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Moonshine's Circumnavigation of Britain

Eventually the weather eased in Kinlochbervie and we were able to set off for Loch Laxford, 10 miles down the coast.  This is the setting for John Ridgway's adventure training school and is set in spectacular scenery.  Two other yachts were at anchor, one of which turned out to be "English Rose iv" - the Westerly that Ridgway sailed to Brazil in the first single handed race round the World, that was eventually won by Sir Robin Knox Johnston in "Suhaili".  Not long after we'd anchored a dory approached and we were very affably greeted by JR himself.  Again, the following morning, he came and had a longer chat, talking about the numbers of people who'd been through the school and how they'd fared.  An interesting interlude before setting off for Lochinver, a 35m passage South. 

 Billed as yet another busy fishing harbour with no facilities for yachts, we were lucky to find a pontoon with a spare finger which, according to the maintenance man working on it hadn't existed the day before! It seems that most of these Scottish harbours are realising that it's worthwhile to start accommodating pleasure yachts as the fishing fleets decline. 

We had a difficult decision to make.  Did we eat in the up-market-looking restaurant or the busy pub next door? The restaurant got the nod, and we had yet another excellent Scottish meal.  The following morning we discovered an excellent butchers, next to the Spar, and top of the range toilet facilities at the massive, newly opened sports centre.

 The next few days contained some of the most delightful of the trip.  We felt relaxed after our successful  negotiation of  the Northern Capes and we had time in hand before our next rendezvous and crew-change at Kyle of Lochalsh.  The morning started mizzly, but after a leisurely morning the day gradually brightened and we had an enjoyable sail to Tanera Beg, in the Summer Isles where we found a lovely anchorage by ourselves.  Caught our first mackerel here and watched a gorgeous sunset.  It was Midsummer's Eve. 

Surrounded by seals, and lots of terns, we set sail for Loch Ewe - stopping for lunch., of grilled mackerel, at a delightful island of Cara Lar, on the way.  The following morning we dinghied ashore at Poolewe, the head of the Loch, and visited the extraordinary gardens of Inverewe.  Designed and created by Osgood MacKenzie in the period from 1862 when he inherited the estate till his death in 1922, they took advantage of the benign climate created by the proximity of the Gulf Stream and were full of specimen plants gathered by MacKenzie in his travels all over the World.  I can't do justice to describing them in detail but, suffice to say, they were well worth the visit.

 On our return to the dinghy, now stranded at the top of the beach, we found it surrounded by a surfeit of mussels of a generous size which we happily gathered for an excellent meal the following day.

 With a light wind against us we motored North out of the Loch, past various warships, and into the Minch, where we turned, first, West, and then South past Rubha Reidh.  Here followed a glorious goosewing run, with the sun shining, down to Loch Torridon where we anchored in 8m.  at Kenmore - the only vessel in sight.  Only a few houses here, plus the ubiquitous red phone-box, so didn't venture ashore as we were self-sufficient that night.

 A lazy day followed as we pottered down towards the head of the Loch and dropped anchor for lunch under Ben Dampf, enjoying one of the most spectacular views in the Highlands.  After a snooze, we motored round to a delightful anchorage opposite the very pretty village of Shieldaig, in the shelter of an island preserved as a heronry, and dinghy ashore in an attempt to catch the shop.  Unfortunately too late, but find an excellent outside bar attached to the hotel and have a pretty good meal there, having declined the £41.00 set dinner at the Hotel itself.

 In the morning, Johnny and Ian head for the shore with the gash and shopping-list and J.  finds hot water & WC in public conveniences next to the refuse bins.  A good breeze is blowing and we have a fabulous sail on a broad reach through Loch Torridon.  Reefs in and out over the next few hours as we tack towards Rona and back.  To the East is the desolate Applecross Forest and to the West the Isles of Rona and Raasay.  The wind reaches F6 at one point but then settles around F4.  One or two fishing vessels to dodge, but no sign of any submarines.  (It's a designated exercise area).

 At last we catch a glimpse of the Skye Bridge and after leaving the Crowlin Islands to starboard we shoot the bridge at 7.00pm.  Glorious views of Skye and the Cuillin Hills.

 We're not quite sure what to expect at Kyle of Lochalsh, but we find a single pontoon, parallel to the shore, with 4 or 5 yachts already there and we raft up outside one.  Very handy for the town, but I resolve to try and get to the inside as I have 2 days before my next crew arrive.

