A blether with Gailainne led to an impromptu weekend away. Would have ben criminal not to make the most of the weather.
I arrived about four hours early and settled right back into the lazy vibe of a couple of weeks ago. First priority was finding shade which a wee cliff not far from the bothy provided. A slight tidal eddy kept the boat pinned to the rock face and in the metre or so of shadow while I took a siesta.
After a while I started slowly along the loch. Stuck close to shore where the trees were shading, when Stephen arrived I was almost dozing off again in the last wee bay before the lighthouse.
We carried on to camp, offloaded then headed straight back out to hit the mackerel that were splashing about in noisy shoals all over the loch.
Home sweet home.
Stephen the next day playing with a fresnel lens.
...and rather impressive it was too. Not unlike playing a blowtorch over the wood, only took seconds to burst into flame.
The big ol' local seal taking a siesta of his own. Bobbing around in circles and drifting about the bay.
Popped out in the evening and stocked up the grill again.
I'll refrain from bursting into 'The Mary Ellen Carter'...
...for the hundredth time.
Can't help myself - it pops to mind even when I'm faced with a swamped canoe, let alone a proper wreck.
The trip home on sunday was far from the relaxed affair we'd expected. Solid headwind all the way and when we turned into Long at the lighthouse it had me about stationary.
I've come across this twice here before, easterlies turning south as they spill into the valley. Both times I crossed and there was a calm stretch along the eastern shore but this time when we got over there was still a headwind hammering down the loch - not as heavy though, there was slow progress made and even a couple of vaguely sheltered spots for short breaks.
Sneaking round the lee of the tankers is a bit naughty but they were just sitting unloading, there was no activity and frankly I was shattered. Given a choice between flat calm for a few hundred metres or heading out midloch back into the headwind, naughty won out.
Josh
I arrived about four hours early and settled right back into the lazy vibe of a couple of weeks ago. First priority was finding shade which a wee cliff not far from the bothy provided. A slight tidal eddy kept the boat pinned to the rock face and in the metre or so of shadow while I took a siesta.
After a while I started slowly along the loch. Stuck close to shore where the trees were shading, when Stephen arrived I was almost dozing off again in the last wee bay before the lighthouse.
We carried on to camp, offloaded then headed straight back out to hit the mackerel that were splashing about in noisy shoals all over the loch.
Home sweet home.
Stephen the next day playing with a fresnel lens.
...and rather impressive it was too. Not unlike playing a blowtorch over the wood, only took seconds to burst into flame.
The big ol' local seal taking a siesta of his own. Bobbing around in circles and drifting about the bay.
Popped out in the evening and stocked up the grill again.
I'll refrain from bursting into 'The Mary Ellen Carter'...
...for the hundredth time.
Can't help myself - it pops to mind even when I'm faced with a swamped canoe, let alone a proper wreck.
The trip home on sunday was far from the relaxed affair we'd expected. Solid headwind all the way and when we turned into Long at the lighthouse it had me about stationary.
I've come across this twice here before, easterlies turning south as they spill into the valley. Both times I crossed and there was a calm stretch along the eastern shore but this time when we got over there was still a headwind hammering down the loch - not as heavy though, there was slow progress made and even a couple of vaguely sheltered spots for short breaks.
Sneaking round the lee of the tankers is a bit naughty but they were just sitting unloading, there was no activity and frankly I was shattered. Given a choice between flat calm for a few hundred metres or heading out midloch back into the headwind, naughty won out.
Josh
