Posted by: wildswimmers | August 23, 2017

Danna Dooker conquers the Corryvreckan – guest post

We had a great swim last week from Jura to Scarba, across the fabled Gulf of Corryvreckan. There were five swimmers: Melanie, Rebecca, John, Martin W and me, (the Danna Dooker). Ali and Tony skippered Quack and Moon Raker respectively, and Rebecca’s son Joe was third in command.

Wednesday/Thursday of last week was the second window for the swim that Ali had earmarked for this “summer”. Earlier in August was not a goer, and last Wednesday the weather was also pretty awful with a depression bringing rain and high winds. The forecast for Thursday was touch and go, but Ali was prepared to give it a try, with the proviso that we might turn back. You have to get the tides spot on to swim across the Gulf at slack water, preferably during neap tides to maximise the 30 to 40 minute window of opportunity and to avoid getting drawn sideways before reaching the opposite shore.

Loch Craignish was pretty rough as we went out from Ardfern against the wind, and the Dorus Mor was also exciting. We almost turned back then because Moon Raker, the smaller of the two fast boats, was struggling.  Tony said that she was doing a lot of flying on the way down Loch Craignish because she doesn’t like short steep seas.

But, mid sea (and carefully!), we transferred one bod from Moon Raker to Quack and then went for it. Once at the Corryvreckan, the swell was pretty big, but steady, and with the tide slackening off Ali gave the nod to indicate that we were on. All very exciting, especially because we had auspicious porpoise sightings as we reached the Gulf.

The water was relatively warm as we leaped off the side of Quack and swam to the Jura shore for the start. To touch this side of the Gulf it was best to wait for the swell to take you up above the rocks and to then majestically land (standing hopefully) and wait for the next swell to lift you back off again to swim northwards towards the Scarba side… not so majestic for me as I scratched my ankle against the barnacle-covered rock.

There were no jellies to start and then singletons quite deep down, but a few more were seen nearer the surface on the Scarba side, including a pride (what is the collective noun for lion’s mane jellyfish?) of half a dozen or so at one point. The water got quite jabbly for the last third of the swim, making progress slow. And then I had to do a sudden 90 degree turn to avoid swimming into a jelly, but got to the other side in the end.

And just then the heavens opened. So it was a “dry” swim, but then we got drenched once back on the boats racing across to a sheltered bay on Jura for a well earned snack and chat. I was the only Corryvreckan newby, and am very pleased not to have been dragged down by the Hag Goddess of Winter (maybe a little too early in the year for her). Instead, the sightings of porpoise before and after the swim meant that we were in good company.

Thanks Martin for this great post and congratulations on your crossing!

Posted by: wildswimmers | July 26, 2017

My very own spa

What could be more perfect than a long cool tranquil sunset swim followed by a delicious soak in my hot tub, scented with wild rose petals and mint?

Posted by: wildswimmers | July 19, 2017

Summer sea spa by The Danna Dooker

This week’s club swim took place on a glorious evening of hot sunshine. Four of us walked down to the beaches on Danna, which is a small idyllic island linked by a tidal bridge to the main arm of the Taynish Peninsula in Argyll, flanked by Loch Sween on one side and the Sound of Jura on the other.  From here there are glorious views of the Paps of Jura.
Four of us swam across one of the bays and through a narrow gap, (a mini Taynish narrows), swooshing back through on the incoming tide. A very low tide meant we were very close to the swirling, dancing seaweed.
Because of two days of bright sunshine (almost unheard of in Argyll), the top of the water was very warm but quite cold below and it felt like being in a specially designed spa; as you took a stroke, the colder water moved up round your body, to be replaced again by the warm water again as you moved across the bay.
Posted by: wildswimmers | July 13, 2017

High Jinks on Easdale

Lovely guest blog-post by Ewan (one of the Danna Dippers).

A freak storm in 1881 created huge waves that inundated the quarries of Easdale, one of the Slate Islands in the Firth of Lorne. The floods filled the slate quarries with sea water and irretrievably submerged most of the quarriers’ tools and equipment. It was the death knell of an already declining industry, which dwindled until the last slates were cut on a commercial scale in 1911.  The ponds created by the storm are now a swimmer’s haven, still and calm like infinity pools against the billowing swells of the Atlantic waves that break on the rocks a few metres away.

