CAN YOU TIE A BOW? - AS WELL AS YOU CAN!

The fastest bloke I ever knew to tie a bowline was a fermer's loon I first met when we climbed Stuc a Chroin together one wet December afternoon. Chalky White, for such was his name, would fold his leg back so that the calf touched the back of his thigh, throw a line around the limb thus doubled, flick his wrist and a perfectly formed bowline would slide off his knee in three seconds flat. Every time. The only problem was that every bowline was the same size. It met his needs perfectly (this was something abtruse to do with baling hay) but it was no use at all for climbing or sailing. Believe me, you don't want to tie your doubled up leg to the clew of a foresail in a rising gale.

So he could do it with binder twine, but away from his farm it was completely useless.

In North Wales there is a type of traditional sailing craft with the rather unfortunate name of a Nobby. I once sailed out of Conwy on one of these Nobbies, and the owner of the boat was bemused at the slow and meticulous way I tied my knots. He too had a fast method of making a bowline with some rapid flicks of his wrist, but at least he did not need the assistance of his right leg. He showed me how to do this but I've long since forgotten and have reverted to incantations of up the rabbit hole, round the tree and back down the hole again. He did show me a fast way of making a figure of eight knot and this is still how I do it now.

There seems to be a never ending line of people prepared to scoff at the time I take to tie knots and they are always keen to show me a more rapid method. Not that I'm any slouch at this you understand. Everything is relative. But there always seems to be a relatively faster way.

Even the standard old sailing knots themselves come in for criticism. My son, who is a climbing instructor, constantly regards my hoary old knots with wry amusement. He taught me how to tie the Australian Bugaboo knot, but I'm almost ashamed to admit that I have forgotten it. Never let him onto your boat or he will re-rig it in a trice, so as to make it "safe". When I finally get round to buying my own boat, he will be useful for climbing the mast.

You get these skippers who become obssesive about their way being the right way. "On my boat you should never tie on the fenders with a round turn and two half hitches - always use a clove hitch". Then the next boat you go on, this becomes "Never use a clove hitch to tie on a fender - that's how they get lost"

When you place a warp round a pontoon cleat someone will yell "Always, ALWAYS put a final locking turn before you walk away!" The next skipper shouts "Never, never, NEVER put a locking turn on a cleat!"

You will not win.

On reflection I think this is insecurity. Skippers who are secure in themselves don't really care about this stuff. "Just tie it on so it won't fall off". All of the worst skippers I've encountered have an exact precise sort of knot to deploy for every permutation of circumstance and there are no alternative options which will be countenanced. What marks them out is not so much that they have a mental list of knots matched to tasks but it is rather the insistence that only their way is the correct way. Knots are thus a performance indicator of an inflexible skipper.

I hear you ask - "What do you do when you are skippering?" Well.......I let you tie your own knots "so long as it's tied on and won't fall off". Then, later, when you are not looking, I re-tie it properly.

My way.

FATA MORGANA

I was sailing in Greenland. We were in Scoresby Sund and had spent the last three days circumnavigating Milne Land, threading our way through thousands of icebergs. We had lifted the anchor at Denmark Island and were now on our way to the native Greenlander settlement of Ittoqqortoormiit. Some mouthful! We called it ITQ.

It had been a hot day and we were looking forward to a run ashore so spirits were high. As we approached the land we picked up a radio call but did not understand the language. It put us on alert though because out here there is no shipping traffic, so what was it and where was it?

Somebody was using their brains and they checked the radar. There was a small ship passing directly ahead
of us from port to starboard. But where was it? All we could see was ice which looked like the business end of a glacier. Then someone on board who was experienced in Arctic sailing said the ice was a type of mirage called a Fata Morgana and that the ship was behind it.

This is the first (and so far the only) time I had seen this phenomenon. I took a series of photographs and this amazed me because I had thought it would be a trick of the eyes and brain. I had not realised that I could actually photograph something which wasn't there!

We sailed closer and as we did so the Fata Morgana disappeared. We sailed on and anchored just off ITQ and that's another story for another post. When I got back to the UK I researched the subject of Fata Morgana and rather than go into detail here I'll refer you to the excellent and comprehensive article on Wikipedia. It's interesting and although you will see it mainly in Polar areas, you can see it elsewhere: indeed it is particularly associated with Sicily, (although I have never seen it there). Perhaps you have seen it and didn't know? You certainly wouldn't be alone. For example, Sir John Ross saw it and mistook it for land. So did Peary who saw it and actually named the "land" he had discovered. Sometimes it can cause you to see a ship that isn't there. I'll leave you with a couple of my photographs.

