August 2015

We head off on our big adventure.

We got back to Ruby on the evening of the 8^th to find that Michael had fitted the new battery charger and cockpit speakers and that James had received and passed on our deliveries of new charts, flags etc. ordered over the internet.  We had hardly settled on board when James appeared and invited us to join his family and a couple from another visiting yacht for a trip across to Cobh for a drink and dinner.  Even though it involved travelling in a RIB (something she normally hates) Elsie agreed and we had a great evening.

The following morning, James gave us a lift for provisioning and waited patiently while we did a week’s shopping in an unfamiliar supermarket. This is service.  If anyone deserves to succeed, it is this man who is battling beaurocracy to build a great facility for visiting yachts.

*VISIT MONKSTOWN MARINA*   

Out on Saturday afternoon motoring, then sailing, back round to Sandy Cove to get sea-legs back and be in a good position for our crossing to France.  Just for exercise, we practiced ‘tight spot’ mooring, by laying our second anchor so that, if the wind changed, we would stay in a very small radius.  Worked well.

Now for the big one.  We had done the delivery trip up from Shotley to Inverness, with a full crew; we had done an overnighter, from Orkney to Lewis, with just the two of us.  But we had never done an extended, two-handed, voyage.  The plan was to cross directly from southern Ireland to the north-west corner of France, by-passing the Scilly Isles and their traffic separation schemes.  The weather forecast was almost perfect, with moderate winds behind the beam all the way.  Sure, it was going to be cold and raining much of the time but good clothing copes with that much more easily than ‘the wrong sort of wind’. 

Anchors up at 0850 and, at 0900 sharp, set full sail for France.  We had discussed watches and the one that Elsie definitely didn’t want was the 12 – 4 night watch so we agreed a 4 on; 4 off pattern with me getting that one.  The wind wasn’t quite as kind as forecast, turning out to be SSW’ly for the first 24 hours, making us close-hauled to miss the busy area off Scilly.  It then died for a few hours on the second night, forcing us to motor for a while to make favourable currents for our arrival.  Our shake-down on the Saturday also proved insufficient as Elsie got a bad bout of Mal-du- Mer and was unable to eat.  Worrying about this caused me to be unable to sleep.  She could sleep and I could eat so, I suppose, we made one good sailor!

We timed our arrival off Ushant for the start of my watch.  This is a busy area, with all of northern Europe’s shipping from across Biscay passing through a separation scheme.  Although we were keeping clear of this, we still had to cross the traffic, which, in a sailing yacht is a bit like crossing a motorway with a pony and trap.  I was prepared to motor but, with 12 knots of wind on the beam and lighter than usual traffic we sailed across, no problem, with only one avoiding manoeuvre required, to give a super tanker a comfortable passing distance.  It transpired that Elsie got the problem bit on her watch, with a fishing fleet inside the TSS making seemingly random manoeuvres to get in her way.  We entered the Rade du Brest at 1100 and with a heading wind, motored the last 10 miles to the Moulin Blanc marina, tying up at 12:45.  311 miles logged, 280 achieved across the ground in 50.75 hours.  Not bad at all, for a first attempt!

We had chosen this marina, rather than our initial choice of Camaret, at the entrance to the Rade, partly because it would give better shelter in the forecast strong NE’ly but also because it was supposed to offer good engineering facilities.  On the crossing, Elsie spotted that our VHF antenna had fallen off and was swinging wildly on the end of its lead.  This was my fault, as I had re-attached it in Rhu, noting that the lock washer was a bit worn but trusting that it was sufficiently good.  Obviously not.  We needed a crane to lift an engineer to put the antenna back or, if the lead broke, to fit a new antenna and, possibly thread a new lead down the mast.  We had reckoned without the French practice of everyone taking their holidays in the first 2 weeks of August.  This makes the demand for services highest and their provision lowest.  No.  There was no-one in Brest who could help with this.  So it was out with the bosun’s chair and a trip to the top of the mast for me for the first, but probably not the last, time.  It transpired that the lead had suffered no visible damage; all the fittings were still there to be cleaned, re-used and super-glued in place.  All done in 20 minutes.  The forecast wind never materialised either, so all a bit of a waste of time, especially as there was no boulangerie  at the marina necessitating a long walk for fresh bread and croissants, an essential of life in France.

We stayed for 2 nights and set out again, after a leisurely start and a re-fuel.  The late start was dictated by the tides through the Raz du Sein.  This passage cuts 40 miles off the journey but has a fearsome reputation and we didn’t want to experience it with wind against tide.  We timed it nicely for slack water (despite conflicting advice from chart and pilot book).  Unfortunately, as we approached the narrows, the visibility dropped and dropped. 1 mile; ½ mile; ¼ mile.  Radar, plotter and AIS all working (together with back-up sat-nav on the phone), we proceeded with caution, making appropriate sound signals from our new fog horn.  This came as a shock to a yacht we were following, showing on our radar but without AIS, who on hearing our horn, scrambled for whistles and a vuvuzela to make a reply.  The wind failed to co-operate and, apart from a 10 minute experiment with sails, we motored all the way to Audierne, to be greeted by a very efficient attendant who directed us alongside a large Bavaria yacht who was there for the season.  Audierne is a very pleasant spot, with a nice balance of traditional fishing village and tourist necessities.  Forecast of strong winds kept us in for 2 nights though, once again, we could have coped with the actual weather with no problem.

We left Audierne at 0830 on the 15^th and at 0915 with a following F 2-3 set cruising chute and genoa wing-on wing for a run along the coast.  As we passed Ile de Groix, we encountered a yacht race, with contestants coming from both sides.  Being effectively on port tack and on a dead run, it was our duty to give way to all comers, which made for an ‘interesting’ 10 minutes which could have been eased by snuffing the ‘chute in advance.  Lesson learned.  We have a rule of thumb that if our water speed is less than 6 knots (except close hauled) we have insufficient sail up; more than 8 knots and we have too much, though it is interesting how frequently our peak speed for the day is nearer 9 than 8.  This afternoon we were bowling along at 8-9 knots when a larger gust built taking us to 11.  Instant decision to snuff the chute and, instead, put up the stay sail.  This, with the genoa gave us a much more comfortable 7 – 8 knots.  We anchored in the Anse de Stole at Lomener, further out than we would have wished, because all the best area is covered in moorings.  At first we rolled a bit in the swell but, as the wind veered to North. This quietened and we had a comfortable night.

Dinghy ashore in the morning for our daily bread, then light winds took us south to Belle Isle sometime under ‘chute, sometimes motoring.  There are many small inlets on the southern coast where, with local knowledge, one can anchor.  We opted for the safer option of the large bay at Port Herlin.  There is one smaller bay off this with room for about 3 yachts.  As we arrived there were 2 already there.  We dropped sail and headed towards it to see if there was room.  As we did so, a small French yacht under sail cut across us.  OK.  We will go for the big bay.  SFR tacked and chased us across, glared at us as we laid our anchor then pointedly sailed round us before heading off and spending another 20 minutes choosing a spot for himself. All done under sail, so presumably he was disgusted at our wham, bam, thank you ma’am method of dropping anchor, tidying up and breaking out the wine and nibbles.

