treat of apple cake with a tin of peaches, delicious. Then our small tot of whisky with a couple of squares of chocolate.
I’d decided by that stage to forgo my planned daily swim and just relax but had a change of heart after Robin had taken to the tent and the sun was setting behind the island opposite. The water looked so calm and clear. It was just after 9pm and the light of the setting sun sent a golden pathway across the water. I stripped off and headed in, knowing that I could get cosy and warm in my sleeping bag afterwards. It took me a bit of persuasion to get right in but as ever, after the initial shock, it was wonderful swimming around, immersed in my surroundings. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Day Four: Wednesday (24 May)
Robin had been quite concerned about how we would manage coming out along what we rather grandly called “The Northern Passage” (properly the “Northern channel”), heading out to open sea and round along the coast. He had carefully planned out what we would do if it proved too rough and at what points we could escape and instead head inland on Loch Moidart from where we could catch a bus back to the van.
We aimed to set off just before high tide (at 9.30am). It was a misty, mizzly start to the morning but I did manage to do some yoga on the beach in the dry before making two portions of sweetened porridge with dates. I’d made a special effort to make it well as it’s Robin’s thing really, rather than mine, I’m more of a cereal person. When it was done Robin was heading off to dig a hole and muttered something about “you can have mine if you want” when I asked if it was okay if I started. Anyway, the upshot is, although I didn’t intend to, I ended up eating all of it, straight from the pan, even though I intended to only eat half, as it went down so well! I had planned to make him some more but he said he was happy to go without. Very different to me again - I never want to miss my breakfast!
We packed up and loaded the canoe ready to set off about 8.30. The sea loch was fairly calm and it had stopped drizzling. We made our way round the back of the island and towards the entrance to The North Passage. There was a small cruise boat and fishing trawler anchored out on the water, a short distance from each other. We’d barely seen any other boats, just one or two small rowing boats with outboards on. No sign of any people though.
As we made our way into the channel the water was still fairly calm even though the wind had picked up, there was not much swell at all. We barely noticed that we were crossing the causeway, just that the water got a little choppier there. We were looking for any streams so that we could stock up on fresh water for filtering as Robin doesn’t know if there will be any more accessible fresh water supplies once we get to the coast. We pulled over on the left bank at a promising looking spot. We could hear flowing water and I followed a small stream uphill a few metres and filled the bottle. Meanwhile, Robin was adjusting our cargo to balance the canoe a bit better. We were feeling a bit of trepidation as we continued on our way, heading toward the open sea. In the far distance I thought I could see the white of breakers crashing on a rock. As we headed along the narrowing channel there was a moment where the wind suddenly got up and made it quite difficult to keep moving forward even with both of us paddling hard.. It soon died away again but it didn’t help instil us with confidence and Robin said how he certainly didn’t fancy going out there if it was going to be that windy.
I suddenly spotted up ahead what looked like two - no three - other canoes. We slowly gained ground on them. It was very reassuring to know that there were other canoeists heading out there - I hope that they would say they were experienced, had done it before and tell us it would be fine! Luckily, that’s pretty much what we got. As we pulled alongside them we saw they were all paddling solo on Canadians, two chaps and a woman, all similar ages to us or older. The chaps said, yes, they’d done it before when I asked him. Even though it was getting quite choppy now, he seemed very relaxed and just started talking about the previous trip when they had too much cake and so decided to share it around. I asked whether there would be surf coming into shore and he said no, just pretty much like where we were, so the difficulty was having nowhere to land as the shoreline was all rocks, apart from the beach ust around the corner - undoubtedly the same one we were heading to. They stopped off on an island with a tiny beach to collect some coral (apparently swept in on the gulf stream) so we carried on past them. We tucked into some rocks on the right shore to just give our arms a short rest before continuing on ahead of them.
The paddle out to sea and round to the beach proved, hmm, well, quite “exciting” shall we say. I was glad to know they weren’t far behind us, should we get into trouble. I was also glad that we had a “twin engine” and weren't riding solo as they were . The swell, as feared, did pick up into quite a substantial one. We certainly didn’t want to find ourselves side-on to one. That was pretty critical really. Robin is in charge of steering, at the back. I just provide extra forward propulsion at the front, although i can help with steering when needed. I had made it clear to Robin to just shout clear instructions if he needed me to paddle on a particular side or try to extend my stroke wider to help pull us round. Our usual rhythm is that I just swap sides when I need to, to keep the effort balanced, although I do tend to favour the left side, which I think means my right arm is stronger. Good to try and balance it out though. So Robin just swaps to the opposite side when I change.