THE AEOLIAN ISLANDS OF SICILY

OUT TO SICILY

I had chartered a brand new Bavaria 40 Cruiser and flew out to Sicily with Marion, Tim, Mike, Kate and Stuart. We experienced the usual shock from the blast of heat when we walked over the runway from the plane into the terminal. Caught a train into Palermo, then after a frustrating time with ticket machines we caught the mainline train for Sant Agata di Militello. On arrival, we did all the usual admin and shopping for vittles, before settling onto the boat. Dinner was at a local restaurant in town and we finished a long day by sitting in the cockpit in the warm night drinking wine. The boats next to us had charterers who were all Russians and were not particularly friendly to our gentle approaches.

BEARDY SAILOR AND CREW

The Aeolian Islands are a volcanic arc of 140 kms off the north east of Sicily. There are 8 islands plus Ustica plus 6 submarine volcanoes. Two of the islands are live volcanoes - Vulcano, which gave its name to all volcanoes throughout the world, and Stromboli which has given its name to all sorts of things. My plan was to visit both of these islands.

SANT AGATA DI MILITELO

SUNDAY 7 SEPTEMBER- OFF TO VULCANO

A leisurely start and I took us carefully off the pontoon at 1000 hrs before motoring out of Sant Agata and setting course for Vulcano some 28 miles away. This coast is quite confusing in its appearance from sea - unbroken blue mountains mainly- so I adopted one of my coarse navigation techniques and used the digital camera to photograph back where I had come from. I'm sure the RYA would get sniffy about this, but it gives me instant pilotage pictures which I may be very glad to have in a weeks time! I do sometimes use a camera for navigation and as an aide memoire but I've never heard of anyone else doing this. My view is that all means at your disposal are legitimate tools.

We put the sails up but the wind speed was only 3 to 4  knots and the sea was flat calm. Considering this area is named after the ancient god of wind, Aeolus, this is not what I had expected. The temperature was climbing and at 1130 hrs had reached 34 celsius and 55% humidity. We were still acclimatised to England in September and were therefore drinking huge volumes of water and sweating it out almost immediately. We soon discovered that the log was inoperative and I tried but could could not fix it.

I was concerned because of the very slow progress and I knew how far we still had to go and how suddenly night falls in this part of the world, so despite objections from Tim who is a dyed in the wool sailing at all costs sort of  guy, I fired up the donk at 1425 hrs and we motored on at 6 knots, course 042 with the Island of Salina shaped like two huge breasts, off to our port side and coloured deep blue in the haze.

Eventually we closed in on Vulcano and drew nearer to its green flanks. There were some small boats buzzing around inshore and this was clearly a lovely and popular spot. I came round the point called Capo Grosso and turned into Porto di Ponente, which was guarded by a number of rocks and crumbly looking stacks. The pilot said the holding was poor, but there were a fair number of boats already at anchor, pointing into the land in the gathering evening sea breeze. I moved into position near the outside of everyone and laid the anchor. It was soon apparent that it had not taken and we were moving backwards. So I lifted it again and took the boat round for another go. This time the windlass seemed to stick and before I could stop him, Tim, who was up at the bow, took the yard long steel tube used for tensioning the lugs and raised it above his head - "No!" I screamed uselessly - before he melted the windlass one with a big ringing clang. I mean, this was only the first time this windlass had been used! One of the lugs snapped off and came flying aft like a fucking bullet before disappearing into the sea with a plop. A second's silence while we glared at each other and then the whole chain decided to roar out like the sound of a ship being launched on the Clyde. I immediately put the throttle into astern gear and drove back quite angrily until the boat brought up sharply and the bow rose up. We were there! Anchored. Not safely anchored, but anchored.  

Everyone, led by Marion, suddenly went mad changing into their cossies and throwing themselves off the stern and splashed around in the sea whooping with delight and pleasure. I went forward to look at the windlass and muttering to myself, gently caressed the remaining two lugs. I hope this was not a bad omen.

Tim offered to cook, and made an excellent dinner. Mike, being an electrical engineer, rigged up an overhead cockpit light from the 12 volt socket, and we all sat there surrounded by dark humid night and ate Tim's pasta, washed down with an unhealthy quantity of vino. There was the sound of eating and drinking and civilised laughter from the other anchored boats, and we participated with our laughter too.

It was a quiet night for the crew but not for me. The wind strengthened and I could not settle. Throughout the night I  kept sticking my head out of my cabin hatch to check my transits. The boat anchored between our port quarter and the reef did actually drag in the night and from the hatch I watched them re-lay their anchor. When dawn broke, the wind died and I fell asleep at last.

