North Wales at last

 We have been heading to North Wales for an Old Gaffers muster since Saturday. 300 nm in 6 days is crazy but I wanted to try it.

We left at 6 am. The tides in this part of the Irish Sea run mostly east-west, so we would have to let them push us one way and then back again and follow a compass course. Our normal "just keep along the line on the chart plotter" would be a much longer journey.

Alison was keen to meet the North Wales folks at the anchorage by Llanddwyn on the west of Anglesey. That was over 60 nm, but achievable, we thought.

The course was 180 and off we went.

The problem was that we only looked at the Irish Sea tidal stream atlas, not the Anglesey specific one. Alison looked at that when we had been going for an hour. It told us we would arrive when there were bad overfalls and strong adverse tides. On the other hand, we could go down the east side of Anglesey and then through the Swellies tomorrow and it would be much easier.

So we changed course to 150.

After a while the wind came in and we were able to motor-sail and then just sail.

We kept an hourly record of the cross track error but didn't change course until mid afternoon. It looked like we were getting pushed west more strongly than we had been pushed east, and I didn't want to get into the fast tides across the top of Anglesey so we altered course.

Suddenly, when Alison was in the cockpit and I was below, there was a bang. Alison called me up.

The gaff was swinging wildly. One of the strops on the mast supporting the peak halyard had failed.

We managed to get the sail down and stowed. We will have to get help with replacing the strop.

Not having the mainsail slowed us down but not too much.

Soon after, we hit strong foul tides. They lasted a couple of hours and then we had favourable ones all the way into the Menai Strait and to our chosen anchorage in the pool opposite Beaumaris.

Only 7 nm to go.

Fuel is essential

Checking fuel levels after anchoring is absolutely the wrong time. If we had checked as we crossed Belfast Lough we would have gone straight to Bangor Marina to fill up. We had to have full fuel tanks to cross the Irish Sea with the expected light winds, and they were only a third full. There was only one thing for it, we would have to up anchor early (4 a.m.) and head for Bangor.

Waking up and hauling up the anchor just before dawn is no real hardship. The light was lovely, with tinge of pink to the sky and we could see well even though the chart plotter still thought it was night. The tide was with us out of Donaghadee sound, but against us in Belfast Lough, so it took a couple of hours to get to Bangor Marina, but fuelling was very efficient. After calling the Marina we went straight to the fuel dock. This is self service, pay with card at the dispenser just like a petrol station, and like a petrol station they have white diesel at road traffic prices. We took 48litres to fill the tanks and cans, and 12 minutes after arriving we were away again.

We got the main sail up just outside the marina and motor sailed back towards our anchorage in half the time of our outbound journey. This time we headed out through Dronaghadee Sound rather than back to the anchorage, with the tide now strongly in our favour. We had to ferry glide between the buoys, but there were no bumpy seas in the Sound, or useful wind either!

Once we were clear we set our course for the south end of the Isle of Man. The sea state was a bit rough for George, so we ended up hand steering, hour and hour about. The wind did not come back, and the main sail started slatting about, so we took it down. Then some usable wind came in and we put it up again, then the wind died and the sail started slatting again. This is bad for the rig, so I called Julian up from his off watch.

We were joined at this point by a group of athletic dolphins, who wanted to show off their jumps and tail slaps. Unfortunately we were too busy getting the sail down to give their display the attention it deserved. No pictures!

The Isle of Man was visible but hazy when I went off watch. I dug out our Isle of Man pilot book to have a look at the local tides, and made an interesting discovery. We had been aiming at Chicken Rock to go south of the Calf of Man, but the overfalls could be bad at our estimated arrival time. However the tide would be perfect o go through Calf Sound. This could cut 10 miles off our route (given a suggested 5 mile offing for the Chicken Rock overfalls) and would be well worth doing just to have done it. I pointed out the opportunity to Julian and he was all for it.

Chicken Rock Lighthouse

A small sport fishing boat came through towards us when we were about half a mile off, showing no evidense of bad sea state in the Sound, which was reassuring. Calf Sound has a terrible reputation and even in our benign conditions it was possible to see why. 

Entrance to Calf Sound

The western entrance is very narrow, and the tidal stream means you are not going where you are pointing when navigating that entrance. Our speed shot up to 7 kn at the narrowest part, but this is very short and steering soon returned to normal. We stayed in smooth water all the way as we headed for the headland on the south east side, but over towards the Calf side there were short steep waves with breaking crests. These were very small, but the line of them extended half way across the Sound.

Overfalls even in quiet weather

Calf Sound is an interesting place, but as the pilot book says “only attempt in quiet weather”.