Anyway, this was one of those occasions when we needed to make sure we were working as a close knit team as there was no room for error. I was very happy to follow Robin’s lead and do as instructed. The canoe went nose forward over some pretty big swell but amazingly we didn’t take in any water. The challenge was that we had to turn to the right and couldn’t just keep heading straight out as we’d end up out at sea with nothing out there till we hit Greenland! We looked out for gaps when the swell died down and took the opportunity to turn the canoe. If a wave caught us side on, that could be us over. Exciting stuff as I said. I’m pleased to say though I was able to enjoy the thrill of riding over the waves without letting the fear overwhelm me and felt more exhilarated than anxious. Having said that, looking over and seeing the golden sand of the beach I knew I’d be very relieved to land there, if we could make it!
We were now heading back towards the shore but we soon realised that we’d turned too soon. The swell and wind were bringing us in but not far enough over and we were in danger of coming in on the very sharp looking rocks. We knew we had to tack out a bit further, so we turned again when there was a slight lull in the waves. It was disconcerting to say the least as we headed out again, seeing our beach starting to get further away as we headed in the opposite direction. I couldn’t help but start suggesting we should turn again to head back in. It was tricky to judge though. There was also a protruding rock in front of the beach to avoid. Robin kept saying “not yet”, I knew he was right but was also anxious to start heading back in and try and get to that beach!
Finally it was time to turn and we both paddled as hard as we could so we didn’t get caught side-on to the waves as they swelled up again. With relief, we made it round so the swell was hitting us from behind and we began paddling as hard as we could towards the beach. The wind and the swell were taking us, we just had to make sure we didn’t miss our target. It was a beautiful gently sloping sandy beach and it was such a wonderful feeling to hit that shore and hear the canoe slide up onto solid land. We’d made it!
We looked around to see our three canoeing companions making their way, taking a different line to us, staying close to shore and tacking more. The lady, Linda, in her purple canoe, was particularly pleased to make it, exclaiming “I don’t know why I do this” but with a big grin on her face which said it all. It turns out one of the chaps is an instructor, so they were in good hands.
It soon became apparent that not only had we survived the crossing but we had landed in what appeared to be a little bit of paradise! A wide expanse of beach where we’d landed was backed by a grassy mound perfect for setting up camp. And beyond the grassy mound was another beach in a beautiful little bay all of its own. Soon after, the sun came out, the sand shone brightly and the sea sparkled. Perfect.
And it was only 11.30am. We had to wait till the next day to continue on the next leg of our journey, so we had plenty of time to relax and enjoy it. In fact, Robin suggested we might like to stay another day and not leave until Friday. I think I can deal with that! Tomorrow is forecast to be a beautiful sunny day. The wind speed should be less than today (gusting up to 15 mph not 22 mph like today), with the same again on Friday (though overcast).
So, sitting here catching up with my diary, a virtually clear blue sky, the sun warm on my face, I’m managing to adjust into beach mode. Even though we’ve now also been joined by a group of about ten school kids, all is well. Time for a swim soon. Robin’s cooking tonight - I had made us a lunch of baked beans with red pepper and black ground pepper, which made a nice change from noodles.
Our evening meal was lentils with onions, celery and courgette with rice and a bit of bouillon for extra flavour. Creamy warming and filling, just the job, especially after a refreshing swim in the sea. Followed by our favourite, apple cake and peaches, the cake soaked in the juice from the tin - a delicious treat. I had a wander over to our landing beach - glancing out to sea I spotted a couple of seal heads which then bobbed down back under the water. No mistaking what they were though. We’d also had pointed out to us what I’m told was a golden eagle, skirting over the craggy rocks behind us. And even here, we are in earshot of a cuckoo, it’s distinctive call having been an almost constant presence, with sometimes tow calling back and forth to each other across the loch. Perhaps more impressively, Robin told me he saw two deer when he went to collect some fresh water, drinking from the stream just a bit further up.
