Scilly to Starcross

19th to 25th August
Scilly-Mousehole-Gillan Creek-Percuil R.-Polkerris-Kingsand-Anstey's Cove-Starcross

Final evening in Scilly (St Agnes)

Anchored outside Mousehole harbour

Peaceful anchorage off St Michael's Mount

..where National Trust was busy with thousands of visitors

The last week of this trip was blessed with fine warm summery weather, and the final two days with sparkling seas and good breezes. Of course, I didn't want it to end - so lingered, appreciating my good fortune, and acknowledging the severity of sailing addiction! (Like any addiction the let-down is uncomfortable, even if in this case, I've appreciated a shower and comfy bed on reaching home.)

Percuil River tranquility....

...contrasting with the roar of Red Arrows near Fowey

Colourful Kingsand, near Plymouth

Anstey's Cove

..and so up the River Exe and home (passing Exmouth)

Here's a bit of the route from Ireland to home Route: Glengarriff - Starcross
or
Ireland to Starcross

Glengarriff to Scilly

12th to 19th August
Glengarriff to Scilly

With sons, Tom and Johnny, aboard, we left the pretty little Irish village of Glengarrif for a night in Lonehort, before sailing next day, round the southwest corner of Ireland to Clear Island. It is near the Fastnet Rock and some of the leading monohulls in the Fastnet Race, with their sinister-looking dark sails, were rounding the rock as we passed.

Pretty Glengarriff anchorage

Smart monohull reaches Fastnet Rock

We dried out on the sand in Clear Island’s North Harbour as heavy rain fell, but enjoyed a gentle walk to the ‘Heritage Centre’ and the first wild blackberries of the year.

Then, with a good wind forecast we set off next day for the Scilly Isles, coincidentally accompanying the middle-ranking yachts in the Fastnet Race most of the 150 odd miles to Scilly. At around 6.5 to 7 knots most of the way - reefed too – we weren’t a lot slower than them. I’d unnecessarily stayed west of the racers’ direct route, thinking we might encounter competitive folk charging down on us in the night. In the event you realise how big the sea really is, and we didn’t see more than a handful of the 300+ yachts out there.

"The crew" and 'Misty' drying out N. Harbour, Clear Island

A walk on Clear Island, S. Ireland

A Fastnet racer for company (for a bit)

After 26 hours we were anchored in sunshine off the heavenly Scilly island of Bryher, and stayed there a few days enjoying warm sun, swimming and the fresh veg that’s sold from little stalls. (Isn’t it called hedge veg?) We stayed for the summer fete on Bryher, then over to St Mary for fresh water, and on to St Agnes for beer, burger and chips in the popular Turk’s Head.

Green Bay, Bryher

Green Bay, Bryher

A meal for the staff

It’s warm, sunny and very pretty wherever you are in the Scilly Isles, and blue and white agapanthus overwhelm the little lanes and paths that are always close to an inviting silvery sandy beach.

Beautiful water for a swim!

Near full moon, The Cove, St Agnes (might have wrong setting on the camera?)

Dingle to Glengarriff

9th to 11th August
Dingle-Darryname-Lonehort-Glengarriff

Dingle was colourful and a delight, so it was no hardship to stay a couple of days whilst strong winds blew out at sea. I was lucky to be berthed near Paul in the most immaculate Westerly you could imagine. Paul is multi-talented and delightful, with more skills than you’d find in a dozen normal folk; plus he’d be at home in Hollywood or Cannes, or even with me. When wind and sea had abated a bit, we sailed together for 30 miles or so to Darryname, a pretty spot in the Kenmare Estuary. It was full of tanned, happy and excited holiday-makers, including that global phenomenon, shouting crab-catching youngsters.

Sailing out of Dingle with Paul on "Pzazz"

...and into the Kenmare River...

...and anchor in Derrymane

Up early next day to catch the tide through Dursey Sound, a narrow shortcut into Bantry Bay. I gather Dursey Sound has Ireland’s only cable car. The cables span the Sound and take people over to Dursey Island, but there was plenty of space for ‘Misty’ to whizz through underneath.

