Sunday morning, I arrived in Mallaig about 10am on the ferry from Aramadale. As you know, I arrived at the train station thinking my train was at 10.30am. To my dismay, after chatting to others who had made the same mistake, we realised the 10.30 train had stopped last week, and the next one was at 4.10pm. "So what do I do now?" I asked myself. I contemplated cycling to Arisaig to pass the time, but was tired already so I decided that sleeping was better than cycling. I bought a paper, set my tent up next to the car park, next to the train station, set alarm on my phone, (then the battery went flat!), then fell asleep. I was dozing, looked at watch around 3.30pm, got up and got on the train. I timed how long it took to unset my tent (North Face Tadpole 23): 5 minutes exactly - with this time, I was happy.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, I was comfortingly warm, and it was getting light. It was already lighter than it was when I set up camp, and I was looking forward to getting some better photos of my campsite, which I was very proud of. It was 7.30ish. I wanted to wait as long as I could before unsetting my tent so I had as much light as possible for the photos. So I packed up everything else that I could, and went for a walk along the shore. I found some nice pumis stones and shells, and worked on my stone skimming skills.
After unsetting my tent, I left the legacy of a carved stick with shavings at my campsite for the sake of something to do. Then I just sat with my warm tea (put in the flask and Gordons' last night), and took in the view. The natural beauty of the place was breath taking, and I was lost for thought as I sat in awe. Then the ferry arrived and I got on it - thankfully!
So last night, after passing my 4* sea kayak assessment, I was searching for a campsite. I wanted something on the Armadale side of the hill just outside Isleornsay, but wasn't finding much. I ended up cycling all the way to Armadale (or just before) , passing lots of places that would have been great campsites, if it wasn't for the houses built on them. On the opposite side of Armadale Castle (Clan Donald) there was a stone path leading down to the shore - I was sure that there was a campsite down there. And sure enough, after I skidded down the wee track, and walk along a bit, and up some stoney steps, I found a beautiful wee campsite, only big enough for a small tent. So I set up camp, and had what food I left for my dinner. I was surprised that I hadn't got food poisoning by this point, as I was still using the same food bag as the start of the trip, which included broken eggs. I only had one egg left, and was not prepared to boil water for one egg, so I took job in throwing it against the rocks. I actually dropped it off the cliff that my camp site was on, counted how long it took to drop (1.5 secs) and wondered how high it was. See my next blog - I have done a quick graph of time v. distance so you can work out how high cliffs are by counting when you drop something. It was 8pm, and I had just passed my 4* so was keen for a pint. I donned my jeans, and white trainers, picked up my head torch, had a quick squirt of Lynx, brushed my teeth, and set off in search of a pub. I didn't know if there was one, so I phoned a few people, to no avail. Armadale - nothing, apart from a house with Indian dance music playing outside, and someone dancing with a stick flaming at both ends in their hands (I think). I walked past quickly, half expecting to see an axe being hurled at me or something. However, I heard womens' voices, so I was also tempted to go and say hello. I saw more lights, half a mile down the road, so was more hopeful of a pub.
Right enough, I came to a place with people standing outside smoking - sure sign of a pub post-the new law banning smoking in pubs in Scotland. I asked the guy outside if this was pub, and he said "Aye" and took me along to the public bar (I would have walked into the lounge bar which would surely have had a higher percentage of non-locals!). To my surprise, I recognised the man. "Neil?" I said. "Aye" he said. "It's Tom." "Oh aye, John, how are ye?" "No, Tom, Dannys wee brother" It was Neil McPhee, from Tarscavaig, who worked with my big brother on fish farms, and was the piper at Dannys wedding. So, I got a warm welcome, and started drinking and chatting with him, his wife Jackie, his daughter Emma, and her boyfriend John-Murdo. The rest of the night was a mixture of laughs, lager, whisky, pool, and is another story in itself. But it ended with a lift home, so I was happy.
So that's Saturdays campsite, and Thursdays campsite I have already written about in my previous blog, but what about Friday I hear you ask - well maybe not, but if you'd like to hear about it please read on. It was a mile North or so of Camascross. I found a wee track going down to a clearing on the shore. The main disaster this evening was a cog coming off the derailleur of my bike when I was cycling. I carried on rolling, pushing my bike along by foot, but my bike was not longer cycleable, so I was going to have to walk back later to find the cog and fix my bike, so I did. My main inspirational moment was eating a can of beans, cleaning the can, then using the can to cook pasta. My main uninspirational moment was the fact that my campsite was covered in sheep shit. Anyway, I went to bed, had a broken sleep because it was cold and my sleeping is feeling its old age, and woke up to one of the prettiest sunrises I have ever seen, and don't have any photos because I had lost my phone. It was found and handed in at the hotel in Isleornsay, thanks to the honesty of the people of Skye, and I collected at the end of the day.
The rest of the trips activities were of a sea kayaking nature, and are a more technical story which I will not go into. The only other thing I found enjoyable before getting home was chatting to a friendly guy called Bobby "Corson" - we chatted about various things including the surrounding highlands that we were travelling through. I am very pasionate about the Highlands, and would like to spend a lot more time in them.
OK, enough. Thank you for reading up to this point. If you have, then I'll take it as a complement in that I have manged to hold your attention for this long. I'm new to the blog thing, and have only found one way to justify writing one, and to persuage myself that it is not a complete waste of time. This is thatI will blogs as a journal of my adventures in life. It is like telling stories, and as I enjoy reading other peoples stories, I would like to try and write something that other people may be interested in.
My next adventure will be attempting to paddle round Anglesey with a group of friends next weekend. I'll let you know how it goes, and I look forward to reading your stories of adventure. Please feel free to send me an e-mail for any reason.
After dinner, the solitude got to me a bit. Being alone on another island was a bit lonely at first. Eventually I resorted to talking to myself, which was surprisingly comforting, and as the evening went on, I listened to the MP3s on my phone. I had forgotten that I didn’t have credit on my sim card, so had to wait up on the hill (where I had a signal) for 2 hours for the phone call at 9pm from my folks, which I said I would make at 8pm. I was glad they phoned, because I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I was half expecting the lifeboat to come round the corner in the middle of the night. It was a long night.
I knew the swell round the west coast of Sandray was going to be awesome - I had to do it! I couldn’t resist seeing what the sea was like. The swell was indeed awesome! Scary at first, the power of it and what it could to do someone if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time felt surreal, so I kept my distance from the rocks. No photos as all I had was my phone for pictures. Progress was slow into the wind, and bouncing around in the clapotis. Out of the clapotis, it wasn’t too bad. The long rolling swell passed underneath me. Sometimes in the trough, I’m sure the swell must have been 12-15ft at times. Intimidating at first, but it was surprising how I got used to it.