 Monday was another day of light winds and we drifted slowly east.  Destination was Port Morin on the north west of the Isle of Normoutier.  This is a drying harbour but the pilot book suggested that there was sufficient depth just outside for us to anchor.  The chart disagreed, so we approached with caution and a careful check of present height of tide versus next low water.  Chart was correct.  We would still have 50cms beneath us but that is not enough where there may be a swell, so we headed back towards the outer bank and found a spot with another 1.5 meters.  Elsie was rather doubtful as the outer bank was submerged and, looking to the west, whence the current wind was blowing, the next bit of shelter was New York.  In fact, it was very calm and another comfortable night. 

In the morning, the tide being higher, we motored the mile or so back to the entrance and used the dinghy to fetch our daily bread then, once more under light airs, drifted down to the Port Joinville on the Ile de Yeu.  This is a famously picturesque harbour and, it being my birthday, we were looking forward to a quiet stroll and a nice meal ashore.  It turned out that every other yachtsman in the area had the same idea.  We were herded into the marina and warned that someone would be rafting up to us.  This turned out to be an understatement.  Every berth was rafted 4 deep and there were 6 yachts astern of us.  It was fortunate that we were not planning an early departure!  The waterfront was similarly crowded and the only restaurant we liked the look of was both packed and highly priced so it was back on board for my cooking again.

Sunset at Port Joinville

The wind was forecast to be calm in the morning but useable in the afternoon, so we had a leisurely start, watching the mass of boats untangle themselves and depart through the narrow harbour entrance where, for reasons that escape me, the ferries must arrive and depart at high speed.  Given the local penchant for entering and leaving port with full sail up, even if motoring, it was a good spectator sport.  We left at 11:45, before the day’s influx started and had a pleasant sail down the coast.  The plan was to anchor off the North East side if Ile du Re, but the wind was dying and to make it before nightfall, we would have had to motor 15 miles, so we turned to port and went into Bourgenay marina.  There was a local market in full swing, mostly the same tat that you would find anywhere, but a few interesting stalls.  I was at least able to replace the pair of sunglasses which had been mangled during a sail change the previous week.

Elsie Writes:

A new Perspective on Life

Well, here I am drifting towards another French island, sitting under the binimi (sunshade to you land lovers) and contemplating life. It’s Lionel’s birthday today, quite a significant birthday, so as a treat I’m taking him out for a meal tonight. It should be tuna steaks as the island we are being wafted towards is the French capital of tuna but since we bought two steaks earlier in the week and it took us two days to eat them, I don’t think so.

Back to my contemplation. A lot has happened in the last six months, a lot has happened since we bought Ruby almost two years ago. Some very good some very bad but no one can say life has been boring. We made the final decision to set sail into the sunset about two months ago after proving that we could live with each other in such a confined space and we could handle Ruby in most weather conditions. It is actually a very well balanced partnership. I am the cautious one, “what’s the weather going to be in three day’s time……., I think we should reef, NOW!!!!!” Lionel is the gung-ho one, “let’s go and do it……., the wind isn’t that bad” Believe it or not you need a little bit of both on a yacht. With my attitude we would have missed some of the most wonder close haul sailing imaginable and with his we would probably be dead or lying in a hospital bed….only kidding darling!!!

Anyway, after the decision was made Ruby needed work done to make HER ready for this epic journey. Lionel chose Rhu in Helensburgh for this to be done as it had good travel links to Aberdeen and everyone was there who we needed. So, with my heart in my mouth I watched Ruby being lifted ashore and put on stands. She looked so alien on dry land, out of her environment but the work had to be done. Lionel has already written about the joys and frustrations of boatyards. I kept well away as I have not got Lionel’s diplomacy or patience. Eventually we just took the hit and motored away. The idea was to go to Belfast to see the tall ships then cruise round the west coast of Ireland. At the end of July we were heading home to see everyone then back for a couple of weeks then back home to pack up. Complicated eh? The tall ships weekend was wonderful and I couldn’t get over the hospitality of the Irish. Everywhere we went we found nothing was too much trouble for them. The Irish put on a grand display and I am sure most spectators went home appreciating their hospitality. The west coast of Ireland is challenging sailing at the best of times. We met a crew in Port Rush who had turned back after Donegal. Their comment was there was no good restaurants or pubs after there, little did they know. On the Atlantic coast of Ireland, if the wind blows from the South it rains, if it blows from the North it doesn’t rain so much, or so it seemed to us. I think we sailed in most weather conditions, and even motored in a Force 8, where I kept on repeating to myself, “please let the wind stop” I was rather scared to say the least but challenges like that will make a man of me yet.

Now some phrases out of the pilot book and what they actually mean in Ireland.

Water on the pier – it’s been raining again

Some swell – tie yourself to the bed if you want any sleep

The entrance is challenging – don’t even try it in any sort of wind

I can safely say without fear of contradiction, that Ireland is a very wet place. We got stuck in Dingle for four days, parked beside a 100 foot super yacht which slightly dwarfed Ruby. The “crew” went round every morning adjusting the mooring lines. They used the “bow thruster” to do this, much to Lionel’s annoyance. Ruby sails like a dream in all weathers and at every point of sail but she is a bas…d to try to manoeuvre in a confined space. A bow thruster would make this so much easier. It’s on the wish list but like so many things we have to decide what is essential and what is just another toy. For the four days in Dingle it rained for three of them and blew a hoully for the other one but still the tourists came to see Fergie, the trained dolphin, and eat ice cream. The second day we went ashore for supplies and found an ironmongers who sold the size of camping gas we needed. There was two counters, the ironmongers and the bar, yes a bar serving drinks. It would have been rude not to have a pint so we bought our drinks and wandered into the back shop which had some comfy chairs and a TV showing the Open at St Andrews. That was a very pleasant afternoon, supping pints and watching some very good golf.

Once we got out if Dingle and set sail again the weather improved and we made good time and distance getting into the swing of this cruising malarkey. Going round the Fastnet Rock was a sober moment reminding us of the dangers of sailing. I listened to a documentary about that fateful race recently and some of the survivors were still choked up talking about it. Into Baltimore we went, mixing with the big boys now. This is one of the first land falls sailors use on their crossing from America. Some of these boats have serious kit on them – wind turbines, solar panels, wind steering and more sails than you can shake a stick at. That’ll be us some day……….maybe.

Lionel had booked airline tickets from Dublin to Aberdeen so we made a decision that we would stop in Cork and travel from there by bus to Dublin. Another thing no one explained to me before I set off on this adventure was that on an Atlantic coast all the big towns and cities are up rivers to get away from the wind and swell. Cork is seven miles up a river. There are two marinas on the way and a pontoon in the centre of the city. Lionel had arranged to leave Ruby at Monkstown Marina. The owner, James, seemed a very accommodating person and we were not wrong with that assumption. We had a night in hand so we decided to sail up to the city centre pontoon and see Cork. It is a beautiful city. The English market was very impressive with every type of fresh food available. Even the night life was entertaining. We managed to find a quiet local pub showing some football. Settling down to watch the match, the bar man asked us where we came from. The craic was good and he ended up telling us his life story. We noticed two of the locals seemed to have very weak bladders, running to the toilet every five minutes and they seemed to find every remark made by the barman hilarious. They left half an hour later and that just left us, the barman and a man/woman. Eventually he/she stood up and said his/her goodnights. At this point the barman started to laugh and explained that the two locals couldn’t finish their drinks for laughing at him/her. We just thought he /she was another local and took it in our stride that it was the usual Wednesday night custom in that particular bar. And we’re the country bumpkins!!!!

Next day we motored into Monkstown marina and met the most charming helpful Irish man yet, James. We arranged to leave Ruby there for two weeks and arranged for his friend to do some electrical work – cockpit speakers and a new charger for the batteries. Once again we got his life story, he worked in the oil industry in Scotland for a number of years so Lionel and he had a common bond. He was having many problems setting up the marina and he brought over the draft plan to show us. It looked wonderful but according to him The Government were not interested. It would be a shame if the area was not developed into a centre for sailing and James is the perfect person to do it.

Anyway, next morning we waved Ruby goodbye and got a lift, a bus, an aeroplane and another bus back home. The decision was made at Dublin airport that this was the last trip home and it was time to cast of and head for sunnier climes. It was costing too much to travel back and forward. So, the next two weeks were frantically spent in packing up, selling and arranging storage for all our worldly belongings. I think the local charity shops did very well. A shipping container was placed down at Plunkie (my family home). We packed everything that was left into a van and with a chorus of “My old man said follow the van” we headed to Fife, where we unpacked everything then packed it again into the container. Thank you Zak for being such a fantastic help over the last week on dry land and Davie and Jane for putting us up for our last night.

And that’s how I have ended up floating around the Bay of Biscay with no fixed abode, no car and no job. Have we done the right thing? Only time will tell. Are we enjoying ourselves? Oh yes. And anyway, I’ve worked out that at sea is the perfect place to commit a murder – “I don’t know what happened officer, I finished my watch at midnight, I said goodnight and when I came back up at 4am he was gone”!!!!!!!!!

The following 2 days had a good forecast and we decided to make a long hop down the coast.  It meant bypassing La Rochelle, Ruby’s home town but it seemed that if we didn’t take this opportunity we would be faced with several day’s motoring past fairly uninteresting coastline. So, a day-nighter.  Out at 10:00 into a promising ESE’ly wind.  The promise was unfulfilled and by 11:00 we were motoring and continued to do so until 17:30.  A light northerly then allowed us to sail, under main and chute, at 4 knots increasing to 6 by 2300.  Discretion made us substitute the genoa for the chute overnight and we were able to continue like that for a further 12 hours.  Again we kept 4 hour watches with me on the midnight to 4 watch.  Our rule of thumb for this leg was that if we could not keep a ground speed of 3 knots, we would motor and the late morning and early afternoon of the 21^st were spent alternately motoring and sailing as the wind died and revived.  We arrived off Capbreton at 15:30: low water.  Not good, as there was little room for error in a shallow and winding entrance.  We slowed down, so that at least we were on a rising tide and proceeded very gingerly, to the obvious irritation of a local fisherman who steamed past shouting ‘follow me’ (or I think that’s what he said) and showed me the way in. 

Capbreton is another touristy town. Alright, but it failed to capture us, apart from the fish market.  Each fishing boat has its own stall and you just know that this is as fresh as you can get.  We bought some bonito steaks and some oysters the next morning.  That done we set off for the short trip down to Socoa / Saint-Jean-Du-Luz, broad reaching under chute and main and so just turning the bottom corner of the bay of Biscay.  We anchored in the bay, close to Socoa, laying 2 anchors as the holding is reputedly questionable and the wind was forecast to increase to F5 overnight.  Dinghy’d ashore and were finally captivated.  Picturesque old town, lovely food shops, fine looking houses on the hill and pelota being played in an open stadium.  Best of all, Ruby lying to anchor in a sunlit bay. 

Hubris. The last thing I wrote that evening was: Oysters and fresh fish for supper, followed by a thunder and lightning show with a storm in the hills to the south.  Who could ask for more?

Nemesis. We normally bring the outboard engine back from the dinghy at the end of the day but, as I was going to pop ashore for bread in the morning, we decided to leave it in.  The wind was supposed to be no more than 18 knots so it should sit quite comfortably, especially as, with 2 anchors out, we should be ranging less than usual.  There was, in fact, a violent squall in the small hours.  Our schedule for the day was quite tight, as 40 knot winds were forecast for the following night and our chosen ‘safe haven’, Zumaia, has a shallow entrance and I wanted to be arriving with at least half tide.  With the squall in the night, I decided that there was likely to be a heavy swell and we should forego fresh bread and just head off.  As I was making coffee, prior to bringing the outboard, then the dinghy, on board, there was a wail from the cockpit:  “The dinghy’s gone”.  Elsie doesn’t joke about things like that and, sure enough, we were alone.  Picking up anchor took longer than usual as, of course, there was a second one to be pulled in by hand but we cracked on with it and 20 minutes later we were heading downwind and scouring the shore through binoculars, hoping against hope that Rubette had washed up somewhere safe.  Back and forth we went with only one possible sighting and that might be a rock or the remains of a wrecked dinghy.  This was serious.  Not only the cost of replacements, but the inconvenience meantime of having no way of getting ashore from an anchorage.  Our last option was to go into the small marina at St Jean, report the loss and hope that Rubette would be found or at least the police would give me sufficient paperwork to support an insurance claim.  Out with fenders and mooring lines and in we went.  Elsie set off along the shore, to check our possible sighting, while I tidied up and went to the marina office.  The attendant was sorry for my loss; if the dinghy should appear on the beach, he would be informed and, in turn, inform me.

Catharsis.  I had noticed some policiers municipale on my way up and located their office.  They took me outside and had a quick word with a man sweeping the quay.  The man turned to me.  A small boat?  Lost this morning?  That one, by any chance? And sure enough, there she was, tied to the back of the customs launch 10 metres away.  All was present and correct, and no-one seemed to want anything to do with the matter so we scolded her for her wayward behaviour, loaded her on board and left.

It was by now too late to even consider sailing round to Zumaia, if we were to arrive at half tide, 1500.  So it was a motor in light airs but heavy swell along the coast, ceremonially changing the courtesy ensign from French to Spanish as we crossed the border.  The entrance proved to be no problem and, indeed, the locals were coming home, in similar sized boats, right on low water.  In, fuelled and safely moored to sit out the storm.  Which never arrived.  Although the shelter was so good, it may have been bad outside and we just didn’t know.  As we had paid for 2 nights, we decided to make the best of our stay and do some shopping, laundry etc.  Easier said than done on a Sunday afternoon in Spain.  Twenty places to buy a beer; several to buy sweeties but fresh veg? Not a chance.  Enquiries at the tourist information suggested that the nearest laundrette was 10 miles away by bus.  In the morning, we asked at the marina.  No problem.  Laundry round the back.  3 Euros for washer; 2 for dryer.  I suggested that we might need more than one load, but he did not wish to understand, so we got out best deal yet: 5 euros for 10 days clothing and bedding.  Food shopping was also a success though not, alas, clothing (I’m not paying E110 for a pair of shorts) or Spanish sim for Elsie’s phone (couldn’t find one that wouldn’t expire in a month).  We also tried to stock up on culture, by visiting the local museum where there are pictures by Goya and El Greco, but it didn’t open that day so we did the nature walk instead.

Zumaia

Tuesday, round to Bilbao (which Elsie calls Bill Bailey – cue chorus of “won’t you come home Bilbao, won’t you come home?), some sailing; some motoring.  Our usual weather guide, Wind guru, was proving very unreliable on this coast,  as were the local forecasts.  It seemed to be ‘suck it and see’ with even land / sea breezes unpredictable.  There is a large sunken breakwater on the eastern approach to Bilbao.  The locals seemed to be happy to sail across it but near low water, and with a big swell, we went round the end and followed the charted traffic pattern to the southern end of the bay, to the apparent confusion of everyone else from yachts to fishermen and harbour tugs.  The published anchorage is filled with moorings but we managed to find a quiet spot to drop the hook.  Quiet until the party boat arrived, pumping out “Cheerleader” at 120 dBs.

