Another beautiful day as we set off from Tayvallich down Loch Sween and out into the Sound of Jura.
Approaching Castle Sween from the other direction highlighted the area as a very popular holiday destination. Rows of chalets overlook the loch and people were enjoying different water activities, the shore and castle ruins.
The no wind/no sail approach to motor sailing enabled me to draw what I saw and write my musings in my sketchbook. The second drawing below was undertaken as we approached, passed and left the castle, giving a distorted panorama of what was there. In a small way, it reminds me of how Braque and Picasso explored depicting objects at the beginning of the twentieth century which resulted in Cubism. In this case, it's probably, more correctly "addition" rather than "abstraction".
A really interesting phenomena I knowingly encountered for the first time on this trip, was when two bodies of water of different speeds meet head on. The faster water appears like the waves coming on to a beach: these cover the slower water which appears flat and calm. The breaking waves are much darker than the apparently still water and stand out like a wall. The speed of the tide in the Sound of Jura was over 2 knots and in Loch Sween was 1 knot which created this spectacular tide rip.
On this passage, as we headed south to Gigha, it was interesting to see how seaweed responded to the tides and currents. The movement of tide rips send water in different directions which makes the seaweed come together creating floating islands and ribbons of weed. [Both need to be avoided if possible to save impromptu diving sessions to take the vegetation off the propeller.] The floating islands of weed reminded me of Monet's waterlily paintings where the artist captures the sense of floating and the depth of water. They also reminded me of the place in the North Pacific Ocean where the tides bring together huge islands of plastic in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.
Seaweed wasn't the only thing to be brought together where tides meet, seabirds flock to them too. I counted 16 groups of 7 to approx 60 birds in less than an hour.
These flotillas of seabirds bob and sway in the water. Some dive when they are disturbed, some fly and some appear to take the sound of the boat as a starting horn and set off paddling in their avian regattas.
One flotilla, included gannets. These have to be my favourite seabird. I've seen them many times on wildlife programmes diving into the water to catch fish but nothing prepared me for the spectacle of seeing them in action, in the wild.
Soaring above the water over a flotilla of other seabirds, they click their wings in and with needle-like precision plummet into the water like avian Evil Knievels. With barely a splash, they are back on the surface again with their catch.
Although I tried hard to capture a diving gannet, like porpoises, dolphins and seals, they know when the camera is pointing at them. I think wildlife photographers are a different species.
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| approaching Gigha from the north |
Heading down the east coast of Gigha we passed a large fish farm. 6 maybe 7 cages of what I mistakenly thought were salmon, kicking, wheeling and splashing inside huge, round, netted cages. Maybe, if these creatures were land based, their suffering wouldn't be tolerated. The only positive I could see, is the water is changed twice a day by the tide. It's certainly made me question whether to eat farmed salmon again.
[As I wrote this in my sketchbook, we passed 9 more cages being tended by a barge like vessel and commented, "I hope the diners appreciate their fish course."]
On Gigha we had the most delicious smoked halibut bagels. After a little research I know now the fish farm was producing hallibut! This diner certainly appreciated their fish course but has been left in a dilemma.]
Gigha...
We sailed down the west coast of Kintyre and ended up in what appeared to be the Isles of Scilly. This truly stunning place has clear turquoise water through which you can see the white sandy beach, an abundance of colourful seaweed and fish. Cordyline, grow around the island, plants which look like palm trees and the Gulf Stream brings a mild climate: a Scottish, "tropical" paradise.
Perfect for paddling, swimming and sharing the busiest beach with multi-generational families. MJ, L, JJ, BW, Q, J, C & F we would have loved sharing it with you. x
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| from the pontoon |
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| cows paddle too |
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| our "Little Island" Eilean Beag |
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| swimming in water that felt like liquid silk |
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| my after-swim shower - solar heated |
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| soft, powdery white sand on a quiet beach... |
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| ...looking towards Kintyre |
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| my other half amongst the rocks |
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| The busiest beach where we watched the ferry. |
A fascinating phenomenon to witness was the sea mist as it rolls in. Although this wasn't the Mull of Kintyre, that's further south, Paul McCartney was spot on and you couldn't help but hear his words as you watched.
Gigha, the heavy mooring buoys...
Visitors' moorings are chunky beasts with no line/rope or smaller buoy to pick up. The idea is to thread your own line through the loop on the top. Doddle, except the distance to the loop is further away than the length of my arm. With help from my other half who pulled it out of the water so I could reach, it was finally done. Apparently, we have a gadget on the end of a pole that would have done this for me which, at the time was carefully stowed in the aft cabin: it is now securely fastened in a handier place.
Once moored, we could see the seabed some 9ft/3.3m below us.
Having experienced mooring by threading a loop, I was interested to see how others did it. I didn't need to wait long. The next boat's crew lassoed it, pulled it out of the water and tied up effortlessly. The second boat used the gadget we had and after a couple of attempts, again moored effortlessly. I was suitably impressed and told them. Apparently it's not done to shout "Well Done" to others when they've caught a mooring buoy - note to self, "Don't applaud either."
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| sunrise as we left Gigha |
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