Messing about on boats

It wasn't a long walk this morning, and what walk there was went through some truly uninspiring recently cleared woodland. But the destination was great, down at Sandaig, erstwhile home of Gavin Maxwell, mr semi-tame otter keeper. There were little bays in amongst rocks that invited the shedding of shoes and socks to paddle, watching a myriad of little fish, hermit crabs, and jumping every time a spot expelled water a foot or more into the air from inside its burrowed hole.

No otters though. Getting used to that.

The day getting greyer, and the wind picking up, Mel decided on a late afternoon of reading on the sofa, so I got the kayak pumped up to take it out onto the loch outside our front door to try it for the first time (and minus the front seat meant I could stretch out). I could get to like that, something really quite relaxing about bobbing away on the water, and it all feels quite stable and sturdy. Get blinkin' wet though, might just be I need a longer paddle...

Time to pop out for some beer I think.