Day 15 - Burnt Porridge Bay / Croabh Haven / Kilmartin / Crinan Canal / Tarbert / Ferry to Lochranza

Our journey south coincided with the daily evening flow of Oban and Lochgilphead commuters, which, as expected, presented few difficulties.

One of the main drawbacks of wild camping is the absence of basic amenities, particularly the opportunity for a hot wash. Fortuitously, not far down the road, we came across Craobh Haven. This modern marina, set amid a cluster of time-share villas designed to mimic an old fishing village, had an unexpectedly eclectic charm. Knowing that showers were available at the marina, I decided to try my luck. To our delight, we both managed to enjoy hot showers undisturbed, all for a mere 50p. We rounded off our stop with hot chocolate and cake at the café before continuing south on the A816. Although the road stretched on, both the traffic and the hills proved manageable.

It's the Crinan for me!

We made time for a detour to go along the Crinan Canal, a very pleasant experience. Quiet and picturesque, we had joined the canal a few miles from Crinan itself which sits at its sea-end. Sipping tea and scones at the Crinan Basin we watched the puffer VIC32 move into the sea lock and out into open sea. Soon after we scooted off at a fair speed back along the full length of the towpath. At Lochgilphead ‘The Vital Spark’ was lying very neglected looking at the bottom lock. Chris was bemused by my excitement over this rusty wreck, but I tried to convince him it was as good as a national monument, heart-felt nostalgia for every Scot who grew up watching it on TV in the early '60s.

Oh! The Crinan Canal for me,
I don't like the wild raging sea,
It would be too terrific to cross the Pacific,
Or sail to Japan or Fiji.
A life on the Spanish Main,I think it would drive me insane,
The big foaming breakers would give me the shakers,
The Crinan Canal for me.

CHORUS:

Oh! The Crinan Canal for me,
I don't like the wild raging sea,
The big foaming breakers would give me the shakers,
The Crinan Canal for me.

It's the Crinan Canal for me,
From sea terrors there you are free,
There's no shark or whale that would make you turn pale,
Or shiver or shake at the knee.
I would nae like leavin' ma bones,
In a locker beside Davy Jones,From Ardrishaig to Crinan's the best trip A'hve bin in,
The Crinan Canal for me.

CHORUS

Aye the Crinan Canal for me,
It's neither too big nor too wee,
Oh! It's lovely and calm when you're frying your ham,
Or makin' a nice cup of tea.
You can go for a stroll on its banks,
To loosen your muscle bound shanks,
You can darn your socks while you're still in its locks,
The Crinan Canal for me.

CHORUS

The above rendition of this song was found on YouTube. I believe the singer to be John Grieve playing the part of Dan McPhail, the engineer, in the classic TV series 'The Vital Spark' (1959, 65-6 & 73-74) based on the Para Handy Tales by Neil Munro

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From Lochgilphead the road follows the shores of Loch Fyne, remaining level as it hugs the water’s edge until Tarbert. The port of Tarbert, tucked in a snug dip in the hills, was more interesting than expected despite its frayed edges. Once a prosperous fishing port, its grandeur was now distinctly faded

He who calls the ferry, pays!

Curious about what lay around the next corner, we kept going and ended up at Kennacraig ferry terminal. Knackered, we searched for a place to wild camp, but nothing suitable appeared.
With slight dread, we tackled the Mull of Kintyre Mountains again, this time heading towards Claonaig. The road was no better for the second time.

Despite slipping into the woods occasionally for a suitable camping place, all we found was a host of midges lying in ambush. To add to our woes, it started to rain quite heavily. The next place to aim for was the ferry 'bus shelter' at Claonaig and to spend the night there.

To our surprise, the ferry was still docked late on a Saturday evening, loading a solitary car. Realising our chance, we quickened our pace. Just as we exchanged hopeful glances, the ramp lifted and the ferry began to pull away. Chris, with a burst of desperation, waved and called out – and, remarkably, the ferry reversed, dropping its ramp for us. Seizing the opportunity, Chris warmly embraced the ferryman, and we boarded for its final run of the day. This was our last crossing with the rover ticket, and CalMac Ferries had been exceptional throughout our travels.

Our last night

We arrived in Lochranza under pouring rain, weary and discouraged. Our first stop was the Youth Hostel, but after making our way through a packed car park, we learned the hostel itself was also full. After a futile search through the local B & Bs, we found ourselves at the entrance of the Lochranza campsite, which appeared bleak in the drizzle. When Chris suggested trying the Lochranza Hotel, I needed little convincing. It turned out to be the best decision—our room boasted a balcony overlooking the bay and the castle. After a satisfying meal in the lively bar, we happily retired for the night, content after a long and tiring day.