The North Coast with Kelly
Last year, I heard that Kelly — a paddler I’d met briefly at the Sea Kayaking UK symposium — was planning to paddle from Fort William to Inverness. When I found out she was heading for the North Coast of Scotland, my ears pricked up. That’s a section I’ve always wanted to paddle — and having company on a remote coastline is always a good idea. To my delight, Kelly was happy for me to join her.
After a few chats and some planning, we agreed to meet in Kinlochbervie and set off eastward on June 2nd.
The Drive North: A Rocky Start
Well, that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Saturday morning was a whirlwind of phone calls — probably rang 40 garages between my brother-in-law and me. Finally, a mechanic further afield could fit me in. Just one issue: the battery was completely drained, and the van wouldn’t go far without an alternator. To my surprise, the mechanic came to the roadside and fixed it right there. Relief doesn’t even cover it — I was back on the road and made it to Kinlochbervie by Sunday afternoon.
Cape Wrath or Plan B
We met that afternoon and checked the weather. Moderate south westerly winds — but a storm was brewing for Tuesday. The original plan was to do a short paddle on Monday, then around Cape Wrath on Tuesday. Not anymore.
We toyed with the idea of launching straight away and trying to sneak around before the storm hit — but as the wind began picking up, a shared look said it all: not worth it. So we made the call to skip Cape Wrath (it's not going anywhere, after all) and start further along the coast to make some miles before the storm landed.
Scotland's North Coast
Day 1: Durness to Farr Bay (Bettyhill)
About an hour in, my left footpeg failed. Not ideal in rough water. I wrestled to keep the boat on track until we reached Whiten Head, found shelter, and rafted up to fix it. Temporary fix. It gave out again, but we were nearly ready for lunch. Chose a lovely-looking beach… which turned into a full surf landing with boats flying toward shore like missiles. We survived unscathed, and I patched the footpeg with epoxy putty.
Afternoon brought a wind shift, making the crossing of Torrisdale Bay to Farr Bay a bit of a slog, but we made it.
Days 2–3: Storm Stop in Bettyhill
Day 4: Farr Bay to Portskerra
The surf in Farr Bay had been pounding for days, and neither of us fancied another dicey launch. I’d spotted a calm cove on our way in, so we walked over to check it out — flat as a pancake. It meant trolleying our boats 2km, and with a sore knee I wasn’t thrilled, but Kelly was convincing. Worth it.
After a well-earned cafe breakfast, we launched into decent swell and wind. Not much chat early on, but the conditions eased as forecasted and the paddle became a joy. We reached Portskerra — easily one of the best campsites of the trip. Cracking view. Even went for a dip.
Day 5: Portskerra to Dunnet Bay
A stunning day. Tailwinds early on made for smooth paddling along dramatic cliffs — puffins everywhere, the most I’ve ever seen. The Orkneys came into view, which felt surreal.
Rain started just as we reached the campsite. At first, they said they were full… then magically found a pitch at the far end. Kelly got her long-awaited shower; I hid from the downpour and charged my phone in the visitor room. All the faff definitely put Kelly off campsites. I can't blame her — wild camping is free and, often, far better.
Day 6: Dunnet Bay to John o’ Groats
We cut a straight line from St John’s Point to John o’ Groats, spurred on by the promise of chips — which did not disappoint.
Kelly was keen to pitch our tents right outside the five-star hotel. I gently suggested the footpath might be more appropriate. It ended up being quite the romantic little bivvy spot.
Day 7: John o’ Groats to Wick
Tides meant we had to be on the water early. We launched at 0900, catching the ebb around Duncansby Head. The stacks were breathtaking — towering sea pyramids rising from calm water. Absolute highlight of the trip.
A surprise lunchtime pier revealed we were 5km further along than expected. With the wind dropping, we pressed on across Sinclair’s Bay and rounded into Wick. Boats packed into the van, celebratory pizza devoured, and I slept like a log. The next morning, I waved Kelly off on her journey while I regrouped at a cafe, planning the next stage.
Orkney: Solo Paddling
Day 1: Gills Bay to Burwick via Stroma & Swona
I sent a message to my land contact, Kellie, explaining the plan — nothing to panic about, just good to have someone knowing where I was heading, even if only from a distance. Then I packed up and launched from Gills Bay at 1400.
Crossing over, I managed to hold a decent course over ground, but I was still fighting the west-going tide. For most of the way, I kept thinking, Oh gosh, I’m going to end up on Hoy. The fog came in, too, making the crossing even more daunting. But finally, I caught the eddy west of Swona and could start gaining ground east. Phew.
At the north tip of Swona, I hit slack water — as hoped — and turned east for the final crossing to South Ronaldsay. From there, I followed the coast south to Burwick, where I found the least romantic camp spot of the trip: a small patch of grass on the side of the road. But after that crossing, I wasn't too bothered.
