If yesterday was venturing into the Wild West like Sergio Leone did in his spaghetti western ‘A fistful of dollars’. Then today was the sequel, ‘For a few dollars more’.
I was going to call it ‘The Arctic Dwarf’ because it was short and cold but I thought the political correct brigade might cry if I used that one.
I didn’t rush out of bed this morning, I knew the weather was against me and the tide was against me, but my sleeping bag was definitely for me. So i stayed in it and chopped some tatties (scots vernacular – potato). I wished I had a grater but I chopped them as fine as I could, soaked ’em, biled ’em (thats boiled for the hard of scots) then fried the life out them with some finely chopped cheese chunks and some deftly hand ripped ham. Fried it some more then cracked two medium free range eggs into the side of the pan and hey presto swiss style Rosti and eggs served in a sleet storm on the Isle of Mull. Breakfast of champions.
I was fuelled and ready to go. So I packed up and went. I paddled out into the Sound of Mull and low and behold I couldn’t see the land opposite. Now for those that don’t know the area, this is stunning kayaking country. Or at least it is when you can see the wonderful vistas in all their sweeping beauty. Instead I got a different kind of grey today. It was grey with tracer bullets of white dashed across it, a-ha poor visibility and snow, aren’t I lucky?
Chuck into the mix a strong wind out the NE and you’ve got perfect winter conditions, for topping up the ski slopes! Who picked March to paddle to Stornoway?
Anyway I paddled for as long as I could, which was two hours or so, but it wasn’t the arms that packed in. It was the known and possible universe that ceased to be. No I didn’t venture beyond the event horizon of a black hole or even contemplate the incompatible possibilities of the Quantum and Newtonian definitions of our world. I just reached the end of Mull. Next up lies Ardnamurchan, and that is not a place to be in these conditions. So I sit here in Tobermory, listening to pipe and folk music in a quiet pub on a Saturday night and update you all via the wonder that is 3G……and I thought nothing could escape the event horizon, not even light?
Oh well, I’m here for at least another day, I’d better have another pint of the local ale, yum yum.