Within an hour we were at Port Saint Mary, with a choice of 2 big yellow visitors bouys. These were in flat water at the open end of the harbour wall. When we were last here, in 2016 the moorings in my memory were further out into the bay, and very subject to swell, but =both of the current ones seemed sheltered. We picked up the one without a resident cormorant on it.

We had had a very early start, and the sea state had been too much for George, and tiring for us. However the fact that our plans had worked, and we had come through Calf Sound made it a good day on the water, even though the engine was on continuously. We could not have made the Isle of Man without our side trip to Bangor.

Glenarm

 The tides can be fierce along this coast. The last time we did it we made 11 knots with a lovely broad reach. So we were waiting for the south bound flood today. We decided it should be slack by 4pm and we would go then.

So today was something of a rest day.

We had shopping to do, showers to have, and hopefully get some diesel.

The shop in Glenarm sells a lot. But it's marching season in Northern Ireland and yesterday was a bank holiday for the Battle of the Boyne.

Because of the holiday, the bread hadn't come at all yesterday and was expected ‘’later” today, as was the delivery from the butcher.

We stocked up on basics and I went to see the harbour master and paid but there is no fuel at Glenarm. There used to be 10 years ago but there was a bad fuel spill and they don't any longer. It's a bus ride to the nearest petrol station. Bangor would be our next good option.

Alison decided the weather was perfect for finally getting some oil on the cap rails and cabin sides. Something she had hoped to do in Lochboisdale but it was too wet.

But first, breakfast. We had a really good fry up with bacon, tomato, eggs and local black pudding. While I was cooking it a couple came to look at Robinetta. Alison told them about her while I cooked.

We didn't need lunch after that.

I popped up to the shop again at noon and the bread was in but no loaves, the had probably already gone. I got some soda bread and a fruit breac.

When Alison had finished her oiling, we went for a walk in the forest with local ice cream from the shop.

It really felt like a holiday.

At 4pm we left and had a decent motor down towards Belfast. We didn't get the strong tides. I think we were a bit early and a bit too near the coast.

Alison decided she preferred to anchor at Copeland Island, rather than going into Bangor.

Getting into the anchorage was interesting. The tide was breaking strongly on the Rid Rock and we had to ferry glide round it. But it all worked. There was a French yacht already anchored but quite far out in deep water. We went in close with plenty of room.

We had some dinner and then, belatedly, put the dip stick into the diesel tanks. They were ⅔ empty and we had nothing in the cans and there was very little wind in the forecast.

We would have to go back to Bangor to get fuel.

We could go now, or in the morning. We decided to go at 4am.

Getting to Northern Ireland

We had a late night last night, so set no alarm, but the sun woke us up at the reasonable hour of 07:30. It had been a peaceful night for Robinetta, but less so for Worm, who had lain to the wind rather than the tide when it turned, so Julian had got up in the night to trail her off the bow, not the stern. She was along side when we woke!

We had heard the alternator belt squeaking yesterday when we re-started the engine after sailing, which prompted us to do full engine checks this morning. These revealed we did indeed need to tighten the alternator belt, and top up the oil. I also put the remaining diesel from our cans into the main fuel tanks; a much better place for it. Once the engine was back in good condition we turned it on, Julian hauled up the anchor, and we were away from our lovely anchorage at 08:30.

Motoring out from the shelter of Am Froach Eilean into the main Sound of Islay saw little increase in wave action, and the warned against overfalls where the Sound of Islay tide met the Sound of Jura one just caused a tiny amount of movement. We could tell where they might form, but that was all.

Our tidal calculations kept us out of any other overfalls but we over compensated a bit for the expected North Channel tides and instead fell foul of the north going stream up the west side of the Mull of Kintyre.

Julian hauled the main sail up, and we did get to motor sail for a while on our unnecessary course over toward the Mull, but the engine did not go off all day. Rathlin Island was indistinct in the haze, but the sky overhead was bright blue, and the sea sparkled. Julian’s knees got quite red before he put suntan lotion on. George could handle the helming for most of the day, so it was not a tiring trip, just a long one. I prepared a vegetable stew as we left the Sound of Islay, and we ate it as we closed the Antrim coast. Our provisions are getting quite low, so we need to shop tomorrow.

We reached Glenarm Marina at 21:30 and once we were securely moored headed for a drink at the pub.

Farewell to Mary

 We woke before the alarm and tidied the cabin and went up to use the facilities.

Mary was packed and ready by 7:30. Now we would find out if the 7:50 bus was running. It wasn't. After a few tries, she managed to book a taxi to the ferry. She had a chance of getting all the way home to Manchester.

