It was still very cold as I climbed out of my sleeping bag and went to see where exactly I was. Frost was covering the ground and ice lay thick on puddles and at the edges of the loch next to the birdhide. Directly across from the simple wooden hut I'd called home I could now clearly see the Castle I'd passed the night before, my muscles still aching and everything feeling stiff.
The sound of boiling water and the steam rising from my saucepan was most welcome. After serving myself up a packet of smooth oats and raspberries and packing my sleeping bag away into my back pack I headed off towards port Appin a small harbour. It didn't take long before I arrived and despite the freezing cold night the sun had decided to join me and I could feel sweat forming beneath my many layers of tshirts, jumpers and jackets. The water was particularly calm here and there was very little wind. I looked carefully out from the stony bay near to a jetty where tourists and visitors were queuing up to take a short ferry trip to the island of lismore to determine whether it would be possible to paddle along the coast to the island eriska. Unsure of the tides and state of the currents I sought local knowledge from the pier house cafe, a convenient stop off and perfect excuse for a pot of coffee.
Chatting with the employees about the trek and my intentions I decided to continue from the cafe towards a small bay closer to the island, following a small footpath that ran just behind. The day was turning out to be perfect and my plans fell into place. About quarter of a mile from the cafe I noticed an unusual cave like hole similar to the one I'd passed on my way to Lochaline, the wishing stone. The hole here was much larger and I later discovered it was called aird's rock. A quick interlude and photo snap and I carried on to follow the bay round towards a gate and then into the wild. As I headed along a gravel track I passed an unusual round building which quite possibly was used by leprechauns during their summer holidays. Not far passed the stone building I came upon what I thought was possibly an ancient dry dock.
Conscious that my time was short and without actually knowing how much further I would have to trek over marshes and rocky shores I made haste following the coast away from Appin and towards loch linnhe.
Thankfully I hadn't been too far away and arrived in the bay opposite the island in no time at all. Finding a suitable place to launch from I studied the flow of the waters determining that tide was now on its way out. As with all crossings in hoolley my stomach knotted and the feeling of apprehension kick started the injection of adrenaline into my blood. Keeping an eye on the water I got hoolley ready and prepared myself for the crossing.
Pushing off I committed myself to a successful paddle, gliding across the calm waters and getting closer to the beaches of the island I began to feel the pull of the tide. I turned hoolley 45° up stream and began to ferry glide paddling against the current determined to land at the spot I'd picked out. Without taking my eyes off the island I put my back into it and increased my paddling. The crossing was not so leisurely anymore but considerably more challenging. Thankfully I'd anticipated the change and plotted my course accordingly making sure I had alternative get outs further along the shoreline of eriska should anything go wrong and should I have misjudged the strength of the tide. Safely nearing the shingle beach I began to relax once more and with a strong stroke I landed hoolley.
Once packed up and with the sun beginning to lower in the sky I headed along the beach and up onto a golf course absent of any golfers. After crossing the golf course I headed into the frost coverer bogs and marshes. It felt like I was now waking through a huge open air freezer. The temperature dropped quickly and the long grasses almost snapping beneath my feet. By studying a simple map of the island depicting the numerous holes on the golf course I'd come across near to the 7th green I determined the location of a short bridge that would take me back to the mainland.
Seeing the bridge ahead I rambled my way through the grass, among trees and over heather. With the bridge getting closer but cut off by a thick impenetrable wall of rhododendrons I wondered how I would be able to get myself up to the road and off the island. Thankfully I found an old rusty steel section of fencing that had been discarded laying up against the brickwork of the bridge. Propping it up I gingerly placed my left foot onto the first rung of my makeshift ladder. Despite the decaying condition of the metal work it appeared to take my weight. Reaching a railing further up I slowly pulled myself and my pack up having to clamber over the top of the wall to get to the start of the bridge. Expecting to find a tarmac road crossing the bridge I was surprised to be confronted with heavy wooden sleepers.
The light was now fading quickly and woodland too thick to follow the coast I opted to follow the road to Benderloch. I was as normal completely out of water so when I saw the lights on in a nearby cottage and no sign of any fresh water burns I went over and knocked on the door. Apologising for the disturbance and asking if I could fill my bottles with water the lady that had answered asked if there was anything else that she could help me with. Having been welcomed by many I had met throughout the Highlands it was lovely to receive the same welcome in what I'd referred to as the lowlands.
Finding a clearing in the woodland a little further along I setup camp and settled in for the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment