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Magazine Articles for 2006
Submitted by Tim Reeder Parker 275 Speedwell A few years ago my firm introduced a scheme to keep new entrants who we pay very poorly. If you save a few days leave each year for four years, you can take it all together with interest at the end. Little did they realise it would appeal just as much to people who had been there for ever – like me. So to cut a long story short with the generous help of Margaret’s employers we ended up with 9 weeks booked off this summer. Needless to say we opted for a long sail and set off after much preparation, bicycle buying and last minute rushings around on Monday the 17th July in the middle of the July heatwave. We had arranged to go in company with Mike, Helen & Guy Slade in Nosey Parker for the first 2 weeks so, as we couldn’t get away together, we spent the first day on a massive leg from Hayling Island to Bembridge. The weather was glorious and we spent all day in Priory Bay jumping in to keep cool. We met up with the Slades at the Brading Haven YC.
Bright and early on the 18th we set off for Alderney. I thought we may be getting a harbinger of problems ahead when we slowed dramatically under engine within two hundred yards of exiting Bembridge. It was the first encounter with particularly nasty spindly seaweed that wrapped itself around the prop. So at 0530 I went over board and unwrapped it fairly easily. It was amazingly non freezing for that time of day – one of the benefits of global warming maybe. Anyhow it turned out as the only difficulty that day – the wind blew from the east and the weather was glorious. We both put up Spinnakers and managed to zip along together for about 2 hours – many reciprocal photos being taken. We arrived in Alderney at about 2000 and anchored for a well earned kip. The next day was the first trial of our folding Dahon bikes. They proved very effective and we went to see how practical Longy Bay would be to get away from the rolling sensations that accompany easterlies in Bray. It looked quite good – worth noting for Parkers and Seals. After that it was off to Jersey down the Swinge, which with the glorious weather was flat as a pancake. We had a good sail but were engulfed in a nasty fog patch west of Jersey. We lost contact with Nosey Parker, but as we could hear quite a lot of horn blasts we knew they were not far way – we assumed the signal that they were going astern may have resulted from a miss reading of the almanac! The weather in Jersey was fantastic but we had to press on the 21st to St Malo. We decided adventurously to go through the Minquiers, which probably wasn’t too adventurous given the height of the tide. However part of the fleet decided to part from the planned course and adventurously sailed all over the rocks! We ended up motoring into St Malo with the sun going down after once more I had been over the side to tackle the seaweed again. After I managed to go aground in the entrance to the old harbour we spent the night anchored off Dinard. We spent a couple of days in the old marina at St Malo and found some very good French jazz / folk bands, which set us up with good CDs for the whole holiday.
The next port of call was St Quay Portrieux after a very pleasant sunny motor sail. This time Guy went overboard to tackle the weed on Nosey Parker, and his impression of the sea temperature! St Quay has a massive all tide marina and is well sheltered. We needed to get west to get us going on our trip around Brittany so the next day we were off again to Perros Guirec. Again there was a lot of motor sailing and both I and Mike went over the sterns again to tackle the blasted weed. We were with a very impressive tide as we shot past the Isle de Brehat and the entrance to Treguier. We picked up the waiting moorings at Perros Guirec and I jumped in to get out of the heat. We had a very pleasant couple of days in Perros and went to Lannion on the bus to buy a French mobile phone and get more supplies. We had a brilliant last supper with Nosey Parker complete with yet another good French jazz duo. The next day we parted company with us off to the west and Nosey P heading back to Blighty via Guernsey. We tried to sail on our leg to Roscoff but again there wasn’t much wind – most of it being from the west. It was another glorious day and the highlight arrived as we approached Roscoff – a school of about 20 dolphins played and swam around us for about half an hour something which will stick in the memory. We picked up a mooring buoy opposite Roscoff which was very pleasant in the settled conditions. The 28th saw us off early again through the narrow channel south of the Isle de Batz. This looked a great place to explore but we need to keep going west while the conditions were favourable. Again the light wind was against and we continued to motor sail. We got to l’Aber’wrach just as the wind was piping up and managed to get a berth on the YC pontoon. The wind stayed piped up for the next day and we used the bicycles to good effect again. The French weather forecasts I find very useful and more detailed than ours and by this time my schoolboy French was coping with them. So a window in the 4 to 5 westerlies was picked for Sunday morning. We set off in light conditions again motor sailing but this time we had 3 metre swells coming in from the Atlantic, which made life not difficult but different. Once we were in the lee of Ouessant the swell died away and we had a very gentle sail down the Chenal du Four – all our preparations - lifejackets etc - turned out over the top for this trip, which turned out to be a passage that was a sheep in wolves’ clothing. The wind blew a bit from the west as we stayed in Camaret for a couple of days. We used the bicycles a lot – had lots of nice food and were visited by a dolphin in the marina and a large British Sea Cadets three master. Refreshed by our stay in this well known launching off point we set off feeling slightly nervous for the Raz du Sein at 0530 on 2nd August.
