The Scottish Islands

I stopped at several islands in the last couple of weeks, many beautiful anchorages and plenty of rain. I took a mooring at Port Ellen, Islay, pronounced I-La by the locals or I-Lay by the folk from the mainland. Islay has the distinction of having 7 whisky distilleries. Having already been on a tour of the Bushmills distillery in Ireland I went straight to the shop at Laphroaig. There are only so much stainless steel, copper and pipe work a man needs to see. I bought a bottle of Quarter Cask, a whisky that “has enjoyed a second maturation in small quarter barrels.” A great marketing gimmick to raise the price through product differentiation. I’m a sucker for the out of the ordinary, when I was at Bushmills I bought their 1608 brew which was made to honour their 400^th anniversary.

A couple of days wind and rain bound and I was keen to get going and wafted up the Sound of Jura under the colourful sail. That’s the asymmetric spinnaker, which acts like a giant crisp bag blowing downwind. I made for Craobh Marina, pronounced creeve. This was my first marina stop since leaving Tralee in Kerry! I had some washing to do! Oban next, I had some shopping to do! Then the islands.

The Small Isles

I visited Muck, smallest of the Small Isles which include Rum, Canna and Eigg. Each island is different in character and appeal. Muck and Canna are agricultural Eigg has a big mountain and Rum, the forbidden isle, has mountains to rival Skye. When I visited Rum the guides and pilots were encouraging to say that the island, the third largest National Nature reserve in the country is not as unwelcoming as it has been in the recent past. When it was privately owned access as restricted to guests and servants. When it was donated to the nation by the last private owner there was surprise that the public access was still curtailed. When I visited the reserve management seemed to resent the attentions of visiting yachts by insisting that landing parties observer the daily restriction notices with the additional note that restrictions changed daily and the notice must be observed daily. The draconian rules about accommodation and camping make Rum if not forbidden any more than unwelcoming, strange for a public asset.

Skye and the hole in the mountains

I was joined for a few days by Mike who wanted to visit Skye and Loch Scavaeg, the hole in the mountains. When we arrived there were no yachts in the inner loch so we had a free choice of the anchorage. Reading the pilot I was fearful of sudden down blasts from the surrounding mountains and laid two anchors. The precaution obviously worked, it was a still night. The next day there were ominous warnings in the weather forecast about severe storm force 11 in 48 hours time. We decided to head straight up the coast to Dunvegan, the ancient capital of the Lordship of Isles. There are handy moorings to which a yacht might ride out the storm protected in the inner Loch from any sea. The storm broke about midday Friday just when another yacht arrived. After attempting to pick up a mooring buoy for an hour they decided to take their chances at anchor. I was relieved because every attempt meant their close approach to me. The wind rose to a shocking 50kts. It was like being at sea as the boat was tossed about. The next day Mike prepared to leave but over a meal I discussed the immediate future, the end of the trip.

A Choice

With the end of the month approaching and autumn on its way I took the storm as a warning. I have decided not to complete the circumnavigation for three reasons.

• The weather is deteriorating and the days shortening.
• The single-handed sailing is lonely, demanding and not always enjoyable.
• To complete the passage would mean pursuing miles, skipping much of the country.

Where are the pictures?

You’ll have to wait till I have a faster internet connection.

A couple of commentators have remarked on the lack of pictures recently. Due to a technical fault, a bust USB cable I wasn’t able to load pictures on the PC and thence the blog. That’s now sorted, I got another cable and threw the soldering iron overboard! Here are some shots of the journey and some reflections of what I learnt on the way.

Dingle, Tralee and County Kerry

Xiphias straining her moorings

I spent a week at Dingle waiting for the weather to clear. Either the wind was Force 6 or the

A source of great literature.

visibility was 100ft. I have never known a place to have continuous rain for a week, other than growing up in Swansea. I tried to make the most of the time there and managed a couple of tourist tours. My mother was born in Dingle so it was strange to wander around the town she would have known as a girl.

Visiting my aunt was interesting, I heard the same stories my mother told when I was young, told now with a different voice. The different perspective was enlightening, a family struggling with personal tragedy in the background of a newly independent Ireland struggling to assert its identity.