A SHORT DAY FOLLOWED BY A NIGHT IN LIPARI

A beautiful morning and a nice slow breakfast. Above us we could see the steaming flanks of the volcano and there was a strong smell of rotten eggs and sulpher. Marion and Tim had another swim off the back of the boat and reported that they could feel hot spots in the water. After they climbed back onboard I tried, and failed, to lift the bathing platform. It was operated electrically and extended on hydraulic pistons. However it was apparent that the design was stupid and the mechanics meant that when someone pulled onboard, the system would break. I tried many things to resolve it (except hitting it with a steel tube!) but the weather was calm, distances short, and I decided to leave it until later.

Everyone wanted to go around to Porto di Levante so that they could go and sit in the hot mud pools. God alone knows why. The true wind was only 6 knots so we motored round. When we got into the approach, there was a lot of traffic and a large cargo ship which was manoeuvering to come in. We could see that all the available moorings were taken and anchorages very crowded, so we turned around and motored over to the neighbouring island of Lipari. The Aeolian Islands are also known as the Lipari Islands, and Lipari seems to be the main town of the group. It was a beautiful approach and we hugged the coast to get the best views. Eventually, at 1200 hrs, we tied alongside a pontoon inside a hammerhead at Pontile Portosalvo. It was very secure because although we were alongside we also took two tailed moorings. Daylight robbery at 50 euros though.

We were highly entertained for the afternoon because every other space was taken by the Royal Thames Yacht Club who were operating a Sicilian Flotilla. On our other side we had a catamaran crewed by eight young unsmiling and uncommunicative Russian men who walked about their boat quite openly while completely starkers. The clues they gave off made us think they were military personnel. Anyway the Royal Thames Yacht Club provided us with enough eccentric 'englishman abroad'  behaviour to keep us, (and the Italians), quite distracted with their antics. God knows what makes the Russians smile!

We spent the evening wandering around the old town of Lipari, eventually finding quite a posh restaurant at the top of the hill just under the castle. Some Irish Yotters were at the next table and we struck up a conversation. It was a splendid meal under the stars and we wandered back to the boat down through the busy alleys of the old town feeling very happy and relaxed.

LIPARI

STROMBOLI

At  0900 hrs it was already 31 degrees and 67% humidity. Visibility was good and an excellent day was in prospect. We had got up early and re-stocked on fresh vittles and fluids, slipping the pontoon at 0915. We raised plain sail in F3/4 and headed on course 030 for Stromboli, which was the great mountainous cone filling our forward view. It was nice to feel the boat come alive at last and we had a slight heel to starboard.We passed the gorgeous looking islands of Panarea and Isola Lisca Bianco to our port, followed by Isolo Basiluzzo.

As we approached Stromboli we could see the katabatic winds funnelling down from the slopes as a line of white horses off to our port. I wanted to keep outside this as we were comfortable in the F3/4 conditions which we had. We sailed NE up the eastern side of the island. This is a very steep-to island and even half a cable from the shore it was between 50 and 100 metres deep. I could see a yacht anchored further up and went over to have a look there. I tried anchoring, but it was useless. Too deep and too steep a bottom on loose black sand. I continued up the coast to the community of San Vicenzo where the pilot recommended as the only place to go and it said there were moorings.

Indeed there was, and most were already taken. There was a good breeze blowing round this corner of the island and  I took the helm and came in to a buoy. Tim had the boathook and he did not manage to pick it up. I took another turn around and came back to the buoy - upwind of it. Tim and Mike caught the pickup but were so long in getting a line down to it the boat drifted away. They did not release the boathook, hoping to pull the boat back. Naturally, the head snapped off. I came round again. and handed the helm over to Stuart while I prepared a lassoo line. I tied both ends on to cleats, put the line outside the guardrail and through the fairleads. I signalled to Stuart who brought me up to the buoy and I threw the rope, successfully capturing the buoy. I tightened the loop and tried to bring the pick-up on board but the riser was too tight and I needed help. When two young guys came out in their dinghy to extract 35 Euros for using their buoy, they pointed out that there was no pick-up buoy. The small plastic buoy I had on board my foredeck was the mooring buoy! I was mortified - of course it was and I could see it now. We sorted it.


The beach was very close and comprised black sand. The volcano rose steeply above us and we could see puffs of smoke from near the top. However it was too far to climb up, it was too late, and it was too windy (F4) to be bothered with the dinghy. We stayed where we were and enjoyed the view over dinner and drinks.



STROMBOLI TO SALINA

We wanted to see the volcano in the dark so rose early, got the nav lights on and slipped away through the other moored boats at 1535 hrs. It was already hot - 25 celcius - or perhaps it never got lower than this. We motored round inside the lighthouse island of Strombolicchio which was flashing away. As we came round I kept well out to see because there was constant debris hurtling down the slopes and splashing into the sea. What appeared to be small rocks were actually the size of motor cars and I didn't want one of them bouncing onto us. The cone is about 920 metres above sea level and we could see smoke drifting out of it and we thought we could see the red glow of lava. However, we had left it too late to be really in darkness. The nav lights were out by 0600 and it was 0700 by now. We did however witness a magnificent dawn with Stromolecchio outlined against the sun.

