May 31 The Irony of Sailing

I have just arrived back in London for a two day break to see my beloved boys. It took me four weeks to arrive in Largs and all that hard graft was undone by a one and a half hour flight from Glasgow. It was hard to leave Rumline this morning as I saw the day break shedding light on Cumbrae and watching the morning light dance on the water. It has been a long journey but this way of traveling is far more satisfying than the inhumanity of airports and air-travel. I see its efficiency but it gives no pleasure.  Few people have the opportunity to travel on slow boats nowadays, it is expensive and modern life runs at a relentless pace which does not wait.
Last night I went to Farlie a small village next to Largs for a pint and supper. This town was once on the cutting edge of transport. It was the home of the Fife built yachts, the marine Ferraris of their day. Beautiful exotic birds which plied the Clyde and raced for honour in the early days of the Americas Cup. The boatyard no longer exists and has been replaced by pastel townhouses. The only hint of this towns illustrious past  is a small plaque on one house. It is a pity that so little has been preserved to acknowledge the skilled men who created such beautiful boats. Progress can be cruel at times.

Cumbrae

Arran

So back here at my kitchen table I sit my head in a spin from the hectic pace I am no longer used to. I will enjoy my break, and my boys but I will be glad to return to the peace and beauty of Scotland.

28th May Blowing Old Boots

Wild weather welcomes us to Scotland. We left Campbeltown in a near gale to sail up the Kilbrannan Sound north to Loch Ranza on Arran. It started out okay, windy but we like wind so not an issue. As we entered the sound a jaunty fishing boat was steaming full throttle towards port, full entourage of seagulls flying behind squacking in their demanding me me me way. It was 5 minutes later that we realised why he steaming by at such speed. The driving rain came obliterating the view of both Arran and the Kintyre penninsula. Rumline felt like sailing an open boat but she is so steady in blow. Later we would consult the cruising guide to see what we missed, it apparently is beautiful. I will have to take the Clyde Cruising Clubs word. We approached Loch Ranza and the rain relented for a time allowing us to pick up one of the very handy moorings for visitors. Very much appreciated as another gale was forecast and the holding is less than secure. So for a wee time we luxuriated in the evening light which bathed the glen, and we were the sole visitor. A more picturesque anchorage would be difficult to find, with the ruined castle standing in a spit in the middle of the loch only feet from the moorings, fishermen's cottages replete with rhododendrums in full extravagant bloom and the glen and mountains. Even a puffin flew by. Of course this glory was short lived as the heavens opened once again and the winds began to howl. No dinghy trip to shore tonight. At least we were secure and only merely damp. Pity as Arran is steeped in history and wildlife and would have been lovely to explore. A warm supper and a wee dram from the delicious bottle of Springbank malt bought at the Distillery in Campbeltown made it all right and helped aleviate the disappointment.

We woke up and guess what? Yes it was a full blooded blow again. A full English and several Para Handy stories later we decided to make a run for Largs, where we could have the comforts of a shower, shorepower, and walk on and off  pontoon. We dropped the mooring and I soon questioned my decision. The wind funneled down the glen like a sledge hammer so staying was hugely uncomfortable and poor Rumline danced around the bouy like a demented bear. No one was happy and I completely trust her in high wind so I chose to leave with the tiniest scrap of genoa. She bolted out of the loch like a race horse at the starting line. With a following sea on her quarter she was happy and joyfully surfed the waves in 45 Knots of wind. We felt safe in her cockpit and she was easily managed. It was exhilerating. We saw one other yacht who was struggling in the high conditions, the poor boat was skittish and dancing out of control not a happy boat. I thank Jeremy Rogers for designing the Contessa 32 ,such an utterly amazing boat, beautiful, safe and forgiving. In no time we flew to the Kyle of Bute, through the Cumbrae Pass between Little Cumbrae and Big Cumbrae, up the Largs channel and towards the marina approach. I was horrified to see such a narrow entry in these conditions but I trusted Rumline to hold her course. The scrap of Genoa was furled and for a moment we were sailing at nearly 5 knots under bare poles. The engine on  and a prayer said we entered through the rock jettys completely in control. Thank you once again Neptune and Rummy. Safely tied up, and enough adrenaline to last a week, we tidied up Rumline and ran for the warmth of the showers. Guess what it is still blowing old boots and as Para Handy would say the showers were 'Chust, Sublime'.

