MULL OF GALLOWAY

As far as headlands go, the Mull of Galloway has something of a reputation. Without doubt, it’s not a good place to make a mistake with your tidal planning. We didn’t, but heading south, a few km’s short of the headland, I was alarmed to see a small fishing boat bearing down on us at some speed. The skipper was clearly trying to get our attention and we stalled the boats in the chop, two-footers slopping over the deck as he warned us of the tide race ahead, which it seemed had been a good deal more lively than he anticipated. We’d be mad to carry on, he said. But then sea kayaks are perhaps better equipped than small open boats for such seas, and in any case, we’d be hitting the headland pretty much at slack water, while he had tried fishing the main flow, in the middle hours of the flood.

He shook his head as we pushed on, but by the time we passed beneath the lighthouse, the site of our previous night’s camp, there was no sign of the race, just a gentle chop washing against the cliffs.

Aptly named, The Scares came into view shortly after - the islands out in Luce Bay - and soon after we pulled ashore.

Just 8 miles to run for the car on pleasant, quiet roads that reminded of The Lleyn Peninsula, palm trees growing in front gardens.