In a disappointing summer after the early promise of a sunny May, a rare day of warm sun was a blessing for our trip to Easdale. The fresh wind of the morning had swung round by our afternoon start, bringing welcome warmer air to complement the sunshine as we crossed the Bridge Over the Atlantic to the Island of Seil.

The party of three slowly grew to seven, and then ten, before we were joined by the eleventh and last arrival as we walked down the ramp at the harbour wall to board the small ferry for the three-minute journey across to Easdale.

On Easdale, the broken slate underfoot chinked like wind-chimes as we walked to the pools. The water was a chalky deep blue in the sunlight: too tempting even for me, the most reluctant of swimmers. So used are we to freshwater pools that the salt water came as a surprise despite the knowledge that the pool had been created by the sea. Another surprise was the water temperature: pleasantly bearable. The younger members of the group had great fun jumping from the high rocks, the impact as they hit the water echoing like a thunderclap against the sheer sides of the old quarry.



Their antics were a contrast to the serenity of the progress of the other swimmers as they rounded the quarry, with its dramatic views of sea and other islands: Seil behind giving way to Luing dotted with white houses; the bulk of Scarba and Jura to the south; the Garvellachs silhouetted against the low slate-grey smudge of Colonsay on the western horizon; and the blue mountains of Mull to the northwest.

After we enjoyed a picnic in the sun, the lure of the water was so strong that a few swimmers took the plunge again before we caught the ferry homewards.  A wonderful day for a unique swimming spot.

Posted by: wildswimmers | June 21, 2017

Magical Midsummer Night Walk

Last night I did a magical midsummer nightwalk in the lush temperate rainforest here in Argyll.  It’s something I’ve dreamed of doing since reading “Nightwalk” by Chris Yates while waiting for the Colonsay ferry some years ago.  I didn’t really expect anything specially exciting to happen.  But it did.  The evening was warm and very calm.  Windless.  Perfect for this type of expedition.

I took nothing with me, wishing to walk simply and unencumbered by rucksacks, torches, flasks and the like.  Just myself, walking in the dark.  I left the house about midnight and made my way quietly through the village and soon experienced my first mysterious noise from nature – high up in the majestic trees by the village hall – a strange creaking bird call, like a rusty door hinge, repeated many times by at least two birds.  I stood very still, puzzling as to what type of bird would make this call, which I had never heard before.  I’ve since been told it would be a tawny owl and its mate, calling to each other.

Leaving the road I plunged into the darkness of the woods, following the path which gleamed dimly white, often nearly overbalancing as I tried to get used to not utilising sight to assist with balance.  (Next day every muscle in my legs ached, from suddenly being pressed into service).  Dim shapes moved – deer?  Rustlings from the thick bracken made me start.  But I saw nothing.  Until I broke through the tree cover high up on the ridge and looked north.

I was stunned by the breathtaking beauty of the dark islands, the brightly shimmering Sound of Jura and the dark stain of pink to the far north, where the sun was lying low beyond the horizon.  Even amidst this wilderness there were signs of civilisation, regular and comforting blinks of light from the lighthouses at Skervuile and Rudha Sgeir, tiny but vital.  I sat awhile in the stillness.  A strange whispering of the trees precluded an isolated, fresh and powerful gust of wind.  Then, again, stillness.  Moving onto the very top of the hill, I walked further to a viewpoint.  Southwards the visibility was poor and I was about to turn back when a ghostly white apparition soared past!  A barn owl.  Utterly silent, it moved through the dark air, disappearing into the trees.  Spellbound I waited.  It returned suddenly out of nowhere and came unexpectedly and rather alarmingly close, circling several times about six feet above my head.  I’ve heard about owls gouging out people’s eyes and raised my hands to protect my face, just in case.  Having inspected me carefully, the owl faded away into the night.  It was an unsettling but rather wonderful encounter.   I turned for home.


On passing the village hall the tawny owls were still in full voice.  I stopped to drink sweet fresh water from the village well and stepped into the unwelcome glare of the street lights.  The spell was broken.