Through Dursey Sound and under the cable car

Peaceful in Lonehort

Hit with inertia and falling wind, I found a convenient deserted cove in Bantry Bay, Lonehort on Bere Island, for a sleep, and inertia still there, stayed overnight. Then, on early next day to the picture-postcard prettiness of Glengarriff, where tomorrow I’m looking forward to meeting Tom and Johnny, my two elder sons.

While exploring the byways of Glengarriff I could not escape the fact that there was an Irish hurling match on telly (a big semi-final, Dublin vs Cork). For local people in Kerry, the ‘right’ team won, so everyone was full of joy and celebratory spirit. The afternoon passed chatting with young Irish and Dutch holidaymakers, with only passing interest in hurling. (Please don’t ask me the rules of hurling. It looks wild, dangerous and complicated!)

Glengarriff, centre

Pretty Glengarriff anchorage

Inishbofin to Dingle

4th to 6th August
Inishbofin-Portmurvy, Inishmore-Smerwick Hbr.-Dingle

It was very windy whilst on the little island of Inishbofin, so I stayed four days and nights, and felt I knew the island well (and was heartened that anchor could hold Misty in a near gale, whilst two others dragged and had to move to quayside). The ferry continued operating throughout, which was impressive, even if some of the passengers looked a bit poorly. (At this stage my own toothache warranted drastic action. In the spirit of improvisation, whipping twine and whisky came to mind.)

Not much life in Inishbofin....

...but the ferry kept working

Then, ever-changeable Ireland gave some more fine sunny breezy days, so over to Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands, for a night. Time for an evening walk to Dun Aengus, (“..one of the finest prehistoric fortresses in Europe…”). I feel such places, and Stonehedge is another, where you need vivid imagination and the prompts of excited archaeologists and their recreations to experience how amazing they are/were, though the walk was memorable with fabulous views across the island and over to the Cliffs of Moher.  Most visitors, and there were 800 that day, relished looking over the unguarded 250 foot sheer cliff edge as much as seeing the scattered remains of ancient stone walls.

Looking over the cliff at Dun Aengus

Yesterday, Monday, was a magnificent sailing day. I kept extending my destination, finally ending up over 70 miles on, after 12 hours’ fast reaching; and dropped anchor in Smerwick Harbour (it’s a bay not a harbour, really).

Ireland's most westerly island

Today, through spectacular Blasket Sound and past the most westerly bit of mainland Ireland, and on to….Dingle….where: JOY…DENTIST! Extraction done. Neither whipping twine nor whisky needed. I’m so deliriously happy I feel a limerick coming on:

“There was a young dentist in Dingle,
Who ……,
She lifted her pliers……..
………
…..”

Over to you! No more talk of te

The source of much happiness....

...relief!

Teelin to Inishbofin

This way to Sligo....

26th to 31st July
Teelin-Sligo-Kilcummin-Broad Haven-Portnafrankagh-Inishbofin Is.

It’s been hard work, sailing my way slowly along the northwest of Ireland, with almost unrelenting head winds. Despite the photos showing blue skies, it’s been pretty wet and windy too. (We just don’t take our cameras out when the weather is foul!) Sailors sometimes need to remind themselves how hard it can be to sail six miles to windward in a rough sea; much harder than sixty miles in benign conditions. And, without labouring the point, toothache doesn’t help!

There are very few sailing boats in these parts. Apart from Sligo with two visiting yachts, I have not seen a single boat - other than the small local fishing boats - until reaching this island of Inishbofin (half way down the Atlantic coast of Ireland) last night. This is a bigger Inishbofin than the one I spent a night at a week ago. (Inishbofin = ‘White cow island’ according to Gaelic glossary). There are permanent residents, and four other visiting yachts, here, and a little orange ferry taking people to and from the mainland. You may not know, but there are dozens of islands off the west coast; many were inhabited until quite recently, but now I think only half a dozen or so. Eric Newby’s book, “Round Ireland in Low Gear” (he was on a bicycle), captures the fascination and remote storminess and grey bogginess of the area. Everywhere though, I have found warm friendly folk urging to me to join them in the local bars, which are more plentiful than shops, it seems.

