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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.

 

A perfect morning. Early tranquility. Blue sky. Bright sunshine. Birdsong. Breakfast. Putter round to the jetty at the castle, 8:30. Obviously made just for the passenger boats, thick mooring ropes permanently attached, no bollards or cleats. So we attached Josin to other things fairly solid and went to find somebody who could tell us when we ought to move. “About 9.30”. OK, so we can wander round til then? “Fine. We don’t open officially until then”. An enormous place, built in many stages depending who and when was King or Constable.  A new visitor center, not yet open, being built a short distance up the grassy slopes. Very well placarded with information, and we enjoyed having the place to ourselves for a contemplative hour. Eavesdropped one of the warden’s radio that there was consternation that someone had moored their sailboat where it shouldn’t, but he was able to calm things down. Yes, down to Josin, untie, back off, wait ten minutes for the trippers to disembark, catamaran disappear, then back again. Another, rather less tranquil wander until we had seen enough, thank the staff for a very well-kept place, who glady fibbed that the weather was always like this, took last pics and away, just as a Norwegian ketch arrived.

To Fort Augustus. 12:45. Long pontoons, many boats. Just room for Josin half way along in front of an encouraging Morning Star, last seen and accompanied in the first locks. Next locking? “Don’t know. Nobody knows”. So, a short walk into town. On the way, a bagpiper, in full regalia, squalking and wailing into the breeze, with partially-appreciative on-lookers. Big sign, with a clock-face. “Next locking”. Small hand pointing to just before 2. Big hand pointing to 6.  So how to interpret that?  Nobody to ask. To avoid missing out, interpreted that to be 1:30 and after a quick and unsuccessful search for a shop selling bread, (trinkets and souveneirs wall-to-wall), bought two tepid sausage rolls, sold out of anything else, ‘cos it was now after lunchtime, and went back, munching, to boat. Inactivity everywhere. Time went. 1:30 likewise. Must have meant 2:30. What? That means that the locks closed for lunch. What?. In the high season?  Ah well, this is Scotland, and we must acclimatise. (Some locks later we concluded that someone ought to take an educational trip to Sweden and go through the Gøta Canal, to learn a thing or two). A man did appear eventually, wearing a similar hat to those of the officials at Urquhart castle, tartan waistcoat plus a lifejacket. Must be an official, maritime, post lunch. Yes, he counted boats and took our names and lengths, and said he’d come back and let us know. Closer to 3, received the happy message that we were to be first into the lock on the starboard side. (Not quite comfortable about that in a queueing society). Three boats a side. Morning Star aft. Large hire boat opposite, quite dangerously incompetent in the swirling rushing waters. Five locks, well paused. Decided to let the hire boats go in front out of the way, and took up the puttering armada in the rear.

A few more locks and a swing bridge later and we were out in Loch Oich. Pretty. Less dominating. More pastural. Many sheep. One cow only, or was it a bull? Very hairy, very static. The friendly lock-keeper at the last lock recommended Castle Bay. “On the right. Mooring. Ten minutes. You can’t miss it”. More Scottish timekeeping? Must have used a fast powerboat. Eventually we almost missed it, idyllic, in amongst large and hanging trees, a pontoon, just big enough for two boats a side, one, non-hire motorboat, in residence. Approached to tie up in front. The enthusiastic helper on the pontoon took M’s baug-rope and hauled enthusiastically away. Bump. Thankyou, Well done. Kind of you. We’ll do the rest. By this time were quite ready for stop, food and sleep. It had been a tiring day, and the weather was closing in.

Thursday morning, awakened to rain, cloud down on the mountains almost to water level. Turn on heater. Snooze. Later, a sunday breakfast as it was still raining and we had decided to stay here for the day. Rain stops. On with walking shoes, Up the path the short distance to Invergarry Castle (remains). Impressive high walls shored up with solid beams between. Been there, done that. Back along the road, enormous trees, faded rhododenrons, (must be impressive in bloom), to Invergarry Castle Hotel. Quiet. Visitors book in the hall, almost all foreign names and adresses, but all enthusiastic comments. Chat receptionist. “No problem for guests to find us apparently”. Back along the grassy path to the boat. New visitorboats. Must be on their to-do list.

Sorry, the rest of the pics wouldn’t transfer, slow internet. Otherwise- All’s well.

