Lady Ayesha

Guernsey and Sark

2008-08-13T09:41:00.010Z

Jaime writes:

Well, hello again. This time I'm writing from a different point of view, as since becoming a mum I'm more of a passenger than a sailor and now have to take orders from the skipper! Painful as this is, he does seem to be doing a good job.

On July 31st we slipped our mooring in Braye Harbour at slack water in order to catch the start of the Southwesterly current down The Swinge. Tidal currents run hard here, in fact there are plans to install a one gigawatt tidal turbine to harness the power. We tacked our way south to Guernsey and down the Little Russell channel in the company of a few other sailing boats, passing a large cruise ship anchored at the entrance to St. Peter Port.

A lovely Dutch sailing boat followed us out of Braye

Huge ship being painted by a man with a surprisingly small brush

Victoria marina was full thanks partly to an influx of motor boats. We saw them racing past us several hours earlier while we were happily making way on the breeze without the need to burn hundreds of litres of diesel! The waiting pontoons outside the marina were filling up fast with sailing boats and we had to find a place quickly. Unfortunately Lewis woke up and made it quite clear that he wanted feeding. Trying to find a berth while avoiding other boats criss-crossing everywhere to the sound of a screaming baby was a little stressful. Eventually we found a place and coincidentally another Sadler 34 from Brighton came and rafted up next to us a few minutes later.

'Snap'!

Busy dinghy pontoon, St Peter Port

The next day we set about exploring Guernsey. For the princely sum of 60p we were able to catch a bus around the whole island. On the way we stopped on the Southwest corner and took a stroll up to one of the many German observation towers. These are really quite scary concrete structures that dominate the landscape with a commanding view of the coast. Guernsey, like the other Channel Islands was heavily fortified due to its strategic position, both by the British during the Napoleonic wars and the Germans in WW2. The latter occupied the Channel Islands from 1940 to 1945, the only British soil to be invaded. The islands were to be part of Hitler's "Atlantic Wall". I had never really appreciated how close the Germans got to the UK during the war. Earlier, in Fecamp, just a 10 hour sail south of Brighton, I was struck by just how close we were. Having visited the brilliant occupation museum in Guernsey it would appear that as long as you were born on the island, didn't paint 'V' for victory signs on rocks or release carrier pigeons, you would be treated fairly well by the occupiers. However, a grim fate was promised to non islanders and those who engaged in sabotage who were deported and interned in camps on the mainland. 12,000 troops were stationed on the island and an army of slave workers from across Europe and Russia were brought over to construct the numerous military installations including the underground military hospital. Here we found 75,000 square feet or 1.25 square miles of concreted tunnels excavated from granite. In the end the hospital was only used for about 3 months to treat casualties resulting from the D-day landings in 1944.

Lewis learns to navigate on land

Pezeries Point, SW Guernsey

Rocquaine Bay

Pleinmont Tower SW Guernsey

Coastal Watch Tower SW Guernsey

Despite all the military history, Guernsey is beautiful, with a lush rural landscape and contented looking cows. We took a stroll through country lanes to find the Little Chapel which is very pretty, decorated entirely with shells, pebbles and broken china. On our way we bought lovely tomatoes and beans from one of the honesty stalls which can be found outside many people's houses. Speaking of cows, the milk here is 4.8% fat and is really rather tasty. Likewise the butter is a delicious creamy yellow colour. We have a theory; that this fat content is partly due to the fact that rather than being penned in by a fence, many of the cows are chained by the horns to a spot, and don't appear to walk around very much.

Little Chapel

Little Chapel alter

Well, it was time to leave St. Peter Port. As far as marinas go, it is quite pleasant, but feels a bit like living in a carpark after a while. So after croissants baked at the Victor Hugo Boulangerie we headed over to the Island of Sark. We used the strong tidal currents in the Big Russel channel to whip us past Herm and up to the northern tip of Sark. At one point we were pointing at least 90 degrees south of our destination in order to reach it with the tide pushing us north! We picked up a mooring buoy at La Grêve de la Ville on the Northeastern side of the island. This was only after, rather embarassingly, we had dragged our anchor in the deep water and drifted back towards another anchored yacht with their anchor line caught between our rudder and keel. Ouch. This could have gone horribly (and expensively) wrong, as we were effectively attached to the other boat and pulling it.. Of course at this point Lewis decided he was hungry and thought he would excercise his powerful lungs. We were lucky their anchor didn't drag too. However after some quick thinking by the other boat, they swiftly launched their dinghy which they rammed in between our boats, like a big fender. We then managed to get their taught anchor line under our rudder and prop and we were finally free. Eventually we snapped up a mooring buoy, after a race to it with a power boat. You may have noticed it is much busier down here than what we encountered in Scotland last year.

Sark is a little island with only 600 inhabitants. It is still a self-governed feudal state. Wonderfully, there are no cars; transport is by foot, bike or horse. Although tractors also seem to be allowed. We even saw one towing an ambulance trailor. Funnily enough, tractors and horses are forbidden to use the unsealed roads on Sundays. Order is kept by one constable and his elected deputy. We landed on the beach in the dinghy in the pouring rain and shelterd in a cave until it passed. Meanwhile a couple of middleaged British women thought it would be a fantastic idea to go for a swim. Mad. Lewis seemed to enjoy the attention he got, in fact he seems to get a lot of attention from most of the women, and some men, who see his adorably cute face poking out from the sling we carry him in! We enjoyed the beautiful scenery around Sark and checked out the other anchorages around the island which afford protection from most wind directions. However it is hard to get away from the uncomfortable swell, created by the strong wind and tide, which refracts around the island. We found that in the bay that we were in, the tide frequently positions the boat side-on to the wind and waves and it can get quite rolly, in fact it was very hard to sleep. Lewis didn't seem to mind, and slept, well, like a baby. Two nights was all we could bear and Craig prepared our next passage South to Jersey.

Baby Ayesha ashore at La Grêve de la Ville

La Coupée links Sark with Little Sark

Havre Gosselin anchorage and Brecqhou Island

View from La Grêve de la Ville

2008-08-04T16:27:00.012Z

We remained in Honfleur a little longer than expected, but we didn't mind exploring the town and all the little shops lining the narrow streets. It's a fairytale town, and very popular with French tourists who love being knee-deep in nostalgia and ice cream. However for us, the wind remained in the Northwest for several days, making passages in that direction slow work. The Vieux Bassin filled up with boats waiting to depart for the west coast of England or over Cherbourg. At one stage we had seven others rafted up to us. This makes it very complicated to leave, as every one must slip lines and drive around the harbour waiting while we get out. In such a small space this can be quite good fun to watch!

Rafted 'in'

Honfleur Vieux Bassin

Shopping

One of many artist's studios

The old customhouse

We decided to get out into the Avant-Port and tie up to a 24-hour waiting wall near the lock so that we could leave in the early hours without bothering anyone else. It was also nice to be free of the constant stream of people climbing over our foredeck to get ashore. We bought oysters and cooked prawns in the market which were a real treat, and not at all expensive.

Local prawns and oysters

Honfleur from the Avant Port

Our next passage was to be Northwest acoss the Baie de Seine, and around Pointe de Barfleur to Cherbourg. We were waiting for the uncommon Easterly winds that had been forecast for Thursday, July 24th. It was important to keep in mind other ports we could head for if the winds weren't strong enough to get us around the point in time for the west-going tidal stream. It would be pointless trying to sail against the tide if we arrived too late. All the other ports in the Baie de Seine such as Deauville and St Vaast have drying entrances, and are locked, so it's important to note the times when there is enough tide to get in through the lock gates. For this I used Jaime's clever passage planning chart, which allows the skipper to see at a glance, the tides, tidal gates, and tidal streams for all relevant points, hour by hour along the passage. I expected other sailors would laugh at us for going to so much trouble, but one Irishman we met, sailing single-handed, said it was a great idea. Of course, modern computer-assisted navigators don't need such a thing, but for those of us using traditional charts and tidal stream atlases, it is very helpful. The plan was made to depart at 0330 in order to make the start of the ebb tide out of the Chenal Rouen (ie: the mouth of the River Seine). For most of the morning, the passage of around 80 nautical miles took us almost dead downwind, a very uncomfortable way to sail without a spinnaker, so I altered our course by 20 degrees to starboard, which also gave us better speed, and we made it in to Cherbourg almost exactly on time.

Passage Planning

Jaime's Passage Planning Chart

Ships anchored off the Chenal Rouen

Cherbourg marina panorama

Although it has every facility a yachtsman could ever desire, Cherbourg is not so attractive. The Chantereyne marina is a huge commercial venture tucked in between the large Naval port and the ferry and container terminals. The impressive sea walls were built over many years between a number of stone forts to defend the navy against English attacks. A fine statue of Napoleon now stands in front of the Place de la Republique, welcoming British tourists in their droves off ferries and yachts, all looking for discount cases of wine and champagne. We didn't miss the opportunity to stock up on a bottle or two! The fish market in the Carrefour hypermarket again had a mouthwatering display of local seafood. We scoffed more prawns and oysters, and delicious Dorade, not so common at home.

Napoleon now welcomes the British!

Dorade, about to be baked.

On Monday, we made an early start for Alderney, a mere 22 miles which again, needed to be carefully planned due to the incrediblly swift tidal streams which rattle through the Channel Islands. The Alderney race at springs has been seen to fly at over ten knots, although the atlas only lists it at around six. Given the number of outlying islands and rocks, these are not places to get your timings wrong. However, we sailed in to Braye Harbour, on Alderney, without any drama, and took up a visitor mooring buoy before enjoying a late breakfast.

Morning departure from Cherbourg.

Braye, Alderney

The harbour is defined by a huge breakwater, but is open to the northeast, so a daily check on forecasts is essential, and should the wind come from the northern quadrant a heavy swell will set in and all sensible yachtsmen will have already departed! Our intention was to explore the island on foot, but for the first day we hired bikes and taking Lewis in a sling, explored many of the coastal paths. The island is only 3.5 miles long and 1.5 miles wide, and the coast varies between sandy beaches, tall rocky cliffs, and small secluded bays. Alderney was occupied by the Germans between 1940 and 1945. We explored many of the wartime defences, which range from concrete bunkers and artillery batteries, anti-tank walls, anti-aircraft installations, and older forts on every outlying headland and tidal island which had been converted and reinforced for various military purposes over the centuries. The island was used as a labour camp, and many foreign workers died here. Outside one bunker we met a man who had written a book on the subject who enthusiastically gave us a short lecture and a tour inside.

Memorial to workers of various nations.

Lighthouse on the island's NE corner

Bunker where we received an impromptu lecture

An old part of a fort emerges from the undergrowth

Jaime celebrates life, on a beach!

Lewis, on a bike

There is also abundant seabird life. The nearby island of Burhou, just across the narrow tidal race known as The Swinge, is a puffin and storm petrel breeding ground, and thousands of gannets inhabit several rocks close to the southwest shore. Apparently, if you are patient, you may even come across black rabbits, or the unique blonde hedgehogs.

Gannet colony

Gannets, closer.

A yacht navigates 'The Swinge'

The Sailing Club at Braye is open for two lovely hours every evening and serves a delicious Guernsey bitter. And the fish and chip shop, located just behind, has a permanent queue out the door at dinner time. It's a lovely spot to visit for a few days. St Anne, the main town at the top of the hill is full of little shops and winding lanes, where we stopped at a small museum. Getting Lewis ashore in the dinghy was much easier than we expected, however we resorted to the water taxi later in the evening, just to be on the safe side.

Next stop... Guernsey!

Brighton to Fécamp and Honfleur

2008-07-19T14:06:00.006Z

Hello again!

Something most readers will know already, but which I didn't mention last year, was that in Dublin we discovered that we were to have a baby! Lewis was born in May, the same month that I was officially made redundant. So, we now have several exciting new directions to explore which never would have been possible while working a 9 to 5 job. Lady Ayesha was reluctantly put on the market earlier this year but due to the so-called 'credit crunch' we've not had any offers, despite advertising her for less than what I think she is worth. Well, we thought, why waste this great opportunity? Let's go sailing again!

We had sailed briefly in French waters before, but really wanted to see more of the coast, and the Channel Islands. With only a few days before the spring tides necessary to get out of the boatyard there was a lot to get ready. The last jobs were completed including keel maintenance and antifouling, and I got a rigger in at very short notice to replace the standing rigging to comply with the insurer's wishes, despite the old rigging being overspecified, and in perfectly good order.

Restepping the mast at Chichester

I arranged to sail her back to Brighton with a friend. Strong wind warnings had been issued for the South coast, but I suspected these would mostly affect sea areas further west. The sand bar at the entrance to Chichester Harbour can be very rough in onshore winds so we sailed up cautiously at high water to check it was okay before heading out to sea. This was to be a shake-down sail to check everything was working properly after being laid up for winter. The passage to Brighton was uneventful, thankfully, but the strong winds later reached force 7 or 8 while a big low pressure system moved across Ireland heading Northeast. We were stuck in Brighton with waves breaking over the marina wall, and it was another six days before conditions looked favourable for the crossing to France. With a newborn baby onboard, we didn't want to take any chances.

Saturday July 12th arrived and we decided the forecast looked good. Indeed, we experienced perfect sailing conditions, with sunny weather and winds between 10 to 20 knots on the beam all day. We didn't need to tack once, just set the sails and pointed her towards Fécamp. Conveniently, the 64 miles across the channel takes the better part of two tides, so we kept to one compass heading the whole way with the tide taking us first west and then east of our intended course in equal amounts.

Goodbye Brighton

Not much to do but enjoy the sunshine!

We raised the French courtesy flag, mid-channel

Ten hours later, we sailed into Fécamp Avant Port and were directed to a berth by the friendly staff. The visitors pontoon was already crowded with foreign boats from neighbouring countries, gathering for the Bastille Day holiday.

Our new crew member

This was to be a busy weekend in Fécamp, which was hosting a dinghy regatta, a huge motorcycle rally, and the National Day celebrations on July 14th. The streets were filled with the youthful sounds of revving motorcycle engines and the relentless explosions of firecrackers. The city lights were switched off around 11pm and we watched the official firework display light up the sky from the foredeck of the boat. Being an old fishing port there is a good supply of fresh fish available from several markets so we had plenty to choose from. I especially enjoyed the enormous oysters, and plaice filets, and of course a visit to a quayside restaurant would not be complete without a plate of 'Fruits de Mer'. We climbed the hill to look out over the Channel from the chalk cliffs, very similar to the Sussex coast, where there are still wartime gunnery postions, built by the Nazis. We enjoyed being tourists and took a tour of the Benedictine Palace, the home of the famous 'DOM' liqueur, which was hosting a Dali exhibition.

'Fruits de Mer'

Dinghy regatta at Fécamp

The French take their cakes very seriously...

...and their Ice Cream too!

Chalk cliffs above Fécamp

Fécamp from above

We decided our next stop would be the medieval town of Honfleur, a locked port just inside the mouth of the River Seine. The passage would take us across the heavily controlled access channels of Antifer and Le Havre, which receive enormous cargo ships and tankers up to 500,000 tonnes! The charts we had were not detailed enough so I had to buy a French one which indicated the recommended routes for small vessels to pass through the various waiting areas and disengagement zones. Fortunately, there were about a dozen ships waiting to enter, but no traffic in or out as we crossed. A difficult day with regards to tides and timings meant that as we approached the mouth of the Seine we were fighting against the last few hours of the ebb tide, and even with the wind behind us, foresail and motor on, we were barely able to make 3 knots over ground despite the log registering 6 to 7 knots. I was nervous about getting into shallow waters as we were almost at low tide and the almanac recommends a local pilot for those unfamiliar with the shifting sands, but I stayed to the side of the dredged channel and didn't see anything less than 5 metres depth.

The lock leading into Honfleur was interesting, with unusual floating bollards. We weren't very well prepared, and our mooring lines were too short, leading to an embarrassing attempt to tie up, watched by a ferry full of tourists, all documenting our efforts with their cameras. We eventually gave in and tied up to the ferry instead. Once through to the other side and then under a lifting roadbridge we arrived in the Vieux Bassin, a picturesque sheltered harbour, a bit like a town square, overlooked by beautiful old buildings, with restaurants, cafes and galleries all along the cobbled quay. This is probably the least private place we've ever stayed, but great fun. Every time I look out the hatch there is someone taking pictures, but I've enjoyed having coffee and croissants on deck in the morning, watching the waiters setting up the cafe tables and the crowds slowly filling the streets.

Yesterday we climbed to the top of the hill for a view of the town and a visit to the Chapel Notre Dame de Grâce which has little model sailing ships hanging in the air below it's ornately decorated domed ceiling.

Honfleur town centre

Night panorama - click to zoom around!

Today is market day so a bit of shopping for local produce is in order. The weather's a bit damp so we are happy to stay here another day or two. We plan to make perhaps one or two more stops before Cherbourg where we expect to make for Alderney, the closest of the Channel Islands. Lewis seems to be quite content on board. We have strung up a small hammock for him in the cabin, and have a baby car seat which can be lashed down to keep him safe in rough weather. It's so tempting to buy him a little French sailor's outfit, but I've resisted, so far.

Isles of Scilly to Chichester

2008-07-07T23:59:00.005Z

(Hello again, and apologies to anyone who thought we were still in the Isles of Scilly. We did in fact return to the mainland. Here is the last chapter of the story that I should have posted in October last year!)

Our time in the Scillies came quickly to an end. We only had two weeks to be home and so needed to keep making progress east. On Sunday October the 7th, after several nights anchored in Porth Conger we awoke before dawn and motored out between the rocks as soon as there was enough light to see our way. The passage to Falmouth wouldn't make the best use of tides since we preferred not to leave in the dark. The forecast was for East 3 or 4 becoming variable 3 or less, and veering Southwest later. The wind wasn't as strong as expected, and the veer to SW which we were waiting for never quite eventuated. So we motored for much of the way, passing Lizard Point around dusk, and arriving in Falmouth about 10pm. Jaime wasn't feeling too well so appreciated the chance to rest during the day. Again we anchored in the harbour near the old town centre, not far from several warships in the commercial docks for repair.

Falmouth Harbour again

We stocked up with fresh food, did a bit of shopping and had a puncture in the dinghy repaired. We also discovered that for the first time in ages our laptop was receiving a good digital TV signal. Amazingly, there wasn't much worth watching and so the initial excitement soon disappeared.

On Friday we made another early start bound for Fowey where we spent the weekend with blog readers Claire and Pete who came for a visit. We had a picnic up the river, did a spot of fishing and roasted a chicken in the evening. Fowey is a picture postcard town of weathered stone and narrow lanes, and being centred around a river mouth is typical of many along the Southwest coast. We used the harbourmaster's visitor pontoons since anchoring is not permitted. This gave us good wi-fi access which meant we could start researching where to leave the boat for the winter, and keep a constant eye on the weather forecasts. Winds were expected to be favourable for at least another day so we planned on making several further quick hops along the coast.

