Sea Kayaking

In my previous life, when I lived on the remote west coast of Scotland, this beach was two minutes walk from my house.  When the tide was out, as above, I used to launch my boat from beautiful silver sand. When the tide was in, I would sit at the top of the shingle beach and slide all the way down into the sea. 

Sea kayaking was one of my favourite activities to do at home, and I have so many happy memories. Hot summer day paddles, water as flat as a millpond, looking into the depths at the jellyfish and seaweed forests. Short evening jaunts into the bay and back.  Longer adventures to the west, where civilisation was suddenly left behind, kayaking under towering cliffs with just the cormorants for company.  Sneaking up on otters. Being spied on by seals. The one time dolphins swam under our boats and leapt from the sea next to us.  The one evening we saw a basking shark from the house, ran down to the sea, and kayaked next to it.  Dad still claims I hit the poor creature with my paddle; I still maintain I did not.

Photo by Jon Haylett

I remember playing "kayak instructor", and taking friends out in the boats. I always ended up in the wobbly one, hoping that I wouldn't fall in and embarrass myself. To make the wobbly boat more stable, we had to put ballast in it.  We used an old pair of my best friend's jeans filled with sand, so the ballast became known as "Seonaid's Legs", which always made us giggle.  Then there was my favourite day of the year in the village: The West Ardnamurchan Regatta. We raced our kayaks from one end of the bay to another, always feeling highly competitive, but having an excellent day whatever the race results. 

Yet we also learned valuable lessons from our excursions in the boats. Early on, we adventured into the bay and towards the pier.  We quickly learned that the headlands near the pier contained some of the most dangerous water, and I still remember the three of us having to turn around and head back into the bay. We scared ourselves, but we learned.  

Some memories are more vivid. I remember floating here, looking up at what was soon to be someone else's house, a cocktail of emotions bubbling inside of me. Excitement and apprehension about what life was to have in store for me as a teacher on the east coast. Sadness to be leaving this beautiful place, indefinitely. But also a feeling that this was right, that it was time for a change and a new adventure, for all of us.

My lovely sea kayak is now enjoying life on the beautiful Isle of Skye, with our friends who recently moved there. A new adventure for the boat too.

And of course, photos like this will always aid my memories of the wonderful times we had as a family, and with friends, exploring the beautiful coastline of Ardnamurchan.