An Unexpectedly Lumpy Morning in the Highlands
Back in June I was up on the western Scottish coast for a few weeks. The weather around the region has been pretty rubbish all year so far but one weekend a tantalising weather window appeared. After a torrentially rainy and windy Saturday, the Sunday and Monday looked set to be calm and almost sunny. A few weeks prior, I’d undergone a cardiac ablation procedure to try to fix two heart arrhythmias that have plagued me for years, and for that reason I wasn’t feeling confident to head out unless the weather was looking very good. Winds for the Sunday were forecast to be little more than a gentle NE breeze that would then drop entirely overnight. It looked like the only issue I’d be facing would be some condensation on my tent!
As I was staying near Oban, I decided on an overnight trip nearby, so that I’d be able to get back in time for work on Monday morning. Tidal timings worked well for the plan too, as the general area would get a slack in the tide around 6am, making for an easy return trip. I chose the island of Lismore, as it’s an island I have paddled around before so had some familiarity with, and I already knew a good camping spot that has lovely views to the north. The area also doesn’t experience very significant tidal flows apart from around some smaller islands and skerries around Lismore’s northern side, but those don’t generally exceed two knots.
I launched at Port Appin on the Sunday morning and enjoyed a lovely leisurely paddle over to the island and around its western side, paddling as far as Castle Coeffin before turning back and heading for the beach where I planned to spend the night, near the top of the island. Over the course of the afternoon, I couldn’t help noticing that the wind was a little stronger than forecast, but attributed this to the northeasterly orientation of Loch Linnhe itself, which would naturally funnel a breeze and make it feel stronger. Considering I was still not totally back to peak fitness and was really supposed to be taking things easy for a few months following the ablation (from which I still had healing wounds in my groin!), I did feel a bit uneasy about the possibility of further wind funnelling but eventually decided to stay on the island since the breeze was forecast to drop entirely anyway.
I set up my campsite and had a lovely lazy afternoon just sitting in the occasionally sunny afternoon, enjoying the sound of the sea and the fresh air. I even spotted an otter fishing happily off the rocks. Once again, however, I found myself feeling a sense of unease when the wind appeared to be gathering strength despite the forecast that said it would diminish over the course of the afternoon. The sea state wasn’t significant, as there’s not really enough fetch between Lismore and the Corran Narrows to create very large waves, but the sea was certainly starting to get a bit rough with plenty of white caps. I wondered if I should return instead of camping, but I decided to just stay on the island anyway, as I continued to hope that the wind would drop sooner or later.
Eventually I went to bed, listening to the waves crashing repeatedly on the shore below and spent a very restless night constantly waking and still hearing the waves. When I rose shortly after 4am and looked out, the sea was quite rough. The wind was blowing around a F4/F5. I packed up everything, my tent almost blowing away when I unpegged it from the ground, wrestling everything into dry bags as the wind roared in my ears and the crashing of the waves actually overwhelmed the microphone on my camera to the point that all the audio from the footage I filmed was unusable.
Out to sea I could see the western side of Loch Linnhe was very rough, whilst the area through which I’d actually have to paddle looked manageable (the island of Shuna to the north probably providing a small bit of shelter compared to Lismore’s western side), albeit not very nice as I’d be paddling directly into the wind. I could see further out into the bay that the waves coming down were reaching heights of around 1m at most. I’ve certainly paddled in far bigger conditions before, but always with others. Generally, the conditions I was looking at were not what I’d ordinarily choose to paddle solo, especially considering I wasn’t in perfect health. I really started to regret not listening to my gut the day before and returning then.
Ideally I would have remained until the wind changed, but I needed to get back to where I was staying in time for work. I loaded the kayak and just paddled out, spending almost an entire hour battling into the headwind to get around the top of the island. Paddling directly into the waves isn’t too bad as you can see what’s coming, but what really concerned me was the crossing back to the mainland, as it would require me to paddle across the waves, a somewhat more vulnerable position. I figured if the straight was really bad, I could just land at the jetty on Lismore’s northeastern corner and potentially catch the ferry across. I cannot describe my relief as I rounded the top of the island and saw that the straight was considerably calmer than what I’d just paddled into. I suspect again that Shuna to the north contributed to this but it may also be that the wind had dropped slightly. I was so full of adrenaline by that point that I am not really sure!
When I think back to that morning, my overriding sensory memory is the noise of the wind roaring in my ears. It was definitely a reminder that forecasts can only give us a rough guide of things; ultimately, things on the ground may pan out differently and we should always be prepared to adjust our plans.
