For Sale: Valley Nordkapp LV

NOW SOLD!

I am now facing the reality that I am not using my Nordkapp LV as much as such a beautiful kayak merits. Since acquiring the smaller Rockpool Isel, I have been favouring it due to its better fit for me.

So, despite my emotional attachment to the Nordkapp LV, I have decided to sell it. Details are:

• Red
• Less than 2 years old – one careful owner
• Fully functional skeg
• Only minor surface abrasions on hull (as to be expected)
• Fitted Silva deck compass
• Price: £1450

Contact me here or by leaving a comment.

Guess where we were last weekend … the photo on the right is a clue. No, it wasn’t the Crazy Golf course on Dunoon shore front. It was somewhere even more famous. Yes, Turnberry. I know that even my farthest flung readers will have heard of that.

And what, might you ask, does this have to do with kayaking? Let me explain.

Ailsa Craig, or Paddy's Milestone ... and paddler

A change of scenery had been scheduled for our latest paddling excursion, away from Argyll and Bute. Well, when I say a change of scenery, the predominant feature throughout the paddle can be seen from our front window. Perhaps a change of coastline is more accurate. We were headed for South Ayrshire to spend a day against a backdrop of Ailsa Craig, aka “Paddy’s Milestone”.

We set off from the quaint little harbour of Dunure, attracting various passersby who were interested in our preparations. It could well be that the shenanigans of one of our group, involving a piece of men’s outsized swimwear apparel (the memory of which I am working hard to purge) was causing some distress amongst the locals. One of them enquired, rather hopefully I felt,  if we were paddling to Ireland. Perhaps another day. The conditions were uncharacteristically calm for this part of the coast, I am assured.  I even broke out my summer wear and was paddling in short sleeves, partly by way of experimentation (to see if I could will it to be warmer).

Dunure Castle

We passed the ruins of Dunure castle (where an abbot was roasted back in the bad old days), heading south with Dave, who used to paddle this coastline regularly. He provided interesting insights into the various features of the land and seascape as we progressed. We could see the Irish coastline to the west, as well as the coast of Kintyre, including the Mull of Kintyre. It was a very different orientation from usual for us. Our voices echoed as we passed the caves before Culzean, and soon we were at the majestic Culzean Castle, obtaining one of the best views of it possible.

Culzean Castle

Castle Port Lighthouse

We continued on past the town of Maidens before reaching Castle Port lighthouse and the hallowed coastline of Turnberry Golf Course. Even I, who know virtually zero about golf, felt a sense of awe. This is the course where Very Famous Golfers golf – people like Jack Whatsisname, Tiger Thingmy, and that Tom guy. We could see the silhouettes of golfers (potentially Very Famous ones?) trundling their golf trolleys (sorry, whatever they’re called) along behind them. I saw one stop and take stock of our little group of kayakers and it occurred to me that he was quite possibly wondering what it must be like to be out on the sea instead of playing a round of golf. At that very same moment, I wondered what it would be like to be him wondering, being that I’m fairly convinced that – venerated golf course or not – we had the better deal. I sensed him sighing enviously, and I restrained myself from waving.

With a bit of skillful maneouvring, we pulled on to the rocky shore to eat lunch. An examination of our lunch spot revealed the presence of various golfing paraphernalia – an actual golf ball and several tees. Some tuts were uttered amongst our group at this inconsiderate littering of the shoreline by surely lesser skilled golfers. This was only assuaged by the realisation that the tees were made of wood and not the dreaded plastic.

The journey back

After lunch we continued south for a short while, reaching Brest Rocks where we encountered several grey seals and a large cormorants’ nest atop the beacon (which initself resembled something out of The Wicker Man).

We retraced our paddle-strokes northwards and the clouds parted, creating interesting and photogenic skies. Eventually, we were back at Dunure and ready for the drive home.