It decided to rain straight away as we went through the narrow passage de Toulinguet. I was very grateful at this point for the straight forward instructions on the very useful pull out chartlets I have collect from Yachting Monthly. I know it says do not use for navigation, but I do – they cut out a lot of the non essential information or crap and make it seem a lot easier! At this point I should say the we were eternally indebted to John and Angela Brealey who had lent their charts to us. I used these all the time for passage making. The same also applies to Mike Slade who has lent us his Stanford charts of north Brittany – they had seen us into the Chenal de Four. Anyhow to return to the narrative we continued motor sailing on into the murk and a south westerly with the prospect of the Raz at the end. I was doing much calculating to try and ensure we arrived at slack water in this notorious tidal gate. After much vacillating between slowing down and speeding up we hit the Raz spot on time and the lighthouse loomed out of the mist. The sea wasn’t too bad but the atmosphere of the place is captured in
the picture of Margaret! You are no sooner at the Raz as you are out of it and we had a pleasant reach to Audierne where we spent another couple of days. One of the highlights of the trip was arriving in the Odet river. We had for once a good sail around the Point de Pen March and went past all the marinas and anchored in an idyllic spot a couple of miles up river. By this time we were well into the swing of our sabbatical and the pace of life was very pleasant. We went further up the river and after clonking a rock even with our keel half up we anchored short of Quimper and went into the town via the dinghy. After a pleasant lunch we set off back. The trip up and down the Odet was fabulous and I would thoroughly recommend it. Odet River
We then went offshore to spend a night in the Isle de Glenans. We had some near misses with rocks – no simple Yacting M guide for this spot! The islands though
were beautiful as was the weather. The 7th August saw us sailing out of the Glenans and having a pleasant down wind sail to the river Aven. Again we motored up through wonderful scenary to Pont Aven where we went alongside the quay. We went off for a meal only to get back and realise that the dinghy could not get back to the boat – the tide was too far out and it was too dangerous to scramble down the wall. We eventually crept back on board well after midnight, For future reference have a rope ladder! After a visit to the equally pleasing Belon River we sailed down to Port Louis outside Lorient where we could see the U boat pens still very prominent. Port Louis is an old fortified port and well worth visiting. The wind kept us there for a couple of days before we set off again towards the Morbihan.
Tim walking the walls Port Louis Our trip down around the Quiberon peninsular was the windiest we had with the wind on the starboard quarter. I was enjoying myself until we fell off a wave and shipped water over the dodgers. After falling onto a winch I was glad to make Port Haliguen round the peninsular with the wind beginning to really howl. After nipping across Quiberon Bay and staying in Margaret’s favourite Port Crouesty we then sailed over to Isle d’Houat and joined about 300 french yachts anchored in the large sandy bay on the south of the island. The weather was gain hot and sunny and we had a relaxing tome walking around the island. On the way back to the Morbihan we came across a large procession of boats organised for the Feast of Assumption. This was one of many examples of keeping traditions in France. Something alas we don’t seem too good at.
With westerlies forecast to be strong we roared back with a nice force 4 into the Morbihan. This is an inland sea of many square kilometres. It empties and fills via quite a narrow entrance and is the only place I know where you sail downhill into or out of it. Going against the tide is not on the menu. We had been before with our Skipper 17 – via road trailer – and knew what to expect. The great thing about the Morbihan is the large number of sheltered bays. The not so great thing is that they are now full of moorings with little room to anchor. We eventually got the hang of the French habit of using them and not worrying too much about who owns them. We had a great time sheltered from the wind in the Morbihan and visited Vannes which is really old and picturesque but perhaps a bit too full of tourists. We now had to move on to allow enough time to sort out mast lowering and all the intricacies of coming back via the Brittany canals. So we setoff from Crouesty and sailed into the river Villaine. We had to wait for several hours for the lock through the tidal barrage to open, but then had the pleasure of bumping into Blue Moon a Parker 325. We had a pleasant drink with Nigel & Gillian Readman who had come down the cal from St Malo and gave us may tips. The next day we eventually found a very helpful company at Poleux just up the river who took the mast down once we had taken off all the gear etc. It all went very smoothly and my pre prepared A frame worked OK.
After a bit of a downpour over night we set off up the river. We were bowled over by the scenery and the fact that we had to pay nothing! We came across people doing weird fishing techniques using large nets and winches off the back of punts as well as lots of wild life. After visiting Redon the central hub of the canal system we stayed overnight at a typical canalside stop with a pontoon and a café – very idyllic.
