Swaledale Outdoor Club

> Home > Newsletter > Canoeing > Skye

Skye

Easter Weekend 2000

"Borrow my boat", said a friend. "It's far too cold for Scotland at Easter. I won't be going there until Whitsun". Perhaps I should have heeded the warning.

Eight of us put in at Broadford on Skye, packing hastily (unpacking and replacing in my case) amid and between what I am sure locals would describe as wee showers. We managed a 3.00pm start, well timed for low tide. Paddling along the coast I thought how wrong people can be - warm sunshine, water like silk, little clouds scudding along. Due to time factors, Plan B was put into action and we crossed towards Scalpay's west coast, heading for the northern end and the first night's camp. Then the 'showers' began again. Sheeting rain cascaded off the mountain tops and we watched their rapid progress as grey curtains obscured everything but the water around us. Still, the rain drops looked quite pretty bouncing up and down. Then sun, and more rain. A welcome brew, shivering on an open shore, was followed by an hour or so paddling in sunshine round to the north coast and Camas Na Geadaig.

A pebbly beach and boggy slope beckoned, a derelict shieling had space for tents in front. "It'll be a fine evening now". That's when the hail started. The rain became thicker, colder, whiter. Tents up, tea on and the chief arsonist (Trevor) managed a good fire in the intact fire place Just a shame about the huge puddle we stood in round the hearth.

Saturday dawned bright and clear with plenty of drying time before we set off across to Raasay. A quick stop to chat to Ann Jones' family, on a mountain bike day trip, round the static ferry and we headed for a brew on the beach below the Outdoor Centre. After we'd admired the mermaids, local facilities and Pete had obtained a weather forecast, the inevitable couldn't be postponed any longer. Shades and sun cream on, we paddled up the west coast, inspected by cavorting seals, accompanied by shags, guillemots and a few gannets. Pete found a sheltered spot for lunch and we worked on our tans. Scotland too cold at Easter?

The next leg started in fine weather but the wind got up and the clouds came in, creating at least a ten foot swell (OK, just a bit choppy), the horizon coming and going like a switchback ride. I decided concentration was a priority and was glad when we rounded Manish Point and a possible camp was in sight. Plan 23 in action. This landing proved more precarious, as did the wade through swathes of foot-deep, decomposing sea weed. The boats were still heavy, obviously not enough inroads into the alcohol. However, we made up for it later. Howard produced a palatable bottle of brandy (or was it whisky? hic) though it only just stretched to 7. Anna had a lame excuse - something about being pregnant. Ann Jones was last seen wobbling off up the hill into the darkness. Allegedly I was already snoring in the tent by then. Another good fire had been set and Nick had to be restrained from pyromaniac tendencies with a gas cannister.

The weather for Easter Sunday was undecided. A weak sun tried to break through as we crossed over to Skye, the tops of the cliffs in cloud. Trevor and Anna had brought plenty of chocolate eggs, so we had a short break before paddling south, hugging the coast. The cloud was still low, rocks looming out of the mist. We crossed Loch Portree, heading for a swathe of thick white cloud which skirted the coast. As we neared it lifted to reveal Scarg Caves, dark and mysterious. We passed on with the burping roars of a bull seal echoing behind us. We eventually found a windswept spot of grass to have lunch on.

The wind picked up and the swell increased, so much so that another change of plan ensued and we camped about 5km sooner than anticipated. An accommodating local let us camp in his garden on the edge of the beach at Camastianavaig. What were those bribes, Anna and Wendy? Trevor decided to test his sea legs and ran up the nearest mountain before tea. The rest of us were content with shorter strolls and watching the seals in the bay. Rain came in and just carried on in varying degrees of intensity, possibly hardest at about 4am. Pete decided (well, we all did) that the coastguard's forecast wouldn't really make for a happy Monday so Alan Jones came to the rescue. Mobile phones do have their uses (so do husbands). My first sea kayaking trip was over. A pleasant trip, no stress. What's next?

Helen Booth

Last Modified: 7 May, 2003