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

Oban to Colonsay

17th to 20th July
Oban-En. Dubh-Kerrera-Luing-Garvellachs-Colonsay

(more of route at http://www.a-trip.com/tracks/view/135976 if it works

Peaceful at En. Dubh

Of these anchorages, most will mean nothing to you. Special mention goes to Eilean Dubh (Black Rock). There are many many more Black Rocks in Scotland than England, and there are enough in England - never ‘brown’, ‘purple’, ‘grey’ or ‘charcoal’. After the crowded sociability of Kerrera (Oban) marina and with freshly washed underwear, I fled to a quiet and unpopulated Eilean Dudh a few miles out; just untroubled ducks and cormorants for company.

With thick soggy fog next morning I sailed slowly through murk, with mournful foghorns, AIS ‘targets’ and engines rumbling about…till my impatience to  keep moving was suppressed and I found a safe enough place to anchor off the west coast of Kerrera. On rowing ashore to a pretty remote part of the island, I was taken aback to find a person! He was a geology student from Leicester University studying (hammering, anyway) Old Red Sandstone, which was the topic of his dissertation. He tells me Scottish Islands are mostly occupied with geology students at this time of year, and he was one of four on Kerrera, each hammering away at a different type of rock.

Anchored off west coast of Kerrera (Mull over the mist)

After a sleepless night awaken often with foghorns and anchor chain rumbles, the fog was more-or-less lifted by early morning, and we caught the tide into Cuan Sound. …Anchored there for lunch and walk ashore on the island of Luing. It is so hot that the bemused sun-baked Scottish cattle are paddling in the shallows off Cuan Sound.

Anchored in Cuan Sound

....on a very hot day..

The fabulous settled sunny weather means opportunities to visit places that are often inaccessible or dodgy for overnight stops. The next two nights were examples: - the small unpopulated island of  Eileach an Naoimh in the Garvellachs and now, off the broad sandy beach, Kiloran Bay, off Colonsay. I cannot do justice to the wonder of such places in these scrappy notes. But, the former has the remains of St Brendan’s Monastery of about A.D. 540; apparently some monks lived in tiny stone ‘beehive’ cells, which have been partially restored; and Historic Scotland has done a good job explaining the layout of monastery remains. Also, it’s an island free of sheep and the resulting tall grass and wild flowers are a joy that’s rare on Scottish Islands.

A beautiful day in a beautiful area....

....including this spot at Eileach an Naoimh

In contrast to the Garvellachs, Colonsay is a thriving island (pop. about 200) and there were many happy holiday folk soaking up hot sun on the fine sands of Kiloran Bay. A long walk took me across the island for an ice cream (the shop girl was avidly listening to the Test Match, which England is poised to win!). And, later, a kind Scotsman (not ‘local’ he said, as he’d only been there 55 years) stopped and gave me a lift back to ‘Misty’. Even in Scottish waters it’s been warm enough to swim and I’m more-or-less purified by the fresh, clear (moderately chilly) sea!

A comfortable sail to Colonsay

Anchored off Kiloran, Colonsay

Hebrides to Oban

14th to 16th July
Eriskay-Mull-Oban

The brisk sail eastwards from the Outer Hebrides was invigorating with ‘Misty’ well reefed and near top speed most of the way. An invigorated pod of dolphin joined us for a while. Interestingly most dolphin this year seem to have been more intent on feeding than playing with passing boats, so this pod made a delightful change.

Playful dolphin off the Hebrides

After usual indecision trying to fix whether to go round the top or bottom of Mull , we went north and ended up in a charming little spot near a rocky shore off northwest Mull, Loch a’Chumhainn. The water was as crystal clear as ever and George had a swim. He’s young and brave and clean!

A swim in icy Scottish sea (George, not me!)

All clean next day

The island of Mull is not as big as Skye but still more than twice the size of the Isle of Wight. It was a day’s sail to go round a large part of it, down through the Sound of Mull to Loch Spelve, at the southeast of the island. The Sound of Mull seemed very busy with sailing boats and ferries. Everyone was out enjoying bright sunshine and warmth. Alas! By the time we anchored at the end of Loch Spelve beneath the mountains of Mull, it was raining hard and pretty windy. Nothing stays the same for long!

Yesterday we came over to Oban through murky morning mist. Oban is photogenic in sunshine – less so in murk – and has many handsome houses and useful assets (washing machine, Tesco, trains and ferries, for example). We wandered up to McCaig’s Tower in the sweltering humid heat, a joy after so much sailing chill.

Late afternoon and clouds gather over Mull

Murky morning in Loch Spelve

And then, hot at McCaig's Tower, Oban

Kyle of Lochalsh to Hebrides

10th to 13th July
Kyle of LA-Rum-Canna-Loch Skipport-Eriskay

Of course the names of these places mean nothing unless you’ve travelled or lived locally or your specialist subject is Scottish Islands; but each is unique and fascinating, and all have a distinctive beauty and character of their own.

George arrived at the Kyle of Lochalsh on the evening train. With a fresh dose of youthful enthusiasm, we left immediately to catch the whizzy south-going tide through Kyle Rhea and anchored in the darkness among the Sandaig Islands, an uneasy business when there are no lights.

Morning cloud hanging over Skye

Then, next morning sunny and bright, we sailed via via diesel stop in Mallaig, on to Loch Scrisort, Rum. This, the main anchorage on the island of Rum had several visiting yachts at anchor, including the lovely ‘Pilgrim’, a Rival, and her young crew, last seen much further north. Other yachts included some with crews on a Malt Whisky Cruise. I gather they come to this island to give their livers a rest between anchorages where they sample output of Highland and Island distilleries. There’s no distillery on Rum. I note red faces don’t only come with bright sunshine!