I am loving how this journey has made us tune in more to nature and our environment, mostly for practical purposes, which feels wonderful and connects us even in just a small way to how people sorted out their basic needs in times gone by or how we’d manage it if we were staying out here for longer. Looking out for signs of any fresh running water sources, scouring the shape of the land and vegetation for clues. Reading the flow and contours of the water. All linked in with the tide and weather now we’ve come to the coastal area. Having to work with the tides and the wind to get a safe and most efficient passage. How our concerns and needs change as the landscape changes, from freshwater loch to river to sea loch and out to sea. Shingle beaches, mud flats, seaweed covered rocks to golden sandy beaches. We do appreciate some technology though - if we weren’t able to check the weather forecast and see that it was going to be just as calm tomorrow, we would probably feel we needed to move on today, just in case the wind got up too much.
Day Five: Thursday (25 May)
A whole day in paradise! It is a luxury not to be packing up camp to move on, but staying in one place for two nights. And what a place. With a glorious sunny day to enjoy it with.
The other canoeists apparently left around 5am. Even I had a lie in and didn’t get up until about 8am. There were a few midges about but not too many. We just had enough stream water to filter for tea but after I went with Robin to fill up two bottles for later. The Outward Bound group left at about eleven but before that I took the opportunity to have a bit of a chat with one of the girls as well as the two leaders. I also had a wonderful yoga session on the beach, feeling totally unperturbed by their presence, as I was sure they could only appreciate that I was just doing my thing while they did theirs.
After a late breakfast we - well, we just continue to chill and do whatever took our fancy.
Through the day I did some sketching, some crocheting, some lying on the beach listening to the waves some wandering around, exploring the little headland and discovering other little beaches only revealed at high tide. Sat in peaceful meditation at one, no-one to disturb me and just of the sound of the waves rolling in. Walkers came and went throughout the day, including a group of older aussie ladies who enthusiastically stripped off and ran into the water.
When late afternoon came around we watched the last walker head off (no-one had come by sea today) and although we were quite happy to have visitors, you couldn’t beat the feeling of having the whole place to ourselves. I’d waited till everyone had left to take my daily dip thinking I could enjoy just stripping off and heading in again. I got this crazy idea of persuading - or daring - Robin to do the same, so we could run down to the beach in gay abandon and straight into the sea! I knew though that he really didn’t like cold water immersion at all and had totally avoided going in so far. I said he should at least give it another go so he reluctantly stripped off too and we both went running down the beach!
I said it would be a memorable moment and it certainly was, but not quite in the way intended. Robin barely went past his ankles before stalling and saying how painful it was. I didn’t think it was painful at all, although admittedly even I took a bit of persuasion to get myself right in each time, for that initial few seconds of cold water shock. But for me that was part of the challenge and thrill as well as supposed to be very good for you. Once in I could settle my breath and enjoy the swim, diving my head under and feeling wonderfully refreshed. It’s clearly not the same for Robin. He stood by the water’s edge tentatively splashing himself with water to at least have a bit of a wash. We haven’t washed properly all week although I have been for a swim every day so don’t know who counts as being cleanest! Anyway, Robin admitted defeat and made a hasty retreat while I enjoyed a good long swim and splash around in our beautiful north Atlantic bay.
Afterwards I cooked us a welcome meal of soya mince, rice and pretty much all of the remaining fresh veg we had (onion, courgette and celery once again). Meanwhile Robin took down the tarp he’d made into a shady storage shelter and started organising and packing our things so we could get as ready as possible for an early start. We wanted to catch the incoming tide to take us round into the next sea loch, Loch Ailort and on to our final destination. Low tide would be about five in the morning.
We rounded off our evening sitting on the rocks overlooking the sea out to the west and watching the sunset over the far horizon, the distinctive outline of the jagged mountains of the Isle of Rhum completing the scene, with the smaller Isles of Eigg and Muck in the foreground. It was a very romantic setting but to be honest Robin had taken up that position initially in order to escape the midges which were now harassing us at the tent. He’d even been the one to suggest we eat our meal down on the beach to escape them - usually that was my suggestion as I never like to miss an opportunity to be on the beach, despite the risk of getting sand between your teeth. It was a very sensible decision though, allowing us to escape the worst of the midges.
