Month: July 2017

Yesterday, thursday, was a long day, from Kinlochbervie, the most northerly harbour on the Scottish mainland. We left there at 07:50, a bit later than planned, (oh stress!) and arrived here at 21:30, 75 nautical miles later. Planning this one had taken us many hours of reading Sailing Instructions, Tide Tables, Cruising Guides, and the internet, to try and get the currents to be with us rather than against, and avoid the dangerous places. We succeeded!

The two hours or so up to the Cape were powered by just a reefed mainsail in a gusting strong wind almost dead aft, and rolling seas and sharp waves, which, for the first time, the autopilot couldn’t quite handle, so I steered.  But I didn’t do any better. One moment’s inattention and a gybe happened. Luckily the only casualty being the window which I was trying to replace. An artistically-shaped large piece remained.

First major planned aquatic hurdle was Cape Wrath, (the Old Norse name doesn’t mean that), which “spat” us back into the North Sea at an incredible rate of knots, even at a respectful distance from the cape itself because of previously-read dire warnings. No problem. Even the seas were smoothed out to some extent, and we turned east in the sustained current, gleefully glancing at the speed log. The current gradually lessened until it effectively ceased after about two hours. Then the wind, previously south, turned fickle, and it was on and off with the engine until about midday when we could sail again.

The next aquatic hurdle was getting to Hoy Sound, on the way in to Stromness, at the right state of the tide at the right time, which was planned for about 20:45. Predictions of our ETA varied significantly, due to unreliable winds, so we motored the last four hours. The weather had changed from low clouds and threatening rain when we started, to much brighter skies and heavy showers, S&BP, winds in all directions, so we took it in turns to get showered upon and dry out again. The entry into Hoy Sound, with its predicted angry  tide races (“roosts” in the vernacular), was into a nearly-full rainbow and clear-clear air, most spectacular, but because we had arrived at just the right, predicted, time the roost was a smooth current of only two knots. We didn’t catch up with the rainbow however. The ferry from Scrabster came past us just as we were admiring “The Old Man of Hoy”, an amazing rock pillar several tens of meters high just a few miles south of the sound, and we followed the ferry into a sleeping harbour. We had managed to contact the marina manager, Ruby, on the phone, after no-one answered over the VHF, to hear there was an available pontoon berth, into which we gladly but wearily nudged. It was too late for a meal so we supped on a whole packet of potato chips and fell into bed. It had been a most successful, and enjoyable, day, very varied.

Today will be a day of R & R, washing things, doing odd boat jobs, scrutinising Stromness and planning the sightseeing. More about previous days, later.

Alls well.

After many attempts to publish the last one, with all the pictures, I sent it with only some. Here hopefully, are the rest:

Josin, dressed overall

Tidbit hen at lunch:

Me and a middling stone

Sunday evening. Weather forecast promising for tomorrow. Early start planned.

Alls well

They must be the most friendly and service-minded of people these Lewisters. I was searching for a new thermos, to replace the one which took a flying visit to the bilges on the way here. Tesco was apparently promising. Tesco. Enormous. Find shelf. Shelf empty. Manageress. “I’ll look in the back store, should have come in yesterday”. Ten minutes later. “Sorry. A new delivery tomorrow hopefully”. Anywhere else in Stornoway possibly? “Aladdins cave? just round the corner”. Four corners later, and Tesco is a large building, back inside. Asked the man in the basket checkout, he didn’t look too busy. “Yes, just round the corner”. Mumblings about not finding it. “I’ll show you”. And up he gets from his checkout seat and leads me through the throng. Are you allowed to do this? it is most kind. “Why not?” Round two corners. “See the building with the yellow-stone corner? Round that to the left”. Effusive thanks. “No problem”. Where else would one get such service?  No suitable thermos in Aladdins Cave. But, the Home Improvement Centre, round the next corner, had a thermos. Double size. Ah well, more cups of tea then!

Weatherwise, we have been incredibly fortunate, although the wind, easterly, has been a bit chilly. Must be because of the Stornorway Festival, very much in evidence. Three days. Boats dressed overall with signal flags, (Josin’s too, in the correct order if you please).

 

Large tents in the castle grounds opposite, with varying music, thumping in the evenings. Bunting everywhere. Summer-clad people in droves. Push chairs. Street stands. Bagpipes  inflated, tuned, (necessary), and tamed by a most musical (I was reliably informed) fourteen-year-old, attracting well-earned attention and coins in the pedestrian street.