We came close into Panarea to see what gives. I understand that of all the islands, this one attracts the rich and famous. There were no berths at the pier and all the moorings were taken. Anchoring could only be achieved very far out and there was a lot of traffic. All in all we decided to head for the island of Salina. By noon, the slight wind became no wind and we motored round to a place on the west of Salina called Rinella. I anchored off there in 14 metres. It was flat calm and we did not dig in the anchor. Indeed I could see it below us and we were lying to the caternary. The crew went for a lengthy swim off the stern and I sat with a cold beer and watched a water tanker offloading through a series of pipes. Water is so short on these islands that they need to freight it in.

At 1445, we had had enough swimming, enough sunning ourselves and enough lunch, so I picked up the anchor and we motored round in flat calm to the marina at Santa Marina on Salina. We were one of the first in that day and came in astern to the stone wall and picked up a slime line. This is a very interesting berth. It looks like an old military complex and I would be interested to know the history of it. The marina was run by a geezer in a large building at the end and I negotiated our charge down from his initial demand of 80 euros to 50 Euros. We had showers and sat back with Camparis watching the antics of the strutting little italian marina boys totally absorbed in their appearance and their own importance as marina staff.

SALINA

We found a shop and asked for the herb basil. She said she had some in the garden and sent out a boy who returned with an enormous bunch wrapped up in newspaper, for which she charged a single euro. Fantastic. One of the things I love about sailing is that no matter where you are you always end up in the local shops and not the tourist shops. I do believe that sailing lets you see more of what a country is really like, than you perhaps see as a conventional tourist.

We found a nice restaurant and had dinner there, sampling some of the rare wine unique to this island. The other thing the island is famous for is capers and we enjoyed some of these in the dishes we were served. A really good meal and happy experience.

RETURN TO VULCANO

Well, on the long way back now. No wind again and we motored down the west side of Lipari and past a couple of interesting sea stacks. We found a really good anchorage on the SW tip called Spiaggia di Vinci. I anchored here and we spent a lazy day in the sun. Excellent lunch and there was much swimming and lazing around. The cliffs formed an arc here with a beach and I believe that the only approach to that beach could be from sea. Some enterprising guy had set up a stall on the beach and Marion and Tim swam ashore for a while. Near us was a cat with loads of small Italian children making a huge happy noise. On the other side was a yacht with three couples of stark naked Russians. Why so many of them here?

A splendid place. I considered anchoring here for the night, but I needed to fuel up before returning to Sant Agata, so needed to move. We motored round to Lipari and went into the AGIP fuel berth which is the only place in these islands you can get fuel. I bought 90 litres for the main tank and the gerry cans. Then we went ashore to buy fresh provisions. Marion and me bought a thick slice from a swordfish being sold by a young man on a market stall.

We returned to our first night anchorage at Porto di Ponente on Vulcano and anchored in the same position. Took two attempts to get the anchor to hold, but had a quiet night and an excellent dinner of fresh swordfish.

BACK TO MAINLAND SICILY

Flat calm again and no wind. We set off at 0950 and motored down the East side of Vulcano for a look at the facinating landscape, fresh from lava flows not that long ago in historical time. The gullies and slopes were very green. There was a surprising little bay opening out at the south of the island with an interesting and secluded black sand beach which I wish I'd known about earlier. We passed close to the old lighthouse at the south of  Vulcano and set course for Sant Agata. By lunchtime we were off Capo Orlando and by 1500 hrs I motored in to Sant Agata and placed her astern on the pontoon.

I explained about the boathook, the bathing platform (since recognised as a design fault by Bavaria) and finally the windlass lug which I said just came off in our hands. Poor casting I said. There were other faults, but these were to do with the boat itself.

We went to the restaurant we went to on the first night and had a truly excellent meal. All happy. An excellent week, although the sailing could have been better. The following morning we had trouble with the Sicilian railway system, but eventually we got to Palermo and had a good afternoon seeing some of the sights before heading for the Aeroporto and home to a Yorkshire Autumn!

TO BARRA AND BACK IN APRIL 2012

KISHMUL CASTLE, CASTLEBAY, BARRA

THE SOUND OF MULL - Monday 16th April 2012

Departure from Ardfern was delayed by 20 minutes I was standing on the side deck and Ian was removing the bow spring when I felt a wet splash on the top of my head. I saw Ian flick the end of the warp and so I assumed that it had fallen in the marina and he had flicked seawater onto me as he coiled the warp. I looked down on the deck and saw a mass of bright green bird shit. I pointed it out to Ian and then we noticed that it was all over the cockpit and the sprayhood. He said that he had just seen two swans flying over the boat at masthead height. I had a feeling of dread and felt my head and touched my hand Yes, I was covered in glutinous luminous green: the same shade as infected catarrh. We hosed the boat down and then my head and jacket. Finally left the pontoon at 1025 hrs. Ian made a log entry - "Bombed by swans. David splattered with green shite" A charming log entry. For the rest of the day he kept bursting into spontaneous laughter and going on and on about green shite.