Guggenheim, Bilbao.

Wednesday, culture day.  Dinghy ashore; metro to centre and to Guggenheim museum.  Building lives up to the hype and contents not bad either.  Cultured out by 3, we thought of doing a little shopping but as everywhere was shut until 4:30, metro’d back.  An unforecast breeze had sprung up and we decided to sail out to the next small harbour, Castro Urdales.  Did my bit for Anglo-French relations by arriving, picking my spot, dropping on the run and handbrake turning to a stop, without noticing a small yacht doing a run in from amongst the moorings to drop his anchor.  He gave us a dirty look, dropped his hook, realised it was misplaced, picked it up by hand and re-laid it.  Elsie suggested that I apologised but, as the French wine we had been given in Capbreton and we now opened turned out to be more useful as a varnish stripper, I remained aloof.

Thursday, to Santander in what was forecast to be NW’ly F3-4 but turned out to be light and variable. I could see lee wave clouds in the sky and conjectured that this was what was affecting the surface winds.  Early afternoon, motoring with full main up, for stability, I saw wind on the surface ahead and prepared to sail.  When it arrived, it turned out to be a SE’ly 6-7, presumably the lee wave hitting the surface.  Genoa away and 3 reefs in the main then motor closer to the coast to get a lee making about 5 knots.  Over a period of about 10 seconds, this decreased to less than one knot. Not good.  There had been no fishing floats and there was no sign of anything dragging but we must have caught something. We stopped and went astern. On resuming, we achieved normal speed so, whatever it was, it was no more.  Motored to Santander, anchored next to a tourist beach and got the SCUBA gear out to check the undersides, but nothing seen.  Re-positioned to a quieter anchorage for the night and, anticipating an early start, were turning in when Elsie muttered “cant he park any closer?” I looked out and, about 10 feet away was another yacht, facing the opposite direction.  “He’s not parked”, I said.  “So why is he swimming?”  And, sure enough, the owner was at the stern, pushing on the rudder.  I am still at a loss to understand this. He presumably had an engine.  There were certainly sails.  He had a dingy with oars, which would certainly have acted as a better tug than a swimming man and an anchor at the bow if it all became a bit much.  Strange folk, sailors.

An early start on Friday as between Santander and Gijon there was only one harbour that gave shelter from the, ever present, northerly swell and, with Spring tides, the anchorage was just too shallow for comfort.  So – a trip of 80 miles.  Up at 4; under way at 04:40 with a ground rule of motoring unless we could achieve a ground speed of 5 knots under sail. We had full main up, for stability and for a lot of the day had a following 5-7 knot wind, meaning zero apparent, so the sail was slapping from side to side.  Being fed up with this we put it away, commenting that we could expect no change in the wind until we did.  Sure enough, 30 minutes later, the wind picked up to 12 knots, so out with the Genoa on a dead run at 4 knots.  OK, breaking the ground rule of 5 knots or not at all but we only had 10 miles to go.  We could probably have got the extra knot with the cruising chute but we were both tired and, with our current run of luck, setting it would have either killed the wind or whistled up a gale.  The downside of the wind picking up was that it was blowing into our selected anchorage, so into the Marina.   Nice and comfy with the bonus that Elsie took the long way round the following morning looking for bread, so finding a clothes shop where I could buy a pair of shorts for E20.

Late start on Saturday as there was hardly any wind and we were just going 10 miles up the coast to Luanco where, we were promised by the pilot book, we could anchor inside the harbour.  Not so: chased out by marina staff who wanted us to pay for a berth.  Outside to a promising spot, only to be pipped to it by a motor cruiser.  He left at 7 so we nipped in and, once the wind had steadied for the night, were comfortable enough.

Light airs again on Sunday, but we managed 22 miles to Cudillero, albeit with a bit of motoring.  Moored to fore-and-aft bouys.  Bit of a struggle as the last occupant seemed to have tied the mooring ropes in knots, but ended up reasonably square, unlike a late arrival, who couldn’t seem to find a matching pair.  As he was mooring in a thunderstorm, our hearts bled so much, we even considered lending a hand, but there seemed no point in getting any wetter than we already were, having been ashore, stopped for an ice-cream and then got caught by the start of the storm.  A very pretty village, full of tourists but go 200 meters up the hill and the poverty shows through. 

 Cudillero

My turn for bread on Monday, walking through a 300 meter tunnel to get to the shops (shore area only supports bars, restaurants and souvenier shops).  Again light airs and after 20 miles tried a couple of anchorages but the, ever present, northerly swell made them untenable to headed into Luarca harbour for another variation on the mooring theme.   One puts a bow-line onto a bouy then runs a stern line to the harbour wall.  All a bit hard work for Elsie, who prefers the simplicity of dropping the anchor but, after about an hour of playing we managed to be secure with 2 lines at each end.

So we come to the end of August, having started our nomadic life and achieving 1091 miles by the log and 965 over the ground.  Since we know where we want to be at end of September, Oporto (aprox. 275 miles) and October, Funchal (aprox. 670 miles), we should be able to slow down a bit now and enjoy some of the scenery.

Casting off the Bow Lines

We sell, give away or pack our worldly possessions and become full time cruisers.

It has been a dream for years, to sail away and make a boat our home.  This dream became a plan when we bought Ruby.  A vague plan, to happen when I retire, after several years of part-time working.  My illness in 2014 and the offer of voluntary redundancy in April 2015 brought the plan into focus.  Where we really up for it?  And were we ready now?  We both felt that, if we didn’t go for it now, we never would and in years to come would regret our inaction.  Our house had, fortunately, sold at the start of the year, and many of our possessions disposed of at that time.  We had a contract on our rented cottage until mid-August, which gave us a target date.  Our focus for the months leading up to this was to prepare the boat for extended living and long distance cruising.  Not everything is achieved.  There are still minor maintenance issues and questions to be answered about how things will work out in foreign climes but we are at least satisfied that we can co-exist in a space 40ft X 12ft for long periods; that we can work through differences of where to go and how hard to sail to get there; and we reckon that we can live within a budget covered by my pensions, without dipping into savings.

Our 2 week return from Cork was therefore spent on tidying up our lives and possessions.  The cars had to go, which was a bit of a wrench; Elsie got busy on Gumtree and managed to dispose of some furniture and white goods etc. Most of the rest was packed into a 20ft shipping container at Elsie’s family farm.  And 2 more bags of clothes, etc. were flown back to Ruby.  Banks etc. require a postal address, so kind relies were pressed into providing post boxes.

Finally, we were done.  We are of no fixed abode and are wandering the seas until health, wealth or common sense dictate that it is time to return to land and resume a ‘normal’ life.  Our plan is to head South for the winter.  Our insurers require us to have crossed Biscay by mid September which we hope will give us time for a cruise down the coast of France and Northern Spain.  A few weeks in the Spanish Rias, down to Portugal, where my son Zac is going to join us for the crossing to Madiera; Canaries for Christmas and, who knows, maybe Cape Verde islands before returning to home via the Azores in the spring.  It all seems unreal at the moment but others, with less knowledge, experience and kit have achieved more, so here's hoping...

July 2015

We see the tall ships and discover why Ireland is so green.

