Christine Grosart 18/12/2025 Christine Grosart 18/12/2025

The Surprise Scottish Summer (Part 2)

The drive between Inverness and Ullapool can only be described as jaw dropping.

It was the most gloriously hot and sunny day, and everything was vivid green and blue, with dark grey mountains towering over the most incredible, breathtaking scenery.

Once through Ullapool, the road is mostly single lane with frequent passing spots. Instead of travelling along the coast it heads inland around several lochs and passes a stunning sandy beach at Achnahaird. The road then swings west and starts to gradually descend towards the sea when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a sweeping bend gives way to a view of the entire Summer Isles.

I almost crashed my van and so did the family behind me! We all swung haphazardly into the passing place and whipped out our cameras quickly before heading on down to Port a Bhaigh campsite.

I had managed to book myself a front row seat right next to the beach and the check in was with a super friendly lady, who made sure I had a superb spot.

There was tonnes of space and nobody was on top of each other. I asked next door, a father and son in a rickety old campervan, if they minded if I fired up a small BBQ.

They didn’t mind at all and we got chatting. They were a bit ‘rough’ I suppose and I was wary of them at first.

I had plenty to eat and drink and slept well before waking up to another superb day, perfect for exploring the islands by kayak.

But first, a morning swim was on the cards. I managed 20 minutes in my wetsuit, about 700m which was about as much as I wanted to push my arm, especially with a day of kayaking ahead. Plus, I kept on running into Lion’s Mane jellyfish. They pack quite a punch if they sting you. The further out I went, the more frequent they became, so I calmly swam back to shore and decided that was enough.

My plan was to do a lap of Isle Ristol and round the back of Eilean Mullagrach, but with no tides, good weather and no concrete plans, I decided to see where the mood took me.

I launched and turned south through Old Dorney Harbour. The water here was insanely clear and I could easily see the bottom, as jellyfish of all kinds passed by.

It would have been completely silent but for the screeching sea birds overhead who were going nuts about something (not me I hope!). I so hoped to see an otter, but none were forthcoming. As I headed across the glassy bay between islands I pulled into a rocky gulley and came face to face with an enormous bull seal. My god he was huge!

I back paddled away and he followed me, ducking and diving and popping up behind me.

He had quite a harem of ladies on the rocks who watched us, lazily.

Seal in the Summer Isles

I carried on round the back of a small island called Glas-leac Mor, which was home to a huge seal colony.

The paddle north along the west shore of this island was glassy calm, with the warm sun on my back and the sea was sparkling. Nobody really knew where I was and I didn’t care. This was true freedom. Responsible for only me, with seemingly the whole ocean to myself.

As I turned east towards the mainland, those squalls picked up again and I had a bit of a battering trying to get to a sandy beach on the northern shore of Isle Ristol.

Paddling the Summer Isles. Shot on Insta 360 (carefully!)

I landed and sunbathed here for a bit, taking the opportunity to fly my drone and get some stunning shots of the northern Summer Isles.

As evening was drawing in, I made the short crossing back to the beach and the campsite. I left my boat tied up as I figured I’d paddle here again.

After a shower I returned to my tent to find the ‘rough’ Glaswegian father and son had made a superb BBQ and had made up a plate for me!

It was an array of BBQ chicken, beef, salads, all stuffed into a Greek wrap. I was really touched and grateful and they were simply happy to see the excess of food they had made not go to waste.

That’s how it works up here on campsites in Scotland. Remember my shower/razor incident on Barra? The campsite owners found out about my trip to the local hospital before I even got back to the campsite! Everyone looks out for each other up here as it is so remote and seems to attract like-minded people.

My Strava kayaking route

Such people came into my life the next day.

The wind had picked up significantly and this was definitely not a paddling day.

My new neighbours were trying to turn a huge van awning 180 degrees the other way to shelter from the wind and it was like a scene from Carry on Camping!

One lady, Helen, was in serious danger of taking off like Mary Poppins, while her friend Michele was desperately pinning a huge unruly tarpaulin down by faceplanting on top of it!

Their partners were called Alan and Steve, which I thought was hilarious (Google it) and I couldn’t help but offer to go over and help. What then ensued was one of the funniest few hours I’ve ever experienced. They were fab people and I was soon invited for beer, from which I couldn’t depart as their elderly chihuahua had made herself comfy in my arms and was practically hibernating.

We had a great day and went for a freezing cold dip in the sea in our cozzies, among other nonsense which mainly entailed the men chasing our towels across the beach in the wind.

The next day brought calmer conditions, slightly, but Scotland was still not to be underestimated. Below are three photos from the same spot, only 15 minutes apart!

I had breakfast and launched my kayak again to head this time around the southern summer isles.

Passing through Old Dorney again, I set off to paddle anticlockwise around Tanera Beg and Tanera Mòr.

It was a choppier crossing than 48 hours before but totally safe. I hid in little gulleys and bagged some sea caves and inspected the litter that had blown onto the stoney beach on the southern side of Tanera beg. The southern side was sheltered for the northerly wind but turning north was quite a battle and my arm whined a lot. I took a break in a little harbour at the back of a fish farm and had some lunch. Crossing back to the mainland from the most northerly point was hard work into the wind and the waves concentrated the mind.

*The Summer Isles, Scotland. Image: Christine Grosart*

I was pretty shocked therefore to come across a family kayaking, with one boat occupied by a father and young child combo in a sit-on-top.

These conditions were in no way appropriate for this. They had no radio, no rescue kit and in shorts and t-shirts seemed blissfully unaware of how quickly the weather can turn, even in summer.

I paddled across their path and asked if they were Ok. Of course they were. They completely missed the point of my question. If the child had fallen in, I’m sure none of them had any clue what to do about it.

Figuring they were not my problem, and stupidity would take care of itself, I continued along the mainland coast back to the entrance of Old Dorney when….

Oh my God, what’s that?!

Silhouetted against the evening sun and sitting quietly in the bay was a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean.