Campbeltown before the rain

The Light house on Island Daavar approach to the Harbour

Fishing boat hot-footing it to Harbour

All we saw before the rain and wind came howling

May 27 Bonnie " Rainy" Scotland At Last

The weather was meant to be challenging and we crept out of the marina a bit like marines about to step off their boats into enemy territory. We were reefed, lashed downed, so'westered, prepared for our battle across the North Channel. After all gales had been raging and the sea whipped up into mountains of foam. The Belfast coastguard even took pictures of the angry sea, it had to be bad. We even thought of bailing out before we got to the breakwater of Bangor Marina, but we peeked out and there was an ordinary sea. So out towards the channel we crept with trepadation, we were the only yacht in sight. Had we not heard the weather report correctly? But bravely we continued out to the big water.

You can imagine our relief and disappointment when we were greeted by an ordinary sea with marginal winds, where were the force 7's. By noon the wind died completely an our epic journey became a motor across a windless mill pond. We relieved our boredom by the boat Yahtzee challenge, reading aloud from Yachting Monthly, and celebrating the approach of the Mull of Kintyre with a cup of pot noodles.
Nevertheless we arrived in Scotland. Rumline my beautiful brave little Contessa got us here safely, without a fuss, in her graceful and swift footed way. She has become my home, a friend and my companion.

welcome to bonnie Scotland, it got foggier

Crew celebrating with pot noodle, vintage of course

Scotland greeted us with rain and fog, I am certain it looked beautiful, if I could only see the coastline. We arrived and that's all that mattered. So we washed Rummy's hull so she looked as she deserves to look, and hosed the salt off her topsides and then went off to explore. We should have listened more closely when the Harbour Master said the best attraction was the local pool. Sadly this pretty port is at the foot of a deprived and grey town. Local boys keep themselves warm and entertained by sitting in the COOP foyer, shops lay empty, and the pubs have 'stop domestic violence' posters pinned to their front doors. This is a town in need of regeneration, every yacht should stop and help by visiting and providing tourist pounds desperately needed.

May 26 On The Road Again

There is a small window of opportunity in the weather, off we go this morning. I must of woken up at least 5 times last night each time to listen if the winds were dying. They didn't let up until 5 am so I am tired and grumpy.
It is a change of gear from the past few days which were spent listening to music in the company of friendly strangers. Ireland is supreme in its hospitality.

Rowan Youth Hostel, yes they let me in

Pub Session

Lots of talent

Time to throw off the lines and run for it.

May 24 Guiness and a Traditional Music Festival in Clare

If you trust the winds of chance you may find yourself blown to unexpected places.
The wild wind kept us in port but blew us to the Fleadh Nua, a week long Irish music festival, held in Ennis Co Clare.
Last night we went to a session at Brogan's a pub which supports musicians and holds jam sessions every night. Pint of Guiness in hand we listened in rapture at the most wonderful music. It began with with three men, a drummer, a fiddler and a guitar player but with in half an hour other musicians began to arrive with their instruments and enriched the sound, flutes, fiddles, banjos, even the spoons. A woman sang with a voice as clear and clean as the Irish springs and a room packed to the brim fell silent and mesmerised by her beautiful voice. Unlike the music on the radio this is real, soulful and totally unplanned unrehearsed and played for love not profit. Apparently this happens every night. Pure magic.

I will stay another night because this is just too good to leave.

May 24 Goodbye Dear Friend

The weather has been wild and we remain storm bound in Northern Ireland. A great place to be stormbound.
It was an opportunity to drive to the Mourne mountains, which are beautiful, wild and sit at the foot of the sea.

I climbed up in the howling wind and said a prayer and a quiet goodbye to a dear friend who recently lost his life there. Rest in peace in this beautiful place.

May 23 Force 10 enough said

On a nice day

It is blowing a complete hooly. I can see the Mull of Galloway but it remains elusively out of reach. Argh a lesson in patience.

May 22 Frustration

ONLY 48 HOURS ASHORE but it feels like forever. Checked the weather force 10 tomorrow so no go for Rumline. Having spent most of today up on the north shore and having witnessed the huge seas I am frustrated but glad to be safely tucked up in a comfortable place.

Emerald fields

Carrick a rede

Glens

Carrick a Rede

Beautiful Rugged Coast

Guillemots

North antrim

Belfast Murals

I went to Carrick a Rede today a rope bridge suspended high above the water between a headland and a rock island. The salmon run through here and in the past men risked their lives dropping nets to catch the precious salmon. We must alway appreciate every fish that reaches our plate as fishing is often a hard and dangerous occupation. So as I ate my cod I said thank you to the man who caught it.
Stangford Lough was visited as well as the docks in Belfast where Titanic was built and launched. Perhaps the Mountains of Mourne tomorrow?
I will forget my frustration and make the most of tomorrow.