 Johnny and Ian have arranged their departures for the following morning.  J. takes the 0725 train to Inverness, as he has to retrieve his car from Wick and Ian follows on by bus at 1020 for his connexion to London, having kindly stayed to help me move the boat round to a berth which has become vacant on the inside.  This pontoon has water but no electricity.  Everything in the town is within very easy reach: the bus stop is at the end of the pier and the station and harbour-master's office 1/4 mile away.  There's a manned  public loo near the Tourist Information office and the attendant takes care of laundry and issues tokens for the shower.

 I enjoy my stay here, doing chores and having a haircut in between taking the bus to Eilean Donan Castle and walking to Kyleakin over the bridge.  Don't much like the look of Kyleakin, though it's obviously much more sheltered if there are strong winds from the North and West.  Later on, J.  arrives - complete with car - and we set off to see Plockton.  A lovely looking harbour, we enjoy a drink at the Plockton Hotel but decide to eat at a little bistro called "On the Rails", which is actually the waiting room for the railway station.  Excellent.

 Having the car is a real treat.  J decides he has enough time in the morning to show me Skye, so we spend 3 hours motoring around the Island, calling in at Portree on our circuit, and seeing parts that I am not going to have time to visit.  He bids farewell at noon and I wait for Gerry who's due to arrive from Glasgow in the afternoon.  He should have had Richard with him, and Liz too, but a serious bug has kept Richard at home unfortunately, and Liz can't get away from work.

 I treat Gerry to a nice piece of haddock, all the local shops being plentifully supplied, and we make plans for the morning.  We have a week to get to Oban.

 Sunday dawns dull and we don't get away till noon, timing our departure for the tide in Kyle Rhea, the narrow channel at the top of the Sound of Sleat.  There's not much breeze.  Decide to explore Loch Hourn (Loch Hell) and the breeze picks up nicely.  Really dramatic scenery here, with the deserted Knoydart peninsula to the South.  About turn, as the sun comes out, and we head for Loch Nevis (Loch Heaven), dropping anchor off Glaschoiffe House.  A short dinghy ride ashore, then a 40 minute walk to the Old Forge at Inverie, the remotest pub in Britain.  We had an excellent meal here and a couple of good pints, too.  It's a lovely spot, and only accessible on foot or by water. 

 We enjoyed an incredibly quiet night and, the following morning, motored across to Mallaig, a busy ferry harbour, where we filled up with fuel, benefitting from some extremely friendly assistance from the attendants.  By this time, the wind had piped up from the NE and a stiff chop was blowing into the harbour, so we put 2 reefs in the main and hoisted sail in the harbour.  We set a course for Rum.

 Three hours later we arrived in Loch Scresort, the main approach for Rum, and dropped anchor in 4.5m, with a fine view of the main attraction: Kinloch Castle, a late Victorian pile built by Sir George Bullough.  We dinghied ashore but found we were half an hour late for the daily guided tour, which was a pity.  However, by walking round the outside, we were able to see the main features, which were the original furniture and furnishings dating from the late 1890's when the castle was built.

 Rum is also sanctuary to about 30,000 red deer, but in our brief time there we didn't observe any.  It's a lovely island and there are one or two places to stay if one wanted to.

 Back to the boat, and set sail for Canna under blue skies, with the rare Manx Shearwaters circling above.  We have fantastic views of the Cuillin hills on Skye.  To our surprise, there are 10 or 12 boats already at anchor when we arrive and the choice of place to drop our hook is quite restricted.  At out first attempt, we receive cries of discouragement from nearby boats, with the word "kelp" being the most prominent.  This results in us circling for several minutes before selecting a spot where we can't hear the cries! As soon as we are settled, we receive a radio call from a vessel anchored close by which turns out to be "Rona" , a Maxi 1100 like ours, skippered by Laurie & Jennie Prescott.  We dinghy over after supper, at their invitation, and enjoy a dram and a chat and, in the morning, we fetch them over to "Moonshine" to return the compliment.

By the time we've dinghied ashore and enjoyed a walk along the foreshore most of the other boats have departed.  We don't have much trouble retrieving our anchor, though there is some kelp, and we're glad we set the tripping line, as advised.

About mid-day we hoist the main and set sail, via Loch Brittle, for Loch Scavaig, billed as one of the World's finest anchorages.  We are not disappointed.  We have one other yacht for company, otherwise an uninterrupted and breathtaking view of the Cuillin Hills from an enclosed pool about 1/4 mile in diameter and we are in about 4 metres.  The morning had been lovely, but now we were getting a shower so prepared supper whilst it passed over and then dinghied ashore for a walk up to and along the beautiful fresh water Loch Coriusk.  Very peaceful, with lots of bird life, mostly terns.