The next couple of days saw us motoring gently up the canal through locks which are all manned and are all free. They were well tended with beautiful flower gardens. The staff were very friendly and phoned through to make sure the next lock on the system was open. There was hardly any traffic and the whole system seemed to be a rare example of the French state operating a vast piece of infrastructure mainly for the British ie yachtsmen - and charging us nothing for it. A welcome dividend on our investment in the EC! The wildlife was varied and interesting; we saw a couple of pairs of hawks which might have been Marsh Harriers. As we got further up the Villaine the river became shallower and although we had the keel half up we clonked something pretty hard coming into Rennes. Rennes is not a good spot to stop – there being no marina so we carried on through and stopped at St Gregoire – a cuple of locks into the Canal de Isle de Rance – the system that takes you back from Rennes to St Malo.
On Sunday the 27th we carried on and stopped for lunch at Betton where there was a wonderful market. We parked right in the middle of it and after much buying of bargains moved off just as an intrepid 85 year old Brit arrived in a dutch barge which filled most of the canal – he was single handing going south. His propeller shot a large proportion of the canal water onto the market stalls as he reversed! After that we climbed up to the summit of the system at 65 metres, and spent a very quiet night moored up miles from anywhere. It was then on to the Hede flight of 11 locks, which started a rapid descent back towards the Channel. We stopped off at St Domineuc where we had a brilliant meal in the nearby Auberge du Port. The meals on the canal were generally better in quality and value than those on the coast which is saying something. Finally after a grand total of about 50 locks we arrived in Dinan. This is a charming medieval walled city and appears from the old harbour like a strange mix between Caernarvon, Padstow and Henley. The first two are suggested by the old buildings and castle walls and yachts, while the last is by numerous river sculls and fours rowing past. We were recommended the services of the Capitaine du Port for remattage or putting the mast up. This was achieved with a small hand operated crane and the experienced instruction from the guardian du Port, who has been doing this for years. We had an extended stay in Dinan as the weather was fairly windy and we were enjoying the company of a couple from Salcombe.
At last after enjoying an Old Gaffers event or rather a cider drinkers’ event!, we left to go down the Rance. We had paid the princely sum of 59 euros for five nights stay, our washing being put through the machine by the Guardian du Port, and the remasting thrown in – that’s what you call value. I recommend Dinan as an excellent place to stay. We had lovely weather as we progressed down the Rance a very picturesque river / estuary. We stopped off at Plouer sur Rance marina and then went through the tidal barrage lock back to Dinard. The following morning we were a bit alarmed about the mist forecast, but decided to give it a go. All was well and we had fantastic visibility on our mtor sail across glassy seas to Gorey. We were lucky enough to find another school of Dolphins off the south east of Jersey. I’ve found them there before – it seems to be a popular dolphin spot. At Gorey we had learnt from Ken Surplice and Peter Lowry that you could get on the beach in the harbour at high tide. We promptly did this and Margaret jumped off the front to get the shopping while I jumped off the back to arrange the kedge etc. A very convenient anchorage – right by the pub.
Another early start and fantastic sunrise saw us off back to Dielette. We miss timed the approach a bit and had to motor really flat out to beat the tide round Flamanville. I then realised we had arrived near low water springs, but we approached very gingerly with all nearly up 40minutes to go to low water, and got in through a minimum of 0.8 metres. The wind kept us in Dielette for a couple of days. Good use of the bicycles meant that we visited the old semaphore station restaurant on the cliffs at Flamanville and discovered the Chateau there. We decided not to go over with a 4 to 5 and waited till the Sunday when not much wind was forecast. We set off at 0530 on top of the biggest tide of the century. I wanted to go past Cap de la Hague at near slack. I got this right – it was flat when we arrived – something I have never seen before. By the time we had got level with the Cap the swell had built to over a metre and I am sure it was pretty lively later. As it was we touched twelve knots over the ground. To get back in the light we headed for Yarmouth and made it in glorious conditions as the sun went down. A fitting end to a glorious trip.