We wanted to hire a car for tomorrow, to explore Lewis and its attractions. Why not an electric one, for which we had acquired a brochure? After much foot-wearying searching and helpful directions, we found, at one of the addresses in the brochure, the sign-makers business, where, it turned out the car-hire manager works. Lucky us!. Not at the airport where all the cars are parked. He must have then spent a half hour on the phone. “Festival you see, not a car left”. Later. “There are no petrol ones, can you accept an electric one”. Margaret very sceptical, me OK. “We will fetch you, it is at the airport”. Service again!!. Timothy in a Renault Zoe. To airport. Paperwork. Plastic transaction. Zoe awaiting at the charging point, with instructions from Timothy, particularly about charging, necessary as Zoe was only partly charged. Where then?. “Bus station. And there’s one at The North Point somewhere, and one at Tarbert”. More instructions. We depart, Margaret driving gingerly, experimentally. Bus station. Several wrong turnings until we found the tall black and white cabinet, with a screen face and two arms with cables. Followed instructions, prodding virtual buttons, offering  the critical card. Nix. several times. Still nix. Suddenly Timothy appeared. Service again!!. “I’ll have a try”. Many tries. Still nix. “Last person must have not ended the process correctly!” OK, what now. “To the office, there are several charging points”. Followed Timothy. Yes. A charger available. Leave it on charge and fetch it in the morning. By now it was long into the evening. Effusive thanks from us. “No problem. have a nice day tomorrow!”. Foot it back to the boat, and F&C for supper. Not the best, rather greasy.

Friday dawns, not-a-cloud, not-a-breath. M sleeps still. I enjoy the early morning walk to fetch the car, now fully charged, with 80 to 100 miles worth apparently. Breakfast. Where to? Consult map. At least northward, to the charging point. M still rather sceptical. Off and away, main road north. Several things to see.

Heath land. Not a single tree. Wide views. Peat bogs everywhere with signs of taking.

First stop Steinaclert Cairn and Stones. 200 meters to walk uphill, good, but Lewis meters are at least double. Placard with info. Take picture, not very impressive. Walk down again. Onward to the Port of Ness, at the very top of Lewis, a drying harbour.

Search for charging point. Ask at the filling station back down the road. “No, sorry”. What now? Cleaning lady chipped in. “There’s one at the Community Centre, I’ve seen it”. Back up the road. Found! Smaller, white cabinet.

 

 

Wandered around, taking unusable pics for the three quarters to fully charged. Away again, confidence-charged. South and west along the coast, to The 40 North restaurant, recommended for lunch. Closed. But wait! It opens at twelve. Sure enough. Warm welcome but “fully booked for lunch, but we have much for takeaway”. Can we sit at these garden tables? “Of course, I’ll fetch the menu”. Reindeer pie and salad for me, chicken something for M, both delicious. Unusual to have a hen awaiting the tidbits.

 

Then on to The Blackhouse Village, representing how the crofters might have lived. Interesting buildings, with minimum use of very scarce roof timbers. All on the slope. Must be very odd for the people living there to live at an angle.

 

Then to he Dun Carloway Broch. Impressive enough building on the top of a mound overlooking the sea. Astonishing considering how long ago it was built. A lot of it had fallen down and the top had gone. Two concentric circles of stones with a sizeable gap between, gradually tapering towards the top with probably a small roof. Scarce timber again.

 

Then to the Callanish Standing Stones. Very popular. The German bus we had seen before. Carpark full. Restaurant very busy. Climb the slope to the Stones. A central ring with four alleyways radiating out at cardinal directions. (Except that the builders must have used the summer solstice as the defining direction). North wasn’t invented then. Difficult to photograph.

 

Me at one of the smaller stones.

Then back to Stornoway. What? Still 50 miles left? OK. Out to Portnaguran, past the airport. One-track road, with the occasional signed passing place. One car and one campervan.  Lighthouse, Major. Otherwise just sea, The Minch, with waves. Beentheredonethat. Back to town. Shopping. Back to boat. Deliver car. Walk back. what a day!. Dinner. Relax. Big Festival day tomorrow

 

 

 

It was a lovely morning, but very little wind, so it was motor-sailing all the way north to the Shiant islands, luckily no waves or swell, so we could go very close inshore.

to see more amazing rock formations. Staffa is not the only one with them and there were far fewer people/boats to get in the way! No dolphins though.

Zillions of birds, Puffins, guillimots, razorbills, gannets, gulls, ravens and some unidentified.

  

Grassy slopes punctured with puffin burrows, and a hole through one of the islands.

