The tide was low and had turned as i left otter ferry. I'd asked a couple of locals what i could expect from the way ahead of me to which the reply, all too familiar, was "it couldn't be done", i wasn't convinced. With my pack on my shoulders i set off once again heading south along a shoreside track passing through a small community of wooden buildings and in front of a rather large mansion.
The track soon became a little over grown as i followed my instincts into a woodland where i came upon a semi buried boat house. At first impressions i thought it was a concrete bunker but while taking a look round i found an old rusty boat winch and a large semi circle entrance with a ramp to the waters.
With the tide low and away from the banks of loch fynne i was able to make good progress keeping the loch to my right and closely packed woodland to my left. Compared to recent rock scramblings the journey was easy. It wasn't long before i came upon a long sandy beach, a beach that I'd been told early that morning had a deep river that would force me inland to cross a bridge a mile away.
As i made my way across the beach along the waters edge i saw the river ahead. Sure enough it was too wide to jump but a little way back from the shore it trickled a mere two inches deep. It couldn't be done, yeah right! With a huge grin adorning my face i paddled across and chambered up the bank on the far side. Challenge complete, well almost. I still had a fair hike ahead of me over some pretty wild terrain, a landscape never before tainted by the foot of man.
The next stretch of coast was reasonably easy to traverse with little much more than a few scrambles over rocks and hiking through shallow marsh land.
Beyond the marshes and crags i found a small secluded bay with a newish boat house at the far end almost opposite a fish farm anchored in the loch. There wasn't any tracks or roads leading to it so i summized that the boat house was primarily used by the employees of the farm, probably for storage.
Beyond the boathouse i was confronted by a large hill looming over me obscuring the horizon from view. Attempting to pinpoint my position along the coast i looked across the loch to try to locate a landmark i would have passed whilst trekking the kintyre peninsula. Unfortunately the view was mostly shrouded in mist, which it had been all day, and i found it difficult to see the far shores let alone identify any landmarks.
Reaching the boathouse i decided to stop for a short break and to munch on a Jamaican ginger cake jo had sent me. A thousand calories of stodge which the body digested and the soul revelled in. Feeling refreshed i climbed a low fence behind the boathouse and entered into a wilderness not unlike many i had already negotiated and successfully navigated before. With a rocky shore falling below to the sea on my right and rocky crags and cliffs climbing high to my left i wound my way between the birch trees and squidged my way through the bogs hoping not to end up cut off by an in penetrative crag or dense woodland. I was nearing the end and the woods thinned out but my way was blocked by thickly growing gorse. I had but one option, to traverse the rocky face of the shore line way above the water below. It was a risky move with very few places to grab or place my feet.
Slowly i lowered myself into position using all my skills and knowledge of climbing and this type of terrain to safely and surely negotiate my self away from the timeless wilderness.
Stood on top of a small mound beyond the woods i could see another ominous hill a few miles ahead. It too reached down to the water with trees covering the west side, it was getting late now and i wasn't sure if I'd be able to round before dark. I set off towards it and was immediately startled by a foxes copulating between two rocks near the shore. They were back to back, facing opposite directions, a sexual position I'd never tried before. In fact I'm not even sure if it's possible. There was a frantic struggle and some whimpering as they struggled free from the knot and darted over the rocks before me to the safety of the bushes and long grass. I'll be honest i really wasn't expecting that and thus didn't even think about pulling out my camera to get a photo although i guess i wouldn't want someone taking photos of me whilst copulating.
Quite astounded i carried on, a little bemused too. Reaching a sandy beach just a little way beyond i found myself not only looking for shelter for the night but also looking for a way to cross quite a deep river which was getting deeper all the time due to the tide coming in. Contemplating my options which were to either paddle across in the pack raft, wade across not knowing how deep it would get or backtracking the river to locate a bridge of some description i decided i needed to make a decision. Wading across was really out of the question and although hoolley was viable i ended up looking for an alternative places to cross.
Following the river back it didn't take long before i came across a kind of rope bridge. It was made of rope but it followed a similar design to that of the one I'd crossed on knoydart. This rope bridge was considerably more robust and made from tensioned cables although the sign "use at own risk" was a little disconcerting. Carefully i stepped on and slowly made my way across. It was satisfyingly stable and considerably more so than the knoydart rope bridge. Safely in the other bank i decided I'd had enough adventure for one day and called it a day.
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