Day 26 – A rock hopper’s playground

• Cove Bay to Inverbervie
• 36 kms

I ate breakfast at the hotel when they started serving at 6.30 and then walked the half hour down to the harbour. The boat was packed and ready to go, so I got an early start in the wet and misty gloom.

The abundance of caves along this coastline started immediately. I took a peak in one of the first to appear. I could hear some surf breaking on a beach in the dark, but Jim had mentioned that some have short beaches before continuing with more water. I wasn’t going to check it out on my own.

I stopped at the natural harbour of Portlethen, where small fishing boats are still hauled up the steep grassy slope by winch.

This section of coastline north of Stonehaven is continually enticing you to engage in some “rock hopping” – the act of getting up close and personal with the rocks without actually embracing them. There is an adrenaline rush to be got from timing the surf just right and sailing through a narrow gap over a rock that only moments before was above the surface. Equally, there is that frightening moment of realisation when things haven’t gone quite right, and you know you’ll be spending the next few days repairing the gell coat on the hull of your pride and joy. It’s an activity better undertaken on a day trip with an old plastic kayak, a helmet, and a few mates to scrape you off the rocks when things go wrong. Today, I only engaged with the most conservative wide channels and well covered rocks – hardly rock hopping at all.

At Stonehaven, it was time for lunch, and as I approached the harbour, I was thrilled to see a queue of people lined up at the counter of a seafood trailer van on the harbour wall. I immediately grounded my kayak alongside an assortment of boats in the harbour and walked back to the Seafood Bothie. It didn’t disappoint.

Once south of Stonehaven, the nature of the rocks and cliffs changes quite dramatically – huge cliffs of conglomerate rocks containing some very large rounded rocks and pebbles.

In the cliffs closer to Inverbervie, large numbers of seabirds take advantage of these pockmarked cliffs to locate their nests.

I set up camp at the mouth of the Bervie River opposite Inverbervie. I crossed the river and was met by my brother, Ian, and his wife, Fiona, who were in Scotland on holiday. They’d travelled a considerable distance to come and see how I was getting on and treat me to dinner at the excellent fish restaurant in nearby Gourdon. A great end to a good day of paddling (that’s using a paddle to propel a boat, and not wading calf deep in water with your trousers rolled up, as my sister-in-law likes to imagine it).