Submitted by Dr. Tim Howard Ever since I sailed my first boat ( a home built Cadet) I have dreamt of doing a ‘proper’ ocean voyage. As I progressed through GP14s, Wayfarers, Ospreys, and International 10sq metre Canoes to boats with lids ( a Seal 22 followed by a Super Seal 26)to accommodate a wife and children, the dream remained unattainable, but partial retirement after nearly 40 years at the coal face of the NHS allowed me to explore the reality. So when an advertisement in the Times for the Clipper Round-the-World Race, caught my eye, I grasped the opportunity with both hands . Clipper is organised by Sir Robin Knox-Johnson , of ‘Suhali’ fame. Every other year, ten purpose- built identical boats race round the world, stopping at 12 ports on route. There is a professional skipper, but all the crew are amateur. You can opt for any number of legs of the race, or do the whole thirty thousand mile 10 month circumnavigation. I was attracted to the culture of Clipper, which is to help you to make the best of yourself, whatever your experience. Ages on my race ranged from 18 to 69, and experience from nil to expert. There are 4 training weeks during the year before the race and attendance at these is compulsory. ‘Round-the-worlders’ can opt to do other training in things such as engine maintenance, first aid, sail maintenance, rigging, etc. ‘Leggers’ like me bring only their common sense and experience. The boats for my race were new. There had been 4 previous races, and the old boats used were showing distinct signs of wear and tear after 150,000 miles of hard racing. The new boats are bigger (68 ft instead of 60) and a lot faster. They are down-wind flyers, designed by Ed Dubois to surf in the big winds and seas of the Southern Ocean and Pacific - as I was to find out! Luxury is not a high priority. There are 18 pipe-cots, a simple (some might say primitive) galley, 2 basic heads, a small saloon and a nav station full of high-tech equipment - the nerve centre of the boat. Sails - and there are lots of them and they are huge - are stowed on the floor of the accommodation, and take up at least as much room as the crew. Also, for much of the time, they are wet. Each boat is sponsored by a city - some in the UK, and some from abroad; Durban, New York, Glasgow, Liverpool, Jersey and others. Each boat developed a close relationship with its sponsor, and in turn received much encouragement and support from them. Crew can apply to sail on a boat with which they have a particular association, but others like me, without any particular bond, take pot luck. I was allocated to Singapore, the only Asian-sponsored boat, and was entirely happy with this. Half the crew came from Singapore itself, and I felt that much of the benefit I got from the whole experience came from contact with this group of highly intelligent and motivated people from a different culture. I made good friends with several, and learnt a lot from and about them. The skipper was Australian - hugely experienced in long-distance racing and crew management; always helpful; occasionally gruff. I developed complete faith in his judgement and great admiration for his sailing skills. Training was an eye-opener. I had no idea of the huge gulf between sailing a boat of up to 40 feet, and one of 70 feet. The forces on and power of every sheet, halliard, reefing line and winch are extraordinary. Everything is handled by winches; it needs a 3 speed coffee-grinder to get the half ton mainsail up with any semblance of speed.; putting a slab reef in needs the co-ordinated activity of 5 crew and 4 winches. Foresails are hanked on - no roller reefing for proper racing boats. It took 6 of us to drag the No1 yankee on deck and to the forestay. My learning curve was steep and the physical activity relentless, only eased by interesting evenings in the wide selection of pubs near the training base in the Royal Clarence Marina in Gosport . The race itself starts in Liverpool, and after a short leg to Portugal, goes to Brazil, Cape Town, into the Southern Ocean to Freemantle, and then North to Singapore and Quindao in China - the site for the next Olympic regatta. Then the longest and hardest leg across the North Pacific to Victoria in Canada. After much debate, I decided to join the race there, and do the long leg down the Pacific to Panama, then through the Canal and to a stop in Jamaica. After this, the race goes to New York, and finally back across the Atlantic to Jersey, and the finish in Liverpool. Points are awarded for places on each leg, with a prize giving for leg winners and runners-up, and a cumulative total leading to an overall winner. It became apparent even before the start that some boats were going to race really hard, while others, including Singapore, were going to do the very best they could, but not at the expense of maximising the fun of the whole experience. This was much more my style. Following the ups and downs of the race on line was almost as exciting as sailing in it. Twice daily position downloads, charts of relative positions and a regular crew diary all helped to keep one updated on how things were going. Singapore performed well in the middle of the fleet, and I started to make arrangements to join her in Canada. Beating into 30 knots of wind half way up the South China Sea, however, disaster struck. Not pirates, but loose keel bolts. One boat noticed water over the floorboards, and inspection showed a frightening delamination of the floor round the keel mounting, and on checking 4 other boats found the same problem. The fleet motored gingerly to the nearest port with large enough lifting facilities, Subic Bay in the Phillipines, and a frantic race to repair all 10 boats began. A team of laminators flew out from the UK, and after working like demons for 6 weeks, all the boats had completely new bottoms and keel mountings, and passed a stringent safety check. The race was on again! I managed to rearrange my dates, and flew to Victoria, BC at the beginning of May to join Singapore. I was a bit anxious about joining an established crew, but the 2 other ‘leggers’ and I were made very welcome. The leg from China to Victoria had been “a killer” in the words of the skipper. Relentless head winds and unusually cold conditions for 5,600 miles had taken its toll on boats and crew, and they definitely needed the 2 weeks R & R that the stopover allowed. There was an endless list of repairs and maintenance to undertake, as well as the task of victualling the boat for a month at sea with 18 hungry mouths to feed. I learnt how to strip a coffee-grinder, reeve a new main halliard (from the top of a 94 ft mast) and repair the water maker. I found I was sharing my bunk with a hundredweight of rice and two hundred Mars Bars. “Don’t worry” a fellow crew member said, “ we’ll be hot bunking anyway”. We did. Starting day arrived all too soon. The last few hours were a
flurry of stowing personal kit, fuelling, planning watches, and watching the
opposition. Leaving Victoria was a big occasion; the Canadian public turned out
in force to cheer us off, bands played, helicopters flew overhead, and there
were lumps in many throats as we left. The start, delayed for 10 hours by
freezing fog, was almost an anticlimax. My memory of the first few days of
racing is a blur of impressions, but above all, the cold. The sea off Vancouver
never rises above 50 deg F, and for 5 days we beat into 25 - 35 knots and a
lumpy bitterly cold sea. The resultant sea-sickness, bumps, bruises, loss of
sea-legs etc was challenging, but gradually I settled into the routine of 4 hour
watches, interrupted sleep, taking twenty minutes to get into 4 or more layers
of foul-weather clothing before venturing on deck ( and most important,
remembering to use the heads before getting outer layers on!), and getting
deluged with seas while changing headsails. One person from each watch was
allocated to ‘mother watch’ for 24 hours - responsible for all domestic chores
for the day. I was more nervous about cooking for 18 hungry sailors than I was
about steering or going up the mast, but both tests were passed, though my first
effort at baking bread was a disaster that looked like porridge and tasted like
nothing on earth.
