The Long Paddle

"We're going kayaking!"
"Oh fun! Where? When?"
"Soon, July time!"

It wasn't July. And it wasn't straight forward kayaking either, or at least what I am used to in the protective shores of Scottish Lochs.

It was a four day trip around the western Scottish isles, which for me means sea. Open, vast, unpredictable, unknown sea. A new outlook on my favourite element that usually evokes a feeling of calm. Yet put me in a kayak, add a few 8 foot waves and locate the shore more than 4km away and WHAM! The sea is a daunting place to be.

So here I am, a kilometre off the north point of Ulva, bobbing up and down between 8 foot swells, wondering what happens next. Believing in my soul that I am destined to bob the seas and oceans as there is no way I am going to reach dry land again. I fold my arms and let the waves rattle me about to spite them and show them that I am not scared. It obviously made no difference.

When we had set out Lewis had been very cautious of me and watched my every move yet somehow, when fear had gripped me and I lost the will to paddle it was at this point he believed me to be perfectly happy rather than the reality that I temporally lost all motor skills in order to paddle 180° to point me in the direction of a small cove - that seemed to be taking the brunt of these impending waves. What's more, what I had originally thought was inconvenient, the hundreds of feet of water below us with tens of feet of waves coming from a variety of angles appeared to be only 2/3 of the fun, as we were missing on the only remaining angle left, from above. The skies opened and it was an unbelievable downpour.

All this within the first 5 hours.

After sleeping in a very soggy tent, we wake the next morning to find the sun shining and the sea calm (er).

Over the next few days we kayak to the Isle of Staffa, where a few of our friends decided to paddle into a wave infested cave - Fingal's Cave. What seemed sensible to Lewis and the rest of our friends - in my opinion presently dehydrated and therefore disillusioned friends -  was to paddle backwards into the cave and ride the waves out.

Ehm.... I think not.

We also kayaked through flocks of my avian favourites - the mighty puffin - and paddled along the shores of Ulva past dozens of extremely curious seals with their adorable pups.

Of course, the trip would not be complete without a sneaky critter which came on our final night whilst camping on the shores of a stunning secluded sandy beach with seals popping up in the bay - tics. Thousands of them crawling over every garment of clothing we had foolishly laid out to dry. I got one which is amazing seeing as Lewis managed to feed a whopping 19, although I think even that was lucky as I am sure there were thousands on my rain jacket.

It was an epic trip that looking back on, I really did love and would happily do it again. As worried as I was on that first day, the rest of the trip was a breeze particularly on the last day in the middle of the ocean when the guys decided to play tug-of-war with the safety rope. Guess I had found my sea legs by that point.

So what do I think of the sea? Yep, still my calming influence.