With the Glenelg trip cancelled, and Fife Sea Kayakers spread across different waters in Scotland, Ray, Eck and myself decided, from a large list of excellent suggestions and with an uncertain weather forecast, to paddle the entire length of Loch Awe and back again, leaving all our cars at one end to make sure we had to paddle back. What could possibly go wrong.
I headed up on Friday in Bank Holiday traffic for a pint in the Tight Line (a tradition before setting off on Loch Awe) and after avoiding two cars being pulled out of a ditch and another whose engine exploded with occupants flying out of the nearest exit leaving their car in the middle of the road with all doors open, I decided, after scouting the Dalmally monument area, to wild camp in Glen Orchy beside a bouncy suspension bridge with picnic tables to cook breakfast on. It was minus 5 overnight and I awoke to a frosty morning sharing my breakfast with a wee bird on the picnic bench and watched a deer romping around on the bank of the river. Great spot.
The Kilchurn Castle car park is not signposted at all and a Welsh couple were parked overnight beside the No Camping sign and didn’t even know there was a castle there. It is the most photographed castle in Scotland and little wonder. I met the 80 year old Historic Scotland lady who opens it and it is a fabulous ruin to wander around with great views all around, and as a bonus it is free. Ray and Eck arrived and Eck started to unload packs of Volvic water saying “we wont run out of water this time” – Ray and I pointed out that Loch Awe is a freshwater loch (he still took as many bottles as would fit and drank them to spite us, randomly uttering Cryptosporidium in a fine impersonation of Father Jack).
We launched into a mirror loch and excitedly spotted the first Crannog (of so very many), explored the first ruined castle on an island over luncheon whilst being sworn at by geese, spotted our first Osprey of the day (there are four nests on Loch Awe) and explored an old graveyard surrounded by bluebells and olde yew trees with the grave of IAN, the ex Duke of Argyll. Eck was the Howard Carter of the team – uncovering graves and finding old carvings hidden by leaves and twigs – there are Knight Templar carvings and some fascinating gravestone carvings.
24 kilometres later, crannogs used as kilometre marks, we arrived at Kames Bay to wild camp. Although Loch Awe is non-tidal we still automatically pulled the boats up and periodically checked them! Ray complimented me on my tidal planning for the trip. I had assumed crannogs were mainly in Loch Tay – not the case, these iron age dwellings are littered like weegie campers all the way down Loch Awe.
Kames Bay was a tad stony for camping – Eck’s tent was tied down with boulders and weighed down with Volvic bottles, my wee tent fitted in the grass between the stones as Ray’s marquee, erected first, had covered any grassy land available. Lots of driftwood (and bizarrely broken bottles making loo trips hazardous) so a campfire was setup and a metal structure erected to dry Eck’s socks (he had a leak in his boots). The fire roared and the socks dried, however, after the congratulations and heartfelt thanks he tried them on. Large holes, where the sparks had made short work of the sock, appeared. He didn’t offer us his socks again. Dinnertime and this was the point I discovered all the essentials I had left back in the car (oil, jacket, corkscrew, ipad, noodles), A fabulous full moon appeared over the trees reflecting on the loch as we sat drinking Ouzo and red wine to power us down the loch the next day.
The wind had shifted from a Northerly to a South Westerly headwind, what luck. We paddled powered by boiled eggs, muesli and Eck’s leftover pasta to Ford at the end of the loch, again stopping on crannogs and islands to visit graveyards and fishermen from Oxford, cautiously removing their lines after witnessing my ability to paddle at full speed out of control into an island. A major highlight is the castle of Innis Chonnel, which is in superb condition even after we clambered around its precipitous walls like the Famous Five in search of smugglers. A large sign warns that the dungeon is not a toilet. Evidence of bad camping abound sadly, bottles left, remains of burnt chairs, chainsawed yews and according to Eck the signature of the ‘weegie’ camper – an air pelleted log.
We paddled through a hailstorm with large lumps of hail accumulating on the decks and arrived 18km later at Ford’s large new wooden bunkhouse to find the Irish owner cautiously watching us, as a lamb headbutted a fence at full speed. The lamb found its way around the coast to the flock and the chap told us he had opened recently, but there was no coffee or toilets on offer (my iPood or Eck’s new toilet trowel being the only alternative). We walked into the village to find no local shop but saw the drove road over to Loch Craignish – which if we hadn’t been paddling into a headwind all the way down we may have had time to dander along. The loch also has a road to take iron to Furnace on Loch Fyne – it must have been a busy place in times gone by. As it was, time was marching on and we still had 18km back to Kames Bay before dark, although this time we actually had a nice tailwind and were scooting up the loch at a rate of knots. Stopped to watch one of the Osprey nests then back for refried beans and a severe wind warning (these events may be connected).
The forecast for Bank Holiday Monday was dire – 9 knot easterly, forecast to 15 knots gusting 28 knots at midday. We rose early, I stumbled on a stone whilst putting a trainer on and managed to break my tent pole, a warming cup of liquorice tea, packed up and off by quarter to 9. Headwinds no matter where we went and the state of the loch could no longer be described as mirror like. We crossed to the east shore looking for shelter and found little, the center of the loch was full of stampeding white horses. We stopped for breakfast at 10am beside a pier looking out at the maelstrom wondering if a taxi would know where we were off the Inveraray road. Then it suddenly calmed down almost mirror like again.
This encouraged us out on the water. Typical mistake. The wind howled again and we were headwind all the way up for hours. It was a slog and very tiring, wave after wave breaking over the bow, so tiring that at one point I nodded off and woke up keeling over, braced and did not fall asleep again.
Low flying air sea rescue helicopter from Gannet whirled overhead and then off to Ben Cruachan as two geese flew low over us, landed and promptly started to honk at us – their nest must have been on the stony beach we were paddling along.
Finally we paddled past the Tight Line, the wonderful St Conan Kirk and back to the railway bridge to clamber out on the bank and trailer the kayaks back to a packed car park, where our cars thankfully had not been taken by joyriding weegies.
Eck’s trailer left a score all the way down the gravel path, he must have left the stabiliser down. We waited patiently as middle eastern tourists sat in their car blocking us and we waited less patiently in the rain as the driver adjusted his scarf in preparation for driving. The bonus was that it wasn’t a May Sank Holiday – my patches seemed to be watertight even after hitting a few rocks on Loch Awe.
The rain was on for most of the return journey where I inspected and approved the Green Welly Stop award winning toilet and had a delicious fish tea at the fabby Real Food Cafe. Tyndrum is such a busy place.
In all that was an Awe-some trip, great tidal planning, plenty of fresh water, holy socks, no lack of crannogs, ospreys, gravestones or ruined castles, if you didn’t like the weather wait 30 minutes and you get a new set (on the downside if you did like the weather you only had it for 30 minutes), fabulous full moon and some Awe-ful jokes over a driftwood fire.
Lots of photos dumped from camera here
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