*A tall ship takes refuge in the Summer Isles. Image: Christine Grosart*

A tall ship, presumably heading to the same Tall Ships race in Aberdeen, as I was, had come into the bay to shelter form a wind that was in the wrong direction to make any more progress.

They had sent a little rib to the shore presumably to get supplies, and I paddled up to the ornate wooden ship and had a chat with one of the crew.

I then headed over to a nearby sandy beach to unpack my drone and get some shots that summed up the beauty of this place. The ship, with it’s tattered looking sails and majestic outline was set against the most incredible backdrop. The sun got lower and the sea sparkled while the colours changed all the time. The battle with the wind was soon forgotten in this haven with a view.

I mooched back through Old Dorney, taking my time as it was so tranquil and beautiful and I also knew this was my last day here.

Tall ship rests in the Summer Isles. Drone: Christine Grosart/DJI Mini 4k

I packed up my kayak, made dinner, chilled with my new friends and got ready for the drive over to the Isle of Skye.

The ferries to the Hebridean Islands were all full, so I had decided to head to Skye, where I had never been.

My boss on the Kestrel, Stu, who seemed to be more excited about my trip than me, sent me a wealth of information on a munro called Sgurr Alasdair. The only trouble was, I was pretty sure I had not packed my hiking gear, having only really set up for a few days kayaking.

One very expensive trip to Ullapool Outdoors later, I was equipped with a pair of Soloman trail shoes. I already owned two decent pairs of hiking boots so really didn’t want to get another. But I didn’t have any trail running shoes so figured I’d give these a go. They were fantastic to be fair.

The view from the Skye Bridge was truly breathtaking and I earmarked it for a future paddling trip. But frustratingly, there was no viewpoint to park my car and take pictures nor fly my drone. I went without.

Drone shot of Glenbrittle and the Cuillin Hills behind. Shot: Christine Grosart (DJI mini 4k)

I found the campsite Stu had recommended to me, at Glenbrittle, and checked in. The lady owner happened to also be a medic and had worked at Iqarus, my first offshore company. A small world indeed. She had upped sticks and set up a life running a campsite between the ocean and the mountains and it was stunning.

The cosy cafe had pizza evenings and the campsite sported new toasty showers – it was a serious step up from the barren camping field with ‘no facilities’ that Stu remembered. It was utter luxury.

I pitched up wherever I wanted, but always a front row seat by the ocean. I couldn’t get over the view. If I faced one way I was looking out to sea. If I turned 180 the other, I was staring up at the intimidating Cuillin Hills and the imposing Sgurr Alasdair, the highest peak on Skye.

It was too windy for sea kayaking, so my mind was made up. I would head up to Sgurr Alasdair. With all my triathlon training, how hard could it be?

The gradual rocky path ramp up to Coire Lagan was an absolute delight. The path roughly follows a singing stream with mini waterfalls and navigates some fun lava flow hopping as you enter the middle of the ancient volcano.

*Easy going path up to the Cuillin Hills. Image: Christine Grosart*

There were a handful of people about, but in the main I was all by myself and it was wonderful. Most folk stopped there to look at the lake, but I was headed up to the top to get a look at the view of the famous Cuillin Ridge. I was pretty sure due to the wind and my lack of helmet, I’d not top out on Sgurr Alasdair itself and opted to aim at a scree slope dead ahead which would land me on the ridge somewhere just east of Sgurr MhicChoinnich.

It was steep. Very steep. I hate scree skiing at the best of times and I leaned into the choss that moved each time I did, trying not to literally get blown off the mountain.

*Red line = My route. Blue line = the route I should have taken to Sgurr Alasdair Summit. Image from Google Earth.*

It seemed to take ages to get up to the ridge but I finally made it and met another team coming back down. I really should have brought a helmet. The scree slope was absolutely steep enough for decent rocks to unstick at will and whistle through the air. I stayed out of the firing line and kept going, feeling slightly safer the closer I got to the ridge.

A bit of scrambling later (great with my dodgy arm) I came across ‘the’ stone circle and the incredible view Stu had been talking about.

It was an incredibly clear day as no clouds of clag could stick around in this wind. I didn’t fancy heading up the next very exposed scramble, so I had some snacks and delayed the inevitable trauma of scree skiing back down again.

It is fair to say I got better at it as time went on. There is no point tensing up and shitting yourself because the mountain is going to move whatever you do, so you may as well go with it.

I chose scree that was big enough to move slightly so as not to trip over it and plummet to my speedy death, but not so small that I caused an unstoppable avalanche.

I concentrated on picking the right sort of scree and managed to get back down to the ‘normal’ track without incident. Once on a proper path I instantly went absolutely flying on a thin layer of chippings which laced the underlying granite. Bastard!

And again!!

Hell fire, I’d come all the way down that terrifying scree ski slope and couldn’t stay upright on a bit of tourist path!

I never go anywhere without my Leki walking poles and they saved my backside on multiple occasions.

*The only way is down….Image: Google Earth.*

Once back at the lava lake, of course it started to rain. Naturally I had left my goretex coat at home, not needing it for sea kayaking. So, I put on my £20 pac-a-mac that I reluctantly bought in Ullapool and trotted downhill back to the campsite.

The showers were more of steam room when I got in there and I knew I would be sore in the morning and boy was I!

I may well be a triathlete but nothing kicks your arse like a Scottish hill! All it did was make me want more, but I was sorry to have to go. My friends from Port a Baigh had also come over to Skye and we met up in the evening for a good chin wag and some whisky.

Soon, it was time to go. It is a long old slog back over to Aberdeen from the West coast. For some reason my sat nav decided to take me the ‘scenic route’ which is a fiddly to drive, especially with a sea kayak on the roof, but the views more than made up for it and I was in no hurry.

I rolled into my favourite Scottish Haunt, the Mal Maison Hotel, which I love not only for the superb rooms, food and whisky snug, but the easy parking that can accommodate my car and kayak.