 

One of the sailing boats there had just come from an anchorage they could warmly recommend, so we went west Lewis, to Loch Claidh, and the anchorage behind a small island on the northeast shore. Multiple seals, including young nursing, very lazy in the warm sunshine. Later, another boat, Canadian, in the sunset.

 

Awakened early next morning by another sailing boat, which came in earlier puffing clouds of blue smoke from its old engine and anchored a bit close I thought, swinging round in the changing breeze and nudging Josin. Bit annoying as he didn’t make any sign of doing anything, like moving, so we did. Quick breakfast, then leave. Light north east wind, gradually increasing, which was good, but a very confused, rolypoly and nodding seas which required lots of engine help to make progress, which was not so good. Final sail into the outer harbour at Stornoway, cowering to avoid a gull-swarmed fishing boat and the ferry from Ullapool in the narrower bit. Pontoon berth. Lots of flags. Ah, a festival, of which more another time.

We’ll be here a few days, contrary winds, of uncomfortable strength for crossing the Minch. 

Alls well

 

 

 

(Sent from Stornoway, wednesday afternoon, 24 degrees, phew!)

We stayed two nights in Mallaig, firstly to dry out, and also to ensure that we could properly see the steam train arrive from Fort William. The marina master had warned us that at 12:25, 400 Japanese tourists all dressed as wizards from Hogwart, would disgorge and descend on all the coffee shops and restaurants. Well, it didn’t happen quite like that, we mostly saw hurrying people, inadequately clothed, bending against the rain, many umbrella’d, and nary a wizard, but the bit about the coffee shops and restaurant was correct. Shame for the tourists though. And we got wet again too.

There was a F&C shop in the corner of the station building, and we waited until the second, slightly drier, steam train tourist horde had left. Luckily they were not sold out, and we enjoyed yet another evening finger-meal out of the plastic.

Intended to get up early the next morning, sunday, to ensure that we got to the narrows at Kyle Rhea on the rising tide, but managed just that morning to not wake up at six. But the wind blew. Hard. From almost behind. We rushed up the Sound of Sleat and reached the narrows at the right time anyway, to be rushed through the turbulent waters on a four-knot jaccuzzi. As the wind also gusted from 25 knots to nothing and back again, it was an interesting passage, in close company with two other boats. Josin behaved beautifully, and as the sailing directions said, we were “spat out into the relative calm of Loch Alsh”. We turned east, and found a calm little bay with a substantial mooring at Totaig, opposite the tourist attraction of Donnan castle. It apparently featured in a James Bond film, which added to its magnetism. Intended to just stop for lunch and regain our breath so to speak, but setting out again, the wind, against, and waves, short and sharp, proved most uncomfortable, so we returned and spent the night there.

Monday. Less wind, more from the south west which meant sailing, and except for the bit near and under the impressive Skye Bridge, we did, a little helped by the engine at times. The gradient wind, forecast as fairly constant in both strength and direction, is affected to a large degree by the mountains and lochs, causing much variation and trimming of sails. The day was promised to be sunny, but the low clouds didn’t really clear until we arrived at the anchorage on the island of Rona. Major building works going on, so the Lodge was closed, (we had read about local sea food available there), so we dingy-ed ashore, paid our dues and went for a short walk up the hill to get a better view of the anchorage. One of the other boats from Kyle Rhea came in and anchored, and the whole crew took a dip. 13,8 degrees. They said that they enjoyed it, but with one saying he’d re-evaluated his judgement of “cold”. Whatever, the most hardy of them, with goggles, was invited to swim over and inspect Josin’s propeller. Clean. Thankyou!

High pressure has arrived, and the forecast for tomorrow is for sunshine, very light winds and temperatures over 20. So, we plan to visit the Shiant bird-islands off the coast of North Harris, then to Stornoway.

We’ve got a bit of catching up to do. No decent comms signal available for days it seems. Now in Mallaig our preferred tele-provider is available, but the marina WiFi is, as usual weak and intermittent.

So, where do we start?  Why not Ben Nevis? A rare view of the top, normally covered in cloud. Pic taken at the top of Neptune’s Staircase, while waiting nearly a whole day.

I’ve sent something about The House of Trousers and Tinkers Hole, so next place of visit was Iona, on a fantastic day. The lady receptionist at the Abbey said that “It happens about once a month”. Actually, the next day was good too, so maybe we have used up two month’s worth already.

Josin, anchored off the beach at Iona, looking back towards Tinkers Hole, in not an excess of water-depth. Look at the blue sky, and the azure-blue water!

Iona was blissfully peaceful, and we had a quiet time at the Abbey, and the museum alongside, (before the first horde of trippers arrived). Beautifully restored buildings, tastefully done. A place for contemplation and meditation. 