Gradually the wind backed, and as we got south the sea felt less cold. I got used to the thunderous noise of a 70 foot boat jumping off a wave at 12 knots and hitting the next with a jolt that felt as though it would shake the fillings from one’s teeth, let alone damage the hull. Life at 40 degrees heel became manageable, old friendships from training were renewed and new ones made. Team work developed, and gradually a competitive and cohesive crew evolved.. I learnt that a big element of racing a boat of this size was trust. Trusting the members of one’s watch to control the enormous sails safely, to put safety turns on winches, to hang onto you as you struggled to free a jammed halliard in breaking seas, to put up with one’s bad temper or bad jokes. We learned a great deal about each other, but even more about ourselves - our personal strengths, resources, tolerances and limitations. After a week the wind went astern, and the air temperature
rose. We had made a tactical decision to sail along the continental shelf about
200 miles offshore, and this seemed to be paying off as we were just in the
lead. The Clipper boats were designed to be down-wind flyers; one, Glasgow,
claimed to have recorded 34 knots downwind in the Southern Ocean, and Singapore
had achieved 31. As the following wind rose, we started to show our paces.
Spinnakers. You either love them or hate them. I happen to love them, and had been the downwind helmsman when I did one seasons’ serious RORC racing years ago. We had three - light, medium and heavy. The medium was 4000 square feet, and we ripped it comprehensively the first time we hoisted it. The sewing machine died after 10 stitches, so it was needle and thread and a palm, and after 20 hours sewing we hoisted it again - and ripped it again. Eventually we got the right spinnaker for the conditions, and really began to fly. The north-east Pacific trades began to build from astern, and with 18 to 25 knots over the deck we started to clock up 250mile days. We moved into an area of bright sunshine and increasing wind - 40+ knots at times. The sea built, and we had 3 of the most exhilarating days sailing one could imagine, surfing for many hundred yards down 20 foot breaking waves at over 20 knots . Helming was challenging, and only those with experience were allowed to drive. The maximum speed I managed was 24 knots, and that felt like balancing on a high wire at the receiving end of a hosepipe. Pride goes before a fall, and inevitably we had wipe-outs. The chafe on the spinnaker controls was amazing. 24mm Spectra sheets actually melted on the winches, and guys broke with monotonous regularity where they passed through the beak of the pole, despite huge parcelling. Halliards had to be changed every 2 hours to prevent the working halliard overheating! Gybing the spinnaker was a huge task, and needed at least 12 crew. It usually took us 10 to 15 minutes; how the Americas Cup boats do it in 30 seconds is beyond me. We avoided the ultimate hazard of a Chinese gybe, but another boat did not, and broke both spinnaker poles and the vang, and damaged all 3 spinnakers beyond repair. A new hazard appeared. A tropical revolving storm - the
precursor to a hurricane - appeared on the weatherfax 500 miles ahead of us. We
had to decide whether to go outside it - a detour of several hundred miles, or
to try and squeeze between it and the west coast of Mexico, leaving no room to
escape from it. We were still in the lead, and nerves were beginning to show.