We returned to Ruby on the 28^th June and she was re-launched on the 29th.  Electrician was still flitting about, changing light fittings, and evincing surprise that, a mere 3 days after planned, we were going to depart.  I thought it prudent to do so before one of us expressed our displeasure at his lack of progress in undiplomatic language. So, at 1400, we let go and motored to Rothesay to anchor for the night.

In the morning, we picked up anchor and motored into Rothesay marina, to do a little shopping and internetting, chiefly to pay a couple of bills by direct transfer.  Not the electricians: he could sweat for a bit.  Jobs done we motored out then sailed, in variable winds, finishing with a cracking close reach, down the Clyde, across to Aran and into Lamlash to anchor for the night.  Our first Tall Ship of the season, the Lord Nelson, was here, on her way to Belfast.

The 1^st of July was spent, initially drifting before a light Northerly then beating into a building Southerly, sailing down to Stranraer.  Anchored off the town.

An early start set us on a broad reach out of Stranraer, then a glorious beam reach in a SSE’ly F4 across the North Channel to Carrickfergus.  Very nice marina, which we had booked in advance, as the whole of Belfast area was very busy for the start of the Tall Ships race.  On Saturday morning, we motored into Belfast harbour to see the contestants from the water.  Unfortunately, they were spread around the harbour and we were only allowed access to parts, so didn’t get the full tour.  After tying up back at the marina, we caught a bus into town and joined the throngs viewing from the shore, going aboard a couple of them. Realising that, unlike Scotland, shops are closed on Sundays, we scuttled back and provisioned for the following few days.

Arrows over Carrickfergus

Sunday morning, we were held in the Marina, while the Red Arrows displayed, with us almost at crowd centre.  Unfortunately, low cloud meant it was the flat display, but entertaining as always.  They finished on the dot of 11:30 and at 11:31 we let go and motored out to view the parade of the Tall Ships.  There was a pleasant S’ly breeze, so we were able to sail up to the harbour entrance then back alongside the parade to Carrickfergus.  They then headed south towards Bangor, but we continued round the coast with a favourable current giving us, at times, over 10 knots across the ground.  Into Rathlin Island for the night.

Morgenster

Monday, out early again.  Soon sailing in a S’ly 3 to view the Giants causeway from seawards then on to see the Tall Ships race start.  There was a published position for this.  We failed to read between the lines and did not realise that this was the ‘dead’ end of the start line and the ‘live’ end was some 5 miles further South. So, although we managed to see some of them preparing to go, we didn’t  get the grandstand view we were hoping for.

Fryderyk Chopin

The weather turned squally as the race started so we headed south, back into Portrush for the night.

Two drowned rats, on arrival in Portrush

A bit of light shopping and were set to cruise the West of Ireland.  The pontoon is fairly small and, as we were settling for the evening a Swedish yacht appeared and rafted up outside us.  Elsie isn’t always the best at sharing and muttered a bit at this.  The mutters grew louder as it transpired that the crew needed exercise after 2 days at sea and this exercise consisted of repeatedly crossing and re-crossing our deck to the shore and back through the evening and into the small hours.

 We got our own back by leaving at 08:00.  Out and sailing west in a WSW’ly 3.  When this died, we motored for a couple of hours to make progress against the current, then beat into a W’ly 4 up to Mulroy bay.

Out at 08:30 into a NW’ly 5.  Stood a couple of miles offshore and on tacking, a spectator on the shore lost sight of us and reported our loss to the coastguard.  Situation soon resolved as he could see our AIS signal and checked with us that there was no other yacht in difficulty nearby.  A boisterous sail along the North coast past Malin head before turning South past Aran island and round to Teelin, anchoring at 19:30.

A short hop the next day across to Aughris hole, near the entrance to the river Erne.  More in hope than expectation, laid my new collapsible crab pots, baited with out-of-date ham.  This proved attractive and in the morning I had 8 customers.  I threw the 4 smallest back and saved the others for later.  They had a lumpy ride as the S’ly 4-5 built to an unforecast 7-8. We motored for the last couple of hours and anchored at 16:40 off Broadhaven.  This proved a good berth and we lay there through a gale which lasted 36 hours.  Crabs cooked and prepared.  Tasty, but not a huge portion for all the effort.  A hobby rather than serious food gathering.

Sorting crabs.

Saturday 12^th, we were up early and sailing by 07:00.  Fine progress for the first hour but then got headed by the current and saw far too much of Eagle island before finally losing patience and motoring past.   Once established southbound, we had a good sail down past Achil head and into Blackrock on Clare Island.  Anchored at 2030.

Up anchor at 0730 and motored in flat calm to Inish Boffin, for provisions and water.  Phoned harbour master, who turned out not to be.  But he assured me that water was available on the pier.  It might have worked if it was high tide but, having tied up to the end, climbed up a 30 ft ladder and walked the 200 yard length, the last 100 yards past dry land, I found the only tap.  Oh well, we still had half tanks.  Community shop didn’t open til 11:00 and, as it was Monday morning with no supplies since last week, didn’t provide much in the way of fresh food. Out again in building Northerly and had a great run down to Slyne head, the broad reach under full genoa to Kilronan on Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands.

We were planning to go to Tralee the next day but the weather for later in the week looked dubious, to say the least so, after Loop head, we took a short cut across the bay to Smerwick bay.  Another great downwind sail with 75 miles logged and 67 achieved across the ground.  And another very pleasant anchorage, tucked round a corner to shelter us from the Northerly swell.

Out at 0830.  We could have cut inside the Blasket Islands but, as we only had a short distance to go to Dingle, decided to go round and achieve the Westernmost part of Ireland.   We turned Great Foze rock at 11:30 and broad reached with one reef back to Dingle.  Saw many interesting sights.  The Blasket islands resemble petrified dinosaurs; lots of dolphins and possibly pilot whales and, most remarkably, a catamaran sailing!  As we approached Dingle, a 100ft superyacht entered, then re-emerged.  The reason for this was a 148ft yacht coming the other way down the narrow channel. We were pleased to see him set full sail on exit, as so many of the large yachts seem to just motor from port to port.  When we went in, we were put bow-to-bow with the 100 footer and felt very small.

 

Blasket Islands

Dingle was a bit of a disappointment.  Very touristy down by the harbour.  This is driven very largely by a semi-tame dolphin, Furgie, apparently the same one for over 30 years, who lives at the entrance to the harbour and greets passing boats.  There are dozens of launches taking tourists out to see him.  As we entered, he came over to us and, immediately, six other boats converged on us.  There were good bits: helpful marina staff; a community laundry which did 3 large bags of very smelly washing for 40 Euros, a very good supermarket for provisions and, best of all, some traditional bars.  One, disguised as an ironmongers, supplied us with replacement camping gas and pints of Guinness and cider while Elsie watched the open Golf on a not-so-traditional wide screen telly. 

We spent 4 nights in Dingle, sheltering from storms but left at 08:00 on Sunday 19^th.  Slow progress with a F2 on the beam, but progress, nonetheless, past Valentia Island.  As we turned SouthEast, the wind picked up to F3 and we made good progress under the ‘chute to Garnish Bay.  There is a very small sheltered anchorage which was full.  We tried anchoring on the edge of it but found only weed which, as it was forecast to blow up in the night, was not going to hold us.  We exited and went to the head of the bay where we found a good spot and a very comfortable berth.

Out at 8:00 again, into a SW’ly F4-5.  Close hauled past Dursey Island then beam reaching to Fastnet Rock.  That’s 3 of 4 boxes ticked for the extremities of Ireland.  A run under full Genoa brought us to Baltimore harbour, easily spotted from seawards by a huge white beacon, Lot’s Wife, on the head.  We anchored in the lee of Sherkin Island but were disappointed by the rolling induced by the swell coming in from the harbour entrance.  Not the most comfortable night.

