That was when I discovered part of my folding kayak had actually folded – the last tubes to go in had come apart (possibly during the shoogling northward on top of the car) – repaired the kayak went like a dream and I was paddling at speed towards dinner – which was I have to add nowhere to be seen yet. We finally arrived at the boat at 9pm with the chefs tapping their feet and helping us on board with sighs of dinner will be ruined… Murty did mention that if it had been Murdani’s wife cooking we wouldn’t have bothered coming back and would have camped out in fear of her.
Dinner was joined with the traditional malt whiskies we brought on board and a magnificent west coast sunset as we anchored near a trout stream tumbling down into the sea loch with eagles flying over us and deer silhouetted on the ridges. I ended up in a cabin on my own which was probably best for everyone else who hadn’t experienced my snoring but we did manage to block the toilet on the first night causing the pump to go – high residue highland cooking! Rocked to sleep and tired from paddling I snored all the way through to morning in the top bunk banging my head in the morning off the deck when my iphone sang me awake.
The weather was stormy so it looked like the Monach Islands but it was even too stormy for that – so we put into Taransay and dumped the kayaks over the side to the rib acting as a pontoon and we were off again. Round Taransay and into some stormy seas – we turned back from circumnavigating it for lunch on some rocks then we landed onto a beautiful beach with light blue waters where the Castaways lived (in between their trips to the Harris Hotel at Tarbert) and launched into the surf ready to paddle back to the boat. That was when I needed to be rescued.
We went outside some rocks with big waves crashing down except we were all going through at once like sheep at a feeding trough – I hit a rock at the same time as being hit by a big wave and capsized and still grabbing hold of kayak and paddle found myself swimming with Nick and Murty around. ‘Swim up and over the cockpit’ Murty cried out – no way my kayak is especially wide to fit me so it was inelegant clambering over the back and unexpectedly onto Murty’s kayak and my legs going backward into my cockpit and with an even more inelegant twist round I landed in the cockpit drenched and cold from a relatively small amount of time in the water in a dry suit!
Andrea came to the rescue too with more white chocolate fruits and we paddled on and on back to the boat where tonight’s pre dinner treat was Linda and Andrea demonstrating yoga positions followed by neck massages. This trip was certainly looking up and I was not missing telly at all. The weather forecast looked good – we were going to motor overnight filled with malt whisky to St Kilda setting off at midnight for a 6am anchorage. At five am we all found ourselves on the stern deck photographing the approaching islands in awe and in a blue sky as spray took out anyone in the bow or the sides.
Anchored in the Village Bay and stuffing beans and Charley Barley black pudding for breakfast – if the worst came to the worst I would fart my way around St Kilda. We set off through the Dun gap with Murty and Nick checking the sea on the other side – then it was surfing through caves and back out into the Atlantic watching the high cliffs with awe. That was when I remembered I hadn’t actually zipped up my dry suit so we rafted together bobbing in the atlantic like a large seabird as Rosie zips me up and Murty philosophically mused that it would have been interesting if I had capsized in the caves. Andrea needed to wee after all that peppermint and fennel tea so we went round the Dun point and paddled up Village Bay to the jetty for lunch and urinal drainage.