I grabbed some fizzy wine and sank back into the free-standing bath, still sore as hell from my Sgurr excursion.

One steak and chips later and a good bath and I was almost human again.

This was just as well because it was time to go out again!

The next day I had booked to go and see the Tall Ships race in Aberdeen but not only that, I’d wrangled my mates Toni and Gail into coming along to the evening party. The Ministry of Sound Orchestra were doing an outdoors gig and I had been looking forward to it all year.

Of course it was drizzling. But, being mostly populated by people my age who were hard core 90s clubbers, it didn’t matter. We dressed for the occasion, got drunk and had an evening to remember.

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Christine Grosart 14/12/2025 Christine Grosart 14/12/2025

The Surprise Scottish Summer (Part one)

*Playing with tall ships in the Summer Isles. Heaven unfiltered.*

One of the best parts of my job is looking out to sea and feeling the warm sun on my back, the glassy, gentle carpet of the ocean moving ever so slowly. The only ripple is that of the vortex made by the vessel’s thrusters as they move a few degrees to port.

What an incredible day this would be for sea kayaking, I thought.

Luckily for me, I had thought ahead and decided that the month of May would be a good time to drive up to Aberdeen to work, instead of taking the usual flight.

I had chucked some basic camping gear in the car and my sea kayak on the roof, with a view to doing a couple of days paddling on the west coast of Scotland either before or after my trip.

As I drove towards Largs on the west coast, my planned overnight stop, the weather was not at all favourable. It was throwing it down with rain, very windy and the clag spoiled the view of Great Cumbrae island, my planned paddle the next morning.

I rocked up at Largs Yacht Haven, which was a friendly enough spot, allowing campervans to stop overnight without much hassle. It was also an easy launch to the slipway from the car.

Largs was familiar to me as I had once spent several weeks aboard a drilling ship moored there for a time, before sailing down to Gran Canaria. It looked like an idyllic place to paddle for me and a bit more accessible than the stunning Hebridean Islands on the west coast.

But the weather was not to be.

Unperturbed, I ignored at as ‘it didn’t seem that bad’ and launched my boat trying to make the best of the wind and tide on the return journey.

It took me a long time to cross over to the shores of Great Cumbrae, both against tide and wind and it was a miserable crossing. It crossed my mind several times to just quit. But quitting isn’t in my nature and anyway, it would soon get better once I was round the corner and tucked in by Millport.

It didn’t.

As I turned the southwest corner of the island the wind barged me violently into the rocks all the way along the west coast of the island before finally carrying me reluctantly across the path of the Caledonian ferry and some 4 hours and 18 kilometres later, back to the shores of Largs.

It was a miserable trip and my injured arm really struggled with it. There’s a lesson there somewhere. Sometimes you just have to say ‘not today’. One day I might learn.

I headed up to Aberdeen for an early crew change, parking my van at the work office car park. It drew quite a bit of attention with a bright red sea kayak perched on the roof!

I usually work on board a Diving Support Vessel for 4 weeks at a time. But, being the fickle north sea diving industry, things don’t always go to plan.

After a few weeks, a gap in the work schedule meant many of us were, with very little notice, sent home.

For many of us on day rate, this means a significant loss of earnings.

But, always looking for a silver lining, this meant I suddenly had an extra week on my hands – in Scotland, in the most glorious heatwave – and I had my van, kayak and camping kit!

Being holiday season, I couldn’t get a ticket on a single ferry to any of the Hebridean Islands, so I hurriedly worked through my ‘Scottish Sea Kayaking’ book and in combination with Google maps, made a plan of sorts. I would start locally, test my kit and follow the weather.

I had weeks of freedom ahead, no ties and the whole of Scotland at my disposal.

Prior to my trip I had booked some tickets along with first offshore bosses, Toni and Gail, to go to the Tall Ships event in Aberdeen. There was a Ministry of Sound Orchestra concert on the Saturday night and the only thing I needed to do was get back to the east coast for that.

Toni kindly took some parcels for me as my plans evolved. A crew boat approached the Seven Kestrel in the gloriously hot weather, the sea sparkling and I analysed the coastline in front of me that I would soon be exploring in my sea kayak.

We alighted in Macduff and were taken by coach to Aberdeen where I collected my car. Toni greeted me with rather more items than I’d stated (sorry Toni!) and after a quick foray to Asda for food and Decathlon to buy some items I hadn’t brought for a week’s worth of nomad lifestyle, I set off towards Aberdour Beach.

This seemed like a good place to stop for the night. It is an unofficial campervan stopover, and I anticipated it wouldn’t be too busy. How wrong I was!

Aberdour Bay

An entire village of gazebos had set themselves up at the far end of the beach on the grass, so I avoided them and found a decent spot for my van among the others.

I couldn’t resist getting into the clear waters for a swim, so got into my wetsuit and did a quick excursion across the bay. Kids messed around in inflatables; families had a go at (unsuccessfully) standing on SUPs and dogs chased sticks and stones until sunset.

Everyone seemed friendly and I settled in for the night with some wine and a front row seat, sea view.

My first plan was to ‘play it safe’ especially with my dodgy shoulder. I looked at the tides and figured an out and back camping trip was best done from Gardenstown, or ‘Gamrie’ as it’s known. This little harbour was a pleasant little place and I dragged my boat round to the slipway before carrying a night’s worth of camping kit and loading it up while I waited for the nice ladies at the little cafe to create me some breakfast and coffee.

I dutifully paid my harbour launching dues and as I finished prepping my boat I was approached purposefully by a guy.

Here we go. Have I paid? Have I got permission? Let’s harass the woman on her own…

I was so used to this behaviour in England my hackles went straight up.

But no need. This guy just wanted a chin wag and had no clue about harbour dues. He was English but had lived locally in Gamrie for ages. He had also worked offshore for a time. Chatting delayed me setting off, but it was pleasant and a nice half an hour spent given I was spending most of my time alone. I started to relax. I had all the time in the world to enjoy the moment.