 

 

First to go from the Seaport Marina was a Loch Ness Cruise Ship, of such dimensions that it occupied the whole four-lock staircase. We others had to wait. By the time we three boats, (plenty of room for more), had reached the top, we were just too late to reach the next hindrance, which was a swing bridge, before it had it’s one-hour lunch break. The German boat had a skipper who obviously enjoyed both giving orders to his crew, and complaining to the lock keeper. Poor Scottish, patient lock keeper. We found him most helpful and informative, but he got an earful in gebrokkent. After lunch we pottered along to that swing bridge, where the bridge crew were getting their dose too. At last, the bridge opened, and two boats went through before the bells rang and sirens went off, red light shone in the German’s face and the bridge shut abruptly. More German phrases. It was obvious to all others, patient to a boat, that there must be a reason, and sure enough, after a very short while, an ambulance and a police car went sirening and wailing  past at high speed. Longer pause. No more sirens, and we were on our way again. One more lock and we were at the level of Loch Ness, which opened up before our very eyes.

Large, very large, as far as the eye could see, (German boat in the lead). Tranquil. Notabreathof. Occasional light drizzle created action, rain clothes, but otherwise 6 kn motoring brought us steadily to Drumnadrochit, which has Urkhart castle with an amazing history of battles and changing sides. Small jetty, fully occupied by two cruise catamarans. Retire to a little harbour a bit further north. One sailing boat, from Ipswich, east England,

otherwise motor boats, suspiciously hire boats, of which we have been warned of their unpredictability. Facilities unfortunately out of order, large building works creating organised chaos, probably a boat house, and the only attraction was the main A82 road outside, with plenty of traffic roaring past at plenty of speed. Nowhere to walk. Back to boat.

Promise of better weather tomorrow. We would like that. Try to have a look at the Castle tomorrow morning before the hordes. After that, next stop Fort Augustus.

Alls well. 

Wooosh! The last wave surfed us through the narrow, but very well marked, entrance to Lossiemouth harbour, Josin almost being swerved into the harbour wall, and we were in calm waters. Phew! Harbourmastertelephonelady said to turn sharp port, we did, and there were four other boats in the visitors harbour, well strung out to leave a just-not-big-enough space, but lo!, there was a bit of pontoon right at the end, just waiting for Josin. Fenders and ropes, while trying to manoeuver in the narrow space, being blown by the wind, and everything very wet in the refreshing rain, a final gentle thump, and we were there. High fives!

The euphoria was somewhat damped by the conditions, and our wetness, but tangible nevertheless.

Stats say 315 nautical miles in 54 hours, which my calculator says means 5,8 knots average speed. 5,8 ??!! Incredible. The original plan was to go all the way to Inverness, but with that rate of progress we would have got there in the middle of the night, so plan B, Lossiemouth was implemented. The rough conditions contributed to a no-brainer decision.

To begin at the beginning, (quoting Dylan Thomas), it was day, glorious day, the sun was shining, gulls wheeling, ducks swimming, mainsail hoisting leaving calm Egersund with a promising forecast of NW winds, 15 knots, veering northerly. What could be better? Out of the harbour and out through the islands, roll out the jib and engine off, and we really were off. Close reach at hull speed in a rather choppy sea, autopilot Rorbert doing his thing, and what else to do than trim the sails a last time and admire the view. The forecast veering of the wind happened gradually, but the forecast wind strength didn’t, it increased. Ah well, a bit more speed, but more heel. Difficult to sit downhill in the cockpit. The movement upset M, who was a bit wobbly for a while, but recovery was rapid. No problem later on, even though the conditions worsened.

Lunch, fresh rolls filled imaginatively by M, and coffee, came and went, and we were making perfect progress to our first way-, and decision-, point. More southerly, or more northerly route? Last look at the forecast with a dying signal. Weather was shown as a bit kindlier for the northerly one. Route planning had been much influenced by where all these oil and gas installations, and their attendant safety zones and supply boats, are. So, the northerly route. Instructions to Rorbert, trim the sails, and Sleipner A, here we come!

Sunset was strange, with broken, red-edged, low clouds restricting sight to just the horizon, all afire. Forgot to take what would have been a good picture for this blog. Bother, sorry!. The night was calm, with an 8 to 10 knot breeze wafting us along admirably in the swell. We took turns to stay awake. With nothing to see or do, that was not easy. Only thing was dolphins at dawn for M, a whole flock, who played with Josin for a while before vanishing as suddenly as they had come.