We set off at 8:18. The tide was pushing us away from the pontoon, so we could ease the stern line to get further out and then let the tide push the bow out. A really easy departure. Mary waved us off and we set off for the Sound of Islay.

Our destination was an anchorage at the south end of the Sound of Islay. If we were late, and the tide turned on us in the Sound, we could anchor in Whitefarland Bay, in the Sound. If we were very late, and couldn't get into the Sound, we could anchor in Loch Tarbert on Jura.

There was no wind. We motored towards the Sound of Iona. Passing Inch Kenneth, I was reminded that it's mentioned in Johnson's and Boswell's accounts of their Scottish holiday. There was a young nobleman there, beloved of all the ladies. If my memory serves, he was drowned just before he was due to get married.

It's a tiny island with a big history.

The Sound of Iona has a shoal in the middle. It's best to keep to the Iona side until south of the cardinal.

Colonsay is directly in the way, on passage from Iona to the Sound of Islay. I decided to go north about it and go through the rock fields off Erraid. There is a nice clear gap between the Torran rocks and the group around Dearg Sgeir. I'm reading the charts in Gaelic now, so I just see “red rock”, and feel uncomfortable, because it should be Sgeir Dearg.

We got the main up in the Sound of Iona but there wasn't much wind.

Threading through the rocks was fun and safe. There was no hint of the overfalls the chart notes are possible.

Then the wind did kick in and we had a lovely sail with the engine off and George steering, with the solar panel on so George didn't run the battery down.

There were lots of seabirds by Balnahard Bay at the north end of Colonsay. I put the fishing line out and caught a mackerel immediately. Tried for more, but one was our allotment.

That was almost dinner time so I cleaned the fish and cooked it with tomato and garlic for a starter and when we had eaten that I cooked spaghetti carbonara with ham instead of bacon. Really nice.

We lost the wind and dropped the main. Of course, the wind came back. But we had the ebb now with us, the edge of the Great Race from Correyvreckan.

I can't look at a map, let alone be in the area, without thinking about Powell and Pressburger's lovely film “I Know Where I'm Going”. How anyone would get stuck in Correyvreckan on the way from Mull to Colonsay beats me. But it's an amazing piece of film making. The tale of the production is a story in its own right. But the film is wonderful as a finished piece too. There is Gaelic in it, and a glimpse of a culture on the edge, in both space and time. It's a bit like the more famous “Quiet Man” in that way. Both are also fine romantic comedies.

It was looking like we would be on time for the tide through the Sound of Islay. In fact, we think we made it by the skin of our teeth.

We headed into the Sound and the speed got up to 6 to 7 knots. We passed Bunnabhainn distillery and the new Ardnahoe one, and then Caol Isla. The big Calmac ferry was moored at Askaig, ready to head to West Loch Tarbert in the morning.

The CCC instructions for the anchorage by Am Fraoch Eilean say to turn out of the stream onto the Jura side after Glas Eilean and, when clear to do so, head for the Boathouse. There is a big rock called Sgeir nan Sian and you anchor 1 cable east of it in 4 m. It all went beautifully to plan. But as we got to the South end of Glas Eilean, we got tide against us. It was only 21:06 and we thought the north going stream would start at 22:00. We just made it!

We were safely anchored and snug in bed by midnight, after a rather poor attempt at planning what to do tomorrow. We were tired again.

A long and tiring day

After a long and sheltered stay in Lochboisdale Marina, while Julian learnt more Gaelic and danced “reels and quadrilles” it was time to set off south. We had a guest sailing with us, hoping to go all the way to Port Dinorwic with us. Mary, an experienced small yacht sailor, had just finished a trip on Eda Fransen, and had asked to join us for a change.

We left Lochboisdale at 07:20 with a forecast of N or NE 3-5. The wind felt quite strong as we left the marina, and we had bent on the no.2 jib. As soon as we had enough sea room I put Robinetta head to wind so Julian could raise the main sail, and he hoisted it with a couple of rolls of sail reefed round the boom. There were noticeable waves here, and they got bigger as we cleared the entrance to the loch.

Our course towards the south end of Mull put the wind just aft of the beam, a lovely point of sail for a gaffer. There was no gybe risk, but I asked Julian to set the preventer to stop the boom lifting too much in the swell. All 3 of us were in the cockpit, being rather rolled around, and when Julian went onto the cabin roof without putting on his lifejacket and stop Mary and I were a bit taken aback. Luckily there were no big waves while he was up there and he got back to the cockpit without incident, but Mary and I both had our hearts in our mouths, and told him off for being reckless.