Fowey

Jaime sailing around Start Point

On Monday morning we refuelled and sailed across the bay to Start Point and up to Dartmouth where we arrived late in the evening. We couldn't find any visitor moorings free so we tied up to the end of the town quay hoping nobody would charge us for such a short stay. We snuck ashore to a restaurant for a much anticipated meal before getting a bit of kip and sailing out again while it was still dark. To leave the harbour at night you must stay within the white sectors of the leading lights which take you safely past private moorings and several rocks near the river entrance. These lights turn red or green if you stray too far to port or starboad. The forecast was for stronger winds, good for sailing, but the direction was due to become cyclonic, meaning the centre of the pressure system would be passing above us. This can result in confused seas where wave direction changes over the course of the day. The first leg of our passage plan would take us 40 nautical miles across Lyme Bay to Portland Bill. The races off the Bill can sometimes be very dangerous, and may extend more than 5 miles out to sea so it is important to pass it with a fair tide, and to avoid wind against tide situations. A few hours out of Dartmouth, in uncomfortable choppy seas, and with fairly slow progress, the decision was made to turn around and set a course back to the nearby port of Brixham, which we discovered has a popular sailing club with cheap moorings for visiting yachts. We were happy with what turned out to be a good decision. The friendly members bar serves decent beer and good cheap food - we couldn't say no to two excellent sirloin steaks at only £6 each, nor the use of their brand new showers. I bought some fish from the fishmonger near the town quay and had a look around the shops for some more fruit and veg, passing many groups of seaside tourists at the cheap end of the season, waving their cameras and steaming bags of chips about in the drizzly weather.

The next day winds were much more favourable, Force 4 or 5 from the northwest, which would give us plenty of speed. We still weren't quite sure how far we'd get as it was hard to predict what our progress over ground would be for such a distance. We had several tidal gates ahead of us, the most important being to get past Portland Bill with a fair tide, and then consider going into Weymouth Bay, or carry on past St Albans Ledge and Anvil Point to anchor in Studland Bay, near Poole. However, as it turned out, by the time we first sighted the Isle of Wight I calculated we'd be in perfect time for the start of the flood tide which could take us up the Needles Channel and into the Solent. Even though it would be well after dark, this opportunity couldn't be missed, so we pressed on, choosing Yarmouth as a destination as the entrance is straightforward and well lit. We spent the rest of the night on a quiet visitor pontoon and spent the next day relaxing and catching up on sleep. It was a great feeling to have made such quick progress and to be so close to home.

Yarmouth Harbour

After ringing around and comparing prices for winter storage at various places we decided on a small marina near Chichester which is in a drying area upstream of Chichester harbour and can only be approached near the top of spring tides. Therefore we had about five days to wait until we'd be sure of getting there without going aground. On Friday we sailed around to Newtown River to anchor near Clamerkin Lake which is always a beautiful escape from the busy Solent, even when full of visiting boats. It has good ground for secure anchoring and is always full of geese, gulls, egrets, herons and many other birds attracted to the grass and drying mudflats. We'd arranged to meet up with blog readers Kerry and Steve in Lymington, just a few miles across the Solent. They joined us for a bit of a sail and a meal out in Yarmouth. After dropping them back the next day we returned to Newtown River to spend another peaceful couple of days exploring the creeks in the dinghy and doing a few short walks ashore.

The 'cheap' pontoon has no walk-ashore access.

Yarmouth Ferry Terminal

Yarmouth Pier

Dawn at Newtown Creek

Sunrise at Newtown Creek

Steve and Kerry pay us a visit

On Tuesday we sailed out of the Solent past the busy ports of Southampton and Porstmouth and the great round forts which guard the eastern approach and on to Chichester, getting to the bar at the entrance a little late in the ebb, but not too late to enter the harbour slowly against an increasing current. We stayed overnight on a waiting pontoon near Sparkes marina and the next morning headed upstream to make the lock by 1030. We were a bit nervous as we were told there'd only be millimetres under the keel. Unfortunately the high pressure system which had brought such warm weather over the last few days also affects tidal waters causing significant differences to predicted heights. After navigating the narrow channel between green and red posts towards the marina we arrived at the lock on time but there just wasn't enough water to get over the concrete sill and we bumped heavily against it next to the water level marker showing just under six feet. Half a dozen people quickly gave a hand pulling halyards and weighing down the port side of the boat trying to swing the keel high enough to get over the sill with only inches of space on either side. I ran around pushing fenders between the toerail and the concrete sides, and began getting concerned about what would happen if we got stuck there, blocking the marina sill and allowing all the water to spill away with the tide, leaving at least half a dozen boats stranded in the mud inside the lock. We finally managed to scrape over the sill only to hit ground again a few metres in, fortunately past the sluice gate and close enough to another boat to tie up to. She wouldn't be going anywhere until the next morning tide which would be at least 10cm higher. The marina staff brought in two more boats behind us, fortunately with shallower keels, and then closed the gate before the tide began to ebb. Blog reader Phil generously came to meet us in his van and took us and a load of stuff back to Brighton where we had our first baths in seven months.

Sluice gate is up. Note the high water level never made it to 6 feet.

Tied up at last, but still touching the mud.

Lady Ayesha is lifted out of the water...

...on this remote control submersible lorry.

Welcome Home

The next morning we returned by train and floated the boat at high water and had her lifted out and placed on a cradle where she will spend the winter. And so our journey is at an end. All that is left to do is prepare the engine for winter and give her a good clean, inside and out. It has been a fascinating voyage discovering so much of the British Isles and meeting all sorts people whose lives revolve around the sea. Within so many incredible landscapes we've become familiar with the sealife and birds which inhabit these waters, and its been great trying all the amazing seafood that was offered to us. We've been in constant awareness of changing weather patterns and lunar cycles affecting tidal heights and currents. And we've been the recipients of so much friendly help and generous hospitality, particularly in the most remote places where people's lives seem to us much simpler and in tune with the seasons. And there is still so much yet to see. Now we must again get used to traffic, crowds of people, constant media access and these remarkably steady floorboards! Thanks for reading this blog. I hope you enjoyed it!
Craig and Jaime.

(July 2008: Stay tuned... due to a several changes of circumstances we won't be going back to work after all! We now have an additional crew member and are preparing to set sail again, this time across to France and the Channel Islands.)

The Isles of Scilly

2007-10-11T11:21:00.001Z

Jaime writes:

The Scilly Isles consist of 48 Islands separated by sandy rock-strewn channels. Their position in the Southwestern corner of the United Kingdom affords them the benefit of warm weather transported by the gulf stream, but at a cost of being exposed to the full force of the Atlantic weather.

We arrived in New Grimsby Sound which is quite a sheltered place to stay in terms of swell and wind. It was used in 1942 as a base for mock French fishing boats which would take on reconnaissance missions to the French coast. Their mission was very important as the information they gathered helped to prepare for the D-Day landings. I digress…. We spent a couple of days exploring Tresco which is a very pretty island, with well tended gardens full of tropical plants spilling out over the stone walls. There are no cars on the island. Instead, those who don’t use their legs get around in golf-cart type vehicles. The experience was made all the better as summer seemed to have arrived, giving us beautiful hot days. We even spent an afternoon sunbathing on a deserted beach next to Cromwell’s Castle. In October!!

Cromwell's Castle

Sunset in New Grimsby Sound

Beach near Cromwell's Castle

Abbey Gardens, Tresco

Separating New Grimsby Sound from St. Mary’s, the main Island, are Tresco Flats. These are about a mile of sand flats that dry, that is to say that at low tide you can walk around. Not good news for a boat with a draught of 1.8m. As well as the sand, there are also quite a few rocks to avoid, but our pilotage guide makes the point that most of these rocks are “friendly”, as they are distinctive and can be used for navigation. So we made a trace of the chart, marking the relevant transits and bearings on it and headed off in the dinghy quite close to low water, across the flats. We followed the same route as we would go in Lady Ayesha, which worked fine and gave us confidence to do it for real.

Craig continued on to St. Marys, and dropped me off at Tresco Abbey Gardens. These are beautiful gardens with more than 4000 original plants. Many of the exotic plants were originally brought here by Scillonian Master Mariners returning from their travels. There is also the Valhalla Museum which contains numerous figureheads from the many ships that have been wrecked (and salvaged) on the shores of these islands.

Craig returned later with supplies and news of the French who we had met in Dublin. The next day they joined us in New Grimsby Sound and came over for dinner, which was good fun, and quite fortunate for them too as they had just run out of cooking gas.

The harbour master had given us a good deal on the mooring, so we stayed a couple more days than we had planned. We eventually headed off at the top of the tide across the Tresco Flats, without any problems and over to St. Mary’s Pool next to Hugh Town where we picked up a mooring buoy. We were told that in summer you cannot get a buoy for love nor money as it is so busy. Hugh Town is another lovely town, and what struck me was the amount of bird song. The air was positively alive with the buzz of birds singing in the palm trees and lush gardens. They also seem to be very tame. When we went for a walk we noticed they didn’t scatter as we approached them, they just carried on with what they were doing. We even hand fed a Song Thrush and some Blackbirds. Our walk took us past the Garrison, built during the civil war, across Porth Cressa Beach and around Peninnis Head with its peculiar rock formations to Old Town where we brought ice creams, as the weather had miraculously stayed hot. We had a packed lunch in the sublime Carrag Dhu Gardens which we had to ourselves, except for the friendly birds. One sentence in the Channel Pilot we are using would not get out of my head, it follows: “Buy some bulbs for your garden and keep your holiday for years” So as we passed Sunnydale farm which had an assortment of bulbs for sale, we just had to get some, ignoring the fact that we don’t have a garden.

Hugh Town moorings, St Mary's

Hugh Town sunset

Porth Cressa, St Mary's

That evening just before the sun set, with all its glorious pinks and purples and oranges which reflect in the calm waters, we motored off and dropped the hook in the pinch (Porth Congar) between Gugh and St. Agnes. As anchorages go, this is not particularly sheltered, but the weather has been so benign that it was possible to stay here for a couple of days quite comfortably. We walked around St. Agnes in the afternoon, which is a great place just to relax. On the way we passed Beady Bay, so named as a cargo of red & black Viennese beads from a ship wrecked on nearby rocks was washed up here. The western side of the island, near St. Warnes Bay offers spectacular views of the Western Rocks, which today looked so striking against the bright sky, but must be terrifying on a stormy night. By the way, St. Warnes is the patron saint of Shipwrecks. It would seem that Admiral Sir Clowdisley was not praying to the right saint on the foggy night of October 22nd 1707, for his ship, The Association and three other navy ships struck the outlying rocks and sank to the bottom like stones- with the loss of 2000 lives. The Admiral actually survived and was washed ashore where he was found by an old Scillonian lady (no doubt with a beautiful garden). However the old lady fell in love with the emerald ring on his finger, and promptly murdered him for it! The simple reason that they hit the rocks was because they did not know how far east or west they were as the question of longitude had not yet been resolved. The sinking of the Association catapulted the longitude question into the forefront of national affairs and eventually lead to the Longitude Act of 1714 in which parliament promised a prize of £20,000 for a solution.

Briefly, lines of latitude were derived from the movements of the sun, moon and stars, and therefore could be easily calculated with celestial navigation, however the placing of the lines of longitude was a political decision. Hence why the Greenwich Meridian line (0 degrees longitude) runs through London (the French didn’t like this by the way and used to refer to it as “Paris Mean Time, retarded by 9 minutes twenty-one seconds“). To learn one’s longitude at sea, you need to know exactly what time it is aboard the ship and exactly what time it is in a reference port. So what was needed was an accurate clock, that would keep time in a rolling, wet, hot/cold ship. If you want to know the end of this fascinating story that stumped natural philosophers & the like and changed the world, read Longitude by Dava Sobel. Nowadays we have GPS, which is frankly amazing when you think about what it actually does.

Gugh

Gugh looking over the bar to St Agnes

St Agnes Beach stone piles

Western Rocks

Anyway, so the Scillies in the right weather are a gorgeous semi-tropical paradise with lush gardens, turquoise sea, and white sandy beaches, in fact the perfect place to chill out and read a book before heading home to Brighton, just watch out for those old ladies with an eye for jewellery…

Republic of Ireland

2007-10-11T08:50:00.000Z

Tuesday September 18. From the Irish Sea we sailed several miles along the narrow buoyed channel into Carlingford Lough, which marks the Eastern end of the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. We must be getting soft because we decided to use the marina rather than anchoring, probably because of strong wind warnings. I also raised the yellow Q flag under the Irish courtesy flag below the starboard spreader as I am not an EU citizen. I even called Immigration and the local Gardia, but disappointingly, nobody seemed to be too interested that I had arrived in the Republic. I put my passport back in its box and we went ashore to discover the delights of Carlingford. The marina pontoons are quite run down and the place doesn't seem very well managed. However, the town is a neat and tidy place to visit with a number of inviting pubs and many well kept historical buildings. We spent the evening in a pub enjoying some really good trad Irish music and sat next to a table of Swedish golfers who also joined in and entertained us with some of their own songs and jokes, usually relating to the consumption of beer and the hunting of deer, or women.

The next morning we thought it was about time we climbed another mountain, and the one overlooking Carlingford was a nice easy walk through thick heather and blackberries. Great views over the lough, but a difficult thrash through the forest to get back into town. Next time we'll follow the path!

Carlingford Lough looking towards Northern Ireland

On Thursday we had an uneventful sail down to the Skerries, which would be a stopping point on our way to Dublin, only another short day sail south along the coast. This would be our first entry into a major city port. The towering cranes, commercial dockyards and the massive container and cargo ships were awesome to watch from our little boat. From seaward into Dublin Bay there are three major shipping lanes forming a kind of roundabout in the centre so it is fairly straightforward to predict where vessels are going and keep out of their way. We were obliged to call the port authority on the radio to ask for clearance, then drop sails and enter under power as it is important to keep well clear of the busy commercial shipping channel leading into the River Liffey.

The Dalek guarding the entrance to the Liffey!

Entering the commercial port area

Everything was going fine until we were approaching red buoy number 14. That was when the temperature alarm went off, indicating that the engine was overheating and we had to shut it down straight away. Unfortunately we had a massive cargo ship just behind us and another leaving the docks ahead of us. No problem. Jaime got on the radio to inform the port authority of our problem and we used the river's stream to steer the boat to just outside the channel, in front of an ancient timber pier near an old power station where we dropped the anchor and I went below to sort out what was causing the problem with the engine. I hadn't got further than removing the impellor cover when a couple of blokes in a RIB turned up and offered us a tow to the marina upstream past the docks. After making sure it wasn't going to cost us anything we decided to take up their offer and they towed us to the pontoon at Poolbeg marina where we stayed overnight. I got on the phone to Bukh and order some new parts to be delivered ASAP, replaced the cracked impellor and fixed up the pump as best I could with a cardboard gasket cut out of a Kelloggs box.

Getting a tow!

Poolbeg Marina

Container terminal near Poolbeg

Between Poolbeg and the Dublin City centre about a mile further upstream there is a road bridge which is always busy with city traffic. It only has a few metres clearance at high water so to pass it we needed to get the traffic stopped and the bridge lifted. We booked a lift for the Friday morning and carried on to Dublin City Moorings, in the heart of the city, where we parked up near the 'megayacht' Fortunate Sun. This was occupied by a single American family. You too could hire this boat for your next holiday, at a mere one million US dollars per month! Anyway, it was good fun to get ashore and experience a big city again. The first thing I noticed was the constant noise that a city generates. Nothing in particular, just an accumulation of millions of different things emitting sound all blended together. It takes a while to get used to. We spent an afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art, wandered around Temple Bar at night, visited a few pubs for some Guinness, poured close to home, ate a meal at a Lebanese restaurant, did some market shopping, sorted out the boat, and relaxed on deck while modern life surged on around us. After the solitude of anchorages in Orkney and Shetland, and the Western Isles of Scotland, it felt really strange to emerge in the morning to drink my coffee in the cockpit, and watch people wearing office clothes, rushing past on their way to work, mobile phones stuck to ears and briefcases clutched in hand. I tried not to think too much about having to join them all again next year.

Dublin City Moorings

River Liffey

Dublin street market

Pub window

Parked near Fortunate Sun

While we were there, a French boat called Summertime turned up and we met the crew - five young chaps who had sailed from France to Orkney, Iceland and Shetland in a boat they'd bought just for the trip and would be selling once they returned http://romanee.over-blog.com/ - 50,000 euros if anyone is interested! Aluminium hull and a nice looking boat. We'd even met some of the same people in Shetland. We discovered they would also soon be heading south, back to France.

After 5 days it was time to get out, and on Thursday the crew of Summertime decided to sail in company with us to Arklow, about 30 miles south where we would meet again. We planned to take photographs of each other's boats and swap the pictures later. Since we left Brighton in April we haven't had a single photo of Lady Ayesha actually under sail.

Motoring out of Dublin

Photographers aboard Summertime

We motored out into Dublin Bay and hoisted plain sails for the passage to Dalkey Sound, between Dalkey Island and Sorrento Point on the mainland, where a few Irish celebrities such as Bono and Enya own houses. Lady Ayesha sailed ahead at first with her slightly longer water length and bigger genoa (foresail). However, with our respective national ensigns flying in the breeze, it wasn't long before we detected a sense of competitive spirit from the French boat. After we pased Dalkey Island we saw them eagerly hoisting their spinnaker for the downwind run to Arklow. We don't carry a spinnaker, so we hoisted our cruising chute which didn't do too badly, and got us speeds up to 8 or 9 knots.

All going well...

Still going okay...

Damn! The French are in the lead!

Summertime doing 10 knots past the windfarm

With the wind dead behind us their spinnaker gave them the advantage. It was a fast and fun passage nonetheless. We moored in the river at Arklow and they in the marina where we met up again for a glass of wine and some music in the afternoon sunshine.

We hadn't made any exact plan for the passage further south, but with forecasts of Easterly and Northeasterly winds for another few days, which would be accompanied by a pleasantly slight or moderate seastate, we thought it would be a perfect opportunity to make the passage across the St Georges Channel and the Celtic Sea to our next destination - the Isles of Scilly. This would be a long passage of about 180 sea miles which we expected would take around 36 hours. We prepared the boat that evening and the next morning we slipped our lines and headed out into a fair tide and a perfect wind, aft of the beam. With the cruising chute hoisted again we were flying along at speeds of 7 knots or more, giving us a great start. I'd been watching the sky, wondering about visibility that evening since we were expecting plenty of light from the moon, and fortunately we had very few clouds. It makes such a difference to sail under a full moon, being able to see for miles around. We continued to make good progress through the night but by Saturday morning the wind had dropped and we decided to motor until it picked up again. The Scillies are surrounded by many offshore rocks and we wanted to arrive in daylight to ensure safe pilotage. In all the passage took only 33 hours and by 1900UT we were safely moored in New Grimsby Sound between the Islands of Tresco and Bryher.