I paddled out of the crystal clear, green hued water of the harbour, avoiding children dive bombing from the harbour walls. I headed east and picked up a bit of a head wind. As I crossed the bay, passing the small village of Crovie, I headed for some nice-looking sea caves at the start of Troup Head.

Troup Head is an RSPB reserve. It has the largest Gannet colony on mainland Scotland, along with Puffins (my favourite) Kittiwakes, Guillemots and Razorbills. There are plenty of seals but in my typical ‘wildlife repellent’ style, I didn’t see a single porpoise, Otter or whale.

The sea was sparkling and I could see the bottom. This was an absolute paradise and I just couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have both the weather and the opportunity.

As I rounded Troup head the noise was deafening. Birds of all types screeched and cawed and screamed at each other. Gannets dive bombed in front of me and puffins bobbed about eyeing me warily. The cliffs were plastered from top to bottom with white guano and fluffy gannet and gul chicks peeked out from their lofty nests.

The place was noisy and it stank, but it was amazing.

I paddled in and out of scenic little gullies, dodging the katabatic winds that poured down off the cliffs, whipping up little squalls that grabbed at my paddle and tried to turn my boat around. This was going to be slightly harder work than I expected and was forecast. My arm struggled a bit, and I took refuge in the many little gullies, joined by the odd seal pup.

I pulled into a pretty little cove for a break and a snack then carried on around to Aberdour.

Camping on the beach where I’d stayed the night before didn’t seem like much of an adventure, but I was playing it safe with my arm in case for some reason I wasn’t able to paddle back, at least I was in contact with some sort of civilisation.

It was a tad windy when I arrived and all the decent grassy camping spots had been taken, so I pitched up away from everyone else on the beach. For some reason I thought pitching a tent on a rocky beach would be easy.

About an hour of kite flying later I managed to get my small tent and excruciatingly overpriced MSR tarpaulin up – but it was a struggle. The tent pegs were useless, so I resorted to cave diving tactics and made some wraps round some big boulders. This only worked for a while though as the wind had other ideas and systematically ruined my plan by picking up the tent and the tarp and dragging even the biggest rocks along the beach.

I was treated to a fabulous red sunset that evening, but an almost sleepless night as I wrestled with the tent flapping noisily, pulling at the useless rock anchors.

I would need to come up with a better plan than this in the future if I was going to wild camp around Scotland from my boat. In fact, the only reliable anchor was my boat.

Morning came and the lack of sleep was unwelcome. I packed everything up and dragged the boat back down to the water to launch.

My journey back to Gamrie was significantly quicker as the wind was now mostly behind me, but the squalls still whipped up and made life difficult without any warning. I still shaved an hour off my time heading back over the 12km.

I was exhausted but determined to get on the road to somewhere I had never been before but was excited to visit.

Christine Grosart 07/12/2024 Christine Grosart 07/12/2024

2024 Mash Up

2024 left me gobsmacked. So many things I’ve always wanted to do, a bucket list of joy and so devastatingly interrupted by the passing of my Uncle Phil. I needed sport more than ever to keep me going.

Sitting around doing nothing is not a good way to recover from loss.

Not for me, anyway.

I trained in #lanzarote and #mallorca , climbed #sacalobra (again) completed my first #ironman 70.3 in Venice (when sick!) raced #annecy #triathlon olympic distance, went paragliding over #lakeannecy climbed #alpedhuez for real, learned to fly a drone @djiglobal sea kayaked the length of #menorca camping on sandy beaches with just the best people @muchbetteradventures raced Weymouth 10k, circumnavigated #portland by kayak with @channeleventsuk and saw a dolphin, learned to roll my kayak (work in progress) Dived with #lundy seals and bought some shares in racehorses!! I don’t think I’ve been caving or cave diving once, but there is more to life and I’ll get back to it when the mood takes me.
People keep trying to get me to slow down. Why would you do that? I like my life how it is. Why would I want to slow down? Life is too short, so make the best of it now. It’s not a dress rehearsal....

Christine Grosart 30/10/2024 Christine Grosart 30/10/2024

The beach

*Paddling the south coast of Menorca. Image:* *Karetta* Expeditions.

I love sea kayaking.

I really only got into paddle sport properly when I was persuaded to race the Devizes Westminster marathon in 2009. I trained solid for 2 years in a racing K2, burning up the canals and waterways of Dorset and Wiltshire. We were finishing mid division in the warmup races and doing really well. Then disaster struck. 4 weeks before the race I suffered a herniated disc in my back, which rendered me unable to walk, or even sit in a car. It was almost career ending. I sold all my kayaks (I had 5 in my garden at one point!) and vowed never to set foot in one ever again.

Time passes and after almost a decade, my back started to heal. I was still nervous of it but missed being in a kayak.

I didn’t think I could ever cope with a tippy racing boat again, but during covid I needed a new passion to get into the outdoors. I watched a video on social media of a friend of mine and his wife, paddling in Scotland with crystal waters and surrounded by peace and serenity.

The beauty of sea kayaking is that it is not competitive, so you can take it at your own pace and as much or as little as you choose. I figured if my back wasn’t feeling it, I just wouldn’t need to go. I bought 2 second hand, barely used Dagger Stratos kayaks for little over £1000 and have had nothing but fun and adventures with them ever since.

I’ve paddled in Dorset, Cornwall and the Outer Hebrides – but never anywhere particularly warm

*Circumnavigating Mull, Scotland, in my Dagger Stratos.*

I kept seeing adverts popping up on social media for ‘Much Better Adventures’. I generally ignored them. I was quite capable of organising and running my own kayaking adventures and was loathe to use a guide.

The thing is, I very often end up going alone. I bought two sea kayaks so I could take my friends out, but they lacked the time to progress their skills and experience, so I couldn’t take them very far.