I passed both the highest cliffs in the British Isles – though the photo doesn’t give any idea of scale; and well offshore, Croagh Patrick (“The Creek”), a holy mountain, that ascends over 2,000 feet from the coast. Coincidentally, last Sunday, the last in July, is the traditional day for the pilgrimage, and this year over 20,000 pilgrims climbed it – some in bare feet (= added penitence, I believe)

Now I’ll stay in Inishbofin for a day of tourism. It’s a chance to dry out soggy kit. And find something to eat, apart from Guinness. No dentist in sight, alas.

Where I tied up in the town centre, near a busy road bridge

Leaving, and going the wrong way...

Grey thundery days with moments of brightness

Hard going, heading towards The Stags

Somewhere off north west Ireland (see holes in rocks)

Just when I missed sealife, an escort appeared for sail into Broad Haven

A fine start to the day....no camera for what happened later!

"Red sky in the morning........"

Not another boring cliff, this is the highest in British Islands, I'm told

Colonsay to Teelin

21st to 25th July
Colonsay-Jura-Portrush-Rockstown-Inishbofin Is.-Teelin

That’s Scotland to Ireland. I felt sad to leave Scotland. It was a magical two and a half months. I spent the last night there anchored in Jura’s West Loch Tarbert, one of my many ‘favourites’. One of the island’s Paps was grand and proud in the distance and wild deer were on the foreshore (I think eating seaweed).

A fine Pap

Deer eat seaweed

A busy day followed: full sail to being heavily reefed in a few minutes (with helpful tide, an exhilarating ride through Sound of Islay at over 10 knots), then becalmed for an hour……then full sail, reefed, heavily reefed, all over again! Wind and tide conspired to stop me reaching Rathlin Island off N. Ireland so headed on to the busy sun-drenched N.I. holiday resort of Portrush instead. Lots of pink flesh, cheery children and chips.

Briskly through Sound of Islay....

...and over to Portrush, N.I.

In the local yacht club that night I looked for locals to tell me of ports of call to the west, but found only American visitors! So, I learnt of golf and deer-hunting from a middle-aged couple from South Carolina (here for golf) – a fascinating change from sailing chit-chat. We may have a ‘special relationship’ with Americans but I felt I might have more in common with Martians.

The harbour master in Portrush told me, in his warm friendly tuneful Irish lilt, that no-one really goes west beyond Lough Foyle and  Lough Swilly; “…ooh, there’s not’ing west o’ there; there be dragons…”

Rockstown Bay

Tory Island

...in cheery friendly Ireland

He was pretty much right and in two days sailing west across the top of Ireland, I anchored at night in empty bays that appeared as evening drew in, and saw not a single sailing boat. The second night was especially uncomfortable with persistent Atlantic swell, plus the knowledge of Tory Island on one side and Bloody Foreland the other, and idle thoughts of the dragons that might be hungry. Would you sleep well in such a place? (Also, look up the origin of the term Tory if you like. My guide says the island is the “home of the fearsome Celtic god Balor of the Evil Eye….Tories became a by-word for lawless freebooters, reflecting the 18th-century activities…”. After very little sleep and some rare dreams, I sailed next another 50 miles to this little and picturesque natural harbour, Teelin, in Donegal Bay. The seas have been unbelievably empty and, until last night I had not seen a single sailing boat for three days. Here in Teelin there’s another sailing boat and determined young rowers and children crabbing and fishermen and a friendly chatty group of Irish holiday-makers, and not a dragon to be seen.

........I've now reached Sligo, where they claim Yeats, and there are 'facilities'!

Wonderful cliffs near Teelin

Energetic Irish girls, Teelin