Northern Ireland

2007-09-26T18:23:00.000Z

Jaime writes:

The fresh westerly winds continued to blow and we set sail from Gigha mid morning. We quickly put a reef in the main in the lee of Cara Island as the wind built and headed south towards the Mull of Kintyre. There are apparently many songs about this sticky-out-bit, although I can’t recall any of them just now. We tried to stay a few miles west of the Mull to avoid the rough sea state typically found close in and started to track across the Traffic Separation Zone used by large ships transiting the North Channel. As the channel is relatively narrow ships must follow the zones north or south. They are quite useful for small ships crossing such areas, as providing you know where you are you can expect the ships to come from one particular direction only. There is also a handy safe zone in the middle. The strong tides pushed us south easterly down the channel and we closed in on our destination of Red Bay on the Northeast coast of Northern Ireland. We arrived after dark and dropped the hook. We hardly slept a wink, as the anchorage turned out to be very squally and the boat was kept beam-on to the waves which made it very uncomfortable. Early the following morning we sailed the short distance around to Glenarm marina and fell asleep there. It was a lovely little sail; the tide whisked us past Garron Pt as the sun rose in the east, shining a fresh light on the lush Antrim coastline.

Glenarm Marina

The sturdy white limestone harbour wall of Glenarm gave it a Mediterranean feel and as the sun was shining it was quite beautiful. The friendly staff of the marina welcomed us and charged us a very reasonable £10 per night which included everything. As a bonus, we'd tied up next to the Harbourmaster's fishing boat, who kept us in supply of fresh (still flapping) fish while we were there. One night he gave us a 2lb Pollock which was gorgeous. Craig steamed it; Hong Kong style, yum, yum.

Fresh Mackerel

Glenarm

Lord Antrim's House

Steamed Pollock

This was also the first time we had met a man with a pet congor eel. He lives under the bridge in the harbour, the harbour master feeds him fresh mackerel.

Glenarm is a very pretty town at the foot of the last of the 9 glens of Antrim. We went for a walk the beautiful forested valley, the trees were old and mixed, it had a proper forest feel about it, and such a nice change from the boggy landscape of Scotland. There is also a really fancy turreted castle there, where apparently Lord Antrim resides at weekends.

While we were there we took the time to give the boat a good clean inside and out, and Craig tracked down the tiny corroded wire that had stopped our radar from working. This was after I had hoisted him up the mast to took at the radome; where he had fun swinging around; and I had fun letting him down….

Mast Climbing

A Pint of Guinness at last

The next morning We left a note to the Harbourmaster... 'so long and thanks for all the fish". A fresh offshore wind and the tide carried us south, down the coast towards Belfast. As we passed within a few hundred meters of the Isle of Muck, Craig thought he could here singing. As we got closer it sounded like deep groaning and moaning, we thought it might be seals again, but we couldn’t see any. Then we noticed some Manx Shearwaters hanging around in groups. These supposedly have an eerie call when returning to feed their young, so maybe that was it.

We arrived in Bangor, on the south side of Belfast Lough a couple of hours later. This is a full-on commercial marina, with hundreds of yachts. Belfast port authority doesn’t allow yachts in to the port, so we had to use Bangor as a base to visit the town.

We had a couple of days over the weekend to explore Belfast. It felt a lot like London really. There are heaps of pubs and naturally we sampled a couple of them and had a pint or two of the black stuff. We also visited a gallery which exhibited photographs taken by the Irish Press Association on the theme of the euphemistically named "Troubles". Later that afternoon we went for walk in to west Belfast to the Shankill and Falls areas. Respectively these are the protestant and catholic areas of the city, you can tell where you are by the colours of the flags flying. We had gone there to look at the murals, which are really quite amazing. In particular are those found on the Shankill housing estate, a strange place to find yourself as a tourist. We found it hard to believe that some of the murals still existed, as I’m sure they remain provocative.
We gathered from the local radio and newspapers following recent tragic events that the main trouble in Belfast now is caused by gangs of young wayward kids attacking and terrorising people.

Falls Road Mural 1

Falls Road Mural 2

Mural on Falls Road Sinn Fein office wall

Shankill Road Mural

Shankill Estate Mural 1

Shankill Estate Mural 2

Shankill Estate Mural 3

Bangor is also a vibrant town. On the day before we left there was a chav/hoon- mobile show in the car park. I don’t actually know what the proper name for these cars is, but I mean the type that have massive booming speakers in the boot and drive around very fast, skidding their apparently expendable tyres, and congregating in ASDA carpark. These cars were "top of the range" for this style, and were frankly amazing. Instead of having their bonnets open to show off their engines, the boot was open to show off their zigadecibel speakers, One special car, about the size of a VW golf had only room for a racing drivers seat, the rest of the car was literally full of pumping speakers, TV screens, and flashing dials & buttons, it was so loud you couldn’t stand near it for long. We could feel the base from all this music through the hull of the boat.
The following morning we left and it was the passage between Bangor and Strangford Lough that would prove one of our toughest so far. Strong winds had been forecast which is nothing new but we got a little something extra. We were only 15 miles from our destination mid morning when the wind started to kick in. The south westerly wind forced us offshore in to more exposed waters and we started to get large waves that were building in the deeper waters with the larger fetch. What followed was a mini F8 gale. The wind was in the high 30’s and I saw 43kts (80km/h) on a number of occasions. It wasn’t long before we were negotiating waves about 5m high. Until then we had kept our foresail up to give us more speed to sail up the waves and keep steerage, but it got too much with the winds and Craig gallantly volunteered to crawl to the front of the boat and pull the sail down. In the past when we have encountered strong winds, luckily we have been sailing with the wind behind us, but this time we were sailing up wind which makes things altogether more annoying, mostly because the apparent wind is felt so much more. With the foresail down the boat became more manageable, but we had lost a lot of speed. Its best to try and sail up and down the waves in a weaving manner so you don’t send yourself head down a wave and dig your nose in the trough or fall down the back of a wave because you don’t make it to the top. I have to say though, that the boat handled so well, that we weren’t particularly worried and we after all didn’t have far to go. It is during such weather that one experiences the "Mermaid Facial". First of all dry and dead skin cells are exfoliated from your face by sharp rain which is targeted at right angles. All micro-debris are dispersed by a refreshing bathtub quantity of cold water infused with mother natures blend of inorganic (the new organic) minerals which lands on your head. This blend also has antibacterial properties which penetrate and clean your pores. Your face is then blown dry so that you can start from the beginning again. This cleansing routine is repeated on a number of occasions depending on how lucky you are. Facial muscles are also exercised as successive expressions of shock and horror followed by relief sweep across your face periodically. Happily, I had timed my facial with the passing of a cold front, this meant that in addition to the above I was subsequently dowsed in soft rain, blown dry and then the sun came out, to rouge my cheeks. Giving that "just been slapped by a wet mermaids tail look".

So anyway, enough sillyness. Over a 15min period the wind veered 90 degrees to the north west and dropped back to a gentle breeze just as quickly. This was great, except we how had no wind to sail over the large waves, which don’t die down so easily. We put the engine on, which then overheated as it wasn’t getting enough cooling water in to the water inlet, and was instead taking large gulps of air, causing airlocks because of all the lolloping about. This led to Craig checking the inlet filters, messing around with water pump impellors and making a new gasket out of a Kellogg’s packet- tricky when you are being thrown around. Thankfully the wind picked up again to give us a sensible amount wind to get to the entrance to Strangford Lough. The entrance to the lough is very tidal, and we were cutting it fine with our arrival time, what with the engine playing up as well we sadly decided to go elsewhere. So Craig set the course for Ardglass. As we closed the shore the waves became much more manageable and we tacked our way to the harbour entrance and glided into an empty berth in the sheltered harbour as the sun went down over the hills behind the little town. Having liberally applied aloe vera and some St. John’s Wort oil prepared by my mum, my face has stopped tingling.

We learnt an awful lot from this experience, which was thankfully short and sweet. The bookcase index (how many books fall off the shelf in the forepeak) indicates that this was the roughest weather we have encountered, as all the books fell off the shelf.
We stayed in Arglass for a couple of days to rest. There isn’t much going on in the town. The local bartender told us there aren’t any festivals in the town as people just end up getting drunk and fighting. Umm.

Our next destination was Carlingford Lough in Ireland. We were still a little nervous of the weather and so we motored close inshore all the way. The wind was on the nose and we didn’t want to tack further off shore again, and the weather was miserable anyway so beating (zigzagging 45 degrees across the wind) down the coast wasn’t a very attractive option.

Plockton to Gigha

2007-09-11T12:56:00.000Z

Yet again, time seems to be flying and I have so much to write about. In the last update Jaime wrote about our visit to Plockton, where we awoke on Saturday morning, August 25th, and prepared to sail the short distance around to Loch Alsh and on to Loch Duich, about 17 nautical miles, which includes sailing under the Skye bridge.

Skye Bridge

The castle on Eilean Donan, near Dornie is apparently one of the most photographed in Scotland. We anchored in the tiny bay of Totaig, about half a mile Southwest across the loch from the castle but unfortunately the weather remained overcast, so our photo of it isn't so impressive.

Eilean Donan Castle

Shags in the morning drying their wings

We were off again the following morning, heading down to Loch Nevis via the narrow channel known as Kyle Rhea which separates Skye from the mainland. According to the Tidal Stream Atlas there can be very strong currents forced through this narrow gap about two miles long. We had heard stories of yachts doing speeds over 10 knots over ground as they were swept through. However, I think the best we saw briefly was about 7 knots and a few annoying eddies and weird currents pushing us sideways at times when the wind disappeared. About halfway along the channel I heard some strange mournful voices wailing disharmoniously. I looked around to discover the source and found it was coming from a large group of seals laying about on the banks. We'd seen seals almost everywhere we'd been over the last few months, but never heard them singing in these unearthly voices before. It sounded really weird. Out of Kyle Rhea and into the Sound of Sleat all the way down to Loch Nevis. This is another picturesque lake surrounded by a dominating range of mountains towering up to 3000 feet. There are several settlements on the Knoydart peninsula which are linked together by a single road to the village of Inverie, where we found the 'most remote pub in Britain'. It has earnt this title because it is completely isolated from the rest of the mainland road network and can only be accessed by a long trek over the mountains or of course, by boat which was our preferred mode of transport, anchoring for a night in a nearby bay, and then for the second night by taking one of the pub's free moorings provided for guests. Here we spent the evening chatting to Peter and Donna from North Yorkshire whose yacht Maniac was moored nearby. The pub was lively and full of sailors, deerstalkers, walkers and a few visitors who arrived in a ferryboat from Mallaig. There are a small number of cars used here by locals, but as there are no garages, and no MOT stations, none of them are taxed, and most have home-made repair jobs, such as broken windows replaced by glued-on perspex, or damaged bumpers fixed up with gaffer tape. It's all a bit Mad Max! I didn't dare ask what colour their diesel was!

Village of Inverie, Loch Nevis

So on Tuesday we thought it was about time to get organised with regards to doing our Yachtmaster practical exam. We'd both clocked up over 3000 miles at sea by now and were feeling fairly confident that we'd covered all the course material and put into practice the YM theory we'd done before leaving Brighton earlier in the year. We'd been speaking to the RYA in Scotland about finding an examiner while we were up here and time was running out as we were making our way South. So we sailed up to Mallaig Harbour at the mouth of Loch Nevis and tied up to a big old fishing boat which the harbourmaster assured us wasn't going anywhere. With a tidal range of around 4 metres that night we weren't too keen on scraping up and down those barnacle encrusted steel and concrete pillars, so it was great to have another ship to tie up to. Fortunately as we were back in mobile phone range again we received a message from a local examiner and arranged to meet him the following Monday in Oban Harbour. So, just enough time to brush up on theory and Colregs and to practice those Man Overboard drills. However in Inverie, Peter and Donna had insisted that we mustn't leave without visiting Loch Scavaig on the South coast of Skye, and Jaime still wanted to visit at least one of the Small Isles (i.e. Canna, Rum, Eigg and Muck). So on Wednesday, out into the morning mist we sailed towards Scavaig, keeping a very good lookout for other vessels. Visibility remained poor for the whole passage, however we didn't have any trouble identifying the island of Soay and piloting past a number of submerged and drying rocks then sounding our way in to the anchorage which is tucked away under truly the most dramatic landscape we've yet seen. The Cuillin Hills tower beautiful and menacing over the small bay, capped by constantly moving clouds. White water falls through jagged cracks into the sea, bringing the lovely sticky mud in which we anchored firmly. Shining black stone and damp mossy heather cover the slopes, almost impossible to climb. I've never had so much trouble fitting a landscape into a photograph, even with a wide-angle lens. Perhaps these photos will begin to show why we were so glad not to have missed this place, and why we were disappointed we didn't have more time to explore.

Loch Scavaig entrance

Anchored at Scavaig

Another view of Scavaig

Jaime rowed around in the dinghy with a depth line looking for a suitable spot to anchor with enough swinging room for the sudden squalls we expected, and out of range of rocks that appear at low water. All the time, being followed at a short distance by an inquisitive baby seal. There were a few other yachts there when we arrived, but the following morning all but one were on their way and we rowed ashore to spend a bit of time climbing up to Loch Coruisk for a better view, and came across three deer who regarded us carefully at a distance but walked past without darting off as we'd expected. Perhaps they didn't know about shotguns, or that it was deerstalking season.

Walk to Loch Coruisk

Deer we met along the way

In the afternoon we had made a plan to sail to the island of Rum where you can anchor in Loch Scresort near an extravagant Edwardian mansion, now a museum of the weird and wonderful excesses of the day. However, upon our approach we were disappointed to see yet another apparently lovely landscape covered in foggy mist. So with a fair wind and favourable tide we decided to plot a new course South past Uigg and Muck then round the famous Point of Ardnamurchan and into the Sound of Mull instead, only about 30 miles further. This would give us a head start towards Oban in advance of our exam.

All we saw of Rum!

Tobermory is about 10 miles into the Sound of Mull from Ardnamurchan to the Northwest and having been there earlier, we knew there are plenty of visitor moorings which we'd be able to identify in the dark. It was the obvious place to head for. We didn't arrive until well after sunset and snuck out again at the first light of a drizzly dawn for an invigorating downwind sail during which we managed to goosewing the mainsail and No. 3 jib for all of the remaining 20 nautical miles down to the Firth of Lorn and then most of the way across to Kerrera before having to come about to allow a ferry to enter Oban Harbour ahead of us. Goosewinging, when you set the sails on opposite sides of the boat to maximise your sail area, allows dead downwind runs and is often a difficult setup to maintain, particularly in light gusty winds, or with any kind of swell. But this was a dream run, maintaining about 7 knots most of the way and arriving in Oban in time for breakfast! This gave us a couple of days in which to prepare for the exam on Monday, which I'm happy to say we both passed. It was a long and tiring day. With two additional crew we'd only met at the last minute, we sailed to various bays and marinas in the area to carry out exercises, demonstrating passage planning, day and night navigation and pilotage, crew management and theory too. We didn't get back to Oban until well after midnight, exhausted but very excited and relieved it was all over. We took a couple of days out to relax, then started thinking about victualling for the coming week and planning our next few passages. On Wednesday we were very surprised to run into blog readers Mike and Sue in the main street of Oban as we were on our way to deliver about a months worth of washing at the laundrette. Met up with them again at a dockside pub later in the evening for a few pints.

Oban Harbour entrance

Oban Town Centre

Oban Pier

A couple of blog readers we ran into!

The next passage, planned for Friday involved passing the Gulf of Corryvreckan again, and some tricky strong tidal streams through the Sound of Luing, and Sound of Jura. We were hoping to make it to Craighouse on the Isle of Jura. Careful planning was called for, but as it turned out, the neep tides weren't quite as strong as the atlas suggested although we did see speeds of up to 9 knots over ground at times. As with all these island passages, tidal streams can vary greatly from one place to another as the sea is forced through narrow gaps and around bits of land or over shallows which cause races and turbulence where streams meet from different angles. It always makes passage planning interesting and a careful watch on position must be kept. I found myself running up and down the companionway to the navigation table, compass in hand, plotting our course on the chart every ten minutes or so. Quite different to the predictable east-west flow of the English Channel we'd been used to back home. There are so many strange tidal phenomena here. In Jura Sound, the flood and ebb streams mostly only run in the first three hours, making normal tidal curves impossible to use for predicting height. And not only this but weather conditions and barometric pressure can affect heights by up to a metre. In Craighouse, I had to go back and re-check my working twice after calculating no difference in the high and low water levels. Sure enough, after reading further to investigate if I was going mad, I found that this is a phenomenon known as an amphidrome which is a kind of tidal pivot point where the range from high to low tide is nil. The exact location of this point moves during the tidal cycle. Martin Lawrence writes in his Yachtsmans Pilot guide that this is the reason for the curious observation which used to appear in the Admiralty Tide Tables that 'it is neeps at Port Ellen when it is springs at Machrihanish'.

With a brisk Southwesterly wind we were making fast progress over the water aswell as over ground, and sailed into the bay of Loch na Mile just on dusk, anchoring in front of the Craighouse pier, overlooked by the well known Jura distillery. We awoke on Saturday morning (Happy Birthday Matt!) and thought it looked like a good day for a walk. We had to enquire at the pub first to find out if any deerstalking was taking place that day. After a quick check with a few locals we were happy to be told that the area to the south of the mountain Glass Bheinn should be free of camouflaged men creeping about armed with shotguns. We spent a few hours walking in the hills and climbing through pine forests. Its always good to stretch the legs properly after spending so much time on the boat.

View from the hills on Jura

The next morning we had plenty of time to wait for the tide before sailing across the sound to the island of Gigha, just 12 miles away. Unfortunately, after trying for an hour or so to get the boat moving with the cruising chute, the lack of wind, and the building south-going stream finally convinced us to start the engine and motor around to Ardminish Bay. This was to be our last night in Scottish waters. The next day we would be southbound, passing the Mull of Kintyre and crossing the North Channel to Northern Ireland. With the high pressure system prevailing over the UK, and winds remaining from the West, we expected the Irish coast to be more sheltered than that of England or Wales on the eastern side of the Irish Sea, and it usually preferable to avoid lee shores where possible. Today I am writing from the well kept little town of Glenarm, County Antrim, but more about that in the next update.

Loch Inver to Plockton

2007-09-11T12:32:00.001Z

Jaime writes:

My mother’s side of the family is Mackay, and the North Highlands, notably Strathnaver is the old stomping ground for the leaders of the clan Mackay AKA the Lords of Reay. We thought we would take a couple of days off from Lady Ayesha and hire a car and go exploring. Firstly we drove back up the north coast along the winding roads towards Cape Wrath and around to Durness, stopping at Tarbet on the way to eat some smoked salmon we bought off an old lady. I had over estimated how long it would take us to get there as I’m used to passage planning based on about 8mph. Happily we arrived in Durness with plenty of time for a walk around Faraid Head, where we found quite unexpectedly some of the most stunning sand dunes I have seen. They were very tall, partly covered with coastal grasses, except for the natural paths that weaved between them, and the irresistible sand slides own to the sea. The sun came out and we had a lovely stroll along the deserted Balnakeil beach. It made such a change to the poor weather we have been having. We tried to hitch a ride back to our hostel, but it seems that now we are back on the mainland people are less likely to pick you up, even when you are being obviously attacked by midges. We stayed in a comfortable hostel called Lazy Crofters which was full of German backpackers, probably stranded there as the public transport up this way is useless.

