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