Forlorn golfer

We might not have had a 19th hole to visit, and there were no reflections on putts, eagles and holes-in-one in our group (although we had plenty of birdies), but out of the many ways to spend a pleasant Sunday in May, I know sea kayaking tops my list.

The word was out that we would be going for a paddle around the island of Inchmarnock, which greatly pleased Alan and me as we’ve had had a notion of just such a trip for a while. Inchmarnock lies to the west of Bute and is south-east of Ardlamont Point on Cowal. In other words, it’s right in our back yard. The island has an interesting history and we studied up the night before by consulting with the trusty The Scottish Islands by Hamish Haswell Smith, and of course the Sea Kayak Photo Blog.

Our launch point was the appropriately named Carry Point in Kames, as we duly carried our kayaks to the water over the rocky beach exposed by the low tide. A couple of our number borrowed Julia’s robust C-Tug trolley to trundle their heavier vessels over the rocks, a feat that impressed me greatly (note to self: this trolley could be handy!). Overnight the Met Office had been busy removing the previously forecast gusts from their predictions and it was now set to be a calm day. This came as a disappointment to Dave who was testing out a Rockpool GT. Never mind, we stoically endured the tranquil conditions as we headed south to our destination.

Arran Mountains

The crossing to the island was set against the beautiful backdrop of the Arran mountains to the south-west, which always makes for good photos. After about an hour’s paddling, punctuated by some much-needed kayak adjustments for Dave, Inchmarnock finally increased in size and we became aware that the island is, in fact, inhabited, a fact that I’d failed to appreciate despite (or because of) my recent hasty studies.

The natives were nervous

The inhabitants appeared to be quite nervous and, as we landed on the pebbly beach and started digging out our respective lunches, we became conscious of being avidly watched. My approach to take photos was met with stumbling retreat and it became evident that our hosts were not accustomed to visitors, especially ones clad in bright yellow. Our audience was in fact a motley crew of Highland cattle and I have since established that they are residents of an organic farm on the island, themselves deemed to be “organic”. At least I hadn’t started giving them names …

Geese overhead

After lunch, we proceeded down the east coast of the island and the wildife count began to increase at a great rate of knots. Seals were aplenty and my progress was slowed by my attempts to photograph them all. I have now established with some scientific certainty that the sound of a camera lens focusing, no matter how quiet, is audible to seals and is a signal to immediately dive.

Afternoon tea stop

Inchmarnock is popular with the greylag geese set and we saw many of them flying (and heard them honking) overhead, as well as on the water and on the island itself. There were lots of little goslings following their parents around and we were reminded that, despite the chilly temperature, it was well into breeding season. We also saw: oystercatchers, curlews, plovers and more, and lots and lots of herring gulls. I marvelled at the clarity of the water, with news of the horrific and ongoing massive oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico playing on my mind. My heart aches for the people and wildlife who will suffer as a result and it is to be hoped that it is somehow stopped soon and that it does not enter the Gulf Stream to make its way northwards. We can never take for granted the beauty that nature has gifted us.

A spot of hail

Having rounded the island and paddled up the western side, we stopped for afternoon tea at an idyllic beachlet on the north-western edge before setting out on the crossing back to Cowal. During the journey back we saw our second porpoise of the day, a sight that is always a thrill. We went through a few different seasons during that crossing – from spring sunshine to winter hail and even some chilly gusts after all. And then we were back at Carry Point, the tide having come in and thus making it not so far to carry this time.

A spot of sunshine

The thing that strikes me so often on such excellent local trips is that they are precisely that – local. When growing up in Scotland, my main ambition was to go travel and see the world. Certainly I’ve done a little of that and it’s been all very nice. But maybe it’s ironic that I now want nothing more than to explore my own country. And all I really need is a kayak … and maybe a trolley.

All the rusted signs we ignore throughout our lives
Choosing the shiny ones instead
I turned my back, now there’s no turning back
No matter how cold the winter, there’s a springtime ahead

Thumbing My Way, Pearl Jam, Riot Act