We had the tide and took the usual route. Down Loch Craignish, through the Dorus Mor, up the Sound of Luing, inside Insch Island and over to Duart Point. All good sailing with one reef in the main and 60% genoa in a F4 SSE initially but increasing F5 SE with gusts of up to F7 wind force. The weather forecast was for an imminent Gale 8 or 9 from the SE so we did not wish to linger. We briefly considered anchoring in Loch Aline, but as we passed we changed our minds and committed to Tobermory as it was better placed for the aspiration to get out to Canna.

Although we were running with a F6 we were not actually going that fast. Because of our apparent wind, the Genoa was flapping behind the main and we couldn't get it to set. As the following sea was corkscrewing us around, it wouldn't goosewing out the other side without a pole - which we could not be arsed with. And - it would have been a real pain to be caught with a pole out if we broached. With the sail sawing off the rigging, Ian was quite rightly worried about his sail wearing out, and the sky in the SE was looking grim and bruised. So at 1800 hrs, with only 5 miles to go, we whipped the sails down, got the engine on and hunkered down with a mug of tea and a Jacobs Club biscuit. We continued to corkscrew up the Sound of Mull, but at least we were now getting respectable speed over the ground. The only other boat we could see was in the distance and hard over under reefed sail coming out of Loch Sunart direction and also charging towards Tobermory for shelter from the gathering storm.

As we came round the top of Calve Island and into the bay, there was sudden relief. We motored down to the south and anchored in Aros Bay. I had not been in this corner before although it is a favourite of Ian's. There is not a lot of room, and because of the way the bottom shelves steeply you need to set your anchor close in and fall back. At 7 metres depth, we put out 60 metres of chain and fell back to sit in 20 metres of waer. It was wooded all around us and there was a mussel farm bobbing away in lines of black buoys behind us, a loud waterfall near the end of the burn, a wee cliff and an ancient stone jetty. A nice spot to sit in. It was peaceful after our 39 mile passage just to relax over steaks and a bottle of merlot and catch up on repeating the same old yarns to each other. Although Ian did somehow manage to keep returning to the topic of green shite.

Overnight was wild and I woke a few times as hailstones lashed the deck above me. I could hear the wind howling high overhead, but we were snug and had no worries where we were, with a heavily wooded steep hill between us and the wind. At least the rain would wash the decks of any remaining green stuff.

THE SOUND OF MULL NEAR TOBERMORY

AROUND TOBERMORY - Monday 17 April 2012

Finally raised the anchor at 1040 hrs, dodging the rain and waited till the hailstones stopped.Thick clay on the chain and anchor, needing a few washdowns as the ground tackle was stowed. Then we just motored over to the pontoons. The boat we saw yesterday coming over from Loch Sunart was berthing and unberthing and despite the cold and wet, had lots of excited grinning toothy faces standing around in the cockpit wearing bright coloured oilies. You can always spot a training boat on a course. The skipper called over to ask us where we had come from. It's always too complicated to answer this with a one-liner so we shouted back "over there" and pointed at the general direction of Aros Bay. He called back to ask us how we found it last night. We replied to the effect that we had experienced a lovely quiet night - had there been a problem? We surmised, that knowing of no alternative, he had bounced his crew around all night on the pontoon. He looked crestfallen, said no more and sailed away with his jolly crew towards the Sound of Mull.

We tied up and I went for a long hot shower in the new Tigh Soluis block. Ian said I needed it as there was something green splattered all over the back of my head. He went off to find his Daily Telegraph crossword fix. Then at 1225 hrs we cast off and went to have a look at the sea state beyond Ardnamurchan. Even though it had blown all night it looked OK to me, but it was Ian's call and he was more cautious and decided that we would hang about here until tomorrow, then we would go for the point.

Around 1330, we turned and sailed over in the general direction for Loch Drumbuie. Then after we had a conversation about not being able to get phone and internet signals in that location, we turned the boat around again and sailed back to Aros Bay. At 1445 hrs we anchored again in the same spot as we had left eight miles ago. It was not exactly warm, but the sun had come out and I jammed myself under the sprayhood with a couple of cans of Guinness and a copy of the Times. I dozed off to the sound of trhe waterfall.

TO CANNA  - Wenesday 18th April 2012

ARDNAMURCHAN POINT

Same process as yesterday. Same thick clay on the chain and anchor. We were motorsailing out to Ardnamurchan Point before 1000 hrs. weathr looked fine, some blue sky and F3 from the NE. We settled down to a steady sail with 1 reef and 100% genoa. Passed to the west of Muck and started up the west side of Rum.