Tralee and Fenit

Yacht racing, no matter the weather

I’ve commented before how the Irish sailing clubs are very active. Here the Tralee yacht club are sailing out into the bay, regardless. It was another day that I thought better of sailing, waiting for the forecasters to relent on the occasional Force 6. These folk were determined to enjoy their sailing. The club also runs a sailing school for youngsters to start with dinghies. Good for them! I was joined at Tralee by my friend Bill, like me, he learnt in the school of strong blows, if the forecast is Force or more either leave harbour or have a nice day. The photo shows the boats sailing in the protected bay. The Atlantic swell was running at 5m!

Escape to the Aran Islands

When we got away Bill had to rediscover his sea legs. I had already been in the swells and was accustomed to the

Hundreds of feet high the cliffs rebutt the sea

long rollers with a the short chop on top. We ran, sailing with the wind behind us across the yawning gap of the Shannon, skipping the mighty Clare coast. I would have liked to have visited the ports on the Shannon river but they are miles upstream and would have added a week to the schedule, assuming the weather would let me out again. The mighty coast of Clare with its huge limestone cliffs would have been great, if the visibility was more than 5 miles. As the Irish cruising club sailing directions put it. The magnificent cliffs are best admired from a distance by sailing yachts.

Tha Aran islands are an astonishing place, tilted so the hard rock faces the Atlantic with the lower and fertile ground facing the Irish mainland. A honey pot of tourism the islanders have made the most of their resources, providing summer schools in Gaelic, pony and traps for the idle and infirm trippers and cycles for those who want their independent transport. The fields are tiny surrounded with stone walls but no gates. When the farmer wishes to move stock in or out he simply pulls down some stones and builds them up again when the animals are moved.

The long trudge north

Portrush,NI. The fist time alongside since leaving Tralee

I can’t say a lot about Clare island, Blacksod bay, Broadhaven or Teelin. The weather was so dank that I hardly saw any of them. The cloud rarely raised above 100ft and the visibility was rarely greater than  2miles. I then visited Loch Swilly which has become a holiday home refuge,  not a cove or bay being not overlooked by the ubiquitous bungalows.

Portrush, my only stop in Northern Ireland, is a typical seaside town struggling to make its way. I took the opportunity to visit Derry/LondonDerry which is doing its utmost to become a modern vibrant European university city. Alas, the day I visited a bomb had been placed outside the city police station.

Would I do it again?

No! Like walking up a Volcano, one only has to do it once. I would go to the Southwest of Ireland again, but the Atlandtic coast is attractive only to the most intrepid, who seemed to be French sailing Ovni designed aluminium boats. I wonder if that coast is more attractive when the sun shines, the winds are gentle and swell less than 2m?

I have made it to the Western Isles of Scotland. Having rounded Malin Head, famous to all shipping forecast listeners. The last couple of weeks has been like sailing in a tunnel. The low cloud and the islands on either side have made for a strangely claustrophobic experience. Highlights have been the good sails once around Bloody Foreland (named for the colour of the rocks not some Celtic tragedy.) I rarely went ashore. Either it was too miserable, no sailing or it was just good enough to get going. I left Eire at Lock Swilly, where an Amarda ship was lost, now dotted with holiday homes, there is not a cove or anchorage that was not overlooked.

Northern Ireland

I stopped three nights at Portrush, the typical seaside town. The train took me to Derry city where I wanted to visit the museum about the Armada ship. It was excavated by a group in the 1970′s. The City has recovered from the dark days of the troubles. At one time 80% of the buildings inside the famous walls had been damaged. The day I visited there had been a bomb placed outside the city police station. The local reaction was annoyance and the barber who cut my hair insisted I visit the Bogside as a top tourist venue.

Island hopping in Britain’s best cruising ground

The Western Isles are amazing, challenging tidal flows, numerous anchorages and for me best of all company. It’s great to see other boats. Off the Irish coast I would leave one harbour and not see another boat till I arrived at the next. Maybe that’s because the vis. was never more that  5 miles.

Where next?

• Mull for sure, Tobermory is the prettiest town in the islands, although there’s not much competition as its one of the few towns!

• Arisaig, a useful pick up where I will be joined for a week. I’m looking forward to someone other than myself to talk to.

• Skye, Uists, Lewis, The choice is great and being protected from the Atlantic swell will make life so much more pleasant.

It took three weeks to get a weather window to make it around the Dingle Peninsular, round to Tralee Bay and then off to the Kerry coast. The hop to the Aran islands is a big one and required more settled weather. I have been joined by my friend Bill for a week or so. He has brought some good opportunities so we have zoomed up past Galway and took the opportunity to stop at Aran. The next day, hiring bikes, a tour of the island revealed the great stone fortress on the edge of the world.

