Those notorious Pentland Firth tides can run much, much faster than you can paddle. Last year, on my own, I made the trip on a calm day at neap tide and slack water, spending the six hours between tides exploring the island. To paddle across when a normal tide is running fast takes careful planning – and experienced company!

Saturday gave a superb, easy day's paddling up the east coast to Duncansby with the "Caithness Cruise", exploring this amazing coast of caves and geos and passages.

A more demanding trip was scheduled for the next day. It had been hoped to circumnavigate Stroma but a rolling westerly swell ruled this out, even for the experts. Instead an easier trip up the eastern side of the island was planned, making use of the tide to help us across, and before nine three groups of paddlers were heading out of Gills Bay.

It was another glorious day of sun and blue sky, the tide was nearer a spring than a neap, definitely conditions for experienced leaders only! We surfed into Scotland's Haven on the swell, then paddled out to pick up the tidal stream flooding eastward. I knew the theory – but to actually paddle in these strong tides was quite an experience. In spite of aiming for the middle of the western side of Stroma and paddling hard, we were swept at speed to the south and only just made our target of the Stroma beacon. Out of the tide race it was then an easy paddle into the harbour at the south end of the island for a brief break.

The plan was to carry on in slack water up to the northern lighthouse pier, the last shelter before the famous Swilkie whirlpool, where several tidal streams converge. After a break we would set off back towards Gills before the west-going tide became too strong.

Tidal currents proved stronger than expected paddling north but there were no problems and we stopped for an early lunch with time to jog across the island and scramble down into the Gloup – a very dangerous place for kayakers to enter from the sea – then watch, from the safety of dry land, the Swilkie.

Only a few minutes earlier the tide had been flowing the other way, now the west-going current was roaring past the end of Stroma creating a wild confusion of standing waves and turbulent white water. People watched in silence and could barely take their eyes off the growing maelstrom as we walked back to the boats. To be swept into that would be unthinkable.

I'd expected the ebb tide to produce a friendly eddy to help us back down the eastern side of the island. Those with experience knew better. First we would have to fight through a strong north-flowing current. It was certainly an eye-opener how fast those tides picked up. As we paddled southwards, hugging the sloping rocks of the shore, the progress slowed and the padding became harder. The crux was a rocky point with a turbulent river pouring round it towards us. Later estimates varied between four and six knots, it looked like 10 – and normal paddling speed is three. At my first attempt I got the angle of attack wrong and was swept out into the current. At that speed it would have been 10 minutes to the Swilkie. Never have I more quickly done my forward and reverse sweep strokes and some rapid forward paddling to get back into the safety of the eddy!

I was told to aim just off the rocks, sweep on the left and paddle as hard as I could. This time, slowly, I made progress and after a few hundred yards of frantic paddling was safely into the next bay.

After that, things were easier, though still instructive in the speed of the tides. Now swept rapidly south by the southern half of the split tidal stream, the sea suddenly changed to a mass of choppy waves. Ahead was a white river of water sweeping westwards round the south-eastern corner of the island.

We aimed for John O'Groats, which seemed strange as this was more than 90 degrees off our destination of Gills. But a tide of at least four knots was now flowing westward and this "ferry glide" meant we weren't swept past St John's Point into the Merry men of Mey, which is exactly what would have happened if we'd made a beeline for Gills.

In my group were two double kayaks (which can easily out-paddle singles) and three very strong paddlers. I'd never worried too much about the finer points of efficient paddling, after all, I was doing this for fun and didn't need to be in a great hurry. Now, just to keep up, I had put all my strength into it as well as concentrating on a form of paddling which might impress the style judges. Strange how, although heading for Groats, we were now west of the whole of Stroma! And, yes, we ended up just right to let the new ferry pass to the west before paddling into the sheltered waters of the harbour.

The Gloup at Stroma is a very dangerous place for kayakers

PUSHING the limits is fine in the company of others, but on my own I stay well within my comfort zone. So when planning a little paddle round Strathy Point I made sure to choose a fine day of light east winds with little swell, and timed it to be rounding the point at slack water. Indeed the hardest part of the day was simply getting the boat to the sea – there's half a mile of soft sand from the car park to the water's edge at low tide. It was an hour after arriving at Strathy before I was paddling out into the blue yonder. A gentle easterly swell bouncing of the cliffs led to choppy water, but this now gave me no worries.

There are a few caves and steep bays east of the lighthouse, but the really fine scenery is on the western side. With shelter from the east winds and no swell at all from the west, it was an ideal day to explore this coast of stacks, geos, caves and rocky islands. With very little tidal current I was soon round below the lighthouse, through the channel by Garbh Eilean and into the amazing scenery just to the south.

It's a place I've normally only visited in stormy weather from the safety of dry land, now in benign warm sunshine this wild place wore a rare friendly face. A huge sea cave went in about 100 yards, ending at a vast cavern. A fine rocky arch led from one bay to a sheltered inlet. Exploring one rocky inlet after another led to the steep Glas Eilean Mor. Here I managed to haul the boat out over barnacle-covered rocks – more scrapes on the plastic but I'd rather scratch the boat than wreck my back trying to lift it.

I scrambled up to the top of the little island, here covered with deep tussocky grass, while the great black-backed gulls with well-grown chicks flew around squawking and fussing. Just across the rocky bay was the lighthouse where some tourists no doubt wondered how I'd managed to reach this inaccessible spot!

The tide-race was starting to pick up round the next headland; it was time to hurry on, I didn't want a repeat of the Stroma experience. As fast as I could I relaunched the boat and paddled west, but needn't have worried – the stream was flowing at a mild one or two knots only.

Soon I was back into calm water below Aultivullin, paddling into cool, quiet, dripping caves of clear water, through arches and tunnels. Shags squawked and splashed into the water, little blue-and-white jellyfish drifted past.

Many of the geos on Strathy Point have been converted into makeshift harbours in the past. There are a couple opposite the tiny Boursa island which can only be reached by means of vertiginous rope handrails.

Boursa itself is high and green, surrounded by steep rocks with caves. Again I managed to land on barnacled rocks at the southern end by dint of scraping more off the bottom of the boat; a lovely spot to eat a late lunch in the sunshine then scramble up to the tussocky top of the island. Attractive red-and-black beetles buzzed in the sunshine, black-backed gulls fussed, a little otter-trod led upwards through the grass.

More stacks and bays and arches, a tunnel into the Glupie Bhrael, in and out of skerries, long inlets to tiny harbours, so the coast went on. Ahead, the wide sandy beach of Armadale shimmered in the hot sun and after a couple of rolls to cool off I beached the boat.

Not that the trip was quite over yet. First I had to jog back to Strathy to collect the car. The hillside to the east of Armadale beach proved a delight, carpeted in thyme and kidney vetch with dancing blue butterflies.

The road was sweltering but soon I was back at the top of Strathy and could pick my way down the hillside and cool off again in the river pools before collecting the car for a drive back to Armadale – this took little more than five minutes but it took at least another half hour to drag and wheel the boat on its little trolley all the way up from the sea.

A kayaking trip from "A" to "B" on your own certainly provides a variety of exercise, as well as scenery!

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