My mates just don’t have the spare time, cash or freedom to just drop everything, up sticks when the weather comes good and set off to any corner of the UK for an adventure.

With no ties and 6 months of the year off, I could do this. But inevitably it means it is a solo venture.

I missed company of like-minded people. So, I signed up for a 4-day camping and kayaking trip in Menorca. It promised a leisurely few days on the water, camping on sandy beaches, sunsets and excellent guides who make your food and take care of the housekeeping.

It sounded a bit easy compared to the sort of thing I’m used to, but I decided that, given the tough few years I’d had, I’d give myself a break and let someone else take the weight off for a change.

Going on holiday with strangers is not really my cup of tea, but I figured a good guide would keep everyone in check and if anyone annoyed me, I’d just go and get in the sea and swim or paddle away from them.

I need not have had any of these worries at all.

From the outset we created a WhatsApp group and on the first night, having checked into our own hotels, a gang of us met up in Mahon, Menorca, for supper and some wine. We mooched around the bustling market as dusk fell and the vibe was good.

It was a mix of people, some from as far away as America, some with kayaking experience and some with none. It didn’t matter, we’d be well looked after.

In the morning the minibus picked us up and took us to the depot, where we would be given dry bags and set about packing. Travel light and go minimal was the order of the day.

I was seizing the opportunity to try out stuff I hadn’t had the opportunity to until now, such as dry shampoo and seeing of my solar panelled power bank actually worked…

Packing seemed to take ages, and it was well past lunchtime when we finally made our way to the kayaks that were waiting for us at the eastern, southerly end of the island.

There we met our guides Lucas and Jan, who walked everyone through a lengthy explanation of how to paddle a sea kayak. We had decent boats and paddles and loads of storage space, mainly owing to the ginormous double kayak which acted as the ‘hospital’ boat. It also contained lots of food, water and camping equipment and weighed a tonne. It turned out to be a godsend for one lady who was terribly seasick. Once in the more stable boat and plied with a cocktail of drugs, she overcame it and enjoyed the rest of the trip, much to our relief.

We finally got out on the water and very soon we were forced to settle into Menorca time. Nothing was hurried and dinner time wasn’t until around 9:30pm.

We paddled gently for around an hour in glassy, calm conditions before stopping for a late lunch at a busy, sandy beach. We had ample opportunity to lay about, swim, and eat lunch. It was a lesson in slowing down and enjoying the vibe, but it took several of us a day or two to adjust to this new pace of life.

The plan each night was to put our tarpaulins up as dusk fell. The beaches were therefore cleared of people, and we would have them to ourselves.

We arrived at our first overnight stop of the trip, a secluded sandy cove, and set up our tarpaulin wigwams and groundsheets. Thermarests were provided but most of us brought our own sleeping bags.

Sand. It just gets everywhere. There is nothing more irritating than gritty sand in the bottom of your sleeping bag. The humidity overnight added to the issue, to ensure that the sand stuck to everything, and our bags never really dried out throughout the whole trip.

This aside, we were treated to some super starry nights from under our canvas, complete with shooting stars and arguments about whether or not it was Orion.

“That’s Orion, there…”

“No that’s Ursula major. Or is it minor…?”

“That’s the Scorpion isn’t it?”

“No, it’s the saucepan, look there’s the handle”

“I’ll get my app”

“What’s that noise?”

“It’s my app….it plays music when you use it…I can’t turn it off”

“Look, I told you that was Orion…”

“Oh look a shooting star!”

“Make a wish…”

It was like being on a school camp again. And we loved it! We woke early to a cool sunrise. It took some adjustment to realise we were not against any tides or the clock. We could have a leisurely wake up, without being hurried. I did some yoga on the beach at sunrise, which frankly is something you only ever see on Instagram and never do for real!

We were starting to live the dream.

Each day, we made our way along the south coast of Menorca, stopping for long, leisurely lunches with sea swimming, sunny snoozes and bobbing about, chatting in the water. We went snorkelling, I had a chance to practise my self-rescue skills and on the odd occasion we snuck off to a beach bar in the evening, feeling guilty, but not for long, for making the expedition less of an expedition by joining civilisation.

We worked out that we were all on a well-deserved break and opted to make it easy, rather than harder than it needed to be.

I managed to sneak some early morning drone shots of the camp one day and these really did the trip justice. We were treated to warm, clear waters, rocky cliffs, sea caves and pine forests as we made our way along the entire length of Menorca.

The sea state picked up over the last few days, but the gang coped with it really well and nobody took a dunking. We were starting to get the hang of things and eating simply, enjoying the local produce that Lucas fed us from the never-ending Tardis of the giant double kayak.

All too soon it was over. We pulled into a rocky beach with swanky beach bar and emptied the boats, piling kit into Ikea bags ready to be taken back to the depot.

We were all a bit sun burnt, desperate to shower in fresh water and we all took turns to stand under the beach hose pipe to get the salt off our skin.

We all sat and drank cold beers, half pleased to be back to some normality but half sulking that it was over.

We all decided to meet up that evening for one final supper at a pizza place. I grabbed my hire car ready for the rest of my trip, as I was staying on for a few more days on the island. Then we had supper and said our final goodbyes.

I cannot recommend Much Better Adventures and Karetta Expeditions highly enough. On my final day I booked a sea kayak rolling lesson with Lucas and progressed a lot. Karetta were friendly, professional and highly skilled. I’d been a caving instructor myself for 10 years, so was able to see the way things were run from a slightly different angle. I could not fault the guys and wouldn’t hesitate to use them again.

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Christine Grosart 23/07/2024 Christine Grosart 23/07/2024

A perfect day

Last year I took part in my first open water swim triathlon - in Minehead, of all places.

The day before, Channel Events, a nonprofit outfit headed up by an enthusiastic team who just love sport and the outdoors and encouraging newcomers to get involved, laid on a practise day.

