Eigg and Muck, Day 3

A comfortable night and leisurely morning had us well prepared for the return to Eigg and thence Arisaig. A friendly wind helped us across the Sound of Eigg to the tea room at Galmisdale. Will left us here to catch the ferry back to Muck. I'm sure he'll find other kayakers arriving soon.
Our crossing to Arisaig was quite a contrast to the trip out. The wind had turned a little more westerly and gave us an exhilarating and relatively effortless run back. The sun was out and the skerries around Arisaig lit up with a turquoise glow.

Eigg and Muck, Day 2

Another perfect morning.


Unfortunately Accessorize was shut, so scrunchies had to be improvised.


We headed south along black cliffs where we spotted a sea eagle nesting. A short crossing then took us to Muck , just as rain moved in and the wind picked up. After circumnavigating the island we were feeling a bit cold and wet, so we sought out the bunkhouse at Port Mor. This proved a cosy place to spend the night. In the evening we had a visit from Will, whose partner is supply teacher to the island school. He is a kayaker, and was looking for some company to cross to Eigg the following day.


In the bunkhouse.


Rush hour on Muck.

Eigg and Muck, Day 1

Angus and I set off for Arisaig with a weather forecast that was fair but not inspiring. It was a pleasant surprise to arrive on a perfect day- no wind, sunshine, and Eigg looking only a stone's throw away.




Two hours of paddling later it still looked only a stone's throw away. The Skye Cuillins filled the horizon to our right, though.



Long crossings on flat water can get a bit dull, and the approach to the north of Eigg was a relief. It's a dark hostile bit of coast, as this ship found out.


Our destination was the "Singing Sands" of Eigg. A small incident happened on the way there. Though the sea was flat calm, there was an apparently very gentle swell. Angus stopped to watch this breaking over some rocks. I had a fine view of a curling wave appear behind him, apparently out of nowhere. Well over head height, it threw him forward over the rocks, depositing him upside down. It was a bit of a relief to see him roll.




The singing sands are a Hebridean gem. We didn't hear them sing, but they definitely do squeak when walked upon.
A bottle of wine, a small fire and a purple sunset followed.