The point of sail was good, but steering in the swell was very hard work and after an hour of it I handed the helm over to Julian. 20 minutes later he asked for a reef. We were sailing at about 6 knots, and he was worried about stressing the rig. Mary went below to give us room in the cockpit and we put the engine on to go head to wind. I tried pulling the reef in, but there was too much wind in the sail, so Julian had to swop with me. He was able to get the reef in, and we ended up reefed right down to the lower main sail baton, which is all the reef we can put in. We went back on course at a more reasonable speed.

Mary came back up into the cockpit as soon as she could; being below had made her feel a bit seasick. I did not blame her. I had felt queasy when in the cabin, and I am used to Robinetta’s motion in heavy seas. Neither of us felt like eating any breakfast, just a ginger biscuit, which settled my stomach, but made Mary feel worse.

A couple of hours later we went head to wind to shake out half the reef, and this time when Mary came back up she was in a bit of a rush, to be sick over the side. In another couple hours we went head to wind to shake out all the reef, and Mary was sick again. She was not having fun.

By the time we had got to within 5 miles to the west of Coll the engine had to go on to propel us on our way. We were still being rolled around by the waves, but they were slowly decreasing. Our sail was doing nothing and centered against the swell, but with the wind now dead astern it filled and backed every now and then, stressing the rig. We decided to bring it down. Mary went down again for the process, and when she came up she was sick again.

We rounded the top of Coll inside the outer most breaking rock, and headed due south. There were no breaking waves now, but still some swell that had Robinetta rolling a bit.

After about half an hour Mary confessed that the trip was a bit more stressful than she had expected. Today had shown her that she could no longer cope with small yacht sailing. She would need a day ashore to recover from the conditions today, but knew we needed to keep heading south if we were to make our meeting at Port Dinorwic. She decided to head home.

Before we invited Mary aboard I had promised not to kick her off Robinetta in a place with no public transport, so now the hunt was on for a good place to set her ashore. We would be able to reach the sound of Iona this evening and there would be busses tomorrow, but getting her ashore would be tricky.

Our original plan had been to anchor at Gometra Harbour, which we would reach at about 21:00. Instead we could head for the pontoons at Ulva Ferry, which were only 1 nm further if we took the tricky north entrance. This was a passage Julian was keen to try, and we had the Antares charts for it, but there is a patch with only 1 m above chart datum, and we would be there just an hour before low water. Julian checked the tides, and there should be 1.3 m of tide, giving Robinetta at least 1 m beneath the keel. We decided to go for it.

There is a community bus from Ulva Ferry that meets the bus from Tobermory to the ferry at Craignure.

Mary phoned the harbour master at Ulva Ferry, who confirmed there was space to go alongside, so we headed into Loch Tuath. The seas went flat as we did so, so we put the tiller pilot, George, to work and I went below to cook. Mary did not want much, but Julian and I had new potatoes, baked beans, and ham, for a much needed meal.

The passage through Ulva sound is quite short, but not for the faint hearted. We got the lines and fenders ready before we entered it, then Julian acted as pilot, giving careful instructions to me on the helm. Our least depth below the keel was 0.8 m, then we were through and approaching the pontoon.

A helpful person appeared from one of the already moored up yachts, and we were moored up with his help at 21:18.

Mary spotted what we hadn't. The bus has to be ordered by 16:00 the previous day. She left a message anyway.

It had been a long and tiring day.

Windy

 We had a really relaxing day yesterday, meeting the other visitors and moving Robinetta to a berth the Harbour Master was happy for us to stay in.

We met a nice chap who had come over on someone's yacht and was then off to Barra to fly out. He enjoyed seeing Robinetta and hearing about our adventures.

He told us he lives on an island near Bardsey.

We were having coffee in the Bakery at Lochboisdale when he left for the bus to the Eriskay to Barra ferry.

After he had left, we discovered that we were the only people who didn't know who he was. It was Bear Grylls.

The strong winds were due in from 16:00. They came early at 15:57.

It's been the most steady forecasts I think I've ever known.

I woke up about 2:30 am and realised Worm wasn't tied down. I put a coat on and went out. The wind was really strong but not cold and it was dry.

I tied her down fore and aft. 

The wind was coming in strongly on the starboard side of Robinetta, pushing her against the pontoon. I got another line from the starboard winch to a cleat on the pontoon but I couldn't get much tension on it.

I got Alison up to help and I pushed Robinetta out while Alison tried to shorten the line. It didn't really work. So we got another line out, the long shore line, and ran it from the stern to the same cleat. I could pull Robinetta out with that. It was better and took the worst of the force off the fenders. Alison added our last fender and we left it at that.

This morning, the wind started easing. Robinetta had come through fine.