It’s a bit early in the year to flog up the M6 to Scotland, but I had to deliver three antique chairs to my brother in Grantown-on-Spey (low-level urgency) and a couple of weeks ago the weather forecast for the west coast was irresistible (high-level urgency).
So I headed north. 635 miles. My destination was Arisaig but I stopped a few miles short and camped at the head of Lochailort so I could make an early start the next day. Blue sky was forecast.
I was on the water at 7am and the sky was indeed cloudless. I was just a bit worried about the wind. It was predicted to be gentle, but was funnelling down off the mountains and when it hit the surface of the loch it was whipping up spray. Anything but gentle. If it got any stronger paddling back later could be a big problem…
However I had driven a long way so was not going to be put off.
Otters were top of my wishlist as I was blown down the loch, but it was great to hear the cooing of a small flock of Eider ducks near one of the islands. They are big ducks, but shy.
Spotting wildlife was not easy as I was being thrown about a bit in the choppy conditions, so I was very pleasantly surprised to see and otter clamber out onto the shore to munch a rockling fish. It was quite a bulky individual so probably a dog otter.
I would have liked to get the sun behind me for the best photo, but that would have also put me directly upwind of the otter, so I ditched the idea as I didn’t want to spook it. It slithered off and disappeared, as otters do, fairly quickly anyway.
I managed to find some spectacular sandy beaches for coffee and lunch breaks on sheltered west-facing beaches.
When it came to seabird plumage summer was gradually muscling winter out. This Great Northern Diver, one of scores that were dotted along the coast, is moulting into its breeding plumage. When complete it will be spectacular, but for the time-being it looks rather moth-eaten.
I was pleased to see all three species of Diver. The Black-throat was moulting, the Red-throat was in full summer plumage.
As I headed back up Lochailort to my car which was parked at the head of the loch five miles away, I was dismayed to see the surface was peppered with whitecaps which were soon sloshing over the deck. A couple of sea-kayakers that sped past with the wind and waves behind them seemed doubtful I would get back.
I dug in, hugged the shore for as much protection from the wind as possible, and didn’t stop paddling. The stronger gusts stopped me in my tracks completely, but eventually I rolled up at the slipway. Moderately pooped.
I camped for the next four nights at the excellent Tigh-na-mara campsite in Arisaig. It has a big camping field with access to a beautiful little beach, perfect for kayak launch.
So I had no excuse not to be on the water bright and early the following morning to explore the myriad of sandy islands in the bay.
There was nobody else about but I wasn’t alone. I was flanked by an escort of half-a-dozen Harbour Seals. As they swam alongside they constantly glanced in my direction in a shy but very engaging manner.
Some of their chums stayed on dry land, appearing to enjoy the spectacular surroundings.
As is usual with the sea coast at this time of year, it was a wildlife fest for ears as well as eyes. The quiet call of Ringed Plovers, fluting of Redshank and Greenshank, the bubble of Curlew and titter of Whimbrel.
Dominated as always by constant piping of Oystercatchers, who are relentlessly upbeat. They seem to be tolerated by the other more modest species because they intercept all avian predators and hassle them away. Ravens, crows, buzzards, eagles and gulls. Remarkably they can distinguish between the very similar-looking Common and Herring Gulls, tolerating the former but seeing off the latter.
I had given up hope of a major wildlife nugget as I returned to the little beach after seven hours on the water. Then, blow me down, a couple of otters appeared in front of me. I slammed on the anchors and sat dead still. They couldn’t resist sprainting on the highest rock, looking more like a bizarre horned creature from the Hobbit.
The complex of tails and limbs then resolved into something more straightforward to comprehend…
I followed at a very safe distance as they swam their way to the next headland. As they climbed out I was amazed to see there was actually two pups. They are so slithery in the water I hadn’t noticed.
Up on the rocks They were just over the horizon to get a perfect view, but every so often I could see nose, teeth, legs and tails of the two pups flailing about as they horsed about with each other. Mother sat on the lookout, meerkat-style.
A really tremendous sight of these super-shy animals under a deep blue sky with a back-canvas of the mountains of Rum:
These pups were still quite fluffy and fairly young.
A tremendous day on the water was followed by a tremendous ornithological experience from under the canvas. I was tucked up in my sleeping bag within a few minutes of the sun dropping down behind Rum.
Just as I was nodding off I was jolted back to my senses by the insect-like reverberation of a Snipe drumming overhead. Then another, and another. Fantastic…not quite the Beegees in terms of harmony but as good as you are going to get using vibrating tail feathers.
The performance was repeated at precisely 0420 each day. Maybe a minute or two earlier each day with the earlier sunrise. The snipe had the airwaves to themselves until the Oystercatchers got going, followed by the general dawn chorus which was a real orchestra of huge variety. The tumbling liquidity of the song of the willow warbler, a skylark, blackbird, wren and robin. Supported by a disappointing effort by the finches who don’t seem to have really got going yet…a very half-hearted chaffinch and yellowhammer.
It was a great way to start another day of wildlife action under a cloudless sky.
To avoid the wind I ventured a bit further south to Loch Moidart which has a wooded shoreline and lots of islands to baffle the blow.
My early(ish) start paid dividends. A Red Deer was wandering about down by the shore…
…and I hadn’t gone far when I heard the sound which sends me into excitement overdrive more than virtually any other, the chirp of an otter pup. Loud and piercing and very far-carrying so difficult to locate.
Listen to it in this video clip:
It was very exciting for me but it must really grate on mother otter if she is feeling a bit run down. It is a very penetrating noise and young otters really don’t like being separated from mum for any period of time, so do an awful lot of chirping.
Just round the corner a White-tailed Eagle was looking regal as it peered out of its massive nest atop the tallest pine on the shore:
It was excellent to bump into fellow solo kayaker Andrew Reeve as I emerged onto the open coast. Andrew runs Roam Outer Hebrides from the island of Scalpay on North Harris. Guiding kayak trips in one of the UK’s most stunning locations…living the dream!
Appropriately my best wildlife encounter was right at the end of my short and snappy Scottish adventure. Although the surface was chopped up by a stiff following breeze, I glimpsed the back of an otter as it rolled for a dive.
I swung downwind and watched the show for twenty minutes, paddling steadily and stealthily to maintain position against the blow.
The otter was fishing off the tip of a small island. Most of its catches were small snacks which it ate on the water, but the larger fish it brought to the shore.
I cunningly parked my kayak on some weed covered rocks and hid down out of sight peering through gaps in the boulders.
As I had hoped, the otter swam headed shorewards when it caught a fair-sized rockling.
Annoyingly it consumed the fish out of view, but exposed itself just enough for some very satisfactory pics as it did a bit of sprucing up before a bit more fishing.
My attempt at a video was a struggle because of the movement of the kayak in the lively conditions, exaggerated even more when I used the zoom.
So thanks to son Henry for using his video editing software to stabilise this short clip (and the previous video in this blog) for us all to enjoy. Good job, Hezzer!
Best of all about this otter encounter was that the busy little animal never knew I was there.
Time to head back south. Highland adventure over.
The Lone Kayaker 
Wow Rupert…what an amazing few days. The sunset photo was possibly the easiest you took, but it’s truly breathtaking….🙂