So we sat and watched the sun go down, with our nightly treat of a tot of whisky and a few squares of chocolate (our daily ration was one bar between us) with the whole wonderful headland of Smirisary to ourselves. The sun finally disappeared at about quarter to ten. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Day Six: Friday (26 May)
I set my alarm for 4.15am as we were aiming to leave around 5am which was low tide, to give ourselves as long as possible to head north along the coast and round into Loch Ailort. The sea looked very calm which was good news, although with that came the usual plague of midges of course, to hassle us as we cleared our camp. The canoe had sat on the grassy area of the headland with us during our stay and we now slid it down the beach on the opposite side from where we had landed a couple of days earlier.
We carried our stuff bit by bit down to the shoreline, giving ourselves just enough of a margin to account for the by now incoming tide. I noticed a large number of jellyfish were washed up and lay motionless along the tide line, some little more than a small blob of transparent jelly, others the size of a saucer, with their distinctive outlines or four circles in the centre. The water here was very clear and most of the sea bed in the bay was smooth fine sand, although there were also areas of seaweed and a few hidden rocks which could catch you out if you weren’t looking carefully where you stood. There was enough of a swell for the waves to break on the shore and provide that wonderfully calming hypnotic sound of waves rolling in and drawing back out, in the natural rhythm of the breath of the ocean. But it was all quite gentle and absolutely no problem at all to launch the boat over. We just had to be careful we didn’t let the waves catch us out and spill over the tops of our wellies.
Wellies had turned out to be the best choice for footwear. Robin had a knee length pair and I had a shorter pair which only came up to the bottom of my calves. This did catch me out a few times, including whilst washing our dishes and pans, forgetting for a moment to take account of the unpredictability of waves! We would wash up at the shore of the loch or sea, scooping up handfuls of gravel and sand to swill round and remove any residue, which proved a very effective system. I just about managed with my two pairs of walking socks, though was at constant risk of ending up with no dry socks. I had meant to bring more but had also brought my sandals which are perfect for water activities, including swimming, but it wasn’t quite warm enough for them so I didn't wear them much on this trip. Their main use was for getting into the water for a swim on the stony beaches. I'd also brought my walking boots which I also barely wore but would’ve been useful had we done any hiking. I think I’d take the same combination again, to cover all bases.
Similarly, for the other end, I had a selection of hats. My one purchase for the trip had been a wide-brimmed waterproof hat which I bought as a last minute purchase the day before we left when I saw that we might get some rain. I thought of sitting in the canoes having to have the hood of my water jacket up, which makes you feel quite cut off from the world, with its noisy crackling over your ears. The hat in fact mostly proved its worth for wearing with the midge net Robin got me (he had one already) which was a must for the trip (remember to take it into the tent with you at night so you can escape through the clouds of midges in the morning!). I also had a beanie for warmth and a sun hat which wasn’t really needed as the rain/midge hat could double up for that.
One other purchase for the trip which proved its worth was a stainless steel saucepan, suitable for going on a fire. It has a good long metal handle which also folds over the lid and clips down so you can safely transport food in it. It proved perfect for our needs and has become a welcome new part of our kit.
We were finally ready to head off by about twenty to six. Although we had loved our extended stay at Smirisary we felt ready to get back out onto the water and move on. We were undecided whether we would spend one more night camping on the loch shore or continue on all the way back to the van, which was parked up at Lochailort station about ten minutes’ walk from the end of the loch. We decided to play it by ear, it all depended on how tough or easy going the paddling was and how quickly we progressed before we hit high tide, due at just after 11am, and it started to draw back out again so we’d have to paddle against it. One of the canoeists we’d met told us that there was always an hour of slack tide at high and low tide, which was useful to know. It made me think of the pause at the end of an inhale or exhale which we observe and work with in our yoga practice.
We decided to film our launch on the GoPro, using the tripod which Robin had brought which required us to film ourselves leaving, then come back to collect the camera and tripod. We also did this at Tioram castle. I was happy to do this as we had plenty of time and the water was calm. The bit of filming Robin did during the trip so he could make a video for YouTube was really not intrusive at all and could be good fun, just adding another dimension to a few moments in the trip. This time though it was a shame we weren’t being filmed on our second launch from the beach as it was a lot more entertaining, with Robin battling the midges and the waves whilst for the launch we filmed all had been calm!
