Shetland to Loch Inver

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

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

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

Midhowe Broch

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

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

Skara Brae

Skara Brae

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

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.