Tired though we were, we reluctantly packed our belongings back into the full hatches and set off once more into the emerald green shallow waters. Our desire to circumnavigate Jura was still strong, but it would mean arriving at what would have been tomorrow's destination tonight, doubling our current millage...This was plan B.
A caravan of goats grazing on the steep rocky shore momentarily distracted me from my aching bones. Legend has it the goats made it ashore when ships from the Spanish Armada were wrecked nearby. However, they are likely to be descended from domestic animals kept by crofters and abandoned during the social changes of the mid-19th century.
The remaining building comprises of just the group floor with 2.4m thick walls made of local rubble and originally dressed in fine sandstone from Arran. The fortress seemed as if intended to guard the mouth of the sound, and was also the prison where MacDonalds kept their captives.
Instead to plan C...A 3km crossing of the sound of Islay to An Cladach bothy to spend the night there. My mood had lifted and suddenly my back was no longer playing up, although that might have something to do with the two painkillers I just necked.
We hauled up on the unspoilt pebble beach eager to explore our home for the night on the Isle of Islay.
We were later joined by two walkers who by the sound of it had had a long day. Jules and Martin kindly gave up their bunks to camp on the beach and we shared a few storeys with them over a bit of whiskey later that evening.
Inside there are two bunks sleeping five and plenty of floor space if you needed to sleep a few more. There's a kitchen area and even a small library of books. We settle in hanging our damp kit outside in the sun and start to get dinner on the go. On tonight menu is tined curry with cous cous, bombay potatoes and naan bread.
We head out in search of fire wood on an already well combed beach. Bothy rule number one, replace fire wood for the next guests. Failing to find anything substantial we happen upon the instruction to find blocks of dried peat. I love the smell of peat burning on a fire.
"At 220 degrees from the rear of the building you will see an orange marker on the hill" this is where the peat was cut, dried and stored. A few hundred yards from the bothy and knee deep in bog we give in and head back. The orange dot above right of Jules in the picture above is the marker.
It had been a long day since leaving the mainland shores at Carsaig bay early this morning. What an adventure it has been so far. If the forecast remains true it would be a short one, tomorrow would be our last day. Who knows what the forecast holds for now, for tomorrow at least the adventure continues...