Posted by: wildswimmers | May 23, 2017

Magical misty swim

Tonight was a very misty, drizzly, midge infested evening but I had promised to attend the weekly swim, so cycled miserably down to the village hall, secretly hoping no-one else would turn up.  We’d planned to swim in a sheltered sea loch accessed over a boggy field.  As more and more keen swimmers appeared my heart sank and I resigned myself to a cold, nasty swim.  But…. it turned out to be magically warm as we swam out, caressed by soft fronds of seaweed and bathed in gentle waves, with oyster shells and brittle stars decorating the sea bed.  Everyone felt re-energised and joyful afterwards and this goes to show that no matter how reluctant one feels and how unpromising a swim may appear to be, it is always wonderful!!

Posted by: wildswimmers | April 28, 2017

Awesome otter encounter

Early this morning I waded in at low tide, for my usual morning swim, dreading the moment of immersion as usual.  Suddenly, 3 feet away, something burst out of the shallows and flipped back in, my eye only catching the slippery wee tail as it re-entered the water, and the dark shape swimming swiftly away.  I jumped and squealed with fright, thinking in a split second of ferocious conger eels or crazed dogfish bent on attack!

Little otter (pic by Lottie Goodlet)

Then instantly I realised it was a little otter and quickly ducked down into the water and tried to be very quiet, though my heart was pounding and adrenalin was rushing through me.  It kept on swimming, with a fish grasped in its sharp little teeth, towards the shore, seemingly unaware it was being followed.  And as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared.  Although I swam around for about 20 minutes I didn’t see it again.  But what a thrill!  And what a wonderful way to start the day.  It’s so good to know these little creatures are all around us, although we see them rarely.

Posted by: wildswimmers | March 24, 2017

Equinox Challenge

I’ve been very cowardly and lazy this winter and haven’t swum nearly as often as I should have.  In order to spur me on Lottie has set us both a challenge – to swim every day between the vernal equinox and midsummer’s day.  Memories of last year’s wonderful swims, and the prospect of another summer of delicious watery adventures should provide the inspiration I need.  Thanks Lottie!

Posted by: wildswimmers | March 20, 2017


Some jolly pics of our lovely doggies who often join us for our swims.



















Posted by: wildswimmers | February 22, 2017

Swimmers -v- Salmon Farm

Help!!! – one of our most beautiful and tranquil bays is threatened by a fish farm application!  A large group of swimmers took to the waves to show their opposition and this gained coverage in newspapers locally and nationally.

All together now - Pic by Mark Smith

All together now – Pic by Mark Smith

Joining forces - Pic by Mark Smith

Joining forces – Pic by Mark Smith

Swimmers heading out - pic by Philip Price

Swimmers heading out – pic by Philip Price

Dounie Bay is a sandy sheltered bay, one of the few safe nooks in the dangerous Sound of Jura and a favourite swimming spot, picnic place, yacht anchorage, kayaking stop-off and is on a route for salmon returning to breed in the nearby River Add.

Importantly, the deep sea trench nearby is a haven for the endangered “Common” skate.

Dounie Bay, Sound of Jura

Dounie Bay, Sound of Jura – pic by Lottie Goodlet

This being the first fish farm application in a Marine Protected Area, it’s terribly important that we oppose it with all our might.  This blog is to raise awareness and hopefully gain support for our efforts.  Thanks to anyone who signs our online petition or writes to protest.  See links and more info below.

Sign the petition at: 

Our next event is for a mass kayaking photoshoot : Meet at Carsaig, Tayvallich on Sat 11 March ready to set off by 11am. The beautiful two mile paddle north to Dounie Bay has fantastic views across to Jura and the Gulf of Corryvreckan. Conditions permitting we hope to be photographed by a drone as well as from the shore. It’s a great place to picnic so bring your lunch. This paddle is best suited to competent kayakers with their own gear. (If the weather is not suitable then we’ll hope to do it over the weekend of 25th/26th March.)

Fish Farm Poster



Twitter: @TheSoundOfJura

“The Friends of the Sound of Jura seek to protect the Sound, the River Add and their local users from threats to the area’s wildlife and local economy”


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