A spin in the Corryvreckan

Probably the worst whirlpool in the world

- Sam Llewellyn

The north end of Jura and the south end of Scarba stand like gate pillars under a low grey sky. They draw closer. Then I am between them. Strange things are happening to the surface of the sea: there are little whorls and eddies and odd creases, as if the water is wringing its hands.

The boat is a 22ft open yawl. I am flying, out of pure cussedness, a cruising chute. A flaw in the wind. The chute snaps back. I am thinking that while this is slack water neaps and there is hardly any breeze at all, to engage with the Gulf of Corryvreckan in an open boat is perhaps not sensible.

A puff of steady breeze. The heartbeat slows. A rough cone of rock on the Jura shore. Round it we go, out of the eddies into the Bay of Pigs, a calm sweep of beach floored with sand of an odd deathly grey. Put down an anchor. Take the tripping line ashore and climb the hill that overlooks the Gulf. Lie down in the grass. Just below the overcast, a raven is duking it out with an eagle. All is quiet. Corryvreckan, eh? World's worst whirlpool? Pah!