A later start on Tuesday 21^st.  Out at 10:00 and a pleasant run along the coast to Kinsale.  Experimented with sails, rigging poled out Cruising Chute on one side and Genoa, with sheet running through block on boom on the other.  Seems to work.  Found a snug little anchorage behind Knockrush Island.  Bouys at the entrance warn of swimmers and, indeed, there were hardy souls swimming round the island.   

Wednesday gave us another run up to Cork Harbour entrance.  We had a day to kill, before our booked flight home on Friday, so decided to motor all the way up to the city.  Very convenient pontoon allowed us to visit a chandlery, get another service was done and have a walk through the city, including a visit to a fantastic covered market.  And very reasonable price for a berth too.

On Thursday 23^rd, we motored back down the river to Monkstown Marina, to meet the owner, James, who proved most hospitable, giving us a lift to catch our bus the following day and arrange an electrician.  When I bought a generator to top up batteries, I had not appreciated that, while we can charge at 50-70 amps when the main engine is running, our charger is rated at 25 amps which, if we have any services running means an effective rate of 20 amps.  Not good when we can easily clock up 70 – 100 Ah per day.  So an uprated charger, giving us 50 amps will significantly cut down generator hours.  Another little job which we wanted doing was fitting speakers for the domestic radio / CD player in the cockpit so we can have music on the move.  Electrician Michael agreed to fit these in our absence.

Friday 24^th, we said goodbye to Ruby and headed back to Scotland for a couple of weeks. 

Maintenance interlude

The second half of June was spent ashore.  Ruby on the hard at Rhu; Elsie at home, earning some pennies and Lionel flitting between the two.

There were two ‘must do’ jobs:  reinforce the stern mountings for the wind steering and get the radar working properly.  There were also a host of other jobs which needed to be done at some time and that time might as well be now.  They included minor things like changing lights to LEDs to save power, minor gel coat repairs and servicing winches; routine servicing of safety gear such as liferaft and emergency beacon.  And big stuff – chiefly replacing the standing rigging.  While this might last the lifetime of the boat, there is no easy way of inspecting its condition and discovering that it should have been replaced in the middle of an Atlantic storm would be no fun at all so, as it was ten years old, prudence suggested that it was a good time.

As always with boat maintenance, costs are always more than planned.  The previous owner had used a high-spec anti-fouling paint and it seemed prudent to use similar to avoid incompatibility and peeling.  This turned out to be only obtainable in 20 litre tins and very expensive.  I bit the bullet and went for it.  3 coats used half the tin and the other half will, hopefully, still be in useable condition for the next application. The liferaft was at the end of its useful life (27 years!) so had to be replaced.  And so on.

A little rant.

The costs I could live with. What really *!$$£$ me off is the impossibility of getting service from maintenance organisations. I did my best:  I made arrangements a month in advance; I sent detailed job lists, requesting advice that they could be completed; I even left Ruby alongside for a week, so that jobs could be checked out.  But I still had to spend hours chasing and checking.  The ‘mechanical’ side got completed, with only minor niggles, but the electrical was only half done.  I had the mast removed; I personally removed the radar, so that it could be bench tested, but still it was not fixed.  Indeed, it is worse than before, only working when the engine is running.

June 2015

 In which we behave (almost) like yotties on a summer cruise.

After a week away, we returned to find that summer had arrived on the Clyde.  Temperatures soaring to the mid ‘teens and light winds.  We had no firm plan.  Just wished to explore and return to Rhu in time for our planned maintenance.

We got on board Sunday mid-afternoon and, with light winds forecast for the week, we wanted to take advantage of the pleasant NNwly wind.  So, after provisioning, watering and fuelling, we cast off and had a pleasant beat down Kilcreggan reach and up Holy Loch.  Private moorings have taken up most of the available anchorage but, after a little searching, we found a comfortable spot.

A light northerly sprang up on Monday morning.  We weight anchor at 0930 and put up the cruising chute for a gentle sail down the Clyde.  By 1300, the wind was backing to NW’ly, so up with the main and continued on a broad reach.  At 1400, with an increase to F3-4, we dropped the chute and continued under main and genoa.  Once past the southern tip of Bute, the wind increased to F5, so we put in a reef and had a great reach down to Lamlash bay.  Once again, we defied convention by dropping our hook rather than picking up a mooring.

Tuesday, there was a very light southerly.  Not really suitable for sailing but we had no-where to go and all the time in the world to get there so we picked up at mid-day and beat out past the southern end of Holy island and down the coast of Arran.  The wind was forecast to be light northerly overnight and we planned to anchor off Kildonan for the night but, just as we got there, a brisk SW’ly sprung up so we reversed our effort of the past 2 hours and, in 20 minutes, sailed back to the East of Pladda and dropped the anchor there instead.  Total achieved distance for the day – 7 miles, which sets a new low record.

We continued our circumnavigation of Arran on Wednesday in, mostly, very light winds.  During the one good hour of NW’ly 3-4 we were passed by the ‘Huckleberry’, a 40m superyacht.  We hoped that she would spread her wings and sail but she just carried on motoring, heading for Northern Ireland.  Anchored again in our favoured spot at Torrisdale bay, only to see a brisk Northerly spring up and continue late into the evening.

Flat calm Thursday morning led us to motor the 13 miles to Lochranza, launch Rubette (the dinghy) and row ashore for lunch and much-needed internet.  Lunch over, we continued North, this time under sail, into Loch Fyne, anchoring at Ardmarnock bay.

Friday, we continued North, initially beating into a light N’ly then running before a building SW’ly up to Inverary then back to Creggans for the night.  We treated ourselves to a run ashore for dinner at the Creggans Inn and regretted it.  Very poor food and over-priced. 

No wind on Saturday compelled us to motor for a couple of hours as we now had a target of getting back to Rhu for Monday but, on passing the narrows a consistent N’ly 2, occasionally 3, meant that we could sail down to Asgog bay for the night. For the first time since entering the Firth of Clyde, we saw an appreciable number of yachts today, but only about 1 in 5 was actually sailing.  Maybe it’s us.

An E’ly 3 on Sunday morning meant that we could sail, close-hauled, down to the southern tip of Bute.  Here the wind died and we motored for an hour until a N’ly 2-3 sprang up and we beat our way up to Dunoon.  Again plenty of other yachts and this time about 50% were sailing.  We had to motor the last 8 miles ourselves and anchored in Rosneath bay, just opposite Rhu.

On Monday morning there was much activity with tugs and landing craft full of marines heading up Gairloch so we scooted ASAP across to Rhu in case there was going to be nuclear submarine activity and we got told to stay put.  A flat calm meant that we could drop the genoa and de-rig the main in a leisurely fashion.  The rest of the day was spent disconnecting electrics, taking off the boom and slackening the standing rigging in preparation for dis-masting.

Tuesday, Ruby got lifted out to spend the next 10 days in maintenance, just as 25% of Britain’s nuclear deterrent steamed down Gairloch, accompanied by the aforementioned tugs, landing craft and police boats.  

May 2015 - part 2

In which we start heading south.