Anyway, we were finally setting off for real, saying farewell to our own little bit of paradise, well mostly paddling hard to out run the midges, who would always follow us a little way out onto the water before we got clear of them and could relax. Well, relax is a light exaggeration. We were out in the open sea again and although it was a calm as we’d hoped we were still wary of any swell, cross currents or hidden skerries (something else I’d learnt from the other canoeists, a new word for me but I guessed it meant the exposed rocks and small islands which although they might stay exposed at high tide were not really large enough to be classified as islands, usually too small for human habitation as I found out when I checked the definition). We could see waves crashing on the rocky shoreline so we made sure we went far enough out not to risk being pulled onto them, whilst not wanting to go too far from shore as to be vulnerable, always a tricky balance.
We only had to paddle a mile or so up the coast before we were able to round the corner and head eastwards back inland again. The wind was behind us, the forecast had told us it would be five or six miles an hour, with gusts of ten or eleven miles an hour. The tide was also taking us in and we were relieved to find it really was a fairly relaxed journey. It meant we didn't have to paddle all the time, which was always a bonus and we could enjoy the whole experience including the wonderful views, inland to the hills and across the water to a whole variety of skerries and islands.
There was a magic moment when I looked around and saw an inquisitive seal behind us. It popped its head up again a bit further on. We saw the jetty and buildings of the first inlet, Glenuig, but decided not to head in. There is a pub there apparently but we were much too early for that as it didn’t open until midday. We also saw the beach on the far shore with the bothy which apparently has to be booked in advance. We were happy to continue on though, especially as it was so relaxed and we were making good time.
There was a de-rigged sailing boat moored at a bay by an island opposite one of the houses which had started to dot the shoreline. This particular house was a grand affair, a many-gabled mansion which had a strange optical effect of appearing fuzzy and out of focus from a distance, due I think to all its vertical lines.
We carried on inland, gently carried in by the tide and breeze. A major feature of the journey were the wealth of jellyfish which were our constant companions just below the surface of the water. In fact, we didn’t see anything else there. Hundreds of moon jellyfish as well as the occasional passing ones which we later found out were barrel jellyfish. Some impressively large. Robin spotted one moon jellyfish sporting six circles in the middle rather than the usual four. We later found out these are actually their “gonads”. I ended up looking it up in the middle of the night when I couldn’t get to sleep, much to Robin’s amusement). I also discovered, as suspected, that their high numbers are a sign of imbalance and overfishing which has reduced the number of their predators. This leads to them over-eating the food supplies needed by other marine life, further tipping the balance. It is even suggested that eventually we could end up with nothing but jellyfish in our waters, which was apparently the state of affairs way back in time. Nevertheless, they are certainly fascinating and mesmerising creatures. They also made me think of my wonderful daughter Kate who has a tattoo of one on her arm as a memento of the time she spent in a shared house in Brighton, where she still lives.
We had one final stop on the loch shore before we reached its end, on a broad “beach” of rocky shore, one of the few which allowed us to get to dry land without having to negotiate slimy seaweed or mud covered rocks. Mentally we had started to gear ourselves up for ending our journey and had started to look forward to a few luxuries, although to be honest I felt I could very happily carry on as we were. We were due to reach our disembarkation point at the end of the loch just before high tide, at 11.40am, so we’d made good time and this would hopefully make it easier for us to get everything out somewhere close to the road.
Sitting on the beach we ate some trail mix and I entertained myself by arranging some muscle-like shells into flowers and then, as I noticed they looked a bit like fingernails, like a clawed hand emerging from the sand. We could see the road winding along the opposite shore with a few vehicles passing along it every now and then. The scenery was fine though not quite as wonderful as we’d had so it did feel like we were winding down to the end of our adventure and my mind turned to thoughts of sitting on a comfy seat in a pub where we would treat ourselves to the luxury of something other than rice or noodles. Chips, that was it, chips was what we fancied!
That was still a way off though. Even though we reached the end of the loch fairly soon after, getting from there to the road proved a little more taxing than we’d hoped. Although to be fair, Robin had been a bit concerned about how it would be.