Since somtime before the island of Muck, we had been accompanied at a distance by another yacht. You just don't get other boats out here at this time of the year and as we commenced a series of long tacks, we were crossing each others tracks and we speculated that they too may be heading for Canna. Rum was bathed in lovely afternoon light and at 1445 hrs we were suddenly surrounded by a pod of common dolphins. They appear suddenly like this and when they decide to go it is just as sudden and just as collective. There were at least 50 of them all around us, leaping and diving alongside and under the boat. They are small anyway but there was a fair number of wee calves about the size of a terrier dog. They really seem to enjoy leaping and jumping alongside a yacht, and when you blink, they are gone. What a day! O what a day! Sparkling F4 sailing in a white flecked blue sea, a mile off the steep sunny green slopes of Rum with white spume breaking on the shore and surrounded by leaping dolphins! No other indication of mankind  except for the distant white point of the sail on the other boat heeled over on the opposite tack to us. All in a bright blue northern light and a milky horizon.

We came through the Sound of Canna well over to the shores of Rum, and spotted the other yacht well into the shadow of Sanday and moving towards the wee lighthouse there. We were busy judging when it would be right for us to turn on our final tack to take us straight into the harbour when the radio came to life with a ladies voice calling us.She had the name of our boat slightly wrong but it was clearly meant for us. Ian returned the call and it was indeed the other boat we had been sailing with, In this remote place who else could it be but them? (For the blog I'll call them 'Solstice' - not their real name). Their engine had overheated and they were asking for a tow.

CANNA HARBOUR

It was now 1700 hrs. We took our sails down and started the engine. As we were doing this, me and Ian had a wee chat over the issues of proceeding. I then helmed her over while Ian went onto his radio to tell them what he wanted and to get ready for us. We closed their starboard quarter with all their fenders out on that side. I had already put all of ours out on our port. We came closer together but had to have care for the masts and rigging clashing as in the swell we were both rolling like pigs. We took their bow and stern lines, but the key element was the taking and fixing of springs. Once we had this squared away Ian asked them to fix their rudder amidships and he drove us slowly ahead while I had an interesting conversation with them about many matters.

When we got into Canna harbour we took Solstice to the transit line between the two churches and asked her to drop her anchor. Then we drove back until it was set and she was safely anchored. It was now 1815 hrs and the two conjoined boats were then swinging to the Solstice anchor (which was only a CQR). I climbed on board her and went below. There was just two of them: the skipper and her son. They were wrestling with the engine problems. I tried to help by going through the basic checks and processes. We finally left them at 1940 hrs with some suggestions and options to try. They tied their dinghy alongside in case they needed it quick in the night if their anchor dragged.. We cast off from them and anchored our own boat. A thirty mile day with an exciting finish and we were late to make dinner and glad to get fed and watered. So to our bunks.

CROSSING THE SEA OF THE HEBRIDES - Thursday 19 April 2012

We had our breakfast while squinting through the hatch at Solstice. There was movement and we wondered how they were. We had discussed options yesterday and I had recommended to them to sail for Mallaig. Ian had reassured them and said we would not depart until they had weighed anchor and were underway to wherever they had decided on as a destination. At 0945 they appeared in their dinghy off our transom. We had a chat and they told us they had got their engine working fitfully and it would be OK for short emergency bursts. They were going to sail home to their mooring up Loch Lhinnie way. They gave us a bottle of Argentinian Malbec by way of thanks and we wished them luck. We waited until they weighed anchor and then raised our own anchor and at 1015 hrs we were underway for Wizard Pool in Loch Skiport.

Wind was east F3 and we started to sail west around the top of Canna as we watched Solstice in the wind shadow of Rum very slowly making her way south and we hope they would be Ok. (They were and made it home via an overnight stop at Tobermory). The wind died for a while and then filled in at  F3/4 northerly. The wind angle became too difficult for Loch Skiport so we thought we would make Loch Eynort instead. Eventually this also become too difficult and we figured that we could only make an angle for Lochboisdale. We took the sails in at 1750 hrs and motored into the loch eventually anchoring in 9 metres with 40 metres of chain. We had sailed 27 miles from Canna.

BUSY EVENING IN LOCHBOISDALE

My god, what a bleak place! Can you imagine being a teenager in such a place? We watched the village turn out in excitement to watch a buch of workies raising a new wind turbine. The further excitenent as the ferry 'Lord of the Isles' came in. (This ferry is know as LOTI to the ferrymen). Must have been quite a night in Lochboisdale! It was gstting cold and dark now on top of the general feeling of godforsakeness, so we went below and ate Ian's homemade Shepherds Pie together with the Argentianian Malbec and drank a toast to Yacht Solstice.