We sailed to Panama through the tail of the TRS - strange confused clouds, big winds, and torrential rain which rain straight into my bunk via the chain plates - and were welcomed to Panama by the shore team and the first cold beer for a month. The rest of the fleet followed us in over the next few days, and we progressed through the Panama Canal under motor - an unforgettable experience made a little whimsical by the knowledge that my grandfather had ridden along it’s bank from the Pacific to the Caribbean a month before it opened in 1913. The next leg started from Colon, a seriously lawless town at the Eastern end of the Canal. It was a short ( 900 mile) dash to Jamaica, and was a beat nearly the whole way. We started well, then did badly, and rounded the eastern point of Jamaica 20 miles from the finish in 8th place. A fierce downwind tacking duel in the dark in light winds followed, and we amazed ourselves by overtaking 4 boats, and finishing just 50 yards in front of our arch-opponent, Victoria. A huge party followed in Jamaica, made even better by the presence of my long-suffering wife, who had flown out to meet us. Then it was time for the race to move on to New York. I watched rather wistfully as ’my’ boat, with many good friends, left for the start. It was the end of a big episode in my life - one not to be missed and never to be forgotten. What did I learn? A lot about sailing big boats; a huge amount about sail trimming, a black art that I still don’t really understand. Perhaps most important, a lot about human behaviour, my own and others, and how one reacts under stress or when at one’s limits from tiredness or cold. How to work as a team, how to make friends and to tolerate close-quarter irritations . Finally, how to have fun and to escape from ‘ordinary’ life and live a dream. If you ever have the chance, go for it: it is worth every penny!
Saluja goes North (Part 2) Now that Saluja has spent all of last season in Scotland, I have finally managed to get time to complete the story. I write this as I sit in the bar at Hayling Island Sailing Club, whilst my son is on the water for training in the National Squad of the RS Feva. It is a bleak, cold and windy February day and one forgets just what it was like with too much sun last August at the HISC Federation week. Anyway, enough of that and back to Scotland. My partner owner, Jon Barron, returned to Arisaig just before the May Whitsun week to launch the boat prior to joining our annual cruise with three further yachts chartered from Isle of Skye Yachts from Ardvasar on Skye. I gather, from Jon, that the launch all went OK apart from a slightly worrying moment as the boat floated off the trailer and was blown inwards towards the beach. I guess it is easy to be wise after the event but, with an onshore wind, rowing a kedge anchor out with the dinghy would have been sensible in hindsight. For any of you who know, Armadale Bay is open to the North East and I had read the forecast, from the previous Wednesday, suggesting a NE gale 8 for the Saturday. So unusual, at that time of year, that when I ‘phoned the charter company they could hardly believe me! By the Saturday the NE gale had duly arrived so we delayed our arrival by a few hours. When we did finally get there Mark and Charmian, of IoS Yachts, had had a fairly eventful day. So windy, they had problems getting the previous week’s charterers off the yachts, one delayed yacht and cleaning staff suffering from seasickness while on the yachts on their moorings! Saluja was in an altogether better spot at Arisaig. The gale blew itself out as quickly as it arrived, so the early evening saw all four yachts meet at Inverie on the Knoydart peninsula. Sadly, Inverie is about to lose its remote charm now that the various authorities see fit to build an enormous RoRo terminal. For what purpose, one has to wonder, given that the road at Inverie is about 8 miles long and doesn’t connect to the rest of the road network! The beauty of sailing in Scotland is the almost infinite possibilities for anchorages. One can choose to go 5 miles or 50. The next day, dawned bright and sunny and, saw us on the Isle of Eigg for lunch and Loch Moidart, on the mainland, for the evening – an anchorage I had waited 25 years to go to. (see Photo 1) The next morning gave us Scotland at its best. Glorious sunshine with a light offshore wind. A quick row ashore to see Castle Tioram before making the 45 mile passage to Staffa and Fingals Cave. This is always a favourite with the newcomers and, even better this time with a north easterly wind, which allowed dinghies to be rowed directly into the cave. From the south west it is exposed for thousands of miles to the Atlantic. (see Photo 2) The nearest anchorage to Staffa is Gometra Harbour between the Islands of Ulva and Gometra. We made this just as it got dark. Another glorious day allowed us safe temporary anchorage on the island of Lunga, in the Treshnish Isles, which is home to a huge colony of Puffins. (see Photo 3) They seemed almost tame as they posed for the many cameras. In these days of digital photography, I would guess that our group took in excess of 100 photos between them. (see Photo 4) It was obviously the perfect day for Puffin observation and we were thankful that we had arrived early. By 11.00 am the tripper boats were offloading hoards of tourists. With a fairly novice group aboard the four yachts, Tobermory is an absolute must, so we had a slightly lazy 24 hours as the weather had by now broken. With drizzle and moderate winds, enthusiasm for an early start was somewhat less the next morning. However, the disadvantage of chartering means one has to get the boats back by the next Saturday. Most of the day saw the complete opposite with the weather – Force 4/5, very poor visibility and a sloppy sea round the Ardnamurchan peninsula northwards towards Loch Scresort on Rhum. Stuck on the boats in pouring rain, with only one mobile phone giving