Day 19 – Reflecting Waves

• Portgordon to Whitehills
• 31 kms

Before setting off today, I needed to replace the rope on my bow toggle. It broke when I was pulling the kayak up the ɓshingly beach yesterday. I should have replaced it earlier as it had been fraying for a while now, but it’s a fiddly little job that I kept putting off.

Getting the old knots out of the toggle proved to be the hardest bit. I think I made use of all of the blades on my Leatherman multi-tool, plus some drift wood sticks found lying on the beach. An hour had passed before I was satisfied with the final result.

It was almost 11 before I finally set off, and a happy Mr. Yappy gave his final yap of farewell.

The north easterly winds were light, and the swell was much reduced from yesterday, but it was still not a day for getting the camera out often.

As I passed the sea wall beyond the entrance to Buckie Harbour, the reflected waves were often just as big as the incoming ones. This clapotis was to be a varying but constant companion throughout the day with the cliffs and headlands to follow. It would range from the feeling of a slightly unsteady walk back from the pub to a full-on fairground waltzer with an added vertical component.

I had my GPS on, but was really only using my map to navigate. Ticking the little headlands off in my mind as I went. I had considered looking at Cullen for a safe landing spot and a place to have a bite of lunch, but somewhere along the coast, my mental headland count had got out of sync with reality.

It was only after three hours of paddling that I started to question my slow progress of only 10kms that I consulted my GPS. I had actually done 18kms and was well past Cullen.

The waves crashing into Sandend Bay didn’t at first sight make it look like an attractive landing spot, but as I moved in closer to shore, I could see a calmer area on the eastern shore. It was a rocky shoreline, but I was fortunate to find a little channel wide enough for the kayak that ended on a small sandy beach. The perfect lunch spot.

My next stop at Portsoy Harbour was soon after lunch and not really necessary, but as the entrance looked navigable, I thought I’d pull in there for a look. I chatted to a fisherman who was taking advantage of the low tide to examine the chains of his mooring. Although the harbour was a fine summer haven, no boats stayed for the winter. The high walls looked imposing, but many a boat had been sunk in a storm when the seas piled over. One corner was even nicknamed the “death trap.”

I enquired about the next two harbours to come, Banff and Macduff, and was told to watch out for every third wave at Banff. This rule had served him well over the many years he had used it. Until the one time it didn’t – the fourth wave got him!

However, he also told me about Whitehills, a harbour before Banff that I hadn’t considered. This one would be easily accessible in the current weather conditions. As it was now late afternoon and starting to cool down, I decided to take his advice and head there.

Pulling into the Sandhills Harbour an hour later proved as simple as he had said. The journey from safe haven to settled campsite was a little trickier.

The harbour was more a yacht marina than a small fishing harbour. There was no slip, only pontoons. I tied my kayak to a pontoon and went to investigate possible campsite options. Nothing looked promising within easy walking distance. One young girl said I could camp in her garden, but her mother wasn’t quite as keen. The girl was still keen to help, though, and we eventually settled on an area of rough grass close by. Later mumbled comments from passers-by suggested that not all the locals were quite as keen as she was to see a tent erected there.

I also received helpful advice from local onlookers as I unpacked my kayak – “yae cannae leave yoor boot there” and “belongs in a skip, not here.” However, when I left the pub a few hours later, one of the older men who’d witnessed the incident pulled over in his car when he saw me and apologised on behalf of the village for the behaviour of some.

I’d missed food time in the pub and didn’t feel I could get my stove out by my tent so settled for a cold dinner of snacks and fruit before settling in for the night.