PAKORA IN BARRA - Friday 20 April 2012

Ian heaved the last of the anchor cahin onboard at 1025 hrs after some 20 minutes of me filling the bucket to wash the chain off every metre or so. Such glutinous black mud! At least it was a change from green! We motored out of the Locch and got the sails up by 1100 hrs and turned south, keeping well offshore from this rock strewn coast.

To our right was the land upon which it was raining heavily. To our left was open sea upon which there was blue skies and unbroken sunshine. Overhead there was the line dividing teh thick black cloud from the clear blue sky, and we were being rained upon. Such rain! WE took turns at getting soakedand cursing our luck to always be right on theedge of the rain as we sailed slowly south past Eriskay in a F2 northerly. It was cold too and teh arthritic fingers on my hadns were looking quite gruesome.

At 1425 we were approaching the south cardinal buoy at Bo Vich Chuan and dropped the sails, motoring into Castlebay in Barra. A 17 mile run today. We anchored in 10 metres depth between the visitors buoys and the steamer terminal. We prepared the dinghy and went ashore. There were two young men stripped off and washing in the doorway of the public toilet at the top of the slip. I went off to the sports centre to have a shower and Ian went off to the Co-op for some fresh vittles. I had the place to myself and was glad of it. The showers consisted of a small communal room with bare concrete walls and five shower heads where the only way of keeping your shower going was to stand with your back on the button keeping it pressed in. Maybe its a way of keeping you facing forward to the other guys? When I had finished and departed I bumped into a strange middle aged ameerican woman from Philadelphia who wanted to come on the yacht. After I escaped away from her I was photographing the yacht agaisnt the view of Kishmul Castle when a local came out of his house and crossed the road towards me. "Yaff that Yatt"? I answered in the affirmative and he went on to advise me that we were the first yacht that had made it over to Castlebay that year.

THE INDIAN RESTAURANT IN CASTLEBAY

Then I met up with Ian and we decided to try the Indian Restaurant (yes there is one here). They told us to come back in an hour as they were in the middle of their own family dinner. So we went up to the Hotel and had a pint of Guinness while the locals sat quietly on bar stools, drinking quietly to themselves. When we did sit down to eat we had the scallops pakora for starters (well, wouldn't you?). I asked foolishly if they were local scallops and the owner went wordlessly to the kitchen and brought back an enormous aluminium container full of shelled but quivering scallops which he flourished under my nose without saying anything. "Ah, I see. Thankyou very much" I said. For main course I had chicken jalfraizi. I did not ask if the chickens were local. Ian had lamb. The menu said it was local lamb and we left it at that. An interesting menu with many Indian, Italian and traditional British dishes. You have to go!

During our absence from the boat a large Dutch schooner called Wylde Swan had tied up at the quay, giving Ian an opportunity to introduce wylde swan shite into the conversation.

WYLDE SWAN

A LONG DAY - Saturday 21 April 2012

Now we have a long exposed stretch across the Sea of the Hebrides to get back to the Inner Hebrides. Once back in among these islands we will be able to return to Ardfern as there are so many shelter alternatives if the weather turns foul. So a long committing 40 or 50 mile stretch today. We raised the anchor at 0730 and were on our way while the early risers onboard Wylde Swan were standing around lazily enjoying their morning coffee.

We retraced our line out of Castlebay until just beyond the cardinal buoy we raised all plain sail at 0825 and steered easterly in a benign F3 NE. We were steering directly into the rosy fingered dawn and had the most wonderful view of Rum far away to the east. The light had a real northern feel and chill about it.

ISLAND OF RUM FROM THE WEST

Then the wind slowly died away. We were down most of the time to under a knot. I was for putting the engine on and maintaining a minimum speed so as to get the bulk of the passage in the bag and then see how the sailing is towards the end. Ian's strategy is to sail, only firing up the donk towards the end of the passage. Horses for courses. He's the skipper, his boat, he pays the fuel, so we sailed.

As it says in the Rime of the Ancient Mariner "There passed a weary time". Almost fell asleep at the helm with the regular creaking of the rigging and the sun blazing down on my head. Then the wind picked up a tad. You could hear a rickle of water at the bow and we began to move. The Sgurr of Eigg loomed through the haze far ahead of us. Wylde Swan appeared far astern. "At first it seemed a little speck, and then it seemed a mist" to quote Coleridge again. From the way she was coming nearer it was not just down to her bigger sail area and as she passed off to our port I could see the tell tale surge and splash of water from her exhaust. I would guess she was heading for the Sound of Mull to let her paying passengers loose on the fleshpots of Tobermory, (well the chip van at least).