I was introduced to the brown, rather chilly Bristol Channel and with kind guidance and advice I was coaxed into the water and was swimming front crawl in my brand-new wetsuit, as if I’d been doing it all my life.

Dan Brice, who runs Channel Events, found out I was a sea kayaker and gave me the heads up on an event he runs every year.

‘Springboard into Summer’ is a chilled event, organised for reasonably experienced paddlers with guides to keep the show together. There were BBQs, guest speakers, camping and sea kayaking along the Dorset Coast. As soon as registration opened, I signed up, delighted that it did not clash with my work rota.

The date came around and I loaded my sea kayak onto the roof, packed the car full of camping kit and set off down to Burnbake campsite in Poole.

I was super excited and motivated by the promise of a circumnavigation of the Isle of Portland. I knew it was possible in a sea kayak, but having dived there for over 20 years, I was acutely aware of strong currents, short slack times and rough seas that Portland Bill was notorious for.

I decided to get back into the swing of sea kayaking on the Saturday by signing up for the Old Harry Rocks to Swanage trip. We were treated to calm, warm, balmy weather and the sea state was like glass. I had never seen Old Harry Rocks in such calm waters and as we lined our boats up on the sandy beach just along from the chain ferry to Poole, I knew we were in for a good day.

I was delighted to find I was paddling with Nienka. She was a triathlete and part of a small group of volunteers who gave me my confidence in my first wetsuited open water sea swim in Minehead the day before the triathlon there.

The sea was so calm we could play around in little rock hopping tunnels, go through arches and sea caves and enjoy a close up view that you definitely don’t get when you’re diving the area. We paddled across the bay to Swanage and stopped for an ice cream and lunch with a super friendly group of like-minded people, who loved the ocean, paddling and being outdoors.

We weaved our way back through the chalk stacks and archways, enjoying idyllic conditions. Once back at the beach, Nienka and I needed no persuading to get into our cozzies and go for a swim off the beach.

The water was chilly but it was wonderful to be swimming in clear, calm water in the UK and a rare treat for me. I spend half my year at sea but I’m not allowed to swim in it.

The evening was spent sitting around a campfire, enjoying a BBQ and some beers and a guest speaker talking about his long distance adventures.

The next morning I had signed up to the lap of Portland, as had pretty much everybody else!

We set off on the hour drive to Chesil beach and dragged our boats up onto the pebbles. A few of us had some fun seal launching onto the water and we set off on a slightly overcast morning towards the Bill.

It was a real privilege to get so close to the coastline, when normally I’m far out on a dive boat zooming past. The nooks and crannies, caverns, archways, crystal clear water with a green hue, were so pretty and inviting and I relished every moment of it.

The sun all the while was trying to appear and once round the bill, where a seal joined us at Pulpit Rock, it came out and gave us a glorious afternoon of warm sunshine and sparkly water.

We pulled into Church Ope Cove for lunch and basked in the sunshine. I couldn’t resist another swim in the glassy, clear sea. This really was the perfect day.

We continued the journey in glorious sunshine back through Portland harbour and were treated to the local dolphin putting on a display.

Time stood still and all our plans of getting away home at this time and that time were just forgotten. Days like this are becoming rarer and rarer and we all wanted to absorb every minute of it.

Sea kayaking is the most wonderful sport and allows people of all levels, ages and abilities to access beautiful parts of our coastline where larger craft cannot. It is a silent sport which causes no pollution to the environment and paddlers tend to be very environmentally aware.

Whether you are joining friends for the day, going on a solo adventure or a multi day camping trip, or even a daring long distance expedition, it really is the most wonderful way to see our winderful coast. As we passed Portland Bill a dive boat I knew passed us and not for one moment did I wish I was on it. My love of the ocean goes way beyond just diving in it and the purchase of my two Dagger Stratos boats are some of the best impulse buys I ever made!

I cannot thank Dan and his Channel Events volunteers enough for laying on such a great event. I’ve made new paddling friends and hope to be able to head out on the sea with them again in the near future.

Christine Grosart 06/12/2023 Christine Grosart 06/12/2023

Introducing Agnetha

*Always make sure your car matches your scooter!*

Meet Agnetha!

I had my trusty, battered Berlingo van for over 10 years and she was so reliable that I was loathe to get rid of her. She had just passed an MOT and was still going strong when I finally made the leap to buy myself a new dive wagon.

I had visions of buying a Dispatch van, keen to stay with Citreon, but the long wheel base model was hard to come by and I only had a limited time on-shore to choose a new vehicle.

A very persuasive car salesman at Citreon talked me into buying the 2018 Spacetourer.

I hadn't even heard of it.

It had the same wheelbase of the Dispatch, but was definitely a car rather than a van. It had a plush interior and all the mod cons; Apple car play, air conditioning and was a beautiful drive. Out of sheer impatience, I bought Agnetha. She looks Swedish, even though she's not, and my favourite singer's name suited her.

The downside is that she came with NINE seats!!

I fixed that right away by taking the rear 6 seats out and putting them into storage.

The main purpose of getting a car this size was to be able to 'get my head down' for a night or two.

My vehicle is normally rammed full of scuba diving gear, caving kit and sometimes items for events such as gazebos, tables, merchandise etc for our charity Ghost Fishing UK.

The car needed to be multi purpose. I need to be able to sleep in it overnight on diving trips and at events, without the hassle of having to put up a tent or the expense of a hotel.

It removes the aggro of having to plan, book then often cancel things like Air BNB. My life changes at such short notice I was throwing away a lot of money on bookings with no refunds. Enough was enough. I would take my home with me.

The next job was to get some rubber matting down. I chose this as it is easy to wash all the caving mud and sand out and it protects the van from damage to the floor.

I cut a few small gaps for the anchor points at the corners. The mat didn't fit quite perfectly, so I used two sheets and taped them together with black duct tape. Some careful stanley knife work later and the floor was in.

I curved it up slightly at the edges to stop any wash down water going underneath.

