A baker’s dozen of mostly Wednesday evening regulars braved heavy showers and drove across to Old Dornie jetty on Saturday morning. Originally billed as a trip to Priest Island, the first glimpse of the white capped water suggested “Plan B”, so with plenty of other Summer Isles to choose from and the sun shining, we followed Salty Margueritta anti-clockwise around Isle Ristol. Paddling into the northerly wind and some rather choppy seas, everyone except Sparkly Sue was happy to reach the shelter of Eilean Mullagrach and pull out for lunch back on the mainland. Less than a kilometre south of our starting point, thanks to a rather clumsy landing, I ended up as Soggy Socks Dave, probably distracted by an amazing two storey mini-chateau built by some creative beachcomber from flotsam and jetsam.
Back on the water, with a following sea, we made good progress across Badentarbet Bay, skirting the west side of Tanera Mor. With the tide just high enough to allow us around the north end of Eilean Fada Mor, but covering the famous coral sands, the paddling was continuously interesting, surrounded by skerries and islets, with plenty of bird life and seals. Neil the Knowledge suggested camping on Tanera Beg, so after a look at the remarkable sandstone arch at the south-east corner of the island we landed at Mol Bheag to check out the camping possibilities. Too early to call it a day, we finished with a circumnavigation of the island, a mixture of leisurely cliff bottom cruising in the shelter with some more challenging chop on the weather side. By now the water was high enough to paddle through the arch, and reduce the toil of carrying the boats up the slippery boulders of our landing bay.
In the absence of any grassy sward, the party scattered somewhat in search of suitable tent spots in the heather. The Capella Kids, Innes and Mathew seemed hardest to please, and some strange noises coming from Techno Mike’s tent turned out to be his wind up radio! Simon Bonfire had checked out the driftwood as soon as we landed, and was soon gathering piles of the stuff. In dry socks again, I enjoyed a snooze while others started the booze. Mr & Mrs Kitchen-Sink, Bunty & Ray were toasting their 28th wedding anniversary, and it turned out that just about everyone had something to celebrate – for myself, over thirty years after reading Frank Fraser Darling, I had finally made it to the Summer Isles. Keen to see more of the place, the short climb up to the highest point was a pure pleasure with magnificent views. Glittery Jan recounted that the dark peaty waters of the round lochan near the top warmed up enough to attract visitors to bathe. Dipping in a hand I was not tempted. Back at the beach the fire was blazing, stoked by Mr& Mrs Nordcapp, Chris and Barbara. True to form the smoke could not decide which way to blow, until the wind finally died and the midges came and joined us.
Rain in the night gave way to a grey dawn, but the sun was out again by the time we were back on the water, a gentle breeze blowing us south around Sgeir an Aon Iomairt and Sgeir Revan before heading to Tanera More. Neil’s Knowledge did not deliver a promised wreck, but we enjoyed a game of pass the sweetie jar before following the south coast around to The Anchorage. Leisurely lunch on the picnic tables outside the Post Office before the final paddle back across the bay.
Brilliant trip, thanks Neil for organising, and everyone else for great craic and company.