We made a bit of a ceremony of reaching the end of the loch, and the end of our journey, filming us coming into the shore. It was a rocky shore but the moment was somewhat marred by the rubbish which has been washed up on it. Also, having got out to assess the portage we’d need to do to get up to the road, we soon decided we weren’t actually quite at the end of our journey yet, as we should try and find somewhere better. There was a sloping wall of boulders up to the road which, although we were at the closest point to it, it would have been very difficult to carry the canoe up to.
The map told us there was a jetty just a few hundred metres from where we were, although all we could see were large grey boulders along the shoreline across the bay. We contemplated crossing right over to the opposite shore but decided to look for the jetty first. I thought I’d seen one as we approached, a man made slope of rock, but it seemed to have disappeared so I thought I must have imagined it. As we made our way across the bay we could see that there was a distinctive slope of grey rock which we could make out amongst the other grey rocks of the shoreline.
It turned out to be a very old and neglected stone jetty. We pulled over to the side of it. It stood quite high above the water line even though it was high tide by now. I got out to go and find out what the route was like from there to the road, which we were now further away from. The jetty was pretty steep but probably a better option than trying to negotiate the slippery rocks alongside it. It led up to a small clearing in the trees from which a narrow path wound through the tree and undergrowth, looking barely used. I followed this and it went on for quite a way. Although it was narrow it was flat until the final part when it climbed up to a handy place we would be able to pull into with the van. I counted my paces on the way back as it did seem a very long way. I counted two hundred and fifty paces, so do-able I guessed.
When I reported back to Robin we decided it was our best option so we started unloading the canoe, with Robin passing everything up onto the jetty for me to carry up to the first stage of our journey. We both realised by this stage how exhausted we felt. We weren’t quite sure why, the whole journey had generally been quite relaxed and had not seemed too physically taxing, apart from the occasions when the wind had got up and we had to paddle hard against it. We’d just had a whole day’s rest and today had been very gentle. Having said that, we had been up and on the go since the early hours or maybe it was just catching up with us.
Anyway, I was feeling pretty exhausted and Robin said he felt the same too, but we had to get on with it. The only way we were going to get to the pub and our chips and our comfy seat was to get the job done. So first of all I had to do numerous trips up and down the jetty until we had all our cargo in the clearing at the top. Robin took it upon himself to get the canoe out of the water and up onto the jetty, which was no mean feat. I looked down to see it balanced precariously as he levered it up out of the water. Finally, we carried the canoe up the steep slope and into the woods at the top. We took a short breather before starting the task of relaying our barrels, bags and everything else we’d been carrying, along the path, inching slowly towards the place where we could finally relax and re-join the van.
At last we got ourselves, the canoe and all our kit up near the roadside. Robin headed off to the station to reclaim the van whilst I collapsed on a large flat rock before relaying our cargo the final few metres up to the parking space. As well as exhausted, I was feeling pretty scruffy so I spent the next few minutes getting myself feeling a bit more civilised ready to emerge back into civilisation. I changed from my wellies into my sandals and put a slightly cleaner top on, replacing the cotton dress I’d lived in for most the week. Just then Robin appeared in the van, only about twenty minutes after he had set off. We had completed our loop.
Postscript:
During our trip I determined that once we got back I would finally get round to digging out and reading the diary I had discovered which recounts a canoe trip made back in 1867, local to my home town of Shrewsbury. Read about the Log of the Gnat and what it was like to go canoeing over a hundred and fifty years ago by following the links below:
Log of the Gnat - full transcript: travel back in time and read first hand the account of eighteen year old William as he records his excitement at undertaking his first canoe trip, back in the summer of 1867.
Log of the Gnat - who, when, why and how: find out more about William and the rest of the crew, the type of canoes they might have had and what might have spurred them on to undertake their expedition back in the summer of 1867
Log of the Gnat - where (let's go!): discover more about the places our Victorian canoeists visited on their journey and be inspired to follow in their wake...
Journeys past and present: musings of an archivist: find out about how I came to discover the "Log of the Gnat", as well as other travel journals, and how they have intertwined with my own travel adventures.
Canoe Voyage - take two: find out about my surprise discovery which opened up a whole new perspective on the canoe trip of 1867.
Discovery Log - where it all began: join me as I travel back to 2006 when our canoeing adventures began - and we had five to a boat!
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