Amazing history has Iona, going back to the 500’s, later including Vikings, firstly as raiders, later as converts and settlers.

So, after a fairly short stay, the tide was going rapidly out, we pottered on north to Staffa, an incredible island of geological uniqueness. Hexagonal rock columns with rock-bushy hats.

And Fingal’s Cave, a deep, mystical space, and outside, a school of dolphins playing to us tripper boats. A memorable experience!

Then on to Tobermory, picturesque,very bright colourful, semi-circular, in two levels. A glue hole, somebody uttered, (you get stuck, can’t get away).

Excellent facilities for boaties, and price to match. It was fairly late when we got there, and the restaurant close by easily enticed us. Scallops, large, in two varieties. Yum. Local industry farms, (breeds?) them, also mussels and diverse shellfish. Fresh produce therefore.

A long visit to the local museum, a history of Mull mainly, gave much thought for reflection. Especially a pitiful period called “The Clearance”, where the crofters suffered from failed harvests and poor fishing, and very many were moved, a lot from Tobermory to America.

A splendid ironmongers, with everything, except no buckets hanging from the ceiling, (too low), but including the sale of spirits. Bought hinges, not quite the right sort, but they’ll do. And an anchor buoy, and a kilo of suitable, bright orange twine, (looks more than enough). Margaret had a long walk on the upper town level, while I fixed things.

Evening and a meal. We’d aimed at the fish restaurant at the end of the jetty, but it was booked out until eight thirty, so we hungrily retraced our steps to the fish&chips van, for one haddock, one cod, and a small chips, and almost ran the way back to the boat before it all got cold. Very good indeed, and more than enough chips.

Next day, now friday, a departure slightly delayed to await the rain stopping, and off to the north west to round Ardnamurchan peninsular. Tides. Currents. Choppy seas. Headwind. Engine. The lighthouse at the point is the only one in built in the Egyptian Style. (Useful info in the Sailing Directions). Then head north east, calmer seas and sailing, until the wind died, and the engine started again. Later a south westerly came in and we sailed all the way to Mallaig, just not getting there before the next front caught up with us and rained us into the harbour. Very busy ferry and fishing harbour, with prominent traffic lights at the entrance. Necessary. Call up on channel 9 for permission to enter. Barely comprehensible marina manager telling us where to tie up. Done. Up with the cockpit canopy and retire to heated warmth. Bangers and mash for supper, quite excellent, and early to bed.

A rainy day today. Marine manager warned of the steam train arriving at 12:30, which will disgorge about 400 trippers, some dressed as magicians, (this train was the one used in the Harry Potter films, and the locals know how to utilise that), so we will wait until the train departs again before sussing out the town. WP. Must be a F&C shop here too.  

Alls well

 

 

 

 

 

Another from the nighttime Tobermorey. Will try and send some pics later.

So:

Beautiful early day, calm, morning sunshine, very gentle breeze. Ten boats at anchor. We took it easy, waiting for the promised sailing wind, and left mid-morning for points west, along the south coast of Mull.

There wasn’t a sailing wind initially, but the sun shone and we absorbed its much-appreciated warmth. Hoisted and prepared the gennaker, in the hopes. And yes, at around midday a 7 knot breeze came in from the north and the glassy sea got ripples. Unrolled the gennaker and it could just hold the angle. Other boats from the anchorage which had left before us, heading the same way and sailing, were gradually overtaken to the skipper’s glee, (but they didn’t have gennakers!). We sailed for two whole hours, before the bulging cumulus clouds began to suck the wind and ours died.

The area must have been rich with fish, as we enjoyed both watching gannets diving from a height, (I wonder if they shut their eyes before hitting the water), and flocks of guillimots diving from the surface.

On with the engine again and we were part of a small flotilla. Sidled over to another boat to ask if they were heading for Tinkers Hole? “Yes”, And had they been there before? “No, but the boat back there has and they were going to show us the way”. Wait? No. Carry on.

A new breeze came in, from the north-west, and gradually increased to 15 knots. A sailors delight, and we were soon ahead of the fleet, Josin at max speed.

Got to Tinkers Hole, to find it with two other boats, one tied up just as friend Peter had recommended. Space for one only. So, we attempted to anchor. Three times. Each time dragging an enormous amount of seaweed, but no holding. Comment from neighbour: “Don’t take all the weed, there won’t be any left for others!”

Putter a bit further north, (recommended by him in “Peter’s” place), and found good holding sand, without weed. Up with the anchor-sail in the backstay, watch the situation for half an hour, approve, then retire for a well-earned cuppa.