Island hopping

This fabulous coast is scattered with great islands and inside passages that take the sting out of the Atlantic swell. Roundstone and Inishbofin are great places to visit. I could spend an entire summer exploring this coast and it would still not be properly covered. The pressure to make good progress balanced with the desire to explore is making me linger. I am considering the great goal of rounding UK & Ireland may have to be staggered to justice to the stunning beauty of this coast and its peaple. I am loathed to press on.

Next on the itinerary

• Clew bay, a bay of a thousand islands
• Blacksod bay, long bays and great fishing
• Broadhaven and a great launch pad to cross Donegal bay (50nm)

I have been delayed by strong winds and continuous rain. The autohelm, which was working fine after its repair in Cork, has packed up completely due to the ingress of water into the controller head. As a consequence I have also lost access to the electric compass. I’ve been in touch with a service engineer in Cork who has something working but is unwilling to send it until he is satisfied with all the tests. I could sail on regardless and probably would but for the almost continuous rain and terrible visibility. I am glad not to be in the middle of a harbour swinging on a mooring or anchor chain with a wet row ashore. The marina berth in Dingle, although far more expensive, enables me to come and go several times a day as I please. I also benefit from a mains electricity supply. It’s a bit like caravanning I know, but the comfort and convenience when the weather has been so foul is a relief.

Tourist tours

Whilst being stuck I have taken the opportunity to take loads of tourist tours

• Valentia island. This was where the trans-Atlantic cables made landfall. Important to Britain, the island was retained by Britain as part of the 1921 Irish settlement.
• Blasket islands. Abandoned in 1953 they had been occupied for 6 thousand years, now left to the sheep, birds and seals. Before the evacuation many of the islanders were encouraged to write about themselves and their lives, these make fascinating reading.
• Slea Head archeology. The Dingle peninsular is dotted with 6th to 12th century monasteries of the Celtic tradition. Stone built without mortar, these enclosures and structures are know as beehives because of their shape. These people kept the Christian tradition alive during the Dark ages.
• County town of Tralee. I visited the Kerry county museum here. The town dates back to the 12th Century being founded by the Anglo-Normans. Things went well until the Century when the Earl of Desmond, who had become more Irish than the Irish raised the suspicion of the English authorities and eventually rebelled. 1580 was a bad year to be in Tralee. I was destroyed by the Earl lest it be of use to his enemies.
• I visited my aunt, 92 still living in her own home, fit in mind and body. It must be the  country life!

All this activity has helped deflect the frustration on not keeping going. I am beginning to suffer harbor fever and can’t wait to get going again.

Boat knocked onto her ear

I slipped out of the shelter of Bear island sound easily enough with a reef in the mains’l ready for the thump up to Dursey island that lies off the headland. I watched thick heavy clouds approach and thought that doesn’t look good when the wind suddenly rose from 20kts to 40kts in an instant. The rain though fine had a gale behind it and I was glad to be wearing my waterproof kit but I lost my hat! I was also lucky to be sitting next to the main sheet as the boat was thrown on to her beam-ends by the blast with water gushing down the side deck and the cockpit floor now a cliff. I ran the sheet out, the boat steadied and I was once again in control. The wind steadied to 30 kts, still lots but controllable.

A tight squeeze

After the shower had blown through, the sun came out and I was once again able to see where I was going. I planned to pass between the mainland and the island thus saving 10 miles off the journey by passing through Dursey sound. On the chart it looks tight but as I rounded the main land and made the approach I began to appreciate how tight. To add to the adrenaline rush there is a cable car strung across the sound with the cables at 21m about the water. My boat doesn’t have that big an air draft, does it? As I approached, with the wind now behind me I was reaching over 7kts and no room to turn around, nothing to do but go for it, and look out for the flag rock just to the right! As I shot under the cables I was then confronted by the next hazard, a wall of white water as the northern and narrow end of the passage emerges into Kenmare bay the depth drops from 30m to 50m. This underwater cliff causes the swells to rise in tumult at the affront on the land.