Heading for the highlands

Stopping for lunch at Tarbet

Sand dunes, Durness

Balnakeil Beach

Showing off our Scottish tans

Balnakeil dunes

The following day we headed over towards Bettyhill. On the way we passed by Loch Eribol; this would have been one of our boltholes had the weather deteriorated on our way around Cape Wrath. We also stopped in the township of Tongue which I had excitedly read was dominated by Castle Varrich, a 14th Century Mackay stronghold. I thought that this would really impress Craig, you know, having castles in the family and all. Alas, this was not to be the case as he likened it to a large potting shed, and to be fair he wasn‘t far off , except that the walls were 4ft thick. So we walked the two miles downhill back to the car and drove on after having some concessionary cream tea in a hotel.

Tongue, dominated by Castle Varrich!

'Castle' Varrich

Bettyhill is an old crofting settlement at the seaward end of Strathnaver. At the east end of the village is the former Church of Farr, now the Strathnaver Museum run by a talkative chap who gave me a free copy of the Mackay magazine. In the graveyard of the church can be found the Farr Stone, a Christianised Pictish monument. We were sternly advised to be careful because strange things can happen when standing in front of it!

Church of Farr

The Farr Stone

It stopped raining long enough for us to be able to take a picture and then it started again. This region used to be inhabited and owned by the Mackays, however their land was progressively taken over by the Gordon family or the Earls of Sutherland by 1829. Shortly before then in 1806 the notorious Sutherland Clearances had begun. Basically Elizabeth, Countess of Sutherland wanted to “improve” her northern lands, her interest was in maximising opportunities rather than maintaining the traditional way of life. At this time during the industrial and agricultural revolution there was a tremendous desire for “improvement” in all levels of society and the young and beautiful countess felt compelled to be at the forefront of this. The scheme that she and her greedy advisors developed was grandiose in the extreme and involved social engineering on a massive scale. Consequently literally 1000’s of people were cleared using fire and fury when necessary from their land and villages and moved to coastal allotments to make way for sheep, for wool and mutton were in high demand. In the view of the so called “improvers” the land folk would shed their slothful habits and become useful citizens, they were even referred to as banditti by one of the advisors who was eventually charged with murder, but remained rich. The clearances were not limited to the Sutherland Estate, they took place across Scotland and are known as the Highland Clearances.

We drove through the beautiful heather valley of Strathnaver and stopped at the ruins of the 66 buildings of the Grunmore Settlement, which was razed to the ground by Sutherland’s henchman. Life was tough in the extreme here for all sorts of reasons and many people left the area for good and emigrated to America and the New World in search of a better life.
We headed back to Loch Inver along the narrow single track roads, giving way and waving to the stream of modern motor homes. It was a real pleasure driving through such a beautiful and vast landscapes with such courteous happy drivers. The strong winds took a rest for the day and stopped blowing all together when we attempted to sail to the Summer Isles. We had hoped that it might be summery in these Islands and headed off under motor and anchored in Loch Ristol. Legal action under the Trade Descriptions Act is underway and we headed south the following day in the drizzly rain and blustery winds to Gairloch. I can’t overstate how disappointing the weather has been this year. In Shetland I bought a padded immersion suit that fishermen use for offshore fishing as my rather expensive Gill waterproofs are not up to the job of keeping me warm and dry. This would be understandable in February- but August. Grhhhh.

Anyway we couldn’t get to Gairloch as the wind picked up too much and we didn’t fancy going around any exposed headlands so we headed in to Loch Ewe. On the way we passed Gruinard Island, which has a fascinating albeit disturbing history. It was here in 1941 that scientists decided to bomb this “useless” island with anthrax spores. The unsuspecting penned sheep below, no doubt munching away innocently, duly died. Apparently the Germans were carrying out similar experiments. Still, at least we had some weapons to kill the enemy’s sheep. The story doesn’t end there. As spores of anthrax are persistent for years the MOD decided to disinfect the island by soaking the entire surface area in formaldehyde. The island was then returned to its pre-war owner who wasn’t best pleased and understandably never wanted to set foot on it again, and neither did we.

We stayed at the comfortable anchorage on the eastern side of the Isle of Ewe and set sail for Gairloch in the morning. We had a swift downwind sail under main alone from Rubha Reidh to Gairloch and I think the sun even shone.

Gairloch is situated in the picturesque Loch Gairloch. We took a walk to the sparkling Flowerdale falls through the lush heather hewed landscape and finished off with a really satisfying meal at the Old Inn. Far from the mediocrity we have encountered in many eateries which are just out to make cash and have some 16yr old frying everything to death in the kitchen for £5.40/hr, this place had really nice food that someone actually cared about.

Gairloch

Latest in Shetland Fisherman Fashion

We had a number of options the following day for destinations. So we sailed downwind to Loch Torridon, which promised to be one of the most spectacular of the west coast lochs, with the sun shining it lived up to its reputation. The upper loch was exceptional. We wanted to anchor and go for a walk, but the mountains created such squally conditions that we wouldn’t have been able to leave the boat comfortably so we headed off to Portree on the Isle of Skye. By now the wind had picked up from the north to F6, this caused some largish waves to be generated down the narrow stretches of water between Isle of Skye, the islands in the middle and the mainland. We only had a relatively short distance to go and with the wind behind us we found ourselves surfing down the waves which was good fun with the 300m high towering cliffs of Skye above us. We swung in to Portree, past a massive cruise ship leaving the harbour and picked up a mooring. Curiously a little blue fishing boat was belting along, full throttle very close to the cruise ship. It turned out that the cruise ship had pulled up some lobster creels with its anchor which had then got stuck in their bow thruster. God knows what the fishing boat was going to do about it. Portree is a cheerfully painted lively town that attracts cruise ships and other holiday makers. Craig got his hair cut and I had a shower and almost felt respectable again. As the sun was shining we decided to celebrate by inviting the crew of two boats moored nearby over for drinks. We had a lovely evening with Chris and Emma and their beautiful dog Daisy from Ullapool on their Folkboat, Sonas(?) and Helen & Richard from Edinburgh on their Hallberg Rassy (Wild Theme).

Loch Torridon

Portree Anchorage

Portree Waterfront

The next day we experienced why the Isle of Skye is also called the Island of the Mist in Gallic, as a thick fog settled in the bay. Chris and Emma attempted to leave, and we saw them disappear into the mist. Ekkk. An hour later they were back. As we couldn’t go sailing, we thought we would go for a walk. We rowed over to their boat and they offered us a brandy coffee and shortly all thoughts of walking were abandoned. That evening we all met again for a barbecue and roaring fire on the eastern shore of the bay and watched the sun go down. It started to feel like summer at last.

Creeping Fog

Sunset Barbecue Portree

The town of Plockton on the mainland east of the Skye Bridge came highly recommended, so that was our next destination. Light winds gently blew us down the Sound of Rassay through the Narrows and on to a late lunch in the pinch between the Crowlin islands. Here we were met by a couple of elderly Dutch sea-kayakers who had been travelling around for 5 weeks in their little boats. It sounded like an amazing trip. After lunch we sailed up Loch Carron, past Cat Island to Plockton.

Plockton really is a pretty little town, with lots of picture postcard cottages with well attended gardens and a number of palm trees, framed by hills of heather and wild flowers. We went for a walk along the poorly maintained path around the bay through the woods which involved climbing over fallen trees to Castle Duncraig. We passed an amazing fir tree on the way which was massive, you would need 5 people joining hands to circle it. There was also an imposing courtyard in the dark woods with the words “Work Hard, Be Honest, Fear God” in big scary letters inscribed over the gatehouse. I think this is a former Wee Free Church area. We eventually arrived at the castle which was actually someone’s home. It didn’t say private anywhere but there were children’s toys lying around and road bollards stacked up in the chapel. Anyway it was all a bit spooky , so we headed back to the pub where we enjoyed Oyster Shots. Now I think oysters are ugly snot monsters, but Oyster Shots sounded interesting, it was essentially a mini Bloody Mary in a shot glass with an oyster. They were actually very tasty. I wonder what they taste like in Champagne?

Shetland to Loch Inver

2007-09-06T12:43:00.001Z

It has been a few weeks since the last blog entry, and quite a few nautical miles have passed under the keel since we were stuck in Hamnavoe. Having listened to repetitive reports of strong winds and gales being reported all over the northern isles, we decided we had to make our way south or we'd be stuck in Shetland until next summer!

Tuesday August 7th looked like a good day to make a break for it and we intended on sailing to the island of Foula, southwest of Shetland mainland, with towering cliffs on one side, sloping down slowly to sealevel on the other, visible for many miles out to sea. It is known as the most isolated populated island in the British Isles and until the early 19th century, the population of several hundred still spoke the old Norse language. Even today the small number of remaining inhabitants still cling steadfastly to the old Julian calendar. According to Hamish Haswell-Smith's remarkable book on Scottish Islands, Foula also has a unique subspecies of field mouse "a charming little creature with big feet" and its own variety of carnivorous sheep which strangely enough have recently been seen feeding off young arctic terns and skua nestlings! There is only one tiny bay which provides any kind of shelter. Even the mail boat which goes out each week from there is lifted out on a crane every time it returns due to the regular heavy swell.

As we left Hamnavoe and sailed out through the narrow channel between violently breaking waves, it still looked like Foula might be achievable as a jumping off point for the west coast of Scotland. The wind was a Southeasterly, due to drop from force 5 to variable force 3 or 4. However, after four hours at sea with a heavy swell continuing to build, we decided Foula would be too dangerous. Swell from any easterly wind makes it unapproachable. So we decided to sail southeast along the mainland to Skelda Voe instead, where our sailing directions suggested there was a pier and new pontoons to tie up to. This was about another 25 nautical miles, and with headwinds and a sharp choppy sea our progress was uncomfortable, wet, and slow. As it turned out, Skeld was a good choice. New pontoons are provided with not only the luxury of shorepower and fresh water, but also showers, toilets, a diesel pump, and quite possibly the friendliest managers you could imagine. They were down there in the rain at 8:30pm helping us tie up, offering fuel and advice, and even the services of reiki therapy, if we so desired. At that time, sleep was our highest priority. We did however have time for a drink with the crew of the Swedish boat, 'Jenna Blå' - Jesper, Ann and baby Leo, who we had last seen at Aith when we rafted up to them at the pier in the middle of the night after almost dragging anchor, several weeks earlier. They are on their way south too.

Early morning in Skeld

The next day the manager's wife took all of us in her four wheel drive to go food shopping, and stopped at a cafe and art gallery for lunch. Very civilised! That evening we had a barbecue with the Swedes, and dined aboard their boat. We enjoyed their company and talked about our experiences in the local sailing areas.

Not exactly my idea of a barbie, but...

Next morning we were both planning to leave at 6am, bound for the Scottish mainland, a passage we expected to take at least a day and a half. They were still undecided about whether to go the same way as us, Southwest via Cape Wrath and down the Western Isles, or to head Southeast past Fair Isle, then east of Orkney and down to Inverness and the Caledonian Canal. The forecast was for Southeasterly winds, so we were surprised to see them head off Southeast towards Inverness under motor as we steered for Cape Wrath. We left Skeld early as planned and had mirror-like calm seas with an escort of dolphins and even a few spells of sunshine at last. At moments like these you can so easily forget about the crap weather and choppy seastate two days before.

Dolphins escort us out of Skelda Voe

Jaime tries to speak to more dolphins several hours later

Dolphins through reflected sky

We hoped Jenna Blå had a safe passage down to the Moray Firth as they would be beating into strengthening winds all the way. And strengthen they certainly did! We were on a heading of 230 degrees from Skeld, some 140 nautical miles all the way to Cape Wrath. The ships log records that for the first six hours the wind steadily built from almost nothing to a force 4. No problem there, however, from about midday to 6am the next morning, it didn't drop below force 5, including a number of hours at force 7 and 8 (officially described as 'gale force' for those unfamiliar with the shipping forecast!). Not exactly what we had planned for our longest and most distant offshore passage to date, but the boat kept us safe, and we managed to keep her on course with reduced sail, all through the night in crashing waves and powerful gusts. Much of the time we were reduced to several reefs in the mainsail and the foresail safely rolled away. For safety, our lifejacket harnesses were clipped on permanently while either of us were in the cockpit. White handflares were at the ready in case they were needed to signal our presence to any vessels that may not see our navigation lights, and we had the radar on for early warnings of other traffic, of which we saw only one pelagic fishing boat. We maintained hourly shifts at the helm, and when off-shift concentrated on the navigation and trying to get warm and dry below, away from the continual dousing of seawater. We were fortunate to have some stars in the sky and to have a reasonably short period of darkness, still being so far north. Regular radio contact with Stornaway Coastguard to report our position and check latest weather updates also gave some comfort. I imagine doing this kind of passage single-handed must be a terribly lonely affair.

By 0500UT we were 10 miles North of Cape Wrath. The dawn filled in the dark picture of the coast, adding a coastline to what had for hours been just a slow flashing light from the lighthouse, seen through the compass sight. With dawn, the wind had backed to a gentle southwesterly of only force 2 or 3. This headland has a fearsome reputation for rough seas, and we'd planned to give it a wide berth of at least 5 miles, however on approach, it looked fairly settled and so we re-drew our passage to save time, and passed it within about two miles instead. For those who may be interested: Waves get bigger, the longer they are subjected to wind. The wave height can be roughly estimated based on the 'fetch' (distance they have travelled) and the wind strength and time. The prolonged southeasterly meant that in the open sea, they would be much bigger, however the waves in the area immediately northwest of the cape had very little fetch as the wind was blowing off the land. Since Cape Wrath is completely exposed to the Atlantic, the same conditions for wind blowing from the west would have created a very different scenario. And as expected, as we rounded the cape, the seastate became calm, so calm in fact that for the last few hours, the sun came out and we sailed under motor. Jaime slept, and I dried out some clothes on the cockpit seats, while listening to Radio 4 on the portable radio, and enjoyed the sight of trees again and new mountainous landscapes as we approached our destination port, Kinlochbervie.

This was until recently a very busy fishing port, but the trade there has died, so the massive loading terminal and docks, although only recently constructed, remain eerily empty. After rafting up alongside a shiny brand-new Swedish yacht on the pontoon, hanging out our cleanest looking fenders, we approached the Fishermen's Mission for showers, but they close early on Fridays. Just a strong smell of chip fat in the tiny eatery and a few youngsters playing pool. We managed to get showers at the harbour office, and walked up the hill to the hotel for a well-earned beverage (or it may have been two), despite the sun being not quite over the yard-arm! Finally we were back on the British mainland. I'm really glad we made it down when we did because gale warnings continue to be given regularly for the Faroes and Fair Isle shipping areas since then. We really may have been there until next year!

Tied up in Kinlochbervie at last

Leaving Loch Bervie

After a days rest in Kinlochbervie we started making our way down the coast planning short daily passages of only 20 or 30 miles and trying to see as much as possible while making good progress South. We sailed out of Loch Bervie on the ebb tide, and downwind on a gentle Northeasterly breeze past many small islands and exposed rocks, to Handa, which is a designated bird sanctuary. We enjoyed beautiful sunshine as we sailed through the shallow waters of Handa Sound where visitors take little boat trips out to the white sandy beach on the island. It was very tempting to drop the anchor and row ashore for a picnic lunch, but our plan involved making good use of tidal streams in these light winds, and so we decided to eat aboard instead, and sailed on into Eddrachillis Bay. We navigated our way through the Badcall Islands and down Loch a' Chàirn Bhàin, under the bridge and into the bay by the village of Kylesku where we anchored in the late afternoon. I'd bought some tasty looking Scottish sirloin steaks in Kinlochbervie, but found myself short of creme fraiche for the sauce they so obviously deserved. Never mind. A quick row in the dinghy, tying up to the slipway in front of the hotel, found me enjoying a local ale in the small public bar of the restaurant which I was told is the subject of much acclaim by food critics. A calculated yet offhand mention of my predicament was taken up by the everso friendly barman who immediately summoned the chef to prepare for me two servings of his delicious green peppercorn sauce, sealed up in a container suitable for transport by dinghy back to our little ship. Problem solved, I finished my pint and couldn't wait to return to Jaime to present her with the spoils of my hunting.

Approaching Kylesku

The next morning we hoisted our sails at dawn and drifted out again to sea. This time as we sailed out of the loch to more exposed seas the wind was stronger, and from the Southwest. Not too bad, as our passage to Lochinver would involve two long tacks: a close reach west to the Point of Stour, another headland that is known to cause tidal races, and then Southeast past Rubha Rodha into Loch Inver. As we came into sight of the tall pinnacle of rock known as the Old Man of Stour, it became obvious that the seastate was going to be uncomfortable. We headed out to sea as far as possible before tacking around, but the waves were so choppy that the boats expected speed of over 6 knots in such a wind was reduced to less than 3 over ground as we were tossed up and down, with sails flogging helplessly as the boat pitched every time we luffed up to take a wave. So sadly it was time again to roll away the headsail and put the engine on in order to maintain boat speed and get into the relatively protected waters of Loch Inver. This is still an uncomforable way to sail, but at least we were making some progress. It was during this time that I found myself again the subject of the attentions of a great skua, or bonxie as it is known in Shetland. After my earlier experience of this species on Papa Stour, I was very wary, and tried to show no fear as I watched it from the corner of my eye, gliding expertly in the strong wind behind the boat to within several metres of me, turning its head constantly as though tracking its prey. I was convinced it was moving in for an attack but I managed to fend it off several times by shouting and waving at it threateningly with an oar, much to Jaime's amusement.

My evil nemesis returns!

Four hours of rain and seaspray later, during which I remained on the helm and Jaime stayed dry below, we arrived at Lochinver and tied up to the pontoon near the busy piers where pelagic fishing boats from as far away as Spain pull in to swap crews and deliver their catches. Strong wind warnings had been issued by the coastguard with gales expected over the next few days so we tied up to the leeward side of the pontoon using about eight mooring lines, stowed as much deck equipment as possible below to reduce windage, including removing the rolling genoa, and lowering the boom to deck level. Here we were to remain for 5 days, but I'll let Jaime tell you all about that in the next update.