Late evening and the wind is still blowing, quite contrary to the forecast, so it may well be a nervous night. Anchor watch alarm nevertheless set.

Sunset over Iona in a cloudless sky. Very bright. To Iona tomorrow. Alls well

This is being sent from Tobermorey, middle of the night, when the WiFi connection works! Too many users during the day probably. Haven’t had a signal since the Canal.

So:

After coming down Neptune’s Staircase on saturday afternoon, having waited a long while, even the trippers got bored at no action, we tied up in Carpach Basin for the rest of the day.

Oh dear. Lots of water in the bilge. Investigate. Coming from under the engine? Cover off. Propshaft seal had obviously leaked. Rest of the day was spent fixing that. With great help from M, on the cabin side, holding things at critical moments while I was operating from the cockpit locker behind. Rather weary after that.

Sunday we were a bit lazy, had an extra sleep to charge my batteries, deciding later to explore Carpach and it’s interesting collection of types of Scottish stone, fairly quickly done, then took a train in to Fort William for a look around. Rather short, as the sunday normal train service was understandably reduced, in order to allow trips with a steam train (booked out), to and from Mallaig. That would have been something!

The last flights down Neptune’s Staircase locks on sunday evening had also been delayed due to the recalcitrant railway bridge, and filled up the Carpach basin, rafting up on all those already there waiting for the morning opening of the sea lock at high tide.

Monday, 08:00. Still. Almost balmy in the intermittent morning sunshine, the top of Ben Nevis almost clear. Much activity. The sea lock raised one vessel, the Ladies Rowing Club boat (!), and then let us and seven other boats out, into Loch Linnie and the great wide world. Flat calm. No expectant northerly breeze as forecast. Motor. Flotilla in a line, Peter from the Lake District in his tiny sailing boat, outboarding, last. Motor all day. Some excitement going through the Corran Narrows, avoiding the shuttle ferry, and being rushed along by a 2,4 knot current in the ebbing tide. Wheee!

Suddenly surrounded by a flock of gannets, circling then diving vertically on a shoal of fish. Most impressive. Impossible to photograph unfortunately.

Then an equally sudden change in the conditions, choppy seas blown from the Sound of Mull and swirling currents. Rolled out the foresail and almost stopped the engine. After about half an hour it was all over, the sail rolled in and we were boring along again. Towards an anchorage recommended by friend Peter, Ruilladobhrain, pos: 56 19.36 N / 005 35.34 W. “Best anchorage in Scotland” according to an effusive description, and sure enough, very sheltered, (not that that was needed today).

Other info from Peter. Land your dingy on the stony east shore, and follow the path (very muddy, contribution from many cows), over the hill and down to Clachan Bridge, where there is a pub called “Tigh-an-Truish”, meaning “House of the Trousers”. Quaint. Apparently a place of refuge for Jacobites, (disguised otherwise by wearing trousers), hiding from their oppressors, where they could shed their disguise and don the Kilt.

A more-than-adequate meal, and we wandered and squelched back to the dingy, almost afloat on the tide, and boat, disturbing the rabbits taking their evening hoppity, grassy meal.

Quiet morning this morning. Northerly breeze. Clouds breaking up. No telephone signal, so no internet to send this. Later.

 

Alls well!

Just off the end of Ulva a weak signal appeared, so we are soon back in internet civilisation. Next stop Tobermoray this evening. More later. Alls well. 

So here we wait. Early start this morning, it is saturday already, in order to get here before ten o’clock, which we were told would be the next locking time down the staircase, but…… Got here at ten, to be informed that everything was delayed due to the swing bridge at the bottom being recalcitrant. Next locking, one o’clock. Ah well. Relax. Take morning coffee with scones and cream and jam at the Bistro. Take picture of Josin with Ben Nevis in the background. (The top was almost visible, for the first time!).

It has been a relaxing journey through the Canal. No sailing, as what wind there has been has been on the nose, and on rainy days we have been attached to a pontoon or somesuch. Urquhart Castle was the high point, on a beautiful, calm, sunny morning, before the hordes arrived.

Not so many boats as I had imagined, probably because the main holiday season has not yet started, which has meant not having to wait too long at the locks and bridges. Mostly hire boats, which are immediately identified by the multiple fenders hanging all round, from chains. The custom of taking in fenders when on the move is obviously over-ridden by the need to protect both boats and fixed property.

Hoping to get down to the sea lock at Carpach this afternoon, to leave the fresh waters and venture out into the wider salt water world of tides and currents tomorrow morning.

All’s well.