Thursday 30th July: Peninver - Campbeltown - Southend

Up at 0400 to catch the southbound tide and still allow time to visit the post office in Campbeltown, where I hope to collect a set of tent poles, sent poste restante by Terra Nova. This five-year-old tent has stood up remarkably well to its sufferings, but I suspect that metal fatigue and saltwater corrosion are taking their toll on the joints. One fracture, over a week ago, was easily fixed using a tubular splint supplied for the purpose, but the second one, on Arran, required some improvisation with tent-peg splints, cord lashings, and gaffer tape.
Campbeltown Loch is sheltered in terms of sea state, but is a wind funnel in today's westerly, so it was a bit of a slog to reach the harbour at the eastern end of the sea-loch, only to find that the package had not yet arrived at the post office.





South of Campbeltown and east of the Mull of Kintyre, the countryside is muted and gentle, being given over mostly to cattle and sheep, and a scattering of caravan parks. In Sanda Sound, the full force of the westerly hit me once more, and it was an exhausting slog, using the last of the ebb stream, to reach Southend. There, the easiest egress from the beach is at the western end of the campsite.
My VHF has definitely developed a fault, and despite following the kind advice of the radio amateurs on Arran, I could not contact the Coastguard on reaching shore. Neither of my mobile phone networks had a reliable signal either, so there was nothing to help it: a hike to a payphone ensued.
Pitched camp, brewed up, dined at the pub, and climbed gratefully into the sleeping bag...
... only to be woken in the dead of night by two Glaswegian voices discussing what a lark it would be to steal the boat and go to sea. An intensely anxious feeling of deja vu kept me alert for some while afterwards.