I emerged into a different country. This is where the land and sea wage their constant war. The rounded hills of Kerry are eaten alive by the winter gales. I was close hauled, with the sails pulled in tight, making my way northwards towards the famous Skellig Michael. It’s a rocky island where 6^th century saints preserved Christianity in the Dark ages. This Skellig disappeared as the next shower approached. I was ready this time and reefed down the mainsail further. When the gusts hit this time I was able to keep control. The other big difference is the Atlantic swell was running at 2 to 3 metres, when I was in a trough I couldn’t see the Skellig at all. 16 miles don’t sound far but when in a small boat on the edge of the Atlantic it can seem a very long lonely way. I was glad to make my way north and past Valentia island. This was the land-fall of the Trans-Atlantic telephone and telegraph cables. Rounding the island I was able to free the sails and bring the boat onto a more or less even keel and I reach across Dingle bay to wards its harbour.

A lively town

Dingle has a famous dolphin, Fungi, that lives wild but regularly plays with the tourist and dive boats that operate out of the town. It’s been doing this for nearly 20 years. I did see the animal and also heard the “oos” and “ahhs” of tourists on their tripper boat. No one knows why this lone creature deliberately seeks human company and not its own kind.

My mother was born and raised here but I doubt she would recognise the impoverished fishing and farming town of the 1940s. I have seen black and white photographs and it looked grim although mother says it was happy place. The streets are now crammed with galleries and gift shops catering for the many tourists who visit this pretty town. There is still a working fish quay but the main business of the town is entertainment with a dozen pubs hosting live music every night. Dingle is a welcoming lively place.

Gale bound

The gales that have delayed me are still plaguing the North Atlantic and a deep storm south of Iceland is causing strong winds and large swells. I won’t leave the harbour if the forecast is rough, very rough or high. The passage from Dursey has shown that the skipper of this 10m yacht will show respect to wind and sea on this coast. The next five-day forecast doesn’t look good until Saturday, so till them I shall be a ground based tourist.

Now here’s a curious observation of the 6 foreign visiting yachts in Dingle, identifiable as they fly the Irish tricolour at the mast as a courtesy, 4 are French, 1 Norwegian and me, the only one wearing the red duster.

Rounding the South West corner

When I took the opportunity to round the Mizen head the forecast was for far southerly light breeze and the risk of

After 8 years carrying the thing it was a shock to hear how loud it is.

fog. Hardly sooner had Valentia coastguard completed his broadcast than a thick sea fog rolled in. I scrabbled in the bo’sun’s locker for the fog horn powered by compressed air can. It’s the first time I’ve needed it in eight years. I tested the horn and was shocked by the astonishing loudness that disturbed the guillemots. It took a while to complete the rounding and I stood off and extra mile from the coast but once around the headland the tops of the hills began to show as the fog dissipated. I was happy to lay my course for Bear Island passing another beautiful seabird covered headland. The island is in Bantry bay and has a wonderfully sheltered sound with Castletownbere on the mainland acting as the principal fishing harbour of the area. I anchored for a couple of hours to get some supplies before deciding to move on to Laurence Cove where there is a small marina run by a delightful lady called Phil. As I approached she waved me into a berth and took my lines. What a welcome!

Alas, the weather has broken and a succession of lows are tracking south of Iceland giving us strong winds. I am glad I took the marina option, hard-core cruisers would be appalled but being able to walk ashore where there showers, toilets, a shop and a pub. When it’s not raining, which is most of the time, there are great walks around the island and places to discover. The island has a recent past of being one of the treaty ports that were part of the Irish Free State settlement. Britain retained these ports until 1938. It is easy to speculate that their continued use would have helped the battle of the Atlantic in WWII but would almost certainly have dragged Ireland into the conflagration.

Drying the laundry in a pretty place

Richard and Mary have been here many times and they invited to me to join them on an expedition to the Castletown, taking the island ferry and local taxi. We left on the 11 o’clock ferry which also carried a group of Irish army cadets back after their tour at the military base that the army maintains on the island. It only took 30 minutes to complete the essential shopping, which wasn’t really essential but the change of scenery was welcome. We met up again and visited MacCarthy’s bar on the main square. This is famous for two reasons. Most recently, and Irish American visited every MacCarthy’s bar in Ireland having a drink and taking a picture. The subsequent TV programme made the bar famous and folks can be seen having the photo taken there now. The other reason is the owners father was a doctor during WWII and was at Dunkirk and the far east. He was taken prisoner by the Japanese and was lucky to escape with his life when the atomic explosion of Nagasaki and ensuing chaos prevented the planned massacre of prisoners. There is colour and history whenever you kick as stone in this country.

When I went to pay for the marina berth Phil asked me is I liked mackerel, which I do. She then went up to the house and brought back three beautiful fish ready and prepared for cooking, what a great place to visit.

