Swells 0.2M was the forecast, and it was mostly right.  That persuaded Iain Miller and I to shun the choice of landward approaches to the Music House, in favour of a leisurely paddle in, to get photos for forthcoming guides.

My wet suit could not be found, but neoprene shorts and jacket would do, (and they did).

The paddle into the crag, and beyond, to look at the Cathar Castle, was pretty idyllic, but half way back across the bay to Dungloon, the weather took a dramatic turn, with a sudden offshore gale. I was nearer the coast than Iain, (who was a bit behind me, taking a more direct line to the Galleon Sea stack), and decided  to head for the beach, rather than further exploration in deteriorating weather.

The problem was, I was unable to turn the boat, such was the force of the wind on my left hand side, the best I could do being straight ahead paddling hard on my right hand side.  This meant the left paddle blade was out of the water, catching the gusts and nearly pushing me over.  This, with rising waves and flying spray running out to sea, was destabilizing and driving me off offshore. I was still on course to meet the headland, but increasingly further and further out.  I lost sight of Iain, due to the spray, and survival mode took over.

I battled my way to a rocky and bouldery shore, and mercifully found a half sheltered area where I could run the kayak up onto the boulders and clamber out, pulling the boat up after me, (losing a shoe in the process).  On the rocks, I could hardly stand up in the gusts.  Clambering onto higher grounds, concern for Iain took over, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.  With only one wet shoe, I made hard work of the climb up the zig zag path, especially on the brambles and blackthorn.  From the heights of the headland I could scan a, now calming, sea, but still no sign of Iain. 

The path out onto the road was a brambly jungle, and not easy in bare feet.  Stopping at the first house, I told the male resident that I had lost my companion.  Phone the coast Guard? Yes, No, Maybe- if in doubt- yes, put them on notice until I check if he made it back to the shore ( I am sure he has survived worse than this, probably).   If he is there I will drive back up and call it off.  I ran (one shoe off one shoe on) down the road to the van, but no sign of Iain.  The resident arrived after, looking for instructions and some further detail of the missing person/kayak. He went back up to his house to ring the coastguard again, while I got dressed.  He arrived back down just in time to see Iain clambering along the coastline, and a big rescue rib entering the bay.  Seconds later the coastguard arrived in force in a couple of crewcabs.  Ammm, the missing person has just turned up, embarrassing, but they didn’t seem upset.  The second time I have called them out, I wonder do they do loyalty cards?

Iain had been on a parallel trajectory further out to sea, missing the end of the headland, but when he passed the Galleon, he was sheltered under its cliffs and the water was calmer, allowing him to paddle into a bay, and stow his kayak. He was no distance from me, but behind a promontory, so couldn’t be seen.  As he started back, he came across my boat up on the rocks, knew I was safe, and tried to ring me.  My phone was secure and dry (at home! –  Lesson there).

A Katabatic wind is when a mass of heavy cold air avalanches downhill off high ground displacing the warmer air, in this case over the sea, a sudden off- shore storm, fierce but brief, and probably caused by the recent spell of unusually cold weather.