After a week away, we arrived back on the ferry at 0730 on the 13^th.  The forecast for the next 2 days was excellent, with NNW’ly F 4 - 5 and fine weather.  As we had never done more than day sails with just the 2 of us, we decided to take this opportunity to test our ability to make a long passage.  Lerwick to Stornaway is 210 miles and, once Sumburgh rost has been negotiated, reasonably hazard free. 36 – 40 hours seemed a reasonable estimate so after a quick provisioning trip we cast off and headed South, full genoa giving us over 7 knots.  4 hours later we altered course to WSW and hoisted a well reefed main.  Still 7 knots.  We were hugging ourselves in glee as we confirmed our plans and set watches.  Elsie was to take the next watch off and went below.  She complained of an upset stomach but I, wishfully, thought that this was minor and continued on track.  It was not and she became very ill with symptoms of severe food poisoning (you don’t want the details!) and it became obvious that she would not be able to contribute further to this voyage so, at 1800, I made the decision to divert into South Bay, North Ronaldsay, arriving at 2100 at a very quiet and straightforward anchorage.

Another experiment for this trip was wind steering.  We had played with in light airs last Autumn but not used it for real.  If we are ever to make ocean passages, it will be essential for power consumption, if nothing else.  Accordingly, we shipped the rudder before departure and mounted the wind vane once in open water.  Despite a following swell, it kept a reasonable course and our confidence grew.  The auto-pilot is George, so the wind steering needed christened.  Georgina? No.  Harriet (Hydrovane) seems more appropriate.  We are confident that she will be Hattie in no time.

Hattie

Elsie was still fragile the following morning so, after a late start we headed through the islands.  The wind had veered to E’ly 3 so the cruising chute came out and gave us a good 6-7 knots towards Rapness Sound.  We arrived at the narrows a little late for slack water and doused the chute to motor through.  A good decision as, 2 minutes after re-deploying it, a gust broke the weak link at the head and we had to retrieve it from the sea.  After a fresh water rinse and a while under genoa, it went up again until we were past Rousay and could head south on a beam, then close reach down to Hoy Mouth and into Stromness.

The next 3 days were forecast for strong W’lys so, rather than knock ourselves out with Elsie still recovering, we decided to do what cruisers do and relax.  We even hired a car on the Saturday and did a tour of the mainland, ticking off the must-sees of the Italian Chapel, Scara Brae, the ring of Brodgar .

Monday saw us well rested so we decided to attempt a non-stop to Stornaway, now just 110 miles away.  The wind was lighter than ideal, NNW’ly F2 but at least we should have a comfortable passage and we had plenty of fuel.  Hoy Mouth currents and the desire for a daylight arrival dictated an 1100 departure so we had a relaxed start.  Once clear of the mouth, the full main went up and we alternately beam reached in light airs or motor-sailed when even these failed.  As Elsie had never been in sole charge before, I decided on very short, 2 ½ hour, watches.  While neither of us would get a proper sleep, we could at least take turns napping and, hopefully be reasonably alert for arrival.  This worked well and, by midnight Elsie was making and executing decisions on sail plan and traffic avoidance.  We rounded Cape Wrath at 2200 and by 2300 the wind had settled to a steady NW’ly 3-4 so we continued through the night on a beam reach with a single reefed main and full genoa.  We rounded the Eye peninsula at 0530 and, close hauled, reached the entrance at 0700.  Down sails and motor in to the marina, with very clear directions from harbour control.  We were surprised to be met on the pontoon at 0730 by a representative of the port bearing gifts, including a calendar and a miniature of whisky.  Heads down for a catch-up on sleep.  A visit from an old flying colleague and a little light shopping filled the day.

Wednesday, we were off berth at 0840, heading south towards Loch Skiport on South Uist.  The forecast was for NW’ly 4-5, backing SW’ly later.  The NW’ly lasted about 40 minutes then we had SW’ly 2-3 for the rest of the day.  Our ambitions grew less, via Loch Eport on N. Uist and then Dunvegan on Skye.  This has been a planned destination on at least 2 previous cruises and we finally made it after a tortuous beat past Waternish Point turned into a glorious beam reach up Loch Dunvegan.  Information on moorings and anchorage is rather scarce, but we found a good spot and put out lots of chain, expecting a blow in the night.  A the tide went out, we discovered that as well as obvious mooring bouys (obvious, but unknown as to owner or maintenance history), there were 2 that had been submerged at high water and we must have been very close to running over one of these while manouvering – gulp!

Dunvegan Castle 

Thursday, we should have got the dinghy out and done the tourist thing round Dunvegan castle, but neither of us could quite work up the enthusiasm with 25 knot winds and frequent showers, so a lazy day instead catching up on log books etc.

Cloud on Skye

Although Harriet had performed well on the first day, I was concerned to see that not only did the bolts holding her to the hull need tightening but that the sideways stresses on the upper mounting were flexing the skin of the gas locker and possibly stressing the lower attachment point on the skin of the steering flat.  This means that we don’t have the confidence to use her again until we have reinforced these areas.  On-going electrical problems have meant that we were considering some shore maintenance and this is now a priority.  We have booked into the yard at Rhu for the second half of June to get this done, so we now have a medium term goal.

Friday brought fair weather again, so close reach out of Loch Dunvegan and then down the coast of Skye, broadening to pass the Small Isles.  We routed between Canna and Oigh Sgeir, which can be a rough stretch with shallow banks after a long fetch from the west but, with only a force 4 and a following current, it was kind to us. We had tried to avoid Tobermory, as we seem to always end up here, but it is just so conveniently located and, once again its magnet worked on us.  Tied up at 2040 after 13 ½ hours and 83.5 miles logged.

Tobermory

A late start on Saturday, to catch the southerly tidal flow through Mull Sound, allowed provisioning and laundry.  We had multiple optional destinations: Loch Aline (too early to stop), Loch Spelvie (strong currents at mouth would have meant a very early start on the morrow to get an acceptable passage), Easdale (uncertain how comfortable it would be with wind across current).  Eventually plumped for Otters Pool on the North of Siel.  This is a beautiful little anchorage, but rather confined.  On our first visit, we had to share with 3 others and had a little difficulty finding a space.  The second time, we were alone and managed to get the prime location.  This time, on the approach, we counted masts as they appeared over the sheltering islets. 6, 7, 8!  In fact, with our increasing experience, we had little difficulty in working out how to fit in to the pattern and, after our first attempt put the hook 10 metres away from the perfect position, the second was spot on and we settled in for a comfortable night. The evening’s entertainment being provided by 3 even later comers.  They too managed to find berths.

Timing for the next leg was critical, with the tidal gate at the top of the Sound of Jura giving flows in excess of 5 knots.  Happily, a departure of 0830 put us through this gate at slack water and gave a following current all the way down.  A westerly wind, F 4-5, also meant that, after an initial 4 miles close hauled, we had a near beam reach for 45 miles before once more turning into wind and beating up to Port Ellen on the South of Jura.  A great day’s sailing, though enjoyed more by the Captain than the Mate, who would have preferred a little less canvas being deployed.  Anchored in the NW side of the bay for a very comfortable night.

Monday 25^th, we hauled up anchor at 0800 and headed for the Mull of Kintyre.  A direct route would have us headed by a strong current but careful study of the tidal atlas suggested that heading East until close to the coast and then down it would produce a neutral, or even favourable currents and so it proved.  Progress was initially slow, dead running with sails goose winged before a WNW’ly F2 - 3 giving us 3 – 4 knots.  When even this wind died, we motored for 30 minutes, to murmurings by the Mate about lack of patience shown by the Captain.  On turning south, the wind increased to a steady F3.  Engine stopped and Chute deployed on a broad reach.  The occasional F4 gust induced us to snuff it but, on the expectations of lower winds later we left it on the foredeck – error.