Shetland Islands

2007-08-14T10:12:00.000Z

Jaime writes:

Well, here we are anchored in Hamar Voe next to the Ura Firth in the Shetland Isles. Fortunately there are many "Hamar Voes" (safe harbour in Old Norse) in the Shetlands and Orkneys as a gale is continuing to rage around us for the second day in a row. It's quite safe here as the name suggests, however we don't really want to leave the boat for any time. It's a strange feeling to put your faith in a metal chain attached to the seabed by a heavy hook about 35m away, but so far it seems to be working. In the meantime we have been reading and eating quite a lot. Our day is punctuated by the weather forecast broadcast by the coastguard every four hours and we were kind of hoping he would play us some nice music or tell us a joke rather than give us the bad news again. There is very little around here, the closest "civilisation" is a vegetarian restaurant five miles away, if you can call that civilisation. Anyway what on earth is such a restaurant doing here, I haven't seen an allotment since we arrived, however meat and seafood are in abundance. There is reportedly a seal sanctuary in the back garden (no mention of veggie plot), seems a bit suspect to me. We shall investigate once (and if) this weather ceases. Enough cabin fever induced rambling, how did we get here anyway?

Colin's plan was to leave at 4am for the 70 or so mile passage to Shetland from Westray in the Orkneys. We radioed the coastguard to let them know our plans in case we came into difficulties and left the harbour under sail. The wind was pretty fresh and delivered us almost to Scalloway on the western side of the Shetland archipelago. We were rarely out of sight of land and we could see Fair Isle and the precipitous cliffs of the Isle of Foula for most of the way. The light here is distinct, I can't say exactly what is different about it compared to other places, but it seems to have more clarity or brightness, the sky seems somehow closer. Normally, things look more beautiful and the colours more vibrant when I wear my sunglasses, however here the opposite is the case. The low sun illuminated the cliffs of the Shetland mainland and a number of blocks of rainbow coloured air appeared above the hills. Then they slowly melted back in to the bog whence they came while Great Skuas and Fulmars followed in our wake . I tried to imagine what early settlers would have experienced arriving in Shetland by sea, as from this distance little had changed over time. What kind of mystical land were we all approaching? We weaved our way between the islands that make Scalloway the protected harbour it is and tied up on the decrepit pontoon at the boat club. We raced inside, as it was approaching last orders, (if there is such a thing here) and had a enjoyable welcome drink, and then a couple more....

Arriving Shetland, early evening

Rainbows on arrival in Shetland

Colourful skyscape

Colin and Craig headed out the following morning and bought a large quantity of fish and shellfish for a very reasonable price and Craig cooked up a wonderful scallop dish and the best haddock he had ever cooked. We headed in to Lerwick for the day by bus which is the capital of Shetland. It is a very well kept town and there seems to be quite a lot of money around.
We spent the next few days sailing around the spectacular west and central coast of the mainland. This coastline has been battered unremorsefully by the Atlantic (like today) for thousands of years. The geology is very mixed up which leads to some pretty awesome rock formations if you like that kind of thing. I'm talking about giant grotesque stacks, massive sea caves with collapsed roofs running 500m back in to the land, and natural arches you could drive a double decker bus through. And all of these make perfect homes for the sea birds who nest here. We were lucky enough to see numerous baby fulmars.

Our second landfall in Shetland was Walls. We went there as they were having their yearly regatta. We thought it would be good fun and that we may also be able to crew on some on the racing boats. In the event, only three racing yachts were taking part and the main attraction was a salmon bin race. It was explained to us that you have a few drinks, get in to the square, not particularly buoyant box and row around a nearby island. ummm. Instead we took part in the relatively safe raffle in which we could win a paint roller. We didn't stick around for the results and headed off the following day to Papa Stour.

On route Scalloway to Walls - Foula in the distance

Unusual rock formations on the way to Walls

Papa Stour is an island off the west coast populated by 23 people who are always arguing according to the locals of Walls. This may have something with the fact that they are mostly there as part of a government repopulation programme, which involved enticing people there with the offer of a free croft and 5 sheep each. It is seen as a refuge from the rat race - oh yes and it is, no rats here. I don't know what we were expecting when we arrived in the bay called Hamna Voe, on the south side of Papa Stour, but it wasn't a set from Doctor Who. It was like landing on the moon. There were no bushes or trees, just a barren landscape strewn with boulders and rocks. Some derelict sheep corrals stood on the shore, simply rings of piled stones. The only signs of recent humans was the presence of sheep and the colourful flotsam and jetsam from far off fishing boats lining the shoreline. The strange Hitchcock-esque atmosphere was reinforced when Craig rowed to the beach from the mothership. He was attacked by a gang of well organised squawking Arctic Terns and by vicious pecking Great Skuas (aka Bonxies, which can kill sheep, apparently!).

Sheep enclosure on Papa Stour

Papa Stour anchorage

We returned to the land in force the following day with the added protection of an umbrella to explore the island. What Papa Stour lacks in vegetation, it makes up for in its startling geology, It is here where you can find some of the finest sea caves and cliffs in the world carved into the larva that makes the island. We took a dramatic walk to the western end of the island and back again, there were some signs of habitation in the distant past; four small two storied mills built of stone used to grind bere grain by monks and the remains of a stone track.

Papa Stour sea caves

West coast of Papa Stour

Returning by dinghy in the rain

Our sailing journey continued through Papa Sound to St. Magnus Bay (possibly created by an ancient meterorite) on the North Western Side of the Mainland. The weather was not kind and it continued to rain for the rest of the afternoon. This was a shame as we generally like to sail close to the shore to view the scenery. Around here this is often possible as the coast is usually steep-to; plunging straight down into the sea, but in this weather it's better just to get to where you're going. We sailed past Vementry and its World War One gunnery placements and tucked in behind a bay on the northern shore. We had great difficulty anchoring and tried on three occasions before we succeeded. There was lot of weed and strange animals on the bottom (see photo) and it shoaled very steeply which made it tricky to dig the anchor in with any confidence.

Latest 'Identify that weird sea-creature' competition!

It took us so long that Colin had managed to cook us a lovely dinner by the time we were secure. Night had fallen and we were relaxing with a glass of wine about to go to bed, when the wind decided to do a "180". Grhhh- unprintable language. Now, far from being in a nice secure anchorage we were now being blown towards the land and our anchor threatened to undig itself as it twisted around. This Southerly wind was completely unforecast. It was essentially a freak wind, that was not by any means suggested in the synoptic charts. We waited for an hour to see if it would go back to a Northerly, but it persisted. We had to clear out. It didn't make sense to head for an anchorage that was sheltered from the South as we were quite sure as soon as we had anchored the fickle wind would change its mind, so we had to head for somewhere more secure which turned out to be Aith and a couple of hours later we tied up to a reliable old pier. The following day after a good sleep we said our goodbyes to Colin who got a lift to the Lerwick ferry with a guy from the garage. I hope Colin had a good time with us, we certainly did. We did more sailing than usual because it is that much easier to organise things with an extra pair of hands. So if anyone would like to join us......let us know.

A couple of days in Aith and another trip to Lerwick saw us restocked, rewatered and smelling pleasant. We headed around the corner to Voe which is reportedly the "most Norwegian looking village" in Shetland. Hum, we think that the marketing people who write the brochure for Shetland are scraping the bottom of their superlative barrel with this one. As we don't know what a "Norwegian Village" looks like and cannot verify this claim we cannot tell you if this is the case. But it doesn't matter, the people in the pub were very friendly and they gave Craig a bag of live scallops. He had fun opening all 20 of them for the rest of the afternoon. They are funny creatures, they open up, showing their ugly filter feeding tentacles once submerged in water, if you poke them they spit water at you and snap shut! It is worth noting that Voe has a fantastic bakery which sells first class muffins.

Scallop processing

Armed with muffins, scallops and a mini roast beef we set sail to our present location. The weather was fine and the sun shone on the multicoloured sculptured granite cliffs of Muckle Roe, with the outline of the hills and cliffs in the distance it was quite a remarkable scene. We sailed slowly in to the sheltered anchorage and I had my first crack at anchoring (Craig normally does it). After three goes we set it fast and have been weather bound since. The aforementioned food has been devoured and we have run out of beer, wine and vodka, alas we are surviving on Gin & Tonics. Still, worse things happen at sea....

Three days later we were still weatherbound. So far we hadn't left the boat as we were worried about the anchor dragging in such strong winds. But we were starting to go crazy in such a small space and the anchor had held well so far, so we pumped the dingy up and went ashore. We hitched a ride to the near by town of Hillswick. It is here that the vegetarian cafe is that I mentioned rather flippantly earlier. It was in fact lovely. The menu looked pretty good, and curiously there are no prices on the menu. This is because you choose how much you would like to pay! All monies go to the upkeep of the animal santuary in the back garden (where the veggie plot is). We met Silver the resident seal sunbathing next to her pond and two, very cute baby common seals. The latter were in a shipping container in large plastic boxes. They stared up to us with big dark doey eyes. They have a childrens' paddling pool in which they are learning to swim and eat fish! The Hillswick Wildlife Sanctury was in the news when the Braer Oil Spill (1993) occured; they helped to rescue 37 seals and seven otters. The sanctury is part of Willing Workers On Organic Farms (WWOOF), so if you would like an interesting job for a while...

Hillswick village

We then headed off for a walk around Hillswick Ness. This is a roughly diamond shaped headland that has fabulous cliff scenery. The photos tell the story better than any words, but it really was spectacular.

Hillswick Ness looking Northwest

Hillswick Ness looking South

Hillswick Ness - The 'Drongs' in the distance

After a visit to the shop we hitched a ride back to the bay and felt a little saner. The following day the winds were forecast to ease somewhat so we prepared to sail or at least stick our nose out. With two reefs in the main and the number 3 jib (about a third smaller than our normal head sail and stronger) we headed out of the Ura Firth. The wind was still pretty strong and seastate was rough. We were sailing up and down waves four meters high. Neither of us were particularly happy about this so we turned tail, and sailed rather quickly back to our anchorage. We eventually left the following day, when the seastate had moderated. Incidentally when we hauled the anchor up a pipe fish was trapped in the chain links, and thrashed around on deck until we could catch it. We felt more confident having seen the previous days waves and had a cracking sail west to Eshaness. We gave the spectacular coast a wide berth as we were on a rock strewn lee shore and the wind was just shy of 30kts. The wind was building and this was confirmed by the coastguard who issued an "imminant gale warning". We only had a short distance to go and we were travelling fairly quickly so we weren't too worried. About an hour later we entered the narrow gap to Hamna Voe (Eshaness), and anchored in the sheltered bay. The gale kicked in, and we saw 42kts on the wind speed dial (about 50mph) at one point. It wasn't particularly comfortable and we didn't really sleep. To make things more interesting there was a windshift in the small hours that swung the boat around onto some rapidly shoaling ground. We tried to re-anchor in deeper water but after a while it dragged as it was quite weedy.Thank God for engines! We motored to the other side of the bay and felt our way, with our depth meter to a fishing pier,as there isn't a detailed chart of the area to tell us depths. Here we tied up to a sturdy creel fishing boat and in a much happier mood fell asleep.

The sun was shining the next day and the friendly man who ran the fishing boat gave Craig a rather large live lobster for free! What a difference a day makes!

Gift from a creel fisherman

We put the creature in a bucket of water and headed up the Braewick Cafe for "lunch with a view". You would be hard pressed to find a resturant with a better view than this one. It looks out east over the battered red granite shore with its stacks and a fantastic view of the Drongs that we had already seen from Hillswick. We wondered if people had watched us sailing past the previous day.

Craig cooked the lobster for dinner, it only just fit into our pot, which it wasn't very happy about. It tasted delightful, I think we should have it more often.

Lobster cooked

The fishermen went out in their sturdy boat in the morning and returned saying it was too rough, which was good enough for us, so we went for a walk instead. We headed up along the larva cliffs of Eshaness. The rock formations are unreal. As the sea was quite rough we got a fabulous show of the strength of the waves as they recoiled and exploded on exposed rocks, sending spume tens of metres high in to the air. Once again the photos tell the story better than words.

Breaking waves at the narrow entrance to Hamnavoe

Eshaness

Eshaness, towards the lighthouse

When we reached Eshaness lighthouse we hitched a lift back with some Spanish people. They had moved here from Madrid, bought an old house and they had been doing it up since October. They were so happy and full of energy.
That evening we decided that we would head back to mainland Scotland. The weather has been so poor for the last couple of weeks. We would love to sail around to the northern Islands of Unst and Yell, but we risk getting stuck here with bad weather and we are afterall a long way from home. So we will just have to come back again one day.

Orkney

2007-08-06T14:25:00.001Z

We ended up staying in Stromness a little longer than originally planned. Spent another noisy Thursday night enjoying the Ferry Inn's folk music session, and familiarised ourselves with local issues and attitudes. A combination of waiting for fair weather and tides saw us still tied up to a rusty old salvage boat until Monday July 9th when we finally set sail for the island of Rousay, to the north of mainland Orkney.

Approach to Stromness

Tied up to the salvage boat

Dinghy Racing at Stromness

For this passage we had to time our departure precisely in order to get into the Sound of Hoy at slack tide, and sail westwards out to sea just as the ebb tide began, before heading North up the western coast of mainland.

Sailing North, looking back to Hoy

The Atlantic Ocean meets Hoy Sound

We had a beautiful sunny day to begin with, and a gentle Southwesterly wind. Passage making in Orkney requires constant attention to strong tidal streams. We need to calculate what we call tidal gates, which are really just the periods of time that we need to be at certain places in order to negotiate particular channels with a fair tide. If you get the timing wrong you can find yourself pushing hard into an oncoming stream and making no way at all, worse still, at springs (full moon and new moon when tides are at their stongest) you can find yourself going backwards! For the passage to Rousay we identified two tidal gates. The first was Hoy Sound where only a few weeks earlier the sea had sadly claimed the life of a young man in a small boat. The second was Eynhallow Sound which is divided by the old monastic island of Eynhallow, with 'roosts' (tidal races) in shallow water on either side. We had to time our passage from Hoy Sound to Eynhallow precisely to the hour to make both of these gates otherwise we'd need to replot a course around to the north of Rousay, adding further complications. So despite the breeze being from the right direction, at only a few knots we weren't going to make way fast enough, so made the usual excuses about having to charge the batteries etc, and spent several hours under motor. We saw more spectacular cliffs, including those at Scara Brae and Yesnaby that we'd previously explored on foot. Having successfully negotiated a course through the shallows we sailed past the small Island of Wyre where stands the ruin of Scotland's oldest Viking castle (Cubby Roo circa 1150) and tied up at Rousay pier, setting the bicycles ashore. The next day we tied up to a visitor's bouy and went into the tiny harbour by dinghy to visit the pub then spent the remainder of the day exploring the south and west coasts by bike, under an atmospherically watery sky. The afternoon involved crawling into more chambered cairns (Traversoe Tuick, Blackhammer, Knowe of Yarso) and then on to the remarkably well preserved bronze age Midhowe broch and yet another stone age cairn - this one 23 metres long, and probably the largest in Orkney.

Midhowe Broch, Rousay

Midhowe Broch

With only about 200 inhabitants, this island has many more ancient ruins than modern buildings. The following day we sailed around to the eastern shore to the Bay of Ham where we tied up to a fish farm buoy and rowed ashore. We were told there was another ruined village worth seeing here, but aside from a standing stone we were unable to find it.

Bay of Ham

Another Standing Stone

After lunch we decided to press on and had some good wind again for a sail south to the island of Shapinsay. Near Balfour castle, the small harbour provided another visitors buoy which saved us anchoring yet again. We took the opportunity to have a meal ashore at the Smithy restaurant. Sampled a number of local seafood dishes, and being the only customers that evening, stayed quite late into the evening, drinking beers with the chef after the owner had gone home.

Balfour Castle

Balfour Harbour

A quick sail from Balfour around to Kirkwall the following morning, and a berth in the inner harbour, right in front of the main street in the town centre. Only a short hop to the Sailing Club where we were provided a key for their showers, and where we met some very friendly folk on our first evening.

Kirkwall Inner Harbour

I needed to borrow a torque wrench off someone in order to replace an oil seal on the crank shaft which had been leaking for a while. They were more than happy to help out, and one of the assistant harbourmasters even drove me around in his van the next day to a number of shops, trying to find the right allen bit I needed to reinstall the flywheel. Job completed without further complication, which was a relief. We'd seen a number of the fishing boats in the inner harbour bringing in loads of scallops so Jaime asked whether we could have some. The next day, one of the divers delivered a bag of 20 big scallops, freshly hand picked. I've never had better tasting, or fresher in my life. So, I just have to include a photo!

Very Fresh Scallops

On Saturday we went in to town and saw the Kirkwall City Pipe Band playing in the street outside St Magnus cathedral. Marching up and down they attracted a modest crowd, but with the sky bruising and rain approaching we decided on another evening at the sailing club.

Kirkwall City Pipe Band in action

We chatted to a couple of old hands from the mainland who told us much about sailing these waters. At closing time we were invited along to a party which was more or less a carry-on once all the pubs were kicking out. The Orcadian accent requires a careful use of the ear, but by this time of night I was having a hard time understanding them at all. We didn't stay long but on our way out we were handed bottles of home-brewed beer to take with us. The following morning I looked out about 11am to find what I thought was a tourist on the pontoon taking photos of our boat. But when I went out a bit later found that he was actually a police photographer. Earlier that morning a tourist had reported seeing a body floating in the water next to our boat. It turned out to be a local chap. The body bag was still on the pontoon and I was asked a few questions by the detectives who assumed he'd fallen in the previous night after having too much to drink. Drinking seems to be quite a strong part of the culture here, but they tell me this is nothing compared to the Shetlanders! We will see soon enough! We had arranged for shipmate Colin to join us again for a week or so. He arrived around lunchtime on Tuesday and we set off straight away, having filled up with water, oil, diesel, gas and petrol, and done the victualling during the morning. Jaime had already put together a passage plan for Kirkwall to Pierowall on the isle of Westray. Just out of Kirkwall harbour, then East through Shapinsay Sound and North up Stronsay Firth, keeping Stronsay to starboard. Once we were in the fast flowing Eday Sound we made our way into Calf Sound, a narrow channel between Eday and the Calf of Eday. Visibility had been quite poor, despite good wind for sailing. There is a small anchorage there in Carrick Bay just out of the main tidal stream where we picked up a bouy. Colin decided he'd love to see Carrick House, which was not far away, and so we paid it a visit. It is famous as being the place where John Gow, Orkney's most infamous pirate was captured before being hung in 1725. He was a really bad pirate. By this I mean he was really bad at being a pirate. He was so incompentant that after deciding to take up piracy, he only lasted six months and failed in most of his exploits. He had planned to raid Carrick House, but his ship ran aground and he spent so long in full view of the house that the owner had more than enough time to prepare a party to arrest him when he finally stepped ashore. Anyway, we ended up staying the night there, and sailing out into North Sound and up to Pierowall on Westray the next morning. Pierowall is a small collection of buildings placed in a semicircle around the bay and protected from all but Easterly winds by the smaller island, Papa Westray. The hotel is reputed to serve the best fish and chips in all of Orkney so we were bound to pay them a visit. Very good indeed. There is also a crab processing plant just near the harbour where we bought a small supply of cooked crustaceans. I spent a bit of time chatting to the harbourmaster who didn't seem to be very busy and had plenty to tell us about the area and the state of affairs in Orkney in general. He was part of some Orkney tourist board, and had travelled to the London Boat Show last year to promote Orkney as a sailing destination. However, so far this year, there don't seem to be that many more visitors. The next morning we planned to be up at the crack of dawn, or even a bit earlier, for the 70 mile passage up to Shetland.

