Current location: at anchor in Kilchattan Bay, Bute, Scotland
Places visited since last post: Portrush (Northern Ireland), Port Ellen (Islay, Scotland), Crinan Canal, Eilean Mor (Kyles of Bute)
Greetings from the good ship Snow Goose. Although it is only seven days since the last blog, a lot has happened. We have changed countries twice in that time, and our "terrible"-two-year-old has become a big grown up three-year-old. The other slightly miraculous thing is that we are - for now at least - in a settled area of high pressure, and after two weeks of sleep broken by the noise of the wind, anchor alarms, swell and ridiculously early starts to catch the tide, we have had no fewer than three good nights' sleep in a row. Oh, and I nearly forgot, we have left behind having to shop in Euros in "SuperValu" and are back in the land of the Pound and the Co-op - I never knew I would be so happy to come ashore and see that green logo down the street!
A week ago, we were feeling pretty windswept, and slightly apprehensive as we faced a 3.30am departure for 55 mile passage around Malin Head, notorious for its big seas and strong tides. Our passage followed two days of force 6-7 winds, which we expected would have left behind some big waves. For once, how wrong we were. There was very little wind, so we had to motor, and the swell was less than a metre. Our maximum speed over the ground was 9.5 knots, meaning that we had 4.5 knots of tide with us, so our trip was very speedy and remarkably uneventful. We arrived into Portrush, Northern Ireland, in time for lunch, and tied up alongside a German boat, Tara, on the visitors' pontoon. We really felt a huge sense of achievement that we had made it safely around the West Coast of Ireland, and were ready to regale our new neighbour with our salty tales. Luckily, before we got a chance to mention our "great" achievement, we discovered that he had just spent eight days sailing single-handed from Iceland, straight through the middle of the low pressure systems responsible for the gales that we had "bravely" sat out at anchor... He had arrived at 4am that day, under emergency tiller steering, which he had been using for the past three days since his wheel-steering broke. Respect! Needless to say, we invited him on board that evening for a few beers so that we could hear his stories, and then he and Angus moved on to comparing their finest malt whiskeys, which became rather competitive.
Whilst in Portrush, we took in our second UNESCO world heritage site of the trip - Giants Causeway. This was half an hour away by bus, and to Angus' absolute delight, the Bushmills whiskey distillery just happened to be on the same bus route. It was quite busy at Giants Causeway, as the Minerva cruise ship was also in Portrush, and hundreds of intrepid octogenarians had come ashore to see the sights. The visitor centre was absolutely swarming with grey hair, hearing aids, walking sticks and smartly dressed tour guides with "Minerva" flags standing proud above their heads. At one point, Eloise and I encountered a lemming-like stream of cruise guests obediently walking in the direction indicated by their officious guide's arm, only to discover, rather indignantly, that they had all been sent for a compulsory trip to the loo! The Causeway itself is a geologist's dream, with its mostly hexagonal pillars of varying heights spread over a spectacular swathe of coastline, stretching out into the sea. They were apparently formed 60 million years ago, by the very slow cooling of volcanic lava over hundreds of years, which cracked in a specific pattern, but of course, there are plenty of Irish myths and legends to combine with the geological explanations. A guided tour then a stunning cliff walk, followed by an excellent lunch in the visitor centre made for a great day out. Unfortunately, we then proved to ourselves how inept we have now become at normal life by managing to show up at the bus stop at the only point all day when the buses back to Portrush went two-hourly. With a full hour to wait for the next bus, we were facing the grim prospect of missing out on a Bushmills whiskey tour. Angus was so distraught at our predicament that he managed to talk our way on to a bright green "PaddyWagon" bus, full of mostly American backpackers, on which we were entertained by a hilarous Irish comedian who had also hitched a ride... It really was quite an experience. As it turned out, we were still too late for a distillery tour, but Angus wasted no time in working his way through a number of "tasters" at the bar and getting the barman to explain the distillation process in meticulous detail, before stocking up in the gift shop..