I wanted to take the grab handles out and replace them with some bolts, so that I could put up some hanging rails in the back.

This can be used for all sorts of things; hanging up drysuits, clothes, affixing lighting etc.

It didn't quite work out as, on removal of the grab handles (which wasn't easy at all) I was left with 8 square holes!

I improvised by putting in some pinch clips and attaching some curtain wire to them which seems to be doing the job.

I strung up some battery powered fairy lights and bought some cheap karabiners which come in handy for smaller, loose items. The interior makes it tricky to place additions as it's not a 'blank canvas' like a panelled van, so it needed a bit more thought.

Temporary battery powered push-on lights are handy too. They don't stick to the interior lining and fell off in the middle of the night scaring the living hell out of me! So mount them on the shelving, they work just fine.

With lights up (albeit no leisure battery yet) and floor down, it was time to start putting in some home comforts.

Stay tuned as I continue to transform Agnetha. Not too much, but enough to have the diving/camping/do-everything car that I dreamed of.

Christine Grosart 18/10/2023 Christine Grosart 18/10/2023

Hebridean Adventure, Part 4

…I heard screams coming from the shower cubicle opposite: “Muuuuuuummmm!!!!! It’s craaaawling!!! It’s got it’s tentacles out!!!!”

Eriskay & the Uists

The next day I jumped on a ferry across to Eriskay to stay on South Uist at a lovely little campsite called Kilbride. I chose the campsites owing to their proximity to good launch sites and sand beaches. This one didn’t disappoint. It had nice facilities, a really good café and a white sandy cove right there in the doorstep.

The first day the weather was a bit grey and rainy so I opted to ride. The road north of Kilbride towards North Uist, whilst it follows the coastline, you can’t actually see it so the ride was a tad dull but I managed a 39 mile round trip to the far side of the land bridge to North Uist and back.

The following day looked better for paddling though a bit overcast still. I headed north with the ebb tide and planned to ride the flood tide back which worked perfectly.

Long stretches of sandy beaches and glass calm waters accompanied me, along with huge seal colonies everywhere. Seals are such timewasters, I could spend ages just sitting still in my kayak watching them.

About 10 miles later, I spied a good lunch spot on a long, sandy stretch of beach which looked immaculate at first glance. I didn’t have to womble far from my landing spot to find scraps of litter and lost fishing gear everywhere. Then, I came across a half buried trawl net with a dead, decaying dolphin carcass right next to it.

I picked up as much small litter as I could and shoved it in the hold of my boat and set off back to Kilbride, damp, windswept and tired.

There was a teenage girl on the campsite who is scared of spiders.

I was on the loo this morning when I heard screams coming from the shower cubicle opposite: “Muuuuuuummmm!!!!! It’s craaaawling!!! It’s got it’s tentacles out!!!!”

Now, last time I looked the friendly daddy long legs in cubicle 2 doesn’t have tentacles...but anyway...

Next thing, we had screams coming from her tent as one had moved in for the night. She practically burst through the side wall of the tent like a hedge backwards to escape the deadly beast. The whole campsite was now trying to find - and remove - Mrs long legs to get a good nights sleep....

The next day I spent a while driving around the islands and enjoyed some sand in my toes and a brief paddle in the crystal clear waters of Eriskay while I waited for the ferry to come in.

I didn’t want to go home.

It had been such a stunning adventure, with a seemingly unlimited amount of freedom and the only thing that curbed it was ferry times - but even then, I managed to jump early ferries whenever I showed up and there was nothing too much trouble for the Calmac staff.

To follow my adventure is photos, check out my Instagram page.

I highly recommend the following campsites and eateries if you are ever heading over the Outer Hebrides:

Wavecrest Campsite, Barra

Fidden Farm Camping, Mull

Kilbride Campsite

Dana Villa, Oban

Enjoy this final little AV which sums up my mini adventure in the Outer Hebrides. It was an absolute pleasure to visit and I hope it will not be too long before I can return...

Christine Grosart 18/10/2023 Christine Grosart 18/10/2023

Hebridean Adventure, Part 3

I was sure someone would find my body sliced in half through the glass door of the shower where I’d slipped on my eco-friendly conditioner bar…

Beautiful Barra

In the morning I headed back to Oban to grab the Barra ferry and rocked up at the very delightful Wavecrest campsite. Right on the beach, it promised good paddling but it was time for the bike again.

The campsite boasted showers so I treated myself - and couldn’t even get that right!

The £1 shower started as soon as the money dropped and I stupidly hadn’t even got undressed. In my haste, I plunged my hand into my wash bag and felt the blade of my eco razor slice off the top of my index finger.

Without even looking, I knew what I had done.

Crap.

Blood poured everywhere.

Determined not to waste my £1 coin - I only had one - I wrapped the sliced finger in loo roll and held it up above my head which slowed the bleeding a bit, whilst I tried to shower and wash my hair in the allotted time.

This is awkward anyway, but in my eco-friendliness I was using shampoo and conditioner bars which made things even harder, trying to get the lids off the pots and I kept dropping the bars. I was sure someone would find my body sliced in half through the glass door of the shower where I’d slipped on my eco-friendly conditioner bar.

What a way to go.

The shower stopped without warning at the conditioner phase - could have been worse - and I tried to get dressed without getting blood on any of my clothes, before mopping away the blood splats on the shower floor. FFS.

Back to the car, arm in the air, I single-handedly fished out my first aid kit which had enough to patch things up for the night.

Fortunately, a diver friend of mine who knew the area well, with the assistance of Facebook, pointed out the local A&E which I could visit on my bike ride the next day.

In the morning, having spent a relatively comfy night with my arm hooked over the headrests of my car, I re-patched my finger and set off round Barra for a stunning ride. As I headed north towards Barra airport, the sea became more turquoise and sparkly, the sun tried to come out and the sands got whiter and longer.

When I say airport, it is actually a sandy strip of beach and the tiny twin props were in and out all day.