Pierowall Harbour, Westray

Inverness to the Orkney Isles

2007-07-07T13:55:00.000Z

Jaime writes today's entry:

As we motored through the greyness and shallow waters of Inverness Firth it became apparent that the French and Norwegian yachts that were in the lock with us did not have charts of the area. The French boat was following the Norwegians as they motored round in circles and turned abuptly at each sandbank. In true Franco style the French boat swapped sides and followed us instead. That was about the most exciting thing that happened in the North sea, as it is a very dull place. We motored and sailed through the night until we reached Duncansby head (John O'Groats). We had to be there at 5.30am in order to get slack water to pass across the notorius Pentland Firth. Now, you may have been impressed by the description of the Corryvecken, well the racing turbulent waters of Pentland Firth are equally if not more violent as it is here where the Atlantic meets the North Sea. It is a narrow strip of water about 6 miles across scattered with islands and skerries surrounded by vicious eddies and strong tidal races. The tides run faster than almost anywhere in the UK (up to 15mph). Saying that if you cross at the correct time in good weather, there isn't a lot to worry about, and this is exactly what we did.

First view of the Orkney Isles

We arrived in St Margarets Hope, a village on one of the more Southerly of the Orkney Isles called South Ronaldsay. We rested during the day and headed in to the pub later on as it was Saturday night. It was full of young people, fantastic, and there was a pool table. I had a game against one of the local girls who promptly wiped the table with me. Very embarassing. Consequently the next couple of nights were spent in a different pub practising. At eight O'clock the barman offered everyone plastic glasses and we all piled out and on to a waiting bus with our drinks hidden under our coats. This was a local bus taking us to Kirkwall, the capital of the Orkney Isles. At this time of year it is the St Magnus' Festival and there are lots of cultural events taking place. We ended up in the Spiegeltent to watch some jazz (ed: 'Songs for Unsung Heroes' sung by Liz Fletcher with the Alan Barnes Quintet) and later on in a hotel to watch a couple of local lads play some enchanting folk music. The bus to take us home came at 2am. We embarked with a very drunk bunch of locals and got home as the sun that sat just over the horizon dimly lit the sky.

Gale force winds were forecast for the next day, so we had to move to find some more shelter. We moved up to Burray next to one of the Churchill Barriers and tied up in the lee of a very sturdy looking diving boat. With the boat safe we went to see what was going on in the village. An RNLI fete was taking place. Two lifeboats from Longhope and Stromness were there which you could have a look around. They are impressive beasts; full of high tech electronics and two 1000 hp engines.

We spent a couple of days in Burray visiting touristic sites on bikes kindly lent to us by a friendly local. I didn't realise this, but the Orkney archipelago is a treasure trove of neolithic sites. People actully have real standing stones in their gardens and it is not unusal for a farmer while ploughing to discover a new tomb . They have so many sites, that they don't have enough resources to investigate them all and much remains to be discovered. On the south coast of South Ronaldsay is the Tomb of the Eagles, so called because of the sea eagle talons that were found in the tomb along with the jumble of 16,000 human bones. The tomb is known as a stall cairn as the internal structure resembles cattle stalls. It is a staggering 5000 years old - built before the pyramids. The people back then disposed of their bodies by a method termed "excarnation": The body was left outside on bench type stucture on the cliffs for the birds to feed off. Once the bones were picked clean, those that remained were interned in the tomb. I was suprised that you go to the tomb unattended and we had the place to ourselves, and you can touch what ever you like. To enter the tomb you lie down on what is essentially a large skateboard (called affectionatly the granny skateboard!) and haul yourself through the one metre high tunnel to the main cavern.

St Margarets Hope

Tomb of the Eagles - entrance

Inside the Tomb

The occupants

Excarnation place

South Ronaldsay to Scapa Flow

Further tourist activities took us north crossing the Churchill Barriers. These causeways were constructed under the orders of Winston Churchill following the sinking of the HMS Royal Oak with the loss of 833 men by a German U-boat in 1939. The U-boat had snuck in to Scapa Flow, a natural harbour through the narrow gaps between the eastern islands. The barriers were built with great difficulty as the tide and vicious weather frequently washed structures away. Italian prisoners of war had to be drafted in to build them. The British allowed them two nissen huts for religious activities and they skilfully converted them in to what is now known as the Italian Chapel, with beautiful frescos, peace being the main theme. The connection with the Italians is still strong and the grandson of the original painter will come and work in the local pub this summer.

The weather finally settled down and we had a beautiful day's sailing through Scapa Flow to Scapa Bay, on the south side of Kirkwall. We hitched in to town and stocked up on food. Scapa Flow has some incredible naval history. It was here that the whole surrendered german fleet of 200 vessels were scuttled in 1919. When the ships sank they were fully dressed with flags and the crew in full dress uniform. This action has done much for the diving industry up here.
From Scapa Bay a day's sail took us through the western side of Scapa Flow in to the Sound of Hoy, up to Stromness.

Art

Churchill Barriers and Blockships

Stromness street

Stromness

Hoy Sound

We were both really impressed with the town. It is small but there seemed to be lots going on by way of art and culture. We arrived in time for the folk night. The musicans passed out song words and the whole pub joined in gaily singing "Cockles and Mussels.....Sweet Molly Malone." I'm all for more singing in pubs. Our neolithic tourist misson continued; we cycled up to Skara Brae, next to the white sandy beach of Skaill Bay. It is really something special. This is the best preserved neolithic village in Northern Europe, incredibly it was alive 5000 years ago for more than 600 years. There are little "houses" connected by a series of tunnels. Each unit has beds, a hearth, a dresser and my favorite; fish and lobster tanks! All fashioned from the local sand flagstone. Its very tasteful and well designed and not so different from the stylish minimalist type furniture of today. Strangly it was built in the stone age equivalent of a landfill site, as such material was supposedly good for insulation. There are laws against such practices these days! As this is a heavily visited site you couldn't go into any of the houses, however we went to a less visited village called Barnhouse. Here you could wander around and go into the buildings.

Skara Brae

The Orcadians seem to have a really nice attitude to their heritage. The vast majority of the sites are unmanned and you can just wander around them at your leisure be it night or day. It's not cornered off as some distant monument, you are encouraged to get involved. Anyway, we then explored the coastline. Most of the sandstone was laid down about 400 million years ago when Orkney was a desert and sometimes a lake near the equator. The photos should give a good idea of the striking layers that were laid down over millenia. You can even see distinct layers of sand ripples. Over recent time the sea has carved the cliffs in to dramatic shapes including precarious looking arches, fragile stacks and inviting cave networks. After a long day of cycling this day ended with a portion of delicious fish and chips overlooking the Hoy hills as the sun went down behind us.

Cliffs at Yesnaby

Rock Stack at Yesnaby

Yesnaby

Well now we had explored the houses and tombs of the neolithic people. What about their religion? Well it's a lot of guess work really, but they obviously had some time on their hands as evident from the stone henge at Brodgar which was originally made up of 60 massive towering stones. The setting is superb. It is in the middle of two lochs on a natural causeway, the whole horizon is framed by gentle sloping hills and in the centre of the ring grows heather which is just hinting at flowering. There were no trees when it was developed so it would not have looked that different 3000 years ago. Now only 27 of the original stones remain. Once again the site is open, the tourguide encourages people to come and dance around naked at night! She did also say that the stones were in fact dancing giants that were turned into stone by the first rays of the sun and that trolls lived in a nearby hillock and who are we to argue. In a field close by was another set of even taller standing stones - the Stones Of Stenness - some 20ft high, also nearby is the largest chambered cairn in Britain called Maes Howe thought to be contemporary to the rings of stones. Once again we crawled through the narrow passage about 20ft long lined with a single slab of stone to get in to the centre of the main chamber. The inside was quite airy with a high ceiling and three smaller side chambers. The tomb was raided by the vikings who also left runic graffiti inscriptions most of them translated in to nothing more interesting than what you might find on a bus shelter today, however there was some lurid desciption of some elicit act that occured between two viking ladies called Helgi and Ingigerd, but the guide wouldn't elaborate. Well enough of lesbian runic graffiti, there are only 365 more scheduled neolithic monuments to visit and we don't have much time. (just between you and me I think Craig is getting fed up with neolithic structures)

The Ring of Brodgar

Ring of Brodgar stones

While we were in Stromness we got some practical housekeeping things out the way and we also dried the boat out. We took the boat over to the drying wall at high water, having checked out the bottom at the previous low water (at 4am grhhh). We then secured the boat to the wall and took a rope from the top of the mast to lean it over slightly into the wall and waited for the tide to drop. As it dropped, the keel of the boat settled on the bottom nicely and eventually stopped moving. I got in the dingy and started scrubbing the bottom of the boat, which is a horrible job as the antifoul goes everywhere. But it was made easier by the fact that most of the growth on the bottom had actually died off as we went through the cold fresh water of the Caledonian Canal. Craig took over and finished the job off. We also got the chance to inspect the prop and the anodes which looked fine. By 11 o' clock that night the tide had risen enough to float the boat again and we glided back to the pier with a nice clean shiny bottom.We are still in Stromness, and hope to leave as soon as the weather sorts itself out but it's taking its time, hence the length of this blog entry.

'Today I shall be mostly scrubbing the hull!'

Lady Ayesha drying out

As a new feature there is a competition for this blog entry. Can anyone identify this fish? It was given to us by a fisherman who had a conger eel in a carrybag on his way to feed his cat....?? The prize is a bottle of whisky or a soft toy puffin if you are under 18.

The Caledonian Canal (Fort William to Inverness)

2007-07-05T14:04:00.001Z

Monday June 11th. Awoke late after a good sleep, and radioed the Caledonian Canal office to arrange entry into the Corpach sea-lock at 1300. The canal is 60 miles overall, however only a third of it is actually man made. The remainder is formed by the waters of four natural lochs: Lochy, Oich, Dochfour and the famous Ness. These run along the natural fault line that is the Great Glen, which has long been used for travel and communication. Once inside the sea-lock we are in fresh water again, and initially needed to climb what is known as Neptune's Staircase, a series of eight locks which elevate the water level by 19 metres. It was a hot day, and the staircase took several hours to ascend. Tourists milled about, taking photos and making home movies. We eventually berthed at Benavie, just above the staircase, and the next morning ventured into Fort William to get information about climbing Ben Nevis. Jaime bought an old cloth OS map dated 1947 in a second hand bookshop for £1 that was sure to help us find the way to the top.

Lady Ayesha in the Corpach Lock

We set out rather late on Wednesday with enough food and water to last the day. It may not be particularly high, compared to other great peaks around the world, but you do have to start your climb from sea level - all 4406 feet of it. The views down to Loch Linnhe and up the Great Glen were quite impressive most of the way up. Though once we reached the cloud line there was just a spooky silence. And then we reached snow!

Ben Nevis - half way up

Fort William from above

View to Loch Linnhe

The snow line

The view from the top

Memorial cairn

Survival hut at the summit

View from the top

As you can see from the pictures, visibility was very poor, less than 50 metres, and the view from the summit subsequently leaves everything to the imagination. Quite disturbing really, because your sense of vertigo is completely numbed when you can't see below you. There are various stone ruins there, and a survival hut which we looked into. It would be a pretty bleak place to get caught in bad weather. We also saw a number of quite tame snow buntings which appear to survive on the scraps of food left by visitors. It is a popular climb, and during the day we met at least 100 others along the way. It took us about three and a half hours to reach to top, and we were a bit sore from not having done much walking or climbing for a while. Half way down on our descent we parted from the main path and ventured around to the western side where we took a 'long-cut', following a river back down to the town, stumbling down steep boggy hills, covered in springy heather and wildflowers, ventually finding our way back to the boat at about 10pm.

Ben Nevis descent

Around the back - western approach

Heather and wildflowers

To be quite honest, canal travel is not very interesting for sailors. Having to run the engine like a motor boat is no fun, and the weather, being dull and cloudy didn't help. However, on Thursday, we enjoyed an opportunity to get the sails up in Loch Lochy, where we arrived at Laggan, at the northern end, by evening.

Sailing on Loch Lochy

We tied up to a pontoon near a number of canal cruisers. These are hire boats, often driven by people with no boating experience, and with unique steering capabilities, somewhat like trying to manouvre a shopping trolley. With any wind, these floating fibreglass boxes become almost uncontrollable and subsequently are usually covered in dents and scrapes. Clearly, they were to be given a wide berth. Although the canal guide gives no reference to a licensed establishment at Laggan, we were delighted to find an Old Dutch Barge which had been converted into a floating pub and seafood restaurant, moored only 100 metres away. They even kept several very nice ales. It was there that we got chatting to a young Corsican backpacker who was travelling along the Great Glen by foot. After a few beers we invited Roberto down to the boat for a whisky (cheers Matt & Ali) and eventually insisted that he join us for a day or two on the boat. When I first saw him earlier in the evening he was wearing a hat with a veil, looking like a bee-keeper, as protection against the midges. He'd been camping in a tiny tent in the damp grass by the loch, eating freeze-dried food, and so I think he appreciated a few days in the warm aft-cabin, with hearty food and no midges to contend with. He was good company and it was nice to have another person aboard for a change to assist with ropes and steering. So off we went the next morning, into Loch Oich and several further locks before reaching Fort Augustus at the southern tip of Loch Ness. This is largely a touristic town nowadays, with quite a few pubs nearby the canal. We chose the Poacher, where a capable group of local musicians were providing the stomping traditional music to some, how shall I put it... enthusiastic and energetic displays of dancing by the landlord and several inebriated punters. Rather than a bell for last orders, a piper walked through the crowd to stand in front of the door to signal that the night was at an end. Nothing like the enormous sound of highland bagpipes bellowing out in a small room to bring the crowd to a respectful hush, all spines a-tingling.

Fort Augustus - entrance to Loch Ness

Fort Augustus locks, with Roberto

About all we saw on Loch Ness

On Saturday we made an attempt to sail up Loch Ness, but with strong northeasterlies persisting, it was almost impossible. The mountains lining the lochs funnel the wind so that it is usually either dead ahead or behind. Unfortunately for us we were heading north. With gusts up to 30 knots pushing us back on each tack, we would be lucky to make 1 knot over ground. So the decision was made to return to Fort Augustus, and cook a tasty beef stew instead. We contributed to Roberto's cultural education by watching the DVD of Monty Python's Life of Brian. On Sunday we set off again into Loch Ness, this time under power, to Drumnadrochit, where we took a temporary mooring and rowed Roberto ashore in the dinghy, saying goodbye. From the boat we could see an historical re-enactment going on in the grounds of the ruined Urquhart Castle, near to where he planned on pitching his tent, so it looks like he had some entertainment for the afternoon. We, however, resisted the temptation to dress up in silly hats and drink mead, and carried on past grim and misty shores, into the final section of canal, and Inverness where we were to stay for four nights, mainly waiting for better weather to continue our passage north. I can't say it was a paticularly pleasant place to stay. Upon arriving, a bunch of bored children were throwing stones across the water as we descended the flight of locks. Then on the second night we were attacked by another group of youths throwing stones over the fence, trying to hit our boat and others. We reported this to the police, and the canal office, who said they had not had any trouble before, but I had witnessed another group of halfwit idiots shouting vile abuse earlier in the evening. So, given three incidents in less that two days, I suspect this is more common than they were admitting. Unfortunately the canal runs through a dirty area of run-down council housing where I suspect these kids have nothing better to do. The town centre is okay though, plenty of interesting old buildings, good shopping, art, bookshops and cafes. While moored there, I reinstalled the windlass which I received back from SL Spares, all repaired and working like new again. What a relief it will be not have to haul the anchor by hand any more. Finally the weather improved and we decided it was time to press on, out into the Moray Firth, the North Sea, and to the Isles of Orkney.

Crinan to Corpach (Fort William)

2007-06-21T12:14:00.000Z

Jaime writes:

As Craig is reading a rather long book (only 690 pages to go), and he has neglected the blog for some time, I have been invited as a "guest writer". So here goes:

We finally left the Crinan, where we had become quite comfortable and lazy, and sailed gently in to the maze of islands, sounds and lochs beyond. We headed up to Dorus Mor. This is a deep and narrow channel which is noted for its strength of tidal streams, small whirlpools and patchs of deceptive calm. This is nothing compared to what lays further to the west: the notorious Gulf of Corryvreckan, (Speckled Couldron in Galllic) where the currents of the Atlantic force themselves through a gap half a mile wide. An early writers' (Martin Martin, whose mother had a stutter) description sets the scene quite nicely: "The sea begins to boil and ferment with the tide of flood, and resembles the boiling of a pot; and then increases gradually until it appears in many whirlpools which form themselves in sort of pyramids and immediatley after spout up as high as the mast of a little vessel and at the same time make a loud report". This "loud report" can be heard for miles around, or maybe it is the wails of the lost souls in the depths of the menacing maelstrom.......

Needless to say it was our intention to avoid this area, however it can't be completely avoided. The swift tidal currents spat us through Dorus Mor, and as Sod's Law would have it, the wind vanished. We were left drifting in the currents which funnel their waters and those who travel on them to the unremitting grip of the Corryvecken which waited three miles to the west. The engine was started and carried us safely to the north. Like a door opening, the wind reappeared and the fresh breeze carried us up to the Sound of Luing on a reach. We had been monitoring the radio for the past couple of hours as a May-Day was called in to the coastguard. A yacht had run around on rocks on a falling tide to the south of Luing. We recognised this boat as having shared a pontoon with us in Brighton. In the end he had managed to free himself somehow and was long gone by the time we reached the position. As quickly as the door opened it was closed again; from 20kt of wind down to nothing in a blink. We could see yachts ahead of us on all sorts of points of sail and within 10min we were sailing down wind in the same direction.

Sailing in these parts is tricky. Suddenly, out of the sky there was a deafening explosion and Craig started shouting excitedly. A fighter jet had been flying low over the water, so low that it was shielded by the sails. The jet approached in silence and you cannot hear them until they pass over you when the phenonmenal sound of their jet engines in close proximity hits you - you can feel it vibrating through the air, your body and the boat. It would seem that jet planes often do this. They choose walkers, sailors etc. and 'buzz' them - training for the next Iraq I suppose.. ummmm.

The day was moving fast and we chose to anchor in a place called Puilladobhrain ('Pool of the Otter' in Gallic). It is a beautiful sheltered anchorage. As the wind had become a little more reliable we decided to beat up the narrow rocky channel which is less than 90m wide and about 750m in length. It took ages and once the anchor was dropped we had a well-earned tasty beer.

Puilladobhrain anchorage

I have read many a time in tourist brochures that Scottish waters are teeming with fish. We have trawled a line on most days and tried fishing at anchor and we haven't had even a nibble, until now.... The water came alive, fish were jumping out of the water and it was positively teeming. You could see the progress of the shoal as it made its way around the culdesac anchorage. That evening we enjoyed 4 sweet mackerel fillets with fresh wild garlic. I have to say for me that this was one of the best days of the whole trip so far.