May20-22 A Soft Day

The Irish describe a rainy day as a soft day and  the weather has been as soft as possible, in fact continually soft.
Rumline arrived safely across the Irish Sea to the well serviced port of Bangor at the mouth of Belfast Lough. We needed showers, refueling, access to water and a creamy pint of Irish Guiness. Typical of most sailors the refueling, showers and water were ignored and as  soon as lines were made secure and boat in order we made straight for the pub.
Irish pubs are legendary and not just watering holes but community centers and the hub of village life. We started at Fealty's a spit and sawdust type pub with friendly atmosphere and the best pint in Bangor. The first sip was nectar. A few more establishments were sampled until we found Cory's across the road which not only served a good pint but had great live music too. By coincidence we met our berth neighbours three Irish men on a weekend away from from domestic life. We joined them and a raucous night of fun followed. We toasted the dawn, pledged undying friendship and then promptly collapsed into that unique comatose sleep that hard drinking provides.
Six hours later with aching heads we hauled ourselves out of our bunks. No sailing today, soft weather but heavy seas which must be respected in the North Channel. Another opportunity provided by the wind gods. Car was thus hired and an executive decision made to explore the North Antrim Coast by land, but not before a small detour south to Grace Neills in Donaghadee, Ireland's oldest pub for a delicious lunch.
We drove north along the A2 a senic coastal road which is a winding ribbon of motorway dividing the moor topped cliffs and the sea, We drove through dramatic scenery made more dramatic by wind and driving rain until we reached the Giant's Causeway. It was wet and nearly dark but  it had to be seen.
The Giants Causeway is a geological wonder. Geometric rock pillars all packed together like three dimensional crazy paving. The edges look cut and it is difficult to imagine random forces producing such even pattern. Apparently volcanic erruption occurred and the molten stone stone dried and cracked into patterns like mud flats, errosion caused the height differential. For me the legend is more evocative. A Giant called Finn built this causeway in order to reach and fight a Scottish giant. In the mist and waves it is a more satisfying explanation. Myth and magic seem better suited here on a day like this.

A Soft Day

Pretending to be Giant

gorgeous but wet

North Antrim Coast

Glens

The light faded and we made our way through the Glens of Glenariff in search of more natural beauty and traditional music. In the golden light, passing endless green rolling hills, silver streams and rock walls which held the secrets of the glens we found the Skerry Inn. When we entered conversation paused for a moment, a cue to tread softly but after a pint smiles were given. No music but we spoke to a local man who lays dry stone walls and confirmed by  his weathered face and gnarled hands we learnt that life in this beautifulplace where the weather is often soft is in fact very hard.

May 20 Choo Choo a passage to Port Erin

It is all too easy to sail into a harbour, sail out the next day and never see anything  but boats and the nearest pub before setting sail and departing. Fighting the urge to press on yesterday it was a day to stop and go inland and explore the Isle of Mann. After all when an I likely to return.
In keeping with the slow travel ethos my crewmate insisted that we take the steam-train across the island. We took the bus to the main "city" Douglas, they have a Tesco, and found the Victorian train station. If the BBC needs a movie set they could move the cameras right in without much alteration. Vintage wooden benches, a place to buy tea and lemon drizzlecake, served on china by a tea lady Uptstairs Downstairs lookalike not a cappucino stand in sight, chintz, dollies and homemade cakes. Only the fleece-wearing passengers indicated that we had not been transported back to 1939. We boarded the train a picnic of triffle in our bag and with the unique smell, blasts of steam, and that endearing steam whistle choo choo we slowly pulled out of the station. The route took us across the island's interior, past gentle rolling hills and fields, lambs frolicking in the early summer sun, past glens with their rich moist earthy smell, woodlands stuill carpeted with the gentle blue of bluebells. How delicious to smell land after being at sea. the beautiful little train stopped at several stations, pristine loved full of flowers and smart uniformed attendants. British rail could learn a lesson or two from these men after all this was the railway that inspired Thomas the Tank Engine. We ate our trifle as we chug chugged along being pulled across the isle by a giant locomotive Aga. Bliss. Deposited at Port Erin we were content and pleased we took the time to stop and look.

