Gigha and some more fishy tales

Heading north from the bull of Craro, the wind finally disappeared all together followed shortly later by Douglas’s sail. It took a little longer for the swell to disappear.



For approximately 500 meters, I saw a rope along the rocks just above the waterline. I imagined another legend where the Greek warriors dropped strips of cloth in the tunnels of the labyrinth so they could find their way out again once they slayed the mighty Medusa. I wondered if a fishing boat had the same idea when lost in the mist ?



Not far from the end of the rope, I passed a fallen fishing boat, my imagination started to run wild. I quickly wound in my own fishing line because wrecks are favourite spots to catch large conger eels. I imagined that a fight with a three meter conger in a two meter inflatable would be like looking the Medusa straight between the eyes.



Moving on and even the swell disappeared. I think Phil was having a more restful dream as he waited patiently for us to catch up.



The noise from the passing Islay ferry soon brought us all back to reality as we started to approach the northern end of Gigha and our intended camping site.



It was a beautiful little sandy bay just north of Queen’s beach. It could have been paradise except for the smell of rotting seaweed and the clouds of midges. What a heavenly place to end a hell of a day.



I was too tired to walk to the grass so pitched my tent in the sand for ease. When I bought it, I was delighted with my purchase. It was £10 in a Tesco Extra’s end of season sale. It wasn’t until I erected it that I discovered they are made for people five feet tall. That night, there was an extra foot hanging out the front door as I am six feet long lying down. Its just as well it was cold during the night or I think the midges would have reduced me to Tesco Tent size.



Time for supper and Dougla’s kindly offered us some bhuna. Phil and myself both politely declined as it reminded us of the smell of goats on Cara ? I have BBQ’d fresh caught mackerel and it was delicious.



As the sun started to set, we started to tell some fishy stories. They got bigger by the moment as my companions replaced the sweat of their journey with pure alcohol made from the “wash” of some Islay distillery.



With a definite nip in the cold night air, Douglas found a better way to keep us warm. He lit a fire.



What a perfect way to end the perfect day. As I drifted off to sleep, I started to dream of what tomorrow would bring....