The next morning we explored the Islands and made our way to the Bridge over the Atlantic that was built in 1792. We didn't have any money so we couldn't go to the lovely looking pub for pint.

The Bridge over the Atlantic

The tide began to ebb and we set sail, goosewinging the cruising chute to Loch Aline up the Sound of Mull, which was quite a dull place. The next day we found ourselves in Tobermory with its colourful buildings whose colours are dictated by the local planning department. I expect there is a whole commitee dedicated to the delicate decision of which colour the buildings should be - I think it is called Ballamory. We went to a pub and chatted to the old men (again), - where are the young people?- actually where are the women?!! No disrespect but there seem to be chatty old men everywhere.- mostly in pubs. we haven't spoken to a young person since Falmouth...

Tobermory

That evening we decided to change our plans. We have been moving slower than we expected and we wanted to get up the the Orkney Islands ASAP. We also thought that there might be some more Scandanavians up there, who might be younger than 50. Craig didn't seem to offer much resistance to the prospect of meeting young Scandanavian women and the next day we headed back down the Sound of Mull and up what seemed to be the never ending Loch Linnhe to the entrance to the Caledonian Canal which is a short cut to the north of Scotland at Fort William. Loch Linnhe is like a corridor, with mountains on each side, including Ben Nevis. We tried sailing, but it was pathetic, the fresh wet wind was on the nose and the tide was running against us. The motor went on and we drove in to it for hours until it was dark in the middle of the night. We arrived in Corpach and dropped the anchor and fell in to a deep happy sleep.

Anchorage at Corpach (Fort William) and Ben Nevis in cloud.

Crinan Canal

2007-06-21T11:49:00.000Z

Our passage through the Crinan Canal, which divides the Kintyre peninsula from the mainland, took only a few days from Ardrishaig to Crinan. It was quite a change to be motoring along a narrow road-like canal at a steady 3 or 4 knots, with no need to think about tidal streams, heights of tide, or conditions for anchoring. A bit like being on a conveyor belt. Working our way up through the locks was also a new experience, but something we got to grips with fairly quickly. The canal staff are all very friendly and there are often a few people around to help out if necessary, but we worked out a routine to lock in and lock out and were able to manage with just the two of us. Many of the locks are unattended, and all manually operated, so quite a bit of effort can be required to swing the huge levers which open the gates after winding up the sills. Once inside, the lower gates are closed again, and then the sills on the upper gates are opened slowly to flood the lock. I did all the lock work while Jaime remained aboard, manouvering the boat in and out, and adjusting the mooring ropes as the water level rises. Once the lock is fully flooded, the upper gates are opened and the boat can motor out and continue the canal 2 or 3 metres higher up.

Ardrishaig Basin

Ardrishaig

Lady Ayesha in the lock

After Ardrishaig we made a quick visit to Lochgilphead to buy provisions and visited the butcher's shop where we got hold of a haggis, freshly caught that morning, according to the butcher, who like many of his profession, fancied himself as a bit of a comedian. We weren't to be fooled. Also bought some local kippers, known as smokies, which were very tasty. That evening was spent at Cairnbaan, tied to a pontoon. There's not much at Cairnbaan, except for a hotel and a few houses. But atop the surrounding hills are numerous ancient stone markings, their meanings unknown, and so the viewer can invent all sorts of theories to explain their presence. There are many known as Cup and Rings, aswell as long intersecting lines. Perhaps they indicate tribal boundaries or ceremonial places, or they may have astrological or religious significance. No doubt some will even claim they are evidence of UFO landings in previous millennia due to the many 'saucer shapes'! I suspect most are no more than idle graffiti, or artistic doodles. But who can tell. This part of the country is covered in these things and we saw many more along the way

Cup and Rings

...and lines

Our second canal evening was spent enjoying the late sunshine near the lock at Dunardry on the 'downhill' stretch. Jaime even got the hammock out, and somehow managed to rig it up on the spinnaker pole to enjoy the last of the afternoon rays, which at this time of year means up to about 10pm.

Dunardry

Smokies

On Saturday we arrived at lock 14, above Crinan Basin. Modern toilets, showers and waste bins are provided all along the canal, which was a welcome change. We visited the hotel bar at Crinan, and drank a few pints with some of the locals, including one chap who came aboard the next morning to give me a hand fixing a small diesel leak on the fuel pump outlet that had been needing attention. Very much appreciated, and he refused payment of any kind. I had suspected I may need to get an engineer in, always an expensive option, so I was really glad to get it sorted out for nothing. In the ongoing broken windlass saga, I managed to contact SL Spares at Paisley who agreed to have a look at it for me, so I will need to send it to them next time I find a post office. It rained all day Sunday so we stayed aboard, reading mostly. I've never had so much time to read and we've both been consuming books at an incredible rate. Always on the lookout for book-swaps and charity shops. By Monday the rain had reduced to intermittent drizzle and so we did a long walk in the nearby forests, and climbed to the top of Castle Dounie, which is little more than a pile of stones on a high peak which provides a magnificent view up and down the Sound of Jura. Along the lower grassy and mossy woods we discovered huge fragrant patches of wild garlic and picked some to cook with that evening. On Wednesday morning we finally had better weather and made it through the final lock out of the fresh waters of the canal and into the brine again!

Crinan Basin

View from Crinan Hotel

Crinan Harbour

Wild Garlic

Wild Garlic Bread!

Locking out into Crinan Basin

Arran to Loch Fyne

2007-06-12T15:12:00.000Z

From Brodick, on Sunday May 20, we sailed Northeast across the Firth of Clyde and between Great and Little Cumbrae Islands to anchor across the water from Largs marina where we intended to buy more charts from the chandlery. The first evening, while attempting to anchor in a F4 wind, I managed yet again to break the anchor windlass. There must have been something wrong with it to break so easily with very little swell, so I'll need to get it repaired again. Always something to fix on a boat! So for the time being I'll have to eat plenty of spinach and weigh the anchor by hand. I managed to get the anchor up eventually to find it was fouled on a huge lump of sea-junk consisting of rusty cable, seaweed, old rope and various annoyed looking crustaceans. In addition to 30 or 40 metres chain, and a 35lb anchor it's no wonder it was so heavy! The next morning we pulled in to the visitor pontoon at Largs marina where we got an electrician to test our batteries which hadn't been performing so well lately and found one was almost dead, dragging the other down, so as they were about three years old, both will need to be replaced (see previous comment about always something to be fixed!) We ordered the charts, to be sent on to Crinan where we'll pick them up, filled up with diesel, gas and water, and managed to leave before needing to pay for a short stay. Anchored again back outside the Watersports centre in the Clyde Channel just inside a small jetty which helped to dampen any swell.

Anchor-fouling sea junk

On Tuesday we set off in ideal conditions and had a fabulous sail up to Rothesay on the Isle of Bute where we moored. Rothesay is another interesting little place, previously a resort town for holidaymakers from Glasgow in Victorian times, it now seems to be rediscovering its identity and cleaning up its small harbour and developing a marina there. Found a great fishmonger, bought supplies and disappeared again, after purchasing a couple of new leisure batteries that the friendly local Ford garage managed to get in for me overnight. While there we spent an afternoon sailing up and down Loch Striven, which has some interesting views. Sailing in lochs is something we will just have to get used to. The surrounding mountains cause frequent unexpected wind shifts, as well as shelter, meaning that we are constantly retrimming sails, sometimes seeing shifts of 180 degrees within a matter of seconds, and speeds rising from nothing to 20 knots just as quickly. No wonder we rarely see other boats here with any sails up!

Fishing boat, Rothesay.

Jaime in Loch Striven

Loch Striven

Over the following few days we sailed up and down the Kyles of Bute, spending an evening anchored off the Burnt Islands at the northern tip of Bute. Then took a local mooring buoy at Port Driseach, just near Tighnabruaich for several nights. We were fortunate to speak to a fellow on another boat who told us that the buoy we'd been thinking about tying up to was not in use as the owner was away. This was great news since most of the areas marked on Admiralty charts as possible anchorages turn out to be completely covered by private moorings. Very annoying, especially as the shores of lochs are usually rocky and steep, making anchoring either impossible or dangerous. We stayed two nights and spent Saturday exploring the NW part of the island, across rugged windswept hills of heather, fields of wild yellow irises, ancient stone cairns surrounded by steep mossy forests and spectacular views back down to the jagged mountains of Arran.

Port Driseach moorings

Loch Fyne

Bute

Irises

Bute

Sunday saw us having a late breakfast then heading south in greyish weather down West Kyle, around the Island Inchmarnock, and Northwest back up to Lower Loch Fyne. We decided to anchor in Asgog Bay which is on a remote bit of the mainland just across the water from Tarbert. We stayed a couple of nights to do a bit of (unsuccessful) fishing, reading and to explore some of the headland, where we were told there were standing stones, of which we found one, and saw what could have been another in the distance, though it may have been a treestump... After another night a few miles further north in the Glenan Bay anchorage, we finally approached the sealock at Ardrishaig, the entrance to the Crinan Canal, the shortcut to the Sound of Jura and our passage further North.

Asgog Bay anchorage

Standing Stone

Isle of Man to Arran

2007-05-31T16:30:00.000Z

From the Isle of Man we sailed almost due north on the 15th of May and finally sighted Scotland. The Mull of Galloway, as photographed below through the lens of the binoculars.

As has frequently been the case, the wind died down and we motored up the hammerhead coastline past Portpatrick and around into the shelter of Loch Ryan where we anchored overnight, again next to Waveney Harrier and Farida. Just around the entrance to Loch Ryan is a nice little anchorage, but it suffers heavily from the wash of passing ferries on their way between Stranraer, Dublin and Belfast. I was preparing to pan fry some sea bass filets when one went by and I discovered I was one hand short when trying to grab two pots of vegetables and a pan of hot oil to stop them sliding onto the floor. After that, a ferry watch was established until dinner was ready! So we weren't at all disappointed the following morning to weigh anchor and set a course due north, past the dome-shaped Ailsa Craig to the Isle of Arran. Rain showers and wet mist greeted us, presenting Holy Island in a ghostly shroud. We didn't step ashore on Holy Island, which is inhabited only by Buddhist monks, although there is a landing area provided for visitors.

Holy Island

Lamlash Harbour

We drifted into Lamlash harbour and dropped the hook amongst the moorings just off the town quay. Eager to set foot for the first time on Scottish soil, we jumped into the dinghy and rowed ashore in search of warm hospitality, which we found at the pub which has a tandoori restaurant attached. We hung our dripping wet weather gear in the adjoining hallway and happily made use of both. That evening was folk music night where local musicians get together for an open mike session. Guitars, violins, pipes and voices. The quality of music was somewhat variable but was definitely improved by several pints of ale as the evening progressed.

The next morning, despite unusually shifting and stalling winds, we decided to make use of the free mooring buoys provided a few miles up the Arran coast in Brodick harbour, in order to wait out the strong winds that were predicted over the following few days. Indeed, they were strong, up to F9 which made us glad not to have to keep an anchor watch. Fortunately in such areas there is not enough distance for much swell to develop, but the winds were hard and cruel, dislodging again one of the wind generator mounting brackets which was a weak point anyway, following an incident last year in the Solent with a lobster pot :) During the first night of howling winds the Arran lifeboat towed in an apparently disabled Bavaria yacht with at least four or five crew aboard to a nearby mooring. Couldn't work out what was wrong with it as they sailed off again the next day.

Brodick Harbour

Goat Fell

Brodick

The Isle of Arran provided some lovely walking areas, lush almost tropical low forest, and a long sandy beach around Brodick Bay with the tall mountain, Goat Fell, above, often obscured by cloud. After several days of rain and wind we finally awoke to sunshine and decided it was time to get a move on.

Anglesey to the Isle of Man

2007-05-20T09:40:00.000Z

Hello from Scotland, where internet access is becoming inreasingly rare. From Holyhead we sailed to Peel, on the west coast of the Isle of Man. A beautiful green island and a town lost in some time all of its own. We initially tied up against the breakwater seen in the first photo below, but managed to raft up to an American yacht in the inner harbour after an uncomfortable first night once the swell started to kick in. We were woken up by the sound of heavy breathing. Several seals had come into the harbour looking for sand eels and regularly popped their heads up near the boat. The weather was due to darken and rise, and we were very glad for a few nights within the protective sill in the inner harbour which is the focal point of the whole town. Locals and tourists alike wandered past the dock looking over visiting yachts and were always ready to chat and ask where we've come from and where we're going. The castle provided a romantic backdrop, and the pub, the Creek Inn was in the middle of a real ale festival which was not at all a disappointment to me. Met up with Murray and Elaine, Murray is Jaime's great Uncle, who treated us to a fantastic Indian meal.

Peel, outer harbour.

Peel, Inner Harbour.

Peel Castle, St Patricks Island.

Looking south down the coast from Peel towards the Calf of Man.

Peel from above.

Rafted up to our American friends, 'Farida' out of San Fransisco, who are also heading towards Scotland. There was some unresolved local discussion about whether they were correctly flying the Isle of Man courtesy flag.

Milford Haven to the Isle of Anglesey

2007-05-10T13:02:00.000Z

Dale to Fishgard - May 4th.

The quick passage from Milford Haven around St Davids Head to Fishgard was made in order to simplify the next leg up the St Georges Channel, across Cardigan Bay and around the Lleyn Peninsula to a place called Trwyn Porth-Dinllaen which would give us overnight protection from the continuing Southwesterlies. We now enter the region of unpronouncable names. Luckily, 'Fishgard' is fairly simple to say for us foreigners. It's just a little port with a few yachts moored up outside a drying fishing boat harbour. I went ashore in the dinghy in search of some supplies but was informed by a local man that the shop had closed down long ago and there was nothing anymore in the area but the supermarket in the old town, several miles up a steep hill. Not to worry, he said. I'll drive you there in my car! So he sorted out his boat and off we went. But not only that, he was waiting outside the supermarket to drive me back down to the dock again afterwards. So I made the most of the opportunity and brought back as much as I could carry, including a half-shoulder of lamb which we roasted that evening. Why the Welsh need to import lamb from New Zealand, I'll never know, but it was lovely with mint sauce, roast potatoes and a robust Aussie red.

Fishgard to Holyhead - May 5th.

Another early rise and a successful attempt to sail off our anchorage was followed by several hours of less than a knot of boatspeed in barely perceptable winds. But as the day was sunny, and the sea so flat, we took the opportunity to read and relax and go with the tide, not wanting to disturb the serenity with a chugging engine. We made various attempts to gain a little extra speed using the cruising chute but it frequently hung like an old sock. What a contrast this turned out to be to the weather we were to experience later that night! Going slowly forwards is one thing, but going backwards on the tide is altogether another. So, after a number of hours pretending to be sailing purists, we gave up and started the engine. A good measure, I justified, as we needed to have the batteries fully topped up to run all the electronics through the night, in particular the radar which consumes quite a bit of power. When our passage plan involves night sailing, we try to take shifts during daylight hours to sleep, in order to be as rested as possible when the sun goes down as this is the time we often need an extra pair of eyes on the radar.

As the afternoon passed, we gradually recorded higher and higher windspeeds until after a shift below, I came up to the cockpit to find Jaime gripping the tiller and suggesting it was time to reduce sail. Finally! F5-6 over the port quarter, and Lady Ayesha had woken up too! Bouncing along with confidence and a sense that she was on a mission with gusts now peaking up to F7 and wave heights to match. We changed our mind about anchoring in Porth-Dinllean due to the possible exposure if the wind veered around to the west, and a curious comment on the chart 'Use With Caution'. Besides, there were no port facilities for a deep-draught yacht aside from a ruined pier and we preferred the idea of a sheltered harbour if we were to approach land at all in this kind of wind. So the decision was made to press on to Holyhead, on Holy Island off Ynys Mon (the Isle of Anglesey), only an additional 30 miles which we expected to cover by dawn.

The wind was unrelenting and surf crashed about us all night with plenty of spray over the cockpit but no direct hits on the beam which was fortunate given the lack of moonlight which meant we weren't able to predict the waves. After a long period at the helm you just kind of feel where they are coming from and steer just in time to keep them aft of the beam and to help the boat surf down the leeward slopes with enough speed to keep her under control and avoid the bows turning to windward which would leave us open to getting a wave over the beam. Although this may sound frightening at first, I should say that Lady Ayesha is a strongly built boat with natural buoyancy and I never doubted for a moment her ability to deliver us safely to port. We were clipped on at all times in the cockpit, and aside from getting a bit damp, never even suffered so much as a bruised elbow! Having said that, in the black night, it was such a comfort to eventually sight the South Stack lighthouse which is charted as visible for 24 miles. Keeping to a compass course in rough conditions can be very tiring especially when trying to maintain night vision, so a lighthouse can be such a relief to steer towards... er, I mean to steer past! The rocks on which it is built line the western side of Holy Island and proved to be our last challenge before finally sailing into Holyhead harbour. The tide was in full flow against us at this stage, and with as much sail up as we could handle we were barely able to make 1 or 2 knots over ground. So for the sake of a safe entry we relented again and fired up twenty horses of iron to give us a few more knots to keep us clear of the races which extend over a mile off the Stacks and where the locals tell me they have seen waves of up to 10 metres in rough weather! I'm not sure if they also catch 6 foot long mackeral around here, but I am certainly glad we put in a few extra gybes and steered well clear of this headland.

Holyhead harbour - SC moorings

Rocks near the breakwater - much calmer seas the next morning!

We found a few surplus anchors, but much to big for Lady Ayesha.

Sheep. And Copa summit in the background.

The view from the top.

South Stack lighthouse, from above.

As I write, this is our fourth day on this club mooring buoy. We are spending time relaxing, doing a bit of maintenance and catching up on sleep while we do further passage planning and wait for the next weather window to sail the relatively short distance across to the Isle of Man and then into the Firth of Clyde, finally we are almost in sight of Scotland! The wind has picked up again this morning with a fairly constant F6, gusting up to 32 knots. We are very glad to be safely tucked away behind the world's second largest breakwater. Nearby boats reveal their keel sizes and weights, with light little bilge keelers tossed about like toys in a bath, while we, and a Halburg-Rassey next to us swing sedately in unison, just staying out of reach of each other. The Holyhead Sailing Club is another friendly little venue, with an active group of dinghy and yacht sailors who show as much dedication to the club bar as they do to their sailing. Yesterday after a hearty bowl of porridge we donned our hiking boots and climbed to the peak of the island, called 'Copa' from which we could view the whole of the island, and the larger Isle of Anglesey. On the way back down we were surprised to stumble upon three people in RSPCA uniforms hiding behind a bush and peering intently at something through binoculars. They beckoned us over and asked if we wanted to take a look. They turned out to be Animal Collection Officers and had been stalking a persistent llama since Sunday who had escaped from a neighbouring farm after being shunned by its mother. In response to my question they said that shooting it with a dart would be 'Plan C' and they weren't quite at that stage yet. As the drizzle turned gradually into rain we wished them luck and carried on, while being watched intently by the suspicious llama in the next field.