Eventually the wind picked up to F4 northerly and we started to move. We gave the splendidly named Cairns of Coll a very wide berth and turned south, starting the engine at 1740 hrs. There were large amounts of Manx Shearwaters zooming over the waves making their way home to Rum after spending the day feeding far out to sea. After an age, we turned into Loch Eatharna and anchored off Arinagour in Coll just to the east of the visitors moorings. Too tired to go ashore. 46 miles. A long day.

DOWN TO BUNESSAN - Sunday 22 April 2012

ARINAGOUR ON COLL

Lovely light this morning making all the rocks glow red. Sitting having my coffee in the cockpit and watching a sheep 50 metres away looking for her missing lamb and bellowing for it before climbing a small knoll and standing on top looking all directions, but to no avail. Raised anchor at 1050 hrs. Clean sand. Engine off and plain sail up in easterly wind, F 3-4. Tacked over to Mull enjoying the sailing and then turned south.

Approaching Staffa there were a couple of sea kayaks in the water. Amazing how their voices travel. Dropped the sails at 1535 and motored into Loch na Laitaich keeping to the west shore. We anchored at Bunessan behind Eilean Ban at 1625 hrs. Sat in the cockpit for a long while watching the sun go down behind Iona in a great blaze of red while we savoured a few drams of 18 year old Glenlivet. It's tough, this sailing!

YOU HAVE TO IMAGINE THE 18 YEAR OLD MALT!

I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING - Monday 23 April 2012

Anchor up and away by 1000 hrs, motorsailing with just the main up. North up the Loch, inside passage of the lighthouse and west along the Ross of Mull until the Sound of Iona opened out. We motored south taking care to get the line just right. There is always an anxious moment going over the shallow patch just before the Cathedral.

Once through the sound we swept around as if going into Tinkers Hole, but Ian had a surprise in store. He piloted (me at the helm) into the very narrow inlet giving access to David Balfour's Bay as I had not been in there before. What an astonishing and very beautiful place! White sands, turquoise water. I'll be back here. I'm not going to give the proper name of this place as shown on the chart because its a secret!

DAVID BALFOUR'S BAY

Out we came at the back of noon and started sailing properly to the east - but there was no wind. We put the engine on to motorsail as this is a very rocky coast and the Torran Rocks on the other side, so not a place to lose steerage. Once we were past the north cardinal at Bogha Nan Ramfhear we turned off the engine, put a preventer on the main and slowly sailed east with difficulty.

CARSAIG

At 1600 hrs although the wind was F4 it was coming from all over the place and in fact it boxed the compass a couple of times. We took in the foresail and centred the main, turned on the engine and motored into the coast so as to have a close look a the Carsaig Arches under the huge cliffs. After that we motored along to Carsaig itself and anchored in the middle of the bay in 10 metres. We had veered 50 metres of chain due to the stiff downdraught coming down the Glen. It really was marvellous to be here and recognise the scenery of one of my favourite movies "I know where I'm going" which was shot mainly around here. Fabulous open views to Colonsay and Jura to the south. I love open anchorages like this. 26 miles today.

I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING

HOMEWARD BOUND - Tuesday 24th April 2012

The general intent was to sail south, possibly through the Sound of Islay and make our way back up north via the Sound of Jura. However the weather forecast indicated that low pressure systems were marching in from the Atlantic and I suggested to Ian that we cut it short and go home now. He looked relieved as this is what he was working round to talking about, but he had let me draw my own conclusions, So homeward bound it is.

Anchor up at 0730 and engine on initially as it was only a F1 northerly. Bit more of a breeze as we passed the entrance to Loch Spelve, but that was to be expected. We settled down at 0935 in a F3 northerly to sailing 100%. As we got nearer to Lorne, Ian went below to work out a course to steer as we are getting back into strong tides again.

SWIRLING TIDE EVERYWHERE!

I steered us on this course and we went through the narrow gap between the islands of Belnahua and Ormsa. the water was boiling around us and as we were under saill alone, needed to concentrate. The tide was 7 knots and was with us. As we were running and the apparent wind had dropped, my concern was to keep water flowing over the rudder or we could whirl round and be carried like a cork to where we most don't want to go!

We came through this and sailed through the Dorus Mor. Close hauled up Loch Craignish until just past the lagoon and we put the engine on, sails down, fenders and warps fixed, and berthed back in our pontoon in Ardfern at 1220 hrs. Then the heavens opened. Good timing it seemed. It got sunnier during the afternoon and we had many chores to do - mainly Ian. I packed and showered ready to get away tomorrow morning. Total distance for this trip was 232 miles. We ate in the Galley of Lorne that evening and the gale increased overnight to a full F8 by the morning. I had my coffee, said my farewells to Ian and his boat, and caught the 0800 bus to Lochgilphead and so homewards from there.