Add caption

Just landed, Isle of Rum

George and beer, Rum

There was thick fog after our night and walk on the next island, Canna, and mindful of a recently wrecked trawler we’d seen the day before, in the morning I got the radar out for the first time since leaving Devon. Radar must have seemed amazing when first invented, but it seems pretty tricky to me and flattens the batteries in no time.

Fishing vessel - recently wrecked on the coast of Rum

Foggy morning before leaving Isle of Canna

Hoan, capital of Eriskay, South Uist

Luckily the fog cleared after a few miles and we sailed for a few hours and about 35 miles comfortably over to the Outer Hebrides, and into a sheltered anchorage, Wizard Pool, on South Uist.

Next day: south to the island of Eriskay, another place where the anchorage is called Achairseid Mhor (large anchorage), and one of whose claims to fame is that it’s where the 12,000 ton ship ‘The Politician’ sank in 1941. The Politician was trying to evade U-boats on its way to America but struck rocks passing Eriskay. The cargo included 264,000 bottles of whisky. The islanders rescued the crew and then had a very good time. With a population of about 400 at the time, you can estimate how many bottles per head that was!

George and I walked to the well-stocked community shop in Haun a mile away and on for a beer in the only pub, aptly named “Am Politician”.

Scrabster to Shetland (v.2)

16th to 20th June
Scrabster-Hoy-Stromness-Eday-Fair Isle-Scalloway

We’re moored off  the little Shetland village of Scalloway and we’re closer to Norway than Aberdeen. I hadn’t appreciated that Shetland really is a long way north. It seems a long time since leaving mainland Scotland and a lot has happened. We’ve stopped for nights in Orkney and Fair Isle on the way north.

Naval cemetery, Hoy

Ferry entering Hoy Sound as we left (Old Man of Hoy behind)

Wave energy ??

Wet walk on Eday, Orkland

Stone of Setter (I think)

North to Fair Isle

North Haven, Fair Isle

History lessons from the books and pamphlets tell me things I should have known – but did you? Field-Marshal Earl Kitchener was drowned along with all aboard, save twelve survivors, in June 1916 off Marwick Head, Orkney, when the cruiser Hampshire struck a mine in very heavy seas and sank immediately. His memorial is on the headland and we visited the naval cemetery on Hoy where many others have their graves.

The island of Eday in the northern part of Orkney has the Stone of Setter, which has been there for thousands of years. We had a wet walk, seeing both that and ancient chambered cairns nearby. Extraordinary to think of early man settling here whilst England was relatively empty.

Yesterday, we enjoyed a sunny reach under cruising chute to Fair Isle about 40 miles north of Orkney. How strange it feels to reach a little island in the middle of nowhere with big Atlantic swell crashing into the western cliffs, and thousands of sea birds circling and roosting above. But there’s a thriving crofting community on Fair Isle as well lots of visitors who go to see birds, and a huge RSPB lodge, like a giant Alpine chalet.

Our first stop in Shetland is the little port of Scalloway (the old capital of Shetland), and we have a berth, rocking vigorously on a little pontoon by the Scalloway Boating Club….later we take a bus to Lerwick where dozens of racing yachts have arrived after racing across from Bergen. (Lucky we hadn’t opted to come here; it’s like Cowes with very smart racing yachts rafted six and seven abreast against the busy pontoon.)

Rainbow on Fair Isle

Approaching Scalloway, Shetland

Lochinver to Kyle of Lochalsh

7th to 9th July
Lochinver-Staffin Bay (Skye)-Loch Carron-Kyle of Lochalsh
http://www.a-trip.com/tracks/view/135134

Strong winds meant staying a few days at Lochinver. Staying a few days has many benefits:
- good walks (there’s an imaginative selection near Lochinver – walks for children, and a pretty walk up the salmon-fishing River Inver);
- a super-scenic bus trip to Ullapool where the first ever international skiff-rowing races were about to start - with a royal person to set them off (for rowing experts, skiff looks like smaller version of the Scilly Island gig);
- and the pleasure of meeting others in their various quests for sailing leisure, adventure or challenge.

Walks at Lochinver

...but she wasn't here...

One of many dreams and wishes adorning the tree

River Inver

Practice before the world championships, but a bit choppy 

It’s in the spirit of British weather that strong winds change overnight to inadequate fluky puffs! But there was a comfortable breeze for some of the 50 miles south to Skye, destinations changing no less than four times as fickle wind directed me first one way then another. Staffin Bay, where I finally ended up, off the coast of Skye had a fine anchorage. Instructions said to anchor beneath two two-storey cottages (not too clear when the area seemed to have dozens of cottages. Maybe Skye has a building boom.)

Up early yesterday for tacking south again. Lunch on the island of Rona where Bill Cowie, the manager, filled me in on bits of his very full life. He does look incredibly young for his age so, contrary to what you may think, very hard work with not a lot of money on a little island must be good for you.

Church Cave (the stones form pews) on Rona

The afternoon eased into one of those rare and magic Scottish Island evenings with a perfect breeze, calm and almost deserted sea (excluding a submarine, some dolphins and seals, and two sailing boats) and the fairytale mountains of Skye and mainland to set the scene. I didn’t want to stop! But anchoring in rocky unlit spots is always best done before dusk, so I did. Little Strathie Bay is near but less busy than Plockton and a young family was enjoying a bonfire of driftwood at their wild

Sinister company off Skye

camping spot on the edge of the shore.

An exclusive camping spot

Peaceful at Strathie Bay, Loch Carron