 After a very quiet night we awake to some sunshine and the magnificent Cuillins.  Breakfast of porridge, on deck, and then up anchor and pick our way gingerly through the rocks guarding the entrance.  Many seals lazing about and the water completely flat calm as we motor South.  We see lots of puffins and shearwaters.  For company, we see the occasional fishing vessel and one or two yachts and we have fine views of Rum and Eigg and Muck.

 Arriving at Coll late afternoon we pick up a mooring in Aringour, the main harbour on Coll.  Here, we are able to pick up some stores and as the Coll Hotel looks attractive we book a table for 8.30.  How Scotland has changed! Only a few years ago it was impossible to get a meal after 7 o'clock: this time we found all sorts of good restaurants in unlikely places and all serving till late in the evening.

 After a short walk up to the church, which had a lovely wooden arched ceiling and, unusually,windows with a view over the harbour, we repaired to the hotel for excellent Cullen Skink and Scallops.  Excellent!

 Just as the pilot book said, with wind in the South, there was a swell on the mooring and from 4 o'clock onwards it got quite uncomfortable with a force 4 to 5 starting to blow.  We set two reefs in the main before leaving the mooring and headed off through fog for Mull.  Visibility was less than half a mile now, but we were flying along nicely.  Radar is a great confidence booster.  4 hours later we were off Tobermory, and ventured into the harbour where we picked up an available mooring and had lunch. 

It was this passage, in reverse, that nearly saw an end to Dr Johnson and Thomas Boswell as they were nearly dashed on the rocks of Coll during their tour of the Hebrides, in 1773.  The storm they encountered left quite an impression on Boswell. 

As the weather was becoming unsettled and we had a crew change planned for the following day, at Oban, I thought we should get a bit closer so cast off and motored down the Sound to Salen Bay where we dropped anchor for the night.  We couldn't find the visitor's moorings that the pilot book said existed.  A longish walk through a council estate to find a Spar, but there was a pub where we enjoyed a couple of pints.

 Woke to a fairish day, with a decent breeze and, after a good fry-up, set sail for Dunstaffnage - our marina-of-choice (as recommended by Chris Brown) and duly arrived about mid-day.  Stunning views along that part of the Sound.

As we ascended the steps to the HM's office, there getting out of a taxi was Liz, having just arrived from London overnight.  Great joy! Just 2 hours later our friends Peter and Anne Goldsworthy arrived and we idled the afternoon away on the terrace of the "Wide Mouthed Frog".

We'd had pretty miserable weather for the time that Peter and Anne were with us in the Baltic and, sure enough, it started to turn for the worse now as we headed back up the Sound to Tobermory.  This time we laid an anchor, after several passes as the mooring were all taken and there were quite a lot of yachts, but the sun appeared for us in the evening.  We had some anxious moments during the night as the wind veered and we were quite close to a shore which shoals rapidly.  In the morning, we notice a vacant visitor's mooring close by and gratefully take it up.  The weather is horrible by now, and it doesn't look as though we're going anywhere, especially as we find the top slider on the mainsail luff has broken.

Sure enough, the town is very attractive and there's enough to see and do to keep us amused for a while.  There's a smallish chandlery on the seafront and it does have the replacement slider we need, which is thoroughly good news, and we're able to make the necessary repair.

With no break in the weather, we decided to hire a car and explore Mull by road.  This was a delightful experience, with stunning views of mountains, waterfalls, lots of sheep and a few mountain cattle.  We got as far as Fionport and looked across the sound towards Iona, linked by ferry from where we were.  Not much in the way of hostelries, we ended up back in Salen, for an evening meal, where we had seen a promising looking Italian restaurant.  Sadly it didn't live up to expectations, and we wished we'd pushed on to Tobermory.

 It's Wednesday, and we're longing to get moving, but still the weather is dull.  We fill up with diesel and water, very handy on the newish pontoon, and head out of the bay.  To the North East is Loch Sunart, full of twists and turns and we have a good sail half way down, then turn back and negotiate the narrow entrance into Loch Drumbuie - a very pretty Loch, surrounded by hills and well sheltered.  We share the anchorage with about a dozen other yachts and enjoy a peaceful night's sleep.

 Still cloudy, the following morning, we weigh anchor (from 14 metres) and head West towards Ardmore Point under motor as the wind's on the nose.  By 10 o'clock we can alter course to the South and hoist the sails with a steady breeze from the North West.  Past the Treshnish Isles and on to Staffa where we get a great view of the caves from about ¼ mile off.  There's just too much swell to think about putting a party ashore in the dinghy, and not quite enough enthusiasm.