The beautiful little train

Choo-choo ride please

Trifle worrying

gentle coutryside

Port Erin

Castle Town

19th May The Kindness of Strangers

Recovering from yesterday's lesson in humility, Rumline arrived at Peel. Another Island rock which surrounds our coastline. The Isle of Mann is a mysterious looking island rising from a formidable bubbling sea and cloaked in mist like a science fantasy location set, you half expect dwarfs and orcs to greet you on the cliffs. Pulling into Peel harbour,whose entrance has a castle ruin perched on the rocky edge, was a relief.
The Irish sea is not a placid place quite the opposite it is fiery and moody in personality even in good weather. I can only shudder to imagine what it is like in heavy weather. Having tasted some nasty water, such as Lyon, Bonifaccio Straits, Messina, Biscay and so on this place scares me. The minute you pass northwards towards  the Mordor-like cliffs of Holy Island in the south you enter a maze of contray confused currents, winds and tides. The water one minute is a boiling cauldron, rouge wave appearing illogically from nowhere, wind coming from one direction but not allowing you to sail that point of sail due to crazy tide. Everything in the book to make you as uncomfortable as possible. Can someone please help me understand this body of water?
Unlike the unwelcoming body of water surrounding the Isle of Man, its inhabitants are warm and extremely welcoming to incoming sailors. Friendly fishermen are only too pleased to allow you to tie up alongside on the harbour wall. A well run locked inner marina with a very helpful harbourmaster. A harbour with friendly grey seals,  and even the numerous seagulls refrained from shitting all over Rumline. How polite is that! We watched the local lifeboat practice launching, very reassuring in their efficiency and skill.
Walking down the street we were whisked up by the Commodore of the local Peel sailing club who led us to his club house where we shared a beer and were welcomed by its members. Rumline was invited to participate in the Clubs regatta that weekend and the events. Lovely people.
We ate the most delicious local seafood, they smoke kippers, and drank a superb pint at The Creek. Later that evening we moved into the inner harbour which only opens 2 hours eitherside of High water and was once again helped by the friendly commodore, at midnight. We shared a glass of wine and slept peacefully and well.

Approach to Peel

Peel harbour

Lifeboat launch

Castle backdrop

Ireland tomorrow

Rumline around Britain: May 17th and 18th R E S P E C T

Rumline around Britain: May 17th and 18th R E S P E C T: "Sometimes the sea reminds you who is boss and believe me do not argue with Big Daddy Sea. It's always when you get a bit too cocky and a bit..."

May 17th and 18th R E S P E C T

Sometimes the sea reminds you who is boss and believe me do not argue with Big Daddy Sea. It's always when you get a bit too cocky and a bit too sure of yourself something happens to bring you back to humility. On the water this is Tide with a capital T, weather and Neptune himself.
This morning on departing a rather grim port, Holyhead, Neptune gave me a good rasp on the knuckles. I try to be prepared so the previous evening I consulted the charts, checked my tides, formulated a passage plan to sail Northwards through the Irish sea to my next stop Peel on the Isle of Man. I knew that we had to leave at a very certain very early hour to be able to leave the port and further out catch a swift tide flowing towards my destination. Tide for me is a free fast ride and I try to make it work for me.

Waking up at silly hours of the morning especially after a late arrival is never easy. Needless to say, you can guess what comes next, we were late, only a mere 45 minutes. In my arrogance and morning drowsiness I didn't bother revising my plan. Full steam ahead I left Holyhead harbour past the ferries past the big cruise ship past the long breakwater out towards the headland. So what I'll punch a little contray foul counter flow until we get into the good stream.

Ha! The joke was on me. Poor little Rumline, was caught like a fly in a spiderweb. We were at the mercy of the tide, not a little 2 knot nasty but a big mean 5.8 knot mother of a spring nightmare tide which refused to let us go. This in itself would not be so bad but the direction it wanted to take us was towards some nasty nasty races and worse The Skerries, horrible ship crunching rocks. Two hours later, after a full throttle battle, we inched our way out of the tiger current's jaws and into the favourable one. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked my trusty engine for not letting us down and Rumline for again being a determined little boat.

Past the big boats we blindly proceeded

Nasty water

Big lessons learnt: those little tidal triangles on the chart are there for a reason don't rely soley on the almanac atlas tidal stream charts unless you are familiar with the water, LOOK AT THEM! Secondly, if plans are delayed, re-routed or changed make certain the former plan is still safe and suitable. DONT BE LAZY! And lastly most importantly always RESPECT the sea and its power. Penetance paid and humility regained we flew to Peel at an average of over 7 knots and arrived at Peel at the original time.

