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!
Josin's 2025 cruise 