Winds accelerate round capes.  I learned this almost at my mother’s knee, so I have no excuse for the manner of our passing the Mull of Kintyre. We were broad reaching under full main and genoa, heading south with a 10 knot W’ly.  We gave the Mull a respectable berth – 1 ½ miles and gybed, with the main sheeted hard in.  As we did so, we were hit by a gust peaking at 26 knots.  We were instantly heeled to 45 degrees and Elsie was dumped to the lee side of the cockpit.  I managed to free the sheets but even so we were headed for the cliffs at 8 knots.  Rapidly, 2 reefs were put in Genoa and main and we resumed track, suitably chastened.  Our lunch, retrieved from the galley deck was dusted off and consumed.  Only then did I notice that the cruising chute had been blown / washed off the foredeck and was trailing over the side.  Its second salt water wash in as many weeks.

Variable winds through Sanda sound morphed into a steady(ish) NW’ly F4-5 for our journey up the east side of the peninsular.  They gave a nasty chop and as we batted into it we would pitch 3 or 4 times and then slam, reducing our speed to 3-4 knots.  Tacking close to the shore improved this and, eventually, we made our destination – Torrisdale bay.  Another lovely anchorage and another quiet night.

We had agreed a destination for Tuesday (Kames bay on Bute) but it was Elsie’s turn to choose the route and sail plan.   She elected for one more reef than I would have, but I have to confess that we made good progress, close hauled up Kilbrannan sound in a NW’ly 4 simultaneously passing Loch Ranza and the Waverly paddle steamer.  The wind backed a little to facilitate our entry into the West Kyle (more than can be said for the yacht coming out on starboard tack, who relied on us keeping out of his way, though he was clearly motor assisted).  A spirited beat up to Rubha Dubh, more than keeping our own against a following yacht carrying full sail.  We can appreciate why Clyde sailors rhapsodize about the Kyles.  Truly beautiful, especially Auchenlochan.  We have promised ourselves that, when we are too old to sail, we will buy a motor caravan and re-trace our steps, looking at the view from a land perspective.  This one area that we will definitely visit. The wind was light and fluky around Caladh, so we elected to put the sails away and motor through the narrow and winding passage past the Burnt Islands. 5 minutes later we had a following F5, so full Genoa out and an easy run down the East Kyle, round the corner and into Kames bay.  An early finish, for us, of 1515.  The pilot book suggested that we might have difficulty finding space to anchor, because of moorings but there was plenty of room.  We used a tripping line, in case of abandoned ground tackle but on hauling up the next morning all we had was a bit of weed and some of the biggest starfish we have ever seen.

It is a little amusement for us to watch how literally some sailors interpret the charts.  When we arrived at Torrisdale, there was another yacht anchored exactly over the anchor symbol in the adjacent Carradale bay, even though, with the prevailing wind, it was clearly much less comfortable than our chosen spot.  At Kames, a vintage motor yacht spent 30 minutes having 3 attempts to drop his hook on the symbol off the marina entrance, inconveniencing several others who were attempting to pass.  They are probably incredulous at our recklessness in choosing our own, unauthorized, spots.

We had appointments at Rhu on Wednesday, to speak to the engineers who would be carrying out the maintenance and modifications so, after a leisurely breakfast, we heaved up and broad reached up the Clyde in a S’ly F3-4.  The afternoon was enlivened by a visit from an old work colleague bearing designer doughnuts.  He also gave us a lift for provisioning and a guided tour of Helensburgh and Gareloch.

Thursday saw gusty W’ly winds so we motor-sailed as far as Dunoon and then close reached all the way down the Clyde and across to Arran.  We had an invite to dinner, bed and breakfast from another ex-colleague and neighbour who has moved to Brodick.  As we were going to be leaving Ruby unattended, we moored to a bouy.  We tend not to do this often as anchoring is so easy and picking up bouys can be tricky, especially in gusty F6 winds, as now.  We managed at the 3^rd attempt, put 2 sturdy lines on, inflated the dinghy (not yet named) and motored ashore.  Elsie had been a little trepidatious about this, but the promise of a break from my cooking won the day.  Colin and June treated us to an excellent meal at the Brodick Bar and a comfortable night in a room which overlooked the bay so we could check up on Ruby.

Colin had accepted the offer of a day sail and with WNW’ly F4 forecast for all day, it would have been rude not to throw a loop round Ailsa Craig and this we did, beam reaching down and back at a fine pace.  Halfway down, the chart has the legend ‘High speed craft’.  As we approached this point, I was about to complain at their absence when not one but two appeared.  One catamaran ferry and one gin palace.  Lesson learned from Kintyre, we put in an extra reef before passing behind the rock but it was not needed on this occasion.  With 5 miles to run back to Brodick, the wind veered and turned gusty, forcing us to beat up hand steered.  We anchored close inshore at 1900 and ran Colin ashore.

Family commitments mean a trip home is called for so it was back to Rhu on Saturday.  Broad reaching up under all plain sail and, for an hour, with the Cruising chute up to fully dry it after Mondays dip.  A fine weekend meant dozens of yachts in addition to the usual ferries and sailing efficiency had at times to be sacrificed for collision avoidance.  Tied up at 1430, giving time for laundry and other mundane tasks.

This trips stats:

19 nights aboard; 14 days sailing; 9 nights at anchor; 698 miles logged. 

May 2015 - part one.

In which we motor a mile, listen to some music and motor back again.

In the outside world, the price of oil has fallen; oil companies want less helicopter flying and helicopter companies want fewer pilots.  Cue agreement with my employer that I can spend a lot more time sailing.  My last week of work, the weather was perfect for a journey South with constant northerly force 4 winds and blue skies.

Accordingly, on 1st May, the first day of my retirement, we boarded the Aberdeen - Lerwick ferry with a sense of anticipation.  Not only were we (almost) free of commitments, the good citizens of Shetland had organised an international folk festival to wave us on our way.

Our first move on Saturday morning arrival was to move Ruby from the marina at Gremista to the pontoon at Albert dock to be nearer the heart of the action. A provisioning trip and we were set for the weekend.  Saturday afternoon visitors included both Luke, original crew for our delivery voyage and Ian who stood in when we were delayed.

Lerwick harbour

We had tickets for concerts that evening, Sunday lunchtime and the Sunday evening Foy, a concert in which 15 acts are bused around Lerwick in a military operation to play 15 minute slots at 3 venues.  An amazing variety of styles (not often will you see a fiddle, guitar and pipe trio followed by a troupe of acrobats who can play a Jewish folk tune in thrash metal style) but consistently high standard.  All thoroughly enjoyable though, as we had both been working early shifts and the berth at Albert dock was not the most conducive to sleep, we were drooping by midnight on Sunday.

We had, of course, been studying the weather forecast closely.  It was ever changing, the only consistency being that it would be challenging to plan and sail South.  On Monday we woke after another broken night and decided that we were not in a fit state to leave in the current conditions, so delayed for 24 hours which at least allowed us to catch up on laundry and other tasks.  Tuesday brought yet another change to the forecast.  The only sailable day in the next 5 was Saturday, and even then the wind would be right ahead.  As I had an unbreakable appointment in the South of England the following Monday, an executive decision was made to return home and try again next week.  So, back to Gremista, back on the ferry.  Fingers firmly crossed.