us an intermittent signal, we ‘phoned the warden of Rhum Castle and arranged a tour. This is probably the most unspoilt and original Edwardian ‘holiday home’ in the country and is certainly one of Scotland’s best kept secrets. (see Photo 5) The weather improved as quickly as it had deteriorated and we returned to the Old Forge, Inverie for the, now customary, end of cruise dinner. (see Photo 6) The Old Forge is credited in the Guiness Book of Records as being Britain’s remotest pub but, as mentioned earlier, it is now rapidly losing its charm such is the march of progress. Saturday morning was the usual rush of disembarkation from the moorings and the drive to Glasgow for flights home southwards. I had pre-arranged the hire of a mooring from the Ardvasar Mooring Association and it was here that Saluja was to be left, for six weeks, until the middle of July. If you get the chance, do try to take part in the Classic Malts Cruise organised by the World Cruising Club. Having gone to all the trouble of getting the boat up to Scotland this was on the definite ‘to do’ list. A slight problem was that it starts at the Oban distillery and yet Saluja was on Skye, so we decided to go to Oban by road and booked a B&B on the Island of Kerrera. The Classic Malts cruise is quite an extraordinary event. It is sponsored by Diageo, one of the world’s largest drinks manufacturers and the hospitality is second to none. On sitting down for the buffet we immediately made friends with Lars and Jan who had come over from Sweden. The Classic Malts Cruise is attended by yachts from all over Europe and we did feel ourselves to be at the slightly poorer end of the spectrum of yachts. We were one of the smallest, with others in 40/50+ ft category and worth several hundreds of thousands. Lars and Jan were real characters and their English probably better than ours. Both new to the West Coast of Scotland, they had little idea about tides given that tides are virtually non-existent in Sweden. They quickly quizzed us on the best anchorages and invited us aboard their yacht, Albi, to discuss the options with a chart in front of us. And wow, what a yacht! – a Sweden Yachts 45 complete with fridge, freezer, icemaker, and dishwasher (yes a dishwasher!) to say nothing of all imaginable electronic navigation aids. We were to meet up with them many more times during the following fortnight. We went by road the next day to get Saluja and I can say, in all honesty, I don’t think I have ever been so wet and cold as I was on the short passage to Mallaig, to provision the yacht for the next few days. However, the weather can improve so quickly and the next couple of days gave us glorious sunshine even if it was slightly windy for the passage up to Loch Harport on the SW side of Skye. I had never seen this bit of coastline at close quarters because our last time, in the mid 1980’s, was in thick fog. I am sure that GPS has made us very complacent nowadays – the last time we dead reckoned all the way from Loch Brittle into Loch Harport with visibility down to a few tens of yards! The tiny village of Carbost is home of the world famous Talisker distillery, where we signed up for a tutored tasting and the Celeidh in the evening. (see Photos 7 & 8) The organisation was impeccable and involved an all day rib service to get us ashore and back to the yachts safely at the end of the evening. From Loch Harport, the 90 or so Yachts all went their separate ways towards the Lagavulin distillery on Islay. It was quite a spectacle seeing such a plethora of different yachts leaving Loch Harport under spinnaker, with many making for the outer Isles on their way south. We had to make for Mallaig, again!, for a crew change and the next morning I met a friend, Simon, and my son, Jonathan, off the train. They had taken the coach overnight from London to Glasgow and then the first train out in the morning. They had plenty to recall about the journey. We took advantage of the northerly air-stream by getting ourselves down to the Isle of Muck for the first night. (see Photo 9) An evening walk to the highest point on Muck gave us a view right to the Outer Isles as the sun set. The next day was cloudless again and the continued northerly wind allowed us to sail downwind all the way to West Loch Tarbert on Jura. We had just one stop at Iona for Simon to visit the cathedral. The advantages of a lifting keel again came into their own. The sound of Iona is always a difficult place to anchor at the best of times so, with a rising tide and offshore wind, we pulled the keel right up through the box, nosed her into the beach and Simon jumped off the bow without even getting his feet wet! We only just made West Loch Tarbert before dark, but the 60 mile passage had not seemed particularly arduous because one is always in sight of land and we were, for the greater part, in the lee of the various islands. That’s what makes Scotland so much better than the South Coast! We had a lazy day the next day and achieved what I had always wanted to do by getting through the narrows to the inner basin. This involves a narrow winding passage, to be taken just after slack high water, and requires the use of a series of six painted stone transit beacons. (I think I am correct in saying that these were established by the late Blondie Haslar – a lasting legacy to a great yachtsman!) At any other state of tide, the flow through the narrows is a minimum of 5kts. Tarbert means “pass” so, if the reader consults a chart or map, one can see that a short walk across the pass allows one to reach the East side of Jura and see all the way down to the end of The Mull of Kintyre. Simon had never done a night sail so we set off at dusk through the sound of Islay, at times doing 11knots over the ground, and hopped round to Craighouse on Jura. Though not part of the Diageo group we managed an impromptu distillery tour here as well. For the afternoon we set off south to Port Ellen via the slightly