 By 3 o'clock we're in the Sound of Iona and drop anchor in 4m at Port na Fraing, where we dinghy ashore and embark on quite a long walk to the Abbey and the village where we look across to where we'd been in the car two days earlier.  It's all very ordered, but there are quite a lot of tourists and Iona doesn't quite manage to live up to it's billing, though maybe we should have stayed longer and walked to the Western shore to get a fuller flavour.  The rock colours are striking, though, being a sort of lobster pink granite - quite different from anything else we've seen before.

Back to the boat and head the 2 miles South to find the entrance to the famous Tinker's Hole - a renowned favourite amongst yachtsmen in these parts.  Sure enough, it's delightful: a pool enclosed by rocks with not a glimpse of habitation in sight and we anchor in 4m in company of 3 other yachts.  The sun comes out and we dine on deck.

We wake to a lovely morning and spend a leisurely morning nature watching before heading out into the Firth of Lorne and turning East.  Motoring now, as there's no wind, we enjoy our passage along the South of Mull and turn into Loch Spelve just after five, dropping anchor in 10m at Ardura in the NW corner of the Loch.  We have the Loch to ourselves and a pleasant, fine evening.  Peter and I row ashore, but can't find a path, so then row out to a mussel farm where we are surprised to find all the strings empty.

 A delightfully quiet night, followed by breakfast on deck and with wind from the West we have a wonderful sail back to Dunstaffnage, through Oban Bay and then into the Lynn of Lorn.  It's a glorious afternoon as we moor stern-to in the marina, with an easy stroll to the Wide Mouthed Frog for dinner on the terrace.

 We all go to Oban the following morning, just 3 miles down the road, by taxi, for Anne & Peter to catch their train to Glasgow.  Liz and I do a big shop at the town's huge Tesco, then head back to prepare for our next crew who are due that evening. 

 Harriet & Donald Brown duly arrived, cheerful but exasperated.  Victims, yet again, of Ryanair's policy of labelling its destination some 30 miles from the place-name.  In this case: for Glasgow read Prestwick.  Bungled train connexions etc meant a long wait at Glasgow station.  Not a lot of sympathy from me or Liz.

My plans for the following day included the possibly tricky passage through the Sound of Luing and then the Dorus Mor, where currents and eddies could be problematic.  We were also due to pass within a few hundred yards of the notorious Gulf of Corryvreckan, which the pilot book describes as one of the most dangerous stretches of water in the British Isles.  Fierce whirlpools and standing waves can occur when strong winds oppose strong tides.  Small boats are regularly smashed to smithereens or lost without trace, etc.

 In the event, the wind, which had started strongly, died away by the time we left Kerrera Sound and we ended up motoring.  I was glad we'd planned our passage time carefully, though, as we were getting 3½, sometimes 4, knots of tide through the Sound of Luing, with first Scarba and then Jura to starboard, and it was fascinating observing the eddies and mini-overfalls and feeling the pull on the rudder.

 Through the Dorus Mor in similar fashion, we were soon at Crinan, where we picked up a waiting buoy and had lunch before heading back North a mile or two into the peaceful waters of Loch Craignish where we anchored for the night,off Goat Island.

 Heading back to Crinan next morning, I caught sight of the Ajax - this time at anchor (ref. log of Lady Jan Claire, when she was spotted under sail), before we were overwhelmed by the most amazing school of dolphins.  For an ½ hour or so they frolicked and gambolled around the boat, perhaps 20 in number and leaping and diving all around us.  It was unforgettable.

 At 10.30 we entered the sea-loch, at the entrance to the canal, and found we were the only boat going South - possibly a mixed blessing.  The canal is 9 miles long and is a short-cut across the Mull of Kintyre.  There are 15 gates, of which 11 are self-operated, which was quite hard work, but the scenery is stunning and the day got sunnier and sunnier and we enjoyed ourselves - particularly when we got to the Hotel ½ way through.

 At last we found ourselves at Ardrishaig, and neatly tucked up in the basin, proud of our feat of having done the canal in a day.  A pleasant spot and adequate showers next to the Harbourmaster's office.  Up with the bimini and enjoy our dinner on deck.

 Tuesday dawns fine and we leave the basin via the sea-lock about 9.30, with a decent F4 but from the South, so we start by tacking down Loch Fyne, with the Isle of Arran a distant hump on the horizon.  Around lunchtime the wind dies away and we motor for a while and then the wind picks up,this time from the NE and we are able to sail gull-winged for nearly an hour, or with donkey's ears as the Latin Americans call it.  Again, it dies and we motor till half past six when we enter Campbeltown harbour and raft up alongside "Bojangles".  It's a gorgeous evening: up with the bimini and drinks on deck before venturing into town where we find the bistro closed and a stuffy looking hotel.  We settle for fish & chips from Rab's Fish Bar (famous for 50 years). 

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