So, it looks like we will be harbour-bound a few more days until these lows 'lose their identity' as the forecasters say, and we can be sure of better conditions to press on.

Penzance Bay to Milford Haven

2007-05-10T06:54:00.000Z

From Penzance Bay our next destination was Milford Haven, around 120 nautical miles. The passage around Lands End was something we were a bit nervous about at first since all our sailing up until then had been in the Channel. There was some swell but the wind had veered around to the Southeast overnight, perfectly in our favour. Even with 2 reefs in the mainsail and the genoa rolled safely away we still made 5 knots through the water and 7 or 8 over ground thanks to a strong tide. It was a great feeling to pass Longships lighthouse off Lands End and Cape Cornwall, marking our entry into the Celtic Sea and the start of the next stage of our journey.

However, the wind wasn't to last, and by lunchtime it had dropped off to almost nothing, forcing us to use the engine to keep making way as the tide turned against us. Sadly we ended up motoring most of the afternoon and into the evening. By about 10pm we were most of the way across the entrance to the Bristol Channel, about 35 miles off the Welsh coast. The moon was managing to penetrate the clouds enough to add sparkle to the dark sea and I was becoming entranced by the rhythmic sound of water against hull as we lazily dipped and rose over each wave. A few extra splashes caused me to look over the side where I suddenly noticed that we had company. I called Jaime up from the cabin to enjoy the spectacle. Up to a dozen porpoises had joined us and were playing in our bow waves, skimming through the water, then leaping up and disappearing just as quickly. They only stayed with us for about 15 minutes, but it was an amazing experience that I won't forget. Just before the first light of dawn appeared across the sky we found ourselves dodging large ships and fishing boats doing pair trawling as we approached Milford Haven. It takes some getting used to, watching them all on radar and trying to interpret their courses when they are too far away to see their nav lights. Especially the trawlers who don't keep to any particular course. Even with their starboard nav light visible, and with us showing our port side, the huge tankers and container vessels don't seem to make any effort to change course to give way, regardless of the Collision Regulations, so the rule we adopt is if they're bigger than us, then we keep well out of their way!

Once into Milford Haven, there is a free pontoon provided by the Dale Sailing Club, just NW inside the entrance, if anyone is interested in making use of it. It has become a tradition to drink a beer to toast our arrival in port no matter what time we arrive. We'd only just done so, and were about to get a well-earned sleep when we were approached by a powerful RIB occupied by three port authority police, in combat boots and black uniforms, who tied up alongside. They explained that under the Anti-terrorism act which allows them to do whatever the hell they like they were coming aboard to inspect our papers, and search our vessel for illegal immigrants, drugs, firearms or whatever else. They were professionally polite, and failed to find any illegal immigrants, drugs or firearms, but took swabs of some white chocolate powder which was on the floor after a box of chocolates flew out of a locker during the passage, and asked many questions, especially about why we had stamps for places like Russia and Poland in our passports. (Cheers Branko!) We knew they were only doing their jobs, but we felt it was quite a rude introduction to Wales nonetheless. Especially given our lack of sleep and the mess that was left below after such a long sea passage. Anyway, they left us to get some sleep after that and we ended up staying in Dale until Thursday night.

There is an interesting coastal walk which we took around the headland which leads to views of Skokholm and Skomer Islands, and some dramatic rocky cliffs towards Saint Bride's Bay. We even found some people surfing on a small beach where we stopped for a while. We ate at the Griffin Inn one night, and spent several evenings at the Dale Sailing Club which has a great view across the bay to the distant smokestacks of Milford Haven's main industrial area.

The Griffin Inn, and SC moorings.

Locals outside the pub.

Coast near Skokholm Island

Surprising discovery of a surf beach.

Dale castle.

View across Dale to Milford Haven

Falmouth to Penzance Bay

2007-05-10T06:20:00.000Z

On Friday April 27th we slipped quietly off our anchor in Falmouth harbour just before sunrise and sailed into a fresh NE breeze which took us the 40NM or so around Lizard Point to Penzance Bay where we anchored in the lee of St Michael's Mount, mid afternoon. We thought it might be a good opportunity to try out the folding lobster pot we'd purchased earlier from Rod O'Reely's in Dartmouth. It was to our great surprise later that evening that we found we had caught a large Edible Crab, the better part of a kilo in weight. So, it was crab for breakfast, and a photo shoot for the freshly cooked crustacean. St Michaels Mount is a spectacular place to anchor, but only really good for Easterlies. The town of Marazion has little more than a general store, pub and bakery. I made use of all three in a quick trip ashore. We stayed there for another night while the island continued to give us protection in order to relax and complete our passage plan and make an early start on Sunday around the corner.

Anchored off St Michael's Mount.

Early morning fishing, and Radio 4.

The view from the hill over Marazion.

Still Life with Crab.

Still in Falmouth

2007-04-26T09:43:00.000Z

(A few last minute pics from Falmouth...)

The anchorage is right near the docks, where we had some very large neighbours!

The Chain Locker pub near the town quay

Good Morning again from Falmouth. This week has been very relaxed. We spent several nights at anchor a little further up the river near Trelissick House, and an early morning doing some twitching in the dinghy even further upstream where we had to pay constant attention on the tide, in order not to have to carry it back to deeper water. Motored up at about 6am then switched the outboard off and enjoyed some tranquility while drifting back on the ebb in total silence, and almost undisturbed by other people save for a couple of kayakers. Spotted most of the birds as advertised in the brochure - herons, egrets, oystercatchers and others. Stayed at that anchorage for another couple of nights before heading back into Falmouth. I made a completely avoidable navigational error going around a green buoy the wrong way. Very embarrassing as there were people watching from the beach as Lady Ayesha grounded on the sandbank and sat there heeling over more and more as the last of the tide was still dropping. But despite sheeting in all sail, I couldn't get her to tilt enough to float free so luckily we were assisted by a couple of friendly blokes in a speedboat. Passed them a halyard and managed to swing free and back into deeper water again. A very good lesson learnt regarding paying attention to pilotage in narrow channels. Once anchored again we thought it a good idea to inspect the underside in case of any damage to rudder or skeg. In these waters, that means getting rubbered up!

We also did a bit of engine maintenance after hearing a slightly different tone from the drive chain to usual. Disconnected the propshaft at the flanges to check engine alignment and make any adjustments to the engine mounts if necessary as we had replaced these a few months earlier and they had now had a chance to bed in. Fortunately no further adjustments were necessary, and following inspection of prop, P bracket, stern gland and shaft concluded that everything was in order.

Had a terrific sail back into Falmouth where we were visited several times near our anchorage by this wonderful old square rigger which in the early morning mist looked like it had sailed sraight out of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Anchored next to us are a couple, Paul & Christine, sailing their Canadian registered boat Quintana, en route to Ireland from their Atlantic crossing and a winter in France. Spent a couple of evenings hanging out with them, chatting over a bottle of wine or two and playing cards. Great to hear stories from the other side of the pond. Anyway, the weather front we were waiting for now appears to have passed over. The barometric 'dip' we saw over the last few days which was accompanied by fairly strong winds has now normalised, and the wind has veered again, so the plan now is to head down to near Penzance tomorrow, and around the corner on Saturday.

Dartmouth, Plymouth, Falmouth

2007-04-20T09:56:00.000Z

Hello again, this time from Falmouth where we've picked up another wi-fi signal. Thanks to everyone for your comments on the blog so far, it's always nice to read them, and as suggested, I'll try to add a bit more detail about the practical aspects of sailing, and life aboard!

But first, an update on our progress from Lyme Bay. We arrived in Dartmouth last Wednesday evening and dropped anchor in Newfoundland Bay, just at the entrance to the harbour, and just out of the area where harbour dues are applicable. Again, we had no problems with the anchor despite being close inshore to the rocks and a tiny little beach with a bit of swell coming in. Our anchor light is a paraffin storm lantern, which I hoist up the backstay using a halyard and which is still going strong despite its unknown age and rusty appearance. But I'm on the lookout for an LED light which will make things a bit easier. Our anchor watches take a bit of getting used to with the night divided up into 2 or 3 hour shifts. The last thing we want is to drag during the night due to an unexpected wind shift or mis-calculated tidal height. It is important to work out both the height of tide at the time of anchoring, as well as the expected height at low water to ensure we don't touch the bottom, and at high water, to ensure enough chain is laid out. We need minimum of four times the HW depth to keep the anchor dug in properly. The swing of the boat around the anchor is due to a combination of the effects of wind, tidal flow and depth, and so is almost impossible to calculate accurately. The effect of the wind may at some times override the effect of tide, or vice versa, meaning in some cases, such as at Mupe Bay, the boat will swing in a complete circle. The anchor needs to rebed itself reliably without too much drag on each turn. Our GPS alarm seems to work reliably and it's comforting to hear it go off now and then as we shift, but it's still necessary to monitor our position both visually using transits or compass bearings, and on the GPS and radar if visibility is low.

The next morning we sailed into Dartmouth and decided to take a visitor pontoon to allow us to rest, as well as to go into town together, as when anchored we never leave the boat unattended, or at least we keep her in sight. Dartmouth was a relaxing stopping point, where we stocked up with a few supplies, enjoyed an evening of steak and ale at the Cherub Inn, and met a few of the more interesting locals at the Ship In Dock. Also bought some fishing tackle and received plenty of advice from Rod O'Reely, so the lines will be over the side more often, and I'll be pursuing the elusive seabass with even more deadly equipment now! Also dropped in to the Dartmouth Sailing Club for a pint, and watched the racing of the traditional Cornish Pilot Gigs in the harbour which took place alongside our mooring.

We also took the opportunity to leave the bustle of the harbour behind, and row up the River Dart towards Dittisham. Making good use of the tide made things a bit easier especially as the outboard was out of petrol. We're looking forward to exploring more using the dinghy in shallow waters out of the reach of the 'mothership'.

Jaime took the helm to leave Dartmouth early Monday morning, with the passage planned for an arrival in Plymouth that evening. We started off with a lovely breeze which unfortunately dropped within a few hours, so progress remained slow, bringing us in to Plymouth Harbour just on dusk, but with dolphins paying us several visits along the way, playing alongside, and the sun sparkling on the water, I found very little reason to complain. Besides, running the engine for an hour or two guarantees us both a hot shower on arrival and plenty of charge in the batteries for the next few days. About an hour out of Plymouth the wind picked up to a surprising 25 knots and we had to reef the mains'l and furl in a bit of genoa to keep the Lady from heeling over too much. This is what we were waiting for all afternoon and we had a fantastic sail, tacking our way into the wind all the way into Plymouth harbour where we dropped the hook just across the marked channel from Drake's Island in an area charted as 'small craft anchorage'. Again, we avoided mooring fees. This area of coast has a long history of piracy and privateering, with the tradition enthusiastically upheld by the corporate marinas, one of which wanted to charge me £8.50 to park the dinghy on a pontoon to visit the chandlery for an hour! No way! I managed to get around this but we both felt disgusted at the commercial nature of sailing around such places and long to get to quieter, friendler ports. However, in contrast, I was thrilled to find a part to fix the old anchor windlass for a mere 90p, when I was facing the prospect of replacing it for £300, thanks to the expertise and great service from the guys at Plymouth Yacht Parts!

Wednesday morning and we were on our way to Falmouth, unsurprisingly located at the mouth of the River Fal. On our way past Dodman Point we were alerted by a securite announcement that the Navy were conducting an exercise in the area we were about to sail through. Not wanting to turn back, Jaime had her first radio contact with a warship to check that our progress would not cause us any problem, and more importantly that we wouldn't be inadvertently used as target practice! It was odd to hear the radio officer of a British Frigate speaking with what may have been a German or Dutch accent. The MOD have many bases along this coast and we regularly see Air Force planes in training exercises above.

Falmouth is a beautiful, thriving town with deep water access to protected estuaries, and a long seafaring history. As a working town with a reasonably sized commercial port, several marinas and a nearby university, it also has plenty to attract tourists by land. We took a mooring buoy for the first night which again gave us the chance to explore the town together, and buy supplies, aswell as dumping our rubbish and filling up with water. Falmouth has retained a small town feel but the student population and beach culture helps to maintain a youthful atmosphere reflected in plenty of galleries, interesting secondhand shops, imaginitive cafes, restaurants, and picturesque lanes and harbourside pubs. None of the trashy seaside attractions that places like Brighton and Blackpool have been blighted with. Well, enough of the advertising! We bought some seabass filets and local scallops from the fishmonger and dined aboard with a chilled bottle of white wine. This morning we were visited by the harbourmaster, not for dues, thankfully, but requesting us politely to anchor a short distance further away as another Navy Frigate was about to dock in the commercial port and we might be in the way (again!). So this was a spectacle to enjoy with morning coffee. All hands were in uniform on deck as she entered the dock about 200m behind us, with two pilot vessels to guide her in and other Naval support ships motoring alongside, and the harbourmaster zipping around in his boat trying to keep out of the way!

Falmouth Harbour, and a lovely sail training boat moored nearby. ...

Today at low water we will be heading up the river towards Truro to anchor in what is meant to be an area of beautiful wooded hills, abundant birdlife and protected estuaries containing oyster beds and bass nurseries (no, I won't be tempted!). This is where we need to do some more passage planning for the next part of the voyage, around Lands End, through the St George's Channel and the Irish Sea, and on to the Isle of Man, with several stops, probably in Wales, along the way. So the next update may not be for another week or two.

Worbarrow Bay to Dartmouth

2007-04-15T08:29:00.000Z

Following a really enjoyable day at Mupe Bay we weighed anchor on Tuesday morning and drifted in the slightest of breezes and warm sunshine, further along the Jurassic coast past sweeping chalk cliffs and rocky shores to Durdle Door where we dropped the hook again for lunch. Have to admit to feeling just slightly smug as we watched the people on the beach baking in the midday heat while we sat in the shade in the cockpit and enjoyed a chilled beverage or two from the fridge.

After lunch we got into the dinghy, now becoming known as 'Baby Ayesha', and rowed down the beach to explore the rocks at the western end, and back through the Door. I imagine that most days this would have been quite dangerous but in this flat and balmy weather, with near neap tides and a big high pressure hanging over us, the sea was almost glassy. As a Birthday treat, Jaime also let me disturb the peace for a while by starting up the outboard!

Lady Ayesha through Durdle Door

Sailing ship passing Lulworth Cove

Unfortunately we had to start the engine up in the afternoon to get us on to Weymouth Bay where we briefly anchored for the night, outside the harbour. Didn't make a landfall there. The sounds of the seafront drifting across the bay reminded me of Brighton, and we were keen to get an early night before crossing Lyme Bay on Wednesday morning.

We were up and away by 4am on Wednesday as the passage was about 40 miles and we had to make the best use of the tide since we weren't expecting much help from the wind. We rounded Portland Bill with the fishing boats in the morning haze and several of Her Majesty's warships keeping the nation safe. The coast guard's reports warned us that there may still be containers floating in the area following the recent grounding of the Napoli, but despite a good lookout, and my desire for a slightly salty BMW motorbike, nothing was seen.

In the end, with just a few knots of breeze we had a good chance to practise using the cruising chute which up until now had only been aired once or twice. Jaime was particularly chuffed when we managed to gybe it without a hitch, a manouvre which in slightly stronger winds would require more than just two crew of our experience.

A visitor rests his wings. Not sure if it was a warbler or pipin perhaps. Our guide book left us unsure, but he looked very tired and happy to have somewhere to land for a while.

Beaulieu to Worbarrow Bay

2007-04-14T10:32:00.000Z

Well, it's been a whole week since we've had internet access so there are a few photos to upload..

After Cowes, Beaulieu River, which is a privately owned nature reserve, was a welcome and surprisingly peaceful retreat from the crowded Solent. Tied up to a mooring buoy and enjoyed the late afternoon listening to the calls of water birds.

Friday morning saw us back out into the Solent and down to the Western approach where the fast tidal streams past the Needles swept us out towards Poole where we anchored in Studland Bay protected by 'Old Harry' amongst a few other yachts, eager to claim their places for the night. The fine weather saw many out on power boats and jetskis, creating wake for poor sailboats just waiting for the wind to pick up.

Studland Bay anchorage

Old Harry and his wife

The sun rises during Jaime's anchor watch.

Saturday saw us playing around Handfast Point, and then heading into Poole Harbour, where Lady Ayesha was built back in 1985, to drop off shipmate Colin who had joined us for these first few days. That evening we picked up a private buoy in Wareham Creek, further up Poole Harbour and did our passage planning for he next few days.

Colin and Old Harry

Handfast Point

On Sunday we got our first taste of the Jurassic coast, now quite familiar to anyone who has watched the endlessly repeated BBC TV series 'Coast'. We sailed close inshore to Saint Albans Head to avoid the races over the ledge, and entered the well known MOD firing range which won't be active again until after April 16. Arrived at Worbarrow Bay at dusk, and dropped the hook near another boat snuggled in behind Mupe Rocks which offereed protection from west and northerly winds. The catabatic effect over the high cliffs kept us rocking and swinging all night but 35 lbs of iron and 40 metres of heavy chain kept us safely connected to the seabed. The morning brought some beautiful views and we decided to stay for another night to allow us to expore the nearby coves and walk to Lulworth, just to the west. Apparently the caves behind Mupe Rocks were used by smugglers in times gone by, but a thorough search revealed not even a single dubloon.

Sunrise over Worbarrow Bay

Mupe Bay

Mupe Bay anchorage

Mupe Rocks

Worbarrow Bay

Isle of Wight

2007-04-05T09:38:00.000Z

We eventually left Brighton early on Wednesday morning with favourable winds, and a good pace all the way through the Looe Channel at Selsey Bill and on to the Isle of Wight. Stayed in Cowes overnight and now enjoying a relaxed morning before a short sail over to Beaulieu this afternoon.

Craig endures the usual morning rush hour!

Tying up loose ends, and a departure date

2007-04-02T12:51:00.000Z

Well, what a week. We both took our Yachtmaster theory exam today, and both passed which was a relief since we'd delayed our departure in order to complete it. We're required to log about 5000 sea miles before taking the practical exam which hopefully this trip will provide. So, just a few more last minute jobs to finish off: calorifier circulation pump needs replacing and rewiring, domestic hot water tank leaking at the outlet needs a new adapter and seal. And our ground tackle (ie: anchors) needs reassembling having bought all new shackles and a new second anchor, chain and rode. So, we expect to be underway Wednesday morning.

Picture is of Jaime up the mast a few weeks ago replacing a nav light and radar reflector.

Preparations are underway

2007-03-26T11:31:00.000Z

We've spent the last 6 months or so frantically preparing Lady Ayesha for sea. Our departure date is currently March 31st, but we'll need to keep an eye on the forecasts. Last minute jobs are almost complete, with victualling to be done late some evening this week thanks to 24hr supermarkets.