challenging passage through the Ardmore Islands. Though the marina was supposedly ‘full’ we managed an inside berth at the bottom of the ramp by lifting the keel up. (The advantages of a lifting keel again!) Another lazy day meant we could purchase a ‘roamer’ bus ticket and go right to the end of the road at Portnahaven on the SW tip of Islay. The visibility was incredible and we could see right across to Northern Ireland. In the afternoon we booked our free tour of the Lagavulin distillery and then got ready for the end of cruise buffet. This proved to be an experience I will never forget! The bar and buffet were both free and the seafood was quite the most lavish I have ever experienced. I think our Swedish friend, Lars, managed 17 fresh oysters! This was a truly international event with many from overseas making the most of the traditional Scottish dancing. Having helped them work out times for the two tidal gates it was, sadly, time to say ‘goodbye’ to our Swedish friends who were hoping to make Corpach, at the southern end of the Caledonian Canal, within the next 24 hours. The leisurely pace of the previous fortnight had to come to an end eventually, so an early start was needed the next day for the 50 miles north to Craobh Haven for the start of West Highland Week. This was another event on the ‘to do’ list. It comprises a series of passage races every other day with ‘round the cans’ races on the intervening days. The passage races being from Craobh to Oban, then Oban to Tobermorey, and finally Tobermorey back to Oban. Our best result was third in class but we can’t help feeling those canny Scots gave us a fairly tough handicap! If entering next time we could always enter the ‘family’ cruiser class in which you opt not to use the spinnaker and it is said that the competition is not quite so tough. The passage back to Oban was the highlight of the week with a spinnaker run down the Sound of Mull attaining an average passage time in excess of the boat’s theoretical waterline speed. At the last moment we had managed to make a ‘phone call to Paul Zvegintzov at Linnhe Marine. He has recently placed moorings just inside the Isle of Shuna in the Lynn of Lorn. He runs an excellent little outfit and his prices are very competitive. This was to be Saluja’s base for a few weeks until Jon returned to finish her season in Scotland. He took the final week in September to take a very leisurely trip north through the Caledonian canal as far as Caley Marina which is just south of Inverness. The prevailing wind direction meant that he had a down wind run the whole way through Loch Lochy, Loch Oich and Loch Ness. I gather he didn’t even bend the main on but, instead, opted for simply unfurling the headsail. Helped by the guys at Caley Marina to lift the mast he slipped the yacht himself, using the Range Rover, for the princely sum of £8-00 for the use of the slipway. We are fortunate in having friends, Gavin and Nicola, who run an independent hostel just east of Roy Bridge. They had offered to winter the yacht in their car park. (see Photo 10) An offer we were keen to take, but for the very narrow and steep track down to their premises. We took a chance and got her safely wrapped up for the winter where it was comforting to know that Gavin was on hand to re-tie the cover when it got blown off in a Force 9 winter’s gale. As the winter months were rapidly receding behind us the difficult decision had to be made as to what to do with the yacht for 2006. We had vague ideas of perhaps sailing her back but, as mentioned earlier, my son has achieved the National Squad in the RS Feva and we have now booked to go out to Lake Garda for the World Championships. Jon’s Dad and Aunt are not in the greatest of health so we had to face the fact that Saluja was simply not going to get the same use as she had last season. It is just not possible to pop down to the boat on the whim of a good forecast when she is moored in Scotland! There seemed little sense in it spending all of May, June and July on a mooring and having no use at all until August so, sadly, we made the pragmatic decision to bring her back. We needn’t have worried about the slope up the track, the Range Rover managing it, with minimal slipping, in low range first and diff lock engaged. (see Photo 11) At the time the 17 hours at 40mph, for the return journey, seems unthinkable but, now it is done, we are happier knowing we will get a sensible amount of use once she is craned back in at the Club’s ‘crane in’ on the first weekend of April. In rounding off these pair of articles, I would be happy to offer anyone advice on undertaking such a project. In our opinion, what we did was very worthwhile. The approximate total cost for the 5 weeks use in Scotland was about £1000-00 but that included the fuel to tow her there and back, a complete renovation of the trailer and the mooring fees in Scotland. Offset that against the costs for moorings etc. on the South Coast and the five weeks at £200-00 per week made the whole venture very viable indeed. However, we were realistic about the amount of use she would get and, to that end, we achieved what we set out to achieve. Another season in Scotland would have been nice but, equally, we did miss the weekends and club races from Chichester Harbour. Would we do it again? Very definitely, “Yes”, and one of the bonuses is that we are now not fearful of doing a one way trip somewhere in the British Isles or France and then trailing her back. Modification of the trailer’s overrun brakes to independent air brakes would take the stress out of stopping the whole outfit but that’s another story and project for the future! David Holmes, (co-owner), Saluja, Super Seal
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Speedwell
from Nosey Parker
Strange
tender in 
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de 
Isle
Mast
lowering
Speedwell
“en canal”
Speedwell
with the right flags up at 
Speedwell
beached at 