I spied a good launch spot for my kayak and continued the ride around the island, stopping off in Castlebay to chat the the local (only) friendly paramedic in his ambo, before locating the A&E. The nurse was lovely and we had a good chin wag before she stuffed all sorts of fancy finger dressings in my bag and sent me on my way. 26 miles with only one evil hill.

News travels fast on Barra. By the time I got back to the campsite, the owner and his wife enquired as to if I was the lady paramedic who had sliced her finger off - and was there anything they could do. Bless them. I expect they felt terrible but I assured them it was all my own doing and I had cleared up the mess. They couldn’t have been nicer.

Despite being on the beach, the weather wasn’t ideal on the west side of the island the following day, so I drove my kayak up to the launching spot I had found and with a bit of effort, got myself and boat down to the beach. The tide was going out which made for a bit of shuffling to find deeper water. I was just getting afloat when a twin prop zoomed right over my head - right at the point I noticed a sign saying: “Stay off the beach when the wind sock is flying and the airport is active”. Oops.

I made a hasty exit across the bay and imagined the pilot shaking his fist at me.

Bloody tourists.

I had a cracking 11 mile paddle and the white sand made the colour of the water just unreal. It could have been Greece were it not for the 8 degree water temperature.

Christine Grosart 18/10/2023 Christine Grosart 18/10/2023

Hebridean Adventure Part 2

…but with two bottles of single malt and a bottle of gin on his back, he lost his balance and found himself upside down in a bramble bush!

Marvellous Mull

After a quick lunch stop at a castle on Karrera and playing 'dodge the Calmac ferry', it was time to take the short journey over to Mull to meet up with my old diving buddy Darren Morley who had been living there for some years.

He had been doing all sorts of triathlons and sportives and I knew he would be up for a decent bike ride.

I met up with Darren at the local Salen Spar shop where I came across the local moggy, who was very chatty and fiercely guards the community defibrillator!

After a pleasant evening camp, we set off around northern Mull for a decent 44 mile ride. There were some evil hills with hair pin bends that scuppered me but luckily they were only short. The clag was down but Darren took the time to point out all the islands I would have seen on a better day!

We stopped in Tobermory to load up on whiskey and goodies, me thinking that all the hills were done.

How wrong I was! Shocked at the next one I was faced with, Darren kindly took all my whiskey swag and rode it up the hill.

It was to be his undoing as, some while later, a large lorry ran us off the road. Darren was fine but with two bottles of single malt and a bottle of gin on his back, he lost his balance and found himself upside down in a bramble bush! I sort of fished him out and we made our way back to Salen.

No sooner had we got back and Darren was away to rescue a lady from a campsite. He is part of the local mountain rescue on Mull and regularly gets called to drag hapless tourists up beaches, off mountains and out of campsites to the waiting ambulance.

Meanwhile, I set off on the single track road for over an hour to Fidden Farm, right at the other, western end of Mull. This was mean to be a kayaking mecca. I turned up in grey mizzle but parked right at the edge of the white, sandy beach with turquoise, calm waters. It was idyllic.

The next morning I literally rolled out of my sleeping bag and into my kayak for a gentle mooch just south west of Fidden Farm. There were seals and birds a plenty and lovely white sandy beaches on desolate islands for snack stops.

After a couple of nights here, I headed back to the mainland as I couldn’t get a ferry direct from Mull to Barra, my next stop.

On the advice of my good friend Dave Ryall, I found a nice little overnight top right on the shore of Loch Etive. The weather was ok, so I couldn’t resist a little paddle up the loch which was like glass; not a ripple. Then I heard a big splash behind me. I was being tracked by a couple of seals who no doubt hang out there in the hope of an easy meal from the fish farm in the loch.

After an evening of tinned camping food and some wine, I settled in for the night ready for the ferry crossing the next day to Barra.

Christine Grosart 18/10/2023 Christine Grosart 18/10/2023

Hebridean Adventure, Part 1

I did a lap of the island Kerrera which was about 13 miles and I hadn’t been on the water long before I was surrounded by seals!

It’s pretty shameful that, for someone who loves the great outdoors, I’ve been travelling to Scotland and back home again since 2017 without setting foot outside the hotels, harbours and airports.

Covid-19 forced many of us from the south west to ditch the 1 hour flight and take on the long haul to Aberdeen by road.

During one, long stint at sea I made an impulsive ebay purchase of two sea kayaks. Plus some blades and spray decks - and some roof bars…

The last part of mainland Scotland before catching the ferry

You see, my kayak marathon days were long over. In 2009, whilst training for a sub 24 hour Devizes Westminster race over 125 miles, I wrecked my lower back and had two bulging discs in my spine. It almost cost me my career and halted a lot of heavy physical exercise for almost a decade. Cave diving apart, of course…

So, I sold all of my racing boats and never got into a kayak again apart from the odd splash on holiday.

I’d been losing a tonne of weight and doing lots of cycling and my back was holding up. I took the plunge and spent weeks offshore planning my next adventure.

I had hoped a friend could join me but her van wasn’t ready. My car-come-camper Agnetha the spacetourer was all kitted out and ready to go. I set off to the outer Hebrides with promises of white sandy beaches, crystal clear waters and seals and basking sharks a plenty.

If Covid-19 has taught us anything it is that life is too short - and we only get one go at it. I decided not to waste a moment and headed down to Somerset, picked up my kayak and the mountain of Amazon purchases to go with it, did a quick cycling sportive (Great Weston Ride) and drove straight back up to Scotland.

To the amusement of my work colleagues, I had quite an itinerary! It was necessary to maximise how much I could see and do and juggle the ferry times and crossings.

My first stop was Oban where I stayed in a lovely B&B called Dana Villa and I found a great little place, Puffin divers, who not only let me park by the waters edge and launch my boat but took a lot of time and good humour to recommend a good paddle.

I did a lap of the island Kerrera which was about 13 miles and I hadn’t been on the water long before I was surrounded by seals!