May 15th Say a Little Prayer to Neptune

A weather window presented itself and like an 80% reduction on tenders I grabbed the opportunity and ran. Neyland did deserve more time and its yachties tried to disuade departure with doom laden advice such as never ever ever attempt Jack and Ramsey Sound unless the conditions are perfect, which occur only about twice a year if the tides are in sync. But northward we were determined to go so charts were studied, lines were dropped, and a small prayer was offered to neptune and the winds gods for a safe passage for both Rumline and her crew.
Past the refineries and tankers,out past Dale roads, we approached St Ann's Head to starboard at LW inorder to reach the sounds at slacktide A tiny little Hunter 27 followed but bailed out of the inner route at the last moment leaving us the lone boat to go through.  I questioned the decision when abeam Vomit Point (I kid you not) but then thought no way, you're prepared, stop being a coward, just go. Blackstone Rock passed and the moment came when we were totally committed. Rumline, my brave little trooper of a boat, didn't flinch for one moment. The tide strengthened and swirled but she just dug in and held her ground and course. It was a wild rollercaster ride past horrible rocks and wild bubbling water full a eddies and a tide which runs at 7 kts. We flew through at over 11kts and were spat out the other end, hardly having time to think about what happened. My advice, be prepared if you want to run the gauntlet because there is no time to think just to react. Not a place for the fainthearted but satisfying once out the otherside.
As a reward for new found bravery a small detour to the bay at Skommer Island was in order. What a surprise and treat. It is described as a bird haven but never did I expect to be greeted by Puffins in the thousands; flying puffins, floating puffins sitting puffins. Puffins everywhere.We had to duck as they missed Rummy's mast by millimeters. You can not help but smile when you see Puffins they are so comical with their orange parrotlike beaks and matching orange feet and tiny penguin-like bodies. They are funny too and clumsy . One landed and fell head over heals, I nearly wet myself with laughter. Others nearly collided midair. Amusing and charming but probably not too bright in the bird pecking order. They are easily caught and in the past islanders used them as little avian oillamps because their oilly bodies would burn for hours. Poor little Puffins I am glad this practise has fallen from fashion.
What a treat, especially after only seeing a puffin fridge magnet on Puffin Island. I no longer feel  puffin deprived. I expect Puffins are like London buses : not one in sight but when they do arrive ten come at once.
Next hairy passage Ramsey sound.  So Rummy unfurled her wings and we glided out the bay under the quiet of sail.
Although wider and less rocky Ramsey  is a formidable piece of water. The Bitches, those nasty rocky whores, who preside over this devil'scauldron of water welcomed us. Once in it is like riding a speeding train whose brakes have failed, SOG 11.8kts. Not only do you need to deal with the uncontrollable speed but you must stay away from the counter current or you will be spun 180 degrees. Again be careful and do the nav beforehand with a clear head. Spat out yet again, we are in Cardigan Bay which requires two caridgans worn as I am so cold. We have had a miraculous 11 hours of fair tide ( arrive St Anns LW Milford) and we are making progress ahead of time expected. The wind also is on our side backing every turn to remain at the best possible angle. How often does this happen? A beam reach when through the Sound and now late and tired a comfortable broadreach across Cardigan Bay, the day was meant to be solid NW winds.
The sun is melting in an orange ball into the beautiful water. Corny I know but thats what it looks like.

St Ann's Head

Jack Sound's bubbly water

Out the otherside water calm

It was a blur

sunset in Cardigan Bay

I think this moment requires another little thank you to the winds and the sea and to Rumline for answering this mornings prayer and for allowing us such an exciting and perfect passage.

May 14 Sail Fast but Live Slow

Some people plan their passages by pressing a few buttons on a chartplotter and are satisfied with the ease accuracy and speed of the outcome, perfectly okay if that floats your boat, and then there are people like me who gain great satisfaction from putting pencil to paper, doing the maths and scanning the charts. There is something intensely satisfying with a result gained by some mental graft. To the modern navigators this act is intensely annoying and seen as a waste of time. I know the plotter and its calculations are far more accurate than my feeble mental maths and yes I could be spending that time in otherways but still I make no excuses I enjoy doing it the slow hard way. Perthaps that's why I enjoy sailing. One could argue there are far quicker more efficient ways of moving from point A to B but there is an art and an elegance to doing things in a slow manner which relies on thought and the hand of he or she who drives and decides combined with a reliance on nature and its forces. That is why I prefer manual winches, a tiller, a small boat and paper charts. That is why the act of sailing gives me a sense of freedom, I am free from the fast pace of the modern world.

 Neyland next to Milford Haven

Not a tanker in sight

Time to relax

So weather bound in Milford Haven, I am not frustrated but glad for the time to explore a new place, contemplate my journey and slowly go about the tasks I am often rushed to do when having to press on.
SAIL FAST BUT LEARN TO LIVE SLOW!