Racing the tide among the glorious north coast scenery
OUT AND ABOUT WITH RALPH: Exploring the Kyle of Tongue by sea-kayak needs careful planning in face of tides and wind
At this time of year sea-kayakers need to get back into paddling. A loch is often good for practice, relatively safe even in windy conditions and no tide to worry about.
But a more special place than our Caithness lochs is the Kyle of Tongue, the section south of the causeway forming a sea-loch sheltered from the big swells which often wash in from the north.
There are, though, some particular hazards. At low tide almost the whole Kyle empties to big expanses of sand and mud which could leave you stranded, while a big tide-race roars out under the bridge. North of the Causeway, large breakers often appear while local winds are very unpredictable – I’ve known force seven off the Rabbit Isles when it was calm enough for midges at Talmine.
On one of the biggest tides of the year, I decided on an easy paddle south of the causeway. I’d have to be early as the tide peaked about 10.30am. Leaving the car by the Melness cemetery, as long-tailed ducks yodelled from the water, I let the incoming tide take me quickly under the bridge. I’d have to be careful returning, it would be the peak of the outflow on a very big tide.
The wind was forecast as at most force three, touching four, and with fine conditions I aimed to paddle up the eastern side of the loch below the old road and then return along the more interesting western shore.
The tide was indeed exceptionally high, washing right up the shore and submerging lichen on boulders normally above the water, A steady headwind gave for good exercise as I made my way slowly southwards. Sun shone, but cloud and drizzle lingered over the peaks of Ben Loyal and Ben Hope, occasionally drifting downwards to give low rainbows across the yellow moors. Skeins of wild geese flew over.
After a couple of hours I’d almost reached the southern end of the Kyle near Kinloch, heading for a gravelly beach just ahead. It had, perhaps, become a bit of a slog into the wind – then my viewpoint suddenly flipped. Here I was out alone on a grand loch of white waves under the blue sky, mountains rising all round – I was lucky indeed to be able to enjoy this magnificent place.
Soon I reached the beach, time for a good snack and a cup of hot sweet tea. But I’d not have to linger too long, the tide was now retreating increasingly fast. I looked forward to pottering down the western side of the Kyle, where cliffs and steep birch-covered slopes fall to the sea, all very inaccessible other than by boat, there are plenty of opportunities to land and explore hidden stony beaches.
The wind seemed to be picking up and the sea looked increasingly choppy. I stopped for the rest of my lunch at a sheltered and peaceful cove, then launched again into the waves.
The trouble with a loch is that wind produces steep choppy waves which are very closely spaced, whereas on the sea they come at you more slowly. The Kyle is very shallow, which adds to the choppiness. Now with the wind gusting to force six from the side and with waves reflecting back from the cliffs I had to concentrate hard and saw very little of the fine scenery for the next couple of miles. It was not a good place to land and the white-crested waves filling the Kyle did not invite a crossing to the other side.
With relief I rounded Caisteal Bharraich and saw the gentle slopes below Tongue ahead, if things went wrong now I’d be able to retrieve the boat easily enough from the shore.
Even so, I had only half an hour before the whole of this area drained to mud, and the gusty wind made for very choppy waves in the shallow water.
Already I’d decided to land at the old slipway and avoid the tide-race under the bridge. It was indeed much easier just to walk a mile back to the car, certainly not an onerous walk as the views from the Tongue causeway are as good as any in Scotland. Perhaps that massive Strathy South wind farm might finance a much-needed footpath beside the road?
The tide was roaring out under the bridge with big whirlpools, I’d not have cared to try it it on my own.
Back at the boat a tour-bus had just stopped, people were wandering down taking photos and selfies with the view behind. Sometimes it takes our tourists to remind us what a special place we live in.