• The passage between the Stags, an outcrop of rocky islets and the mainland;
• Moon rise over the entrance of Glandore bathing the islands of Adam and Eve in a silver stream.
• The open air concert at Baltimore that lulled me to sleep.
• The intricate passage through Long Island Bay to the Crookhaven.

The going gets tougher round to the West

I looked into the pretty harbour of Schull, in Long island bay but it is exposed to the south, where Met Eireann was forecasting strong southerly winds to blow. The islands in Long island are a great place and I can understand why this are is a favourite local cruising ground. I was in Crookhaven three nights waiting for the winds to abate before making the passage around Mizen head. The haven has a number of visitor buoys which I was able to pick up and secure against the come strong winds. Ashore there are two excellent pubs and a shop. The Mizen represents the furthest southerly point of Ireland and rounding it a key milestone. I learned later that a 50ft cruiser, with no one aboard, had torn her mooring and was wrecked in Crookhaven. A reminder of this is not a game for the faint hearted.

I expected Cork to have an active club and was surprised just how active the Royal Cork YC is, with cruisers racing on a Wednesday and dinghies busy every day. There are no less three national champions based at the club. The Irish optimist junior champion, the Irish optimist senior champion and the British Senior champion! They are  all swimming in a great pool of talent the club has nurtured. When I visited Kinsale YC and stayed at their excellent marina I was impressed by the hive of activity here too. On the Wednesday evening there were 17 yachts in three classes thrashing around the cans. Lasers were out in force demonstrating their youthful vigour. The Irish are great ones for their sports, such a small population produces great success with rugby, sailing and soccer that it hard to believe that they compete for the attentions of the sporting folks with the national sports of Hurly and Gaelic football.

While at Cork I got into conversation with one of the officers of the club and we discussed the recession and its impact on Cork week. At its zenith there were 700 boats at Cork which is second only to Cowes week for numbers. Alas, the recession has taken its toll and this year he had 300 entries but was still pleased that it was more than other famous regattas such as Antigua at 120. The principal income is from the tented village which is erected in the huge dinghy park. The population of Cork take the opportunity to party whether they sail or not and that tradition will help sustain the event in these poor economic times.

Hand steering – all the time is no fun.

Six weeks without the autohelm, the electric arm that can steer the boat, has been getting me down. Most of the time I

Evening racing in Cork Harbour

can balance the sails and lash the tiller but this only works if there is a fair breeze and a smooth sea. Even then I can only afford a couple of minutes away from the helm.

This has some advantages, I don’t get distracted from the primary task of keeping a sharp look out, useful when there are 20,000 lobster pot lines on the southern Irish coast.

When motor sailing or in a swell the helm needs constant attention. In these conditions I have felt trapped because if something else needs attention I have to hold the helm and fiddle with whatever needs doing. If it’s the foresail sheets, the lines that pull the sail in, then I can just about reach. All other tasks I have to stop the boat, let her drift, see to the matter quickly, then restart sailing. Navigational checks are the obvious distraction but also putting on mooring lines and fenders is a trial. Fenders are the cylindrical plastic lozenge-shaped bumpers that protect the hull sides when coming along side.

As I have been cruising along I have been contacting folks trying to get advice on what’s wrong with the autohelm. Corporate support and distributor network didn’t solve the problem. I even did what Doctors hate us doing, I searched the internet with my symptoms and came up with a diagnosis of a cracked solder joint on the printed circuit board in the head unit.

Local network of contacts finds expert

George gets his head examined

Arriving in Cork I resolved to solve the problem. Some calling to chandlers and even manufacturers didn’t solicit any answers but the Irish approach to a problem is different to the English. The Irish will always try to leave you with something, even if they don’t have the answer themselves, they suggest someone who might. It’s a bit like a treasure hunt but just 4 calls later I was speaking to Colum who was a marine electronics service engineer. He apologised that he could only come later that afternoon as he had some things to do in the workshop. This was the most promising response I had received in two months, I was overjoyed!

At 4pm Colum came on board and we discussed the problem as he checked the settings of the autohelm and checked for the obvious problems. He tried his spare head in place of mine and yes it worked fine. More fiddling and the printed circuit board was replaced and I have a functioning autohelm again. It will make so much easier for me. So, in the final analysis, corporate support nil, local service engineer, well known in the community and willing to have a go wins the business. Thank Colum.