Reluctantly, we then bid a fond farewell to Ireland, and headed north for Scotland, stopping in Port Ellen on the beautiful and peaceful island of Islay, before continuing to Crinan, to transit the Crinan Canal. We decided that this would be a fun thing to do on Eloise's birthday, as we had long since given up hope of magically finding a handful of children to invite on board for a party. We arrived in Crinan around 7pm and took a look at the first lock - the "sea lock". The gates were open so we could enter. There was no phone reception to call the lock keeper, and no answer on the radio either, but the pilot book said that the canal was open until 9.30pm, and boats were welcome to stay in the inner basin just inside the sea lock overnight, so we tied on our fenders, motored slowly into the lock, and I whizzed up the long ladder with our lines and secured them to the quay. I left Angus and Eloise on board and headed for the office. It was closed. I wandered around the boats in the inner basin to see if anyone could help us operate the lock gates. There was no-one on board any of them, so I headed for the nearest bar. I approached the first table - four suntanned men - who were, of course, from a yacht. They gave me the bad news - the sea locks are automated, the lock keeper had gone home hours ago, and unless we wanted to sit all night in the sea lock, we would have to reverse out. This sounds easy enough, but although Snow Goose has a reverse gear, the direction in which she actually chooses to go in reverse is anyone's guess. One thing is certain - she could not be relied upon to reverse in a straight line, and would certainly end up across the lock. There was only one ladder on the lock wall, so I needed to be back on board before we did any reversing, otherwise I would be stranded five metres up. We scratched our heads about how to proceed. Luckily by this point, my buddies from the bar had spotted a pregnant lady in a pickle pacing the quay, and kindly dragged themselves away from their pints to assist. We asked one to take our bow line, and one our stern, and they helped us nudge back until we were just about clear of the lock, at which point they threw the lines down to us and Snow Goose spun through her usual 90 degrees... We had exited unscathed (just!) it was a beautiful evening, and we picked up a visitors mooring just around the corner. We chatted to "Scimitar", the boat on the next mooring - who had been through the same fiasco as us about an hour earlier... We bonded instantly through our shared stupidity at believing the pilot book, and to our delight discovered that Scimitar had no fewer than five strapping twenty-somethings on board and were happy to let us tag along with them through the locks the following day.
The following day was Eloise's 3rd birthday, and we decorated the boat with balloons and banners to ensure so that everyone could join in the celebrations. We needn't have worried about teaming up with a strong crew for the locks - the lock keeper took one look at Eloise and me, and handed Angus an "assisted passage" flag to fly. This basically indicates that the crew are small in size, number or strength (or all three), so the lock keepers will help with taking lines and opening and closing the gates. Actually, the crew of Scimitar were so efficient and kind that we raced through one lock after another without us ever having to operate a lock gate or open a sluice or bother a lock keeper. All we had to do was drive carefully into the locks (Angus' job), try not to do a girl-throw when tossing the lines up to the quay high above (my job), and keep both lines tight as the locks filled up with a turbulent rush of water. It was great fun, and after eleven locks we were all ready for a good birthday pub lunch. Eloise loved being wished a happy birthday by all who passed, both on boats and on the canal path, and she was even given a mermaid by one of the lock keepers, and a wind sock by a couple on another boat. OK, so birthday tea on board for three was a bit loser-ish, but at least we all got lots of cake! I have promised her a party with her own friends when we are back in Winchester.
We are now spending a few days exploring the Firth of Clyde, which is packed full of cruising yachts, anchorages, marinas, towns and facilities in such close proximity that we have been finding it hard to choose where to go next. Last night we were the only boat in an idyllic, perfectly calm anchorage in the Kyles of Bute. The boat was silent and barely moved all night. Tonight we have chosen less well - we are in a bay on the south east tip of Bute - and although it is absolutely stunning, and was pretty calm when we arrived, it is now rather windy, noisy, and rolly, and I suspect we are not in for a good night's sleep... Oh well, we live and learn.
During the next few days, we plan to cross back to the East coast of Ireland, and begin to wend our way slowly southwards. We are two thirds of the way through our trip now, and as the days are getting shorter, the weather cooler, and the bank account emptier, our minds are gradually starting to think about home again. A bath, a washing machine, a dishwasher, a comfy bed... But where is the adventure in all that?!
Keep in touch, and GOOD LUCK Rosie on OneDLL Clipper. Sail fast, sail safe, and enjoy - we will be following you all the way to the finish line!
Xxx
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