Wednesday, a long day. Weather very gradually deteriorating, high cloud creeping over, confirming the low approaching from the south, but rather earlier than forecast. Wind gradually increasing, veering more to the NE, which meant broad reach sailing gradually turning into running over the quarter, and there it stayed for the rest of the trip.

Sleipner “A” complex, threaded without problems of course, in the rather poor visibility in the late afternoon, providing both VHF and a weak internet signal, so a quick message got sent before Sleipner and the signal disappeared into the mist.

The rest of the trip will NOT be remembered as one of the more pleasant sailing experiences. The wind blew, an even 20 knots, then 25, with gusts over 30. Waves building accordingly. Jib rolled in. One reef. Then two. Then roll and pitch and whizz along at high speed. Rorbert functioned admirably, must write to Raymarine and tell them that in updated form, he managed even those extremely demanding conditions. (He had to work very hard though!). Then the rain came, intermittently at first. M had a bright idea. It was to put up the cockpit cover, on the aft and the windy sides. Never done that before when on the move, and after a bit of a flapping struggle, it was done. Amazing change in the comfort level. Well done Margaret! Sensible lass. The cover remained in place until close to Lossiemouth, when the mainsail had to come down and to be able to navigate properly. We then soon both got quite wet, both from the rain and from the spray from the seas.

When in telephone range, rang the Lossiemouth harbourmaster, answered by a charming Scots lady (Amanda), telling us to turn sharp to port when we were inside the entrance, and, being told that we would be there just before 4, said she’d be there to meet us. Well, she wasn’t, because we had omitted to change our time. She arrived later with a warm but “wet welcome to an exceptional Scottish summer’s day”, and a wet envelope containing useful info and a key to the gate.

Lossiemouth harbour entrance is very well marked, with white-painted ends of the jetties visible in the mist and spray from a goodly distance. (Accurate GPS is a boon!). Choose your wave, full speed ahead, and surf your way in.  

Amanda was most forthcoming with info, including where to find the Fish & Chip shop, as we both reckoned that they were a must, instead of the carefully-in-Egersund-prepared passage food, half of which not yet consumed. We walked, for the exercise we agreed, up the hill in the rain, cowering into the row of houses on the lee side of the road, all expectant for the aroma of frying. What! Not open yet? So, into the Coop opposite to ask. It was then we discovered our time-lapse. Then back to the boat, M to start the drying-out process and I back to the F & C. No queue, I being number two. Do you have any flat fish? “No, just haddock, breaded or battered”. There it was on the wall menu, of countless other things than fish. Haddock, top of the list. So I chose one of each sort of jacket, and one medium chips. (Next time choose small!). Very well wrapped in dull-coloured thick paper, not in newspaper, that was long since, and back to Josin and a waiting M with table laid, candle lit, all hungry both. Me with another set of wet clothes. (This Scottish , wind-whipped horizontal rain gets through everything). Pyjamas were dry-ish luckily. Don’t think F & C have ever tasted better, still lovely and hot. Enough for two meals, for lunch tomorrow maybe. Wash up tomorrow? Yes! Crash and sleep. M slept thirteen hours. I ten. We must have been tired! But not, I can confirm, not weary to un-intelligence. Today a much-enjoyed shower and then English breakfast, washing up and tidying a bit, clothes hanging everywhere, then relax with more coffee and, for me, this blog.

It has been an interesting and educational trip. Everything has functioned as it should, except maybe for some unknown and more-persistent leak-paths, and robust Josin and all her equipment no problems at all. Could do it again, but do not really want to!. Lesson one, re-learned: Weather forecasts can be inaccurate, both on timing and degree.

Stay here today, it is still blowing, but a brighter forecaast for tomorrow, when we will continue to Inverness. Neighbour boat says we may well be lucky to experience the dolfins on a rising tide in the narrows. Hope so!

Alls well!

Good progress. Now 08:20. 135 nm n 22 hours. Plenty wind. Plenty waves y’day morning. Quiet night with 8-10 kt wind. Now 15-20kt on the staboard quarter, and 6-7kt boat speed. Overcast. Chilly, 12 deg. Best winter woolies. M slightly wobbly y’day when the waves were worst, now fine. Platform an impressive sight. Nobody waved back. 

Alls well

Sunshine and calm in the harbour, NW wind and waves at sea. Josin is almost close-hauled banging into the seas. Max speed. Wheeee, but not quire in the optimum direction. The wind is forecast to veer and reduce, which will be more comfortable. 

Josin in top condition, and the crew still smiling